by Meara Platt
It had nothing to do with her pride, for she had no pride when it came to the boy. She’d crawl and beg to keep him safe. She’d failed him. He was now suffering because she had failed to notice the spider.
“Och, ye canno’ blame yerself for what happened to the wee bairn. Miss Jenny, stop whipping yerself.” Mrs. MacNaught continued to gently berate her as she helped her out of her gown. “Yer shift is soaked as well. Take it off, lass. I’ll be right back with a clean one for ye.”
She nodded, waiting for the kindly housekeeper to bustle out. But she hesitated to obey. If she removed her shift, she’d be standing naked in Lyon’s bedchamber. Somehow, it seemed improper. She dared not allow her thoughts to roam free, for they were shockingly wanton.
She wanted to be in here.
She wanted to be in here without her clothes on and Lyon in here without his.
He had a fine, big bed to keep them comfortable.
And a fine, big body to keep her warm while he did whatever he had to do to couple with her.
Her hands shook as she finally removed her shift and set it on the floor since it was too dirty to place over one of the cushioned leather chairs. But once the undergarment was off, she felt quite vulnerable. Her hands were not very big and she had nothing else to cover herself with unless she snatched the coverlet off his bed or rustled through his clothes. Neither option appealed to her. She had no right to violate the privacy of his bedchamber.
Despite her discomfort standing in the center of Lyon’s chamber without a stitch of clothing on, she also felt exhilarated.
She wished to know how it felt to couple with a man. She was eager to know how such things were done. The real Jenny had not seen fit to tell her, only giggling and teasing that she would like doing it with the right man.
Doing what?
As she gazed around the imposing room, taking note of the masculine details that spoke of Lyon’s power and strength, her skin began to tingle. The tub brought up for him an hour ago upon his return was filled with water and it appeared to still be warm.
She grabbed one of the clean cloths beside the tub and dipped it in the warm water to dampen one end of it. She soaped it with the sandalwood soap that had also been left beside the tub and washed herself.
She’d earlier caught the scent of it in the room.
Of course, it was Lyon’s scent, too. This is what filled her senses whenever she breathed him in. This is what made her want to breathe him in again and again.
She jumped when Mrs. MacNaught burst into the room with fresh underclothes for her. “I dinna know if we can salvage the silk, but we’ll try our best. That gown looked so pretty on ye, what with that pink bow to add a touch of color to the gray. Ye looked like a princess in it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. MacNaught.”
“Our John must have fallen in love with ye at first sight.”
“Hardly that,” she said with a soft, mirthless laugh and hastily dried herself off. She put on the clean shift, now feeling the housekeeper’s assessing gaze as she took the undergarment from her hand and slipped it over her head. Why had she opened her big mouth and said anything?
The gown she’d brought was a dark cherry colored muslin, less elegant than the gray silk, but far more practical. After all, she intended to stay up all night to watch over Johnny. She wouldn’t rest until he was fully recovered.
If the boy were older, the spider’s bite would have been a small thing. Merely a nuisance and perhaps never noticed. But for him to have been bitten now, when he was so young and defenseless...despite what Lyon had assured, children were known to die from such things.
The thought made Jenny want to cry again.
“Och, Miss Jenny. Are ye still blamin’ yerself for what happened? I hate to see ye do it. His Grace will be angry if ye continue to go on so.”
She merely nodded, having no heart to argue. “Go on downstairs, Mrs. MacNaught. Perhaps the gown can be saved before the stains set in. I need a moment alone, if you don’t mind.”
The woman pursed her lips, obviously not trusting Jenny had the strength to stop wallowing in her misery. But she gave a curt nod and left to attend to the task. She’d also left the door open now that Jenny was properly dressed, as well she should have, for this was Lyon’s bedchamber and no one other than Lyon had the right to be in here.
She ought to have marched out, but her legs would not cooperate.
Her tears began to fall again and she could not make them stop. Even she berated herself. Johnny needed her and she needed to hold him in her arms.
A shadow fell across the room.
