by Meara Platt
Cheyne arched an eyebrow. “They offered because of my title, that’s all.” He tossed his shirt over his shoulder, grumbling as his brothers nudged him out of his bedchamber.
Brogan was standing at the front door, his mouth cracked wide in a grin. “It does my old heart good to see you all together as you used to be. Your father and mother would be proud.”
Cheyne doubted it, but he also realized he had become too serious ever since taking on the ducal title. He was a Highlander, leader of one of the oldest and proudest clans. If his men wanted to go swimming bare-arsed in the sea, he had to lead them. Aye, it was the annual tradition. No one recalled how it had come about, but no one seemed of a mind to put a halt to it. “Care to join us, Brogan?”
“No, Your Grace. I’m Sassenach. It wouldn’t be fitting for me to intrude on your day of revels.”
Aye, there would be festivities in town. He’d take Jenny down there later for the afternoon events, especially the parade along the High Street. He’d be leading that as well, followed by Stonehaven’s bagpipers and drummers. They’d all be clad in their clan tartans. He wondered what she would think of it all.
The evening merriment would likely be too wild for her. Lots of bawdy singing, lively dancing, and heavy drinking. Men and women would be doing things they ought not do. But this was the point of the pagan moon, to bring out the naughty in everyone.
Of course, there would be a spate of bairns born nine months from now.
What would Jenny think of that?
Did she have any naughty in her?
Chapter Nine
“They’re doing what?” Jenny asked, not believing what the giggling Mairi had just told her. She had just gotten out of bed and now raced to the window to peer out of it. “Oh, my goodness.”
Several hundred men were gathered on the sandy shore, not a scrap of clothing among them. Of course, one wouldn’t wish to see what most of these men were showing...but then there were the Lyon brothers. She knew where they were standing because most of the women were crowded in one spot, angling and elbowing each other for the best vantage point.
“Shall we go down to the beach, Miss Jenny? The lad is happy and not in any pain. Indeed, ye canna tell where the spider bit him. What do ye say? Shall we go?”
She gasped. “Oh, no. We couldn’t.”
But Mairi already had Johnny fed, changed, and ready to be taken outdoors. “It’s a beautiful morning. It would be a shame to waste it,” the girl coaxed, obviously wanting to be on the beach with the other women who were cheering, and at times jeering at their menfolk.
Jenny did not have the heart to disappoint Mairi. “You go on ahead. I’ll join you later, once the men are dressed. They will dress, won’t they?” Dear heaven, she could not imagine them prancing naked about town all day.
“Och, yes. They just strip for their swim.” The girl cast Jenny a beaming smile. “I’ll be with the crowd of ladies,” she said with a wink. “The sight of those handsome Lyon men will sustain me until next year. I’ll take the bairn with me, if ye don’t mind. His uncles will be pleased to have him with them. I’ll hold tight to the lad. Ye needn’t worry.”
Jenny nodded. “I’ll meet you on the beach in about an hour. How’s that?”
“Perfect.” Mairi gathered a few belongings for Johnny and scurried out of the bedchamber before Jenny changed her mind.
Cheers and laughter floated on the breeze to reach her open window. Jenny hastily washed and dressed, donning one of her own gowns, a pale blue muslin, and doing up her own hair. She braided it, then pinned the braid in a bun at the nape of her neck.
Then she did an unthinkable thing.
She’d noticed a spyglass in Lyon’s bedchamber when she’d changed out of her gown and shift yesterday. Who would she harm if she borrowed it for a few minutes to look at the festivities on the beach? Of course, by festivities she meant Cheyne Lyon.
Blessed Mother! The man’s body!
Only Brogan remained in the house and she knew he was downstairs, so she hurried to Lyon’s chamber, snatched the spyglass, and hurried back to her bedroom to peer out the window. By the sounds that carried to her ears, she knew she’d missed much of the ceremony. The men were already in the water.
She raised the spyglass and did not have long to wait before the men finished their swim and began to wade out of the water, the elderly and less adventurous first. Then a buzz of excitement reached her ears and she knew one of the Lyon men were about to emerge from the sea. She scanned the shore and there he was, Lyon himself, rising from the white-foam waves like Poseidon emerging from the deep.
Oh. My. Heavens.
If she leaned out any further, she’d tumble out the window. But she was too busy staring at him to care. His body was perfection. Tanned. Firm. Muscled. She could even make out the dusting of dark hair across his broad chest. And the patch of dark hair at the junction of his thighs.
She took a deep breath to calm her heartbeats and rubbed her eyes that were about to pop out of their sockets.
Oh, she was a wanton.
She raised the spyglass again and focused it on his face, which is why she realized he was staring up at the castle, looking straight at her window as she dangled out of it with...oh, he must have noticed the sun glinting off the spyglass.
He had, she realized with no small mortification.
Still looking straight at her window, he grinned and gave her a casual salute.
She ducked back inside and took several deep breaths.
He knew she’d looked!
Her hands were sweating, so she wiped them on her gown and then also wiped down the spyglass before hurrying to his bedchamber to return it to its proper place. Instead of returning to her room, she ran downstairs, intending to walk into town and lose herself amid the crowd before Lyon found her.
She simply couldn’t face him yet.
Arrogant man!
He wasn’t in the least embarrassed she’d been spying on him. Indeed, he thought it was quite the jest. He had to know he was magnificent. All the women were gaping and gawking, crowding around him. So why had he bothered to look up at her?
Since she had already arranged to meet Mairi on the beach, she decided to head down there now. With luck, the crowd will have dispersed by then. She doubted Lyon would think to look for her at the very spot he’d paraded his family jewels.
Her face was still warm, her cheeks no doubt still flaming, as she headed for the front door. She dared not use the back gate on the chance she’d encounter Lyon coming up from the beach. They had arranged to talk this morning, but she would utterly lose her composure while the sight of his naked body was still burned into her mind.
Brogan was standing at the door and dutifully opened it for her, but he grinned and arched an eyebrow to let her know he was aware of exactly what she had been doing.
She could have pretended not to notice, or could have frowned to put Lyon’s trusted head butler in his place, but she could not bring herself to do it.
She sighed. “Yes, Brogan. I looked. Please don’t tell him. I expect he knows it already.”
“Very little escapes his notice.”
What did he mean by the remark? Did Brogan know she was a fake? Did Lyon know? No, he couldn’t. He would have tossed her out of his home before this. “I had better find Mairi.”
She was overset as she walked into town, too lost in her thoughts to pay attention to the fine carriages passing her on