She turned and saw Lyon standing at the threshold, his big body filling the doorway. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her a long moment before saying a word. “Yer tears won’t help the bairn. They don’t seem to be helping ye either, lass.”
His tone was gentle.
He was not chiding her at all. In truth, were she not standing in his bedchamber, he might have come forward and taken her in his arms.
Oh, yes. That would help matters...help take matters from disastrous to catastrophic. She’d be known as the worst mother in Scotland as well as an adulteress. The worst sort of adulteress, if such a thing existed. It was bad enough to cheat on one’s husband, but to cheat on him with his own brother was unspeakable.
And she wasn’t even married.
She wasn’t even...she was still a virgin.
How had she gotten herself into this coil?
Her lies and deceit had to end here and now. “Lyon.” She burst into sobs again.
“Och, Jenny.” He stepped into his bedchamber and took her by the hand to lead her out. Thank goodness one of them had sense. “Come with me.”
She thought he was taking her to her own bedchamber, but he was obviously leading her away from Johnny and his brothers. She shook her head in confusion when they reached the stairs and he started down them. “Where are you taking me?”
“Dinna worry about the bairn. Matthew’s got him. He has the ice and knows what to do. Have ye not noticed? Johnny is on the mend. Ye’re the only one who’s crying.”
If her face hadn’t already been a hot, red mess, he might have noticed her blushing.
Lyon kept hold of her hand as he led her into the garden to the pergola where she had taken up the custom of having her afternoon tea. He settled her in one of the chairs and took the one opposite hers. “I’ve never seen a lass more hard on herself than you, Jenny.”
He had yet to release her hand.
It felt nice, swallowed up in his.
Tell him the truth.
“Do ye know how many times we were bitten as boys? Dozens. These little crawlies get in everywhere.”
“But I should have–”
“Stood sentry over the bairn? Ye might no’ have seen it even if ye were hovering over the cradle every minute of the day. The lad is a Lyon of Mar. He’s strong. He’s in good health. The sting might pain him for a few days, but he’ll recover.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and then released it “I’ll watch him closely. If the bite appears to be getting infected–”
“Infected!” Her heart shot into her throat.
“Och, lass. It won’t. I only raised it as a possibility. Perhaps if he were sickly, but that boy has a robust set of lungs. He’s as stubborn and willful as I am, and that’s saying something because I’m as impatient and demanding as they come.”
“Your Grace, there is something I must tell you.”
“What did ye just call me?” He arched an eyebrow. “Why the sudden formality?”
She had no chance to respond. Brogan came running into the garden just then. He stopped beside them, breathless. Jenny shot to her feet. “Is it Johnny? Has he taken a turn for the worse?”
“No, Miss Jenny.” He turned to Lyon. “Ye have a visitor.”
Lyon frowned. “Who would dare show up within an hour of my arrival? I’m not home to anyone today.”
“It’s Duchess Davina.”<
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He shot to his feet as well. “Davina? What in hell does she want with me?”
“She wouldn’t say. I put her in the visitor’s parlor.”
“Ye ought to have tossed her out on her ear,” Lyon muttered. “That woman is poison. I’ll see her out.”
“Darling, is this any way to speak of your beloved?”
Jenny couldn’t help but gape at the woman who suddenly appeared behind Brogan.
She was beautiful. Dark hair and not a single strand out of place despite the constant wind. Azure eyes that were clear and sparkling. Exquisite gown, a blue silk that enhanced the color of her eyes.
Jenny was no match for her. Indeed, she was a drippy-nosed, blotchy mess. Her gown was a cherry muslin that did not enhance anything.
She dared not compare herself to Davina.
Oh, yes. Davina knew she was beautiful and would not hesitate to use her obvious assets to get what she wanted.
She wasn’t subtle about her desires.
Davina wanted Lyon.
She reminded Jenny of a fire breathing dragon about to swoop down on its prey.
Davina was not thrilled with her either. She looked down her nose at Jenny, then cast her a cold, taunting smile before turning her attention to Lyon. “Did I come at a bad time? Getting rid of another mistress,” she purred, rubbing her body against his much as a cat would rub up against someone’s leg. “The poor lass. Ye’ve made her fall in love with ye and now ye’re bored and ready to toss her away.”
“Gad, Davina. Ye’re more of a witch than I remembered.” He turned to Jenny. “Lass, go up to the bairn. I’ll be along shortly.”
She nodded, eager to get away from both of them. Their upper class manners curled her stomach. Right now, she couldn’t abide either of them. Was Lyon ever stupid enough to consider falling in love with this woman? She oozed bitterness, resentment, haughtiness, and too many other unforgiving traits to list.
Davina caught her by the arm. “Ye gave him a bastard? And the paragon is still getting rid o’ ye?” She turned back to Lyon with a smug smile. “Ye’re not so decent after all. Good. There’s hope for us yet.”
“Not a chance in hell, Davina. The boy is John’s son and he’s legitimate.”
Oddly, this seemed to delight her all the more.
Jenny wanted to toss back an insult, but realized this woman’s words were meant to be goading. She refused to take the bait, for Davina was obviously a master at the art of crushing people’s souls. Jenny would never take pleasure in hurting anyone.
But until she confessed all to Lyon, she was no better than this odious woman.
She wrenched her arm away, feeling a little burst of pain as Davina’s fingers dug into her flesh, leaving a scratch on her skin. She’d tend to it later. It hurt, but how bad could it be? Her gown had three-quarter sleeves and the woman’s nails had dug mostly into fabric and not directly into her skin.
She started to walk away, but apparently not fast enough, for Davina called out to her. “He’s only using ye to get back at his brother for what John and I did to him. Do ye know? Did he tell ye?”
“Shut up, Davina. Get out of my home.”
“Did he tell ye that I–” The next words out of Davina’s mouth were so coarse, it was all Jenny could do to stifle her gasp. Davina did not use a polite term for her having carnal relations with his brother. Nor was she through using coarse language. “Lyon is going to do the same to ye. He does no’ care for ye. It’s vengeance he wants. So he’ll–the brains out of ye.”
She’d used that explicit word again. “He’ll do it to ye long and hard, and make ye howl with pleasure. But all the while he’ll be thinking of me, wanting me, and hating me because I gave myself to his brother.”
Having shot a full quiver of flaming arrows, she tossed back her head and strode out with her chin held high. She purposely knocked into Jenny with her shoulder as she passed. Brogan was waiting by the door to show her out. No doubt he’d heard Davina, as had every servant within shouting distance.
Of course, Davina had meant them to hear.
“Hen’s teeth,” Lyon muttered, running a hand through his hair, his expression obviously pained. “I don’t even know where to start with my apology, lass. Part of what she said is true, but ye already knew. Johnny told ye about that night.”
She nodded. “Now you must understand why he did it. He had to save you from that evil woman’s clutches.”
“I know it now.” He groaned and ran a hand roughly through his hair again. “I never loved her, but our families had planned on our marrying and talked about it ever since we were children. It seemed the logical next step. Still, I resisted. Then my father grew ill and we knew he was going to die soon, so I had to act.”
“You agreed to offer for her hand in marriage. You wanted to please your father.”
“Aye, lass. But I never realized the extent of Davina’s malice. No doubt she did her best to hide it from me since I was the prize she was after. But John saw her for what she truly was, didn’t he? Ours was never going to be a union forged in love. She would have given me heirs, then gone off to Edinburgh, possibly London, and led her own life.”
Jenny’s heart ached for him, ached for what he was willing to give up for the sake of duty. “That sounds horrible.”
He nodded. “I dinna think so at the time. Love was never a consideration. But I see now the great damage she would have done in her position as Duchess of Mar. I’ll apologize to John when he comes for ye, lass. I owe him a great debt for helping me avoid this disaster.”
“It will mean a lot to him. He loves you deeply.”
Lyon frowned. “I’m worried about what that witch intends to do next.”
“Hopefully disappear into the bog from whence she emerged.” Jenny knew it was an unkind thing to say, but quite appropriate for the heartless Davina.
Lyon grinned in agreement, but his mood was grim and his smile quickly turned to anguish. “What she said about my seeking revenge. It is nonsense. I’d never harm a hair on yer head, Jenny. Ye must believe it. I’d never touch ye, even if I were still blazing angry with my brother. Ye’re innocent in all this. Ye’ve no’ lied to me. In truth, ye’ve shown yourself to be of the finest character.”
“No, Lyon. I’m not a saint. I’ve done a terrible thing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What? Stolen a slice of Mrs. MacAlpin’s apple pie as it cooled on the kitchen sill?”
“This is serious.”
He glanced at her clasped hands. “Och, lass. Whatever it is, let it wait until tonight. Little Johnny will be on the mend by then and perhaps ye won’t be feeling the need to confess yer sins. They canno’ be nearly as bad as mine.”
She shook her head, feeling quite miserable. “Oh, they are.”
“Jenny,” he said in a raw, raspy voice filled with ache. “Ye’re an angel, lass. Dinna ye see yerself for what ye are?”
This was the problem, she did see herself quite clearly. She’d lied to him, and after the way he’d been duped by Davina, she could understand why he hated liars.
What would he do to her when she told him the truth?
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” Brogan said, his expression as miserable as Cheyne had ever seen on the crusty Cornishman. “I hadn’t expected her to follow me out.”
“Nothing to apologize for. She came here purposely out for blood. I suppose ye heard everything.”
Brogan nodded. “As did much of the staff. But we’re loyal to you. No one will ever speak of it again.”
Cheyne snorted. “Aye, they will. A whisper here and there. It is what happens. I don’t care for myself. It’s Jenny who will be tainted by the rumors. The only one who’s innocent in all this, is the one who’ll be hurt most. I dinna know how to protect her from Davina’s poison tongue.”
“Words won’t convince anyone. It is how you and your brothers act toward her that will show everyone Duchess Davina is the liar.”
“Right, but even that won’t quell eve
ry rumor. John is the only one who can fix this. He needs to come home soon.” For many reasons, not the least of which had to do with Jenny. Although Davina was little more than a crude, ranting sea witch, her accusations were not completely off the mark.
Cheyne slowly climbed the stairs, intending to look in on the bairn to see how the lad was faring. He also meant to have a look at Jenny’s arm to be certain Davina hadn’t scratched her too badly. But his thoughts were in a whirl. Davina had been right about his wanting Jenny. He lusted for her something fierce. But it had nothing to do with seeking revenge on his brother. Blessed saints! He’d never ruin an innocent to slake his desire for vengeance. Nor did he ever desire to hurt John for what he’d done.
Aye, John had humiliated and angered him. At the time, he’d considered it an utter and complete betrayal by a brother he loved dearly. But to hurt John beyond refusing to speak to him again? Never. And now, all he wanted to do was crush him in a big, sloppy hug and beg his forgiveness.
But he couldn’t allow John to reside in the castle, much as he would have liked for them to be together again. To see Jenny every day, to gaze upon her smile, watch her body move with gentle grace, and pretend her every word, her laughter and her tears, did not affect him...it would be too much for him to bear.
And if Jenny felt the same way about him?
It would be a recipe for disaster.
He shook out of the thought as he reached her bedchamber. His only course was to increase John’s allowance, provide him a generous one and set him up in a separate residence far from Castle Lyon.
The door was open. Matthew and Lucas were inside, along with Mairi and Mrs. MacNaught. “Any improvement in the lad?” he asked, kneeling beside Jenny who was also present and now seated in the rocking chair holding the bairn in her arms.
She nodded. “Matthew did exactly as you instructed, applying the ice to the spot of the bite mark. The swelling’s gone down nicely. What do you think?” She raised the ice compress she’d been holding against the plump folds of Johnny’s leg so that he could examine it.
The redness had subsided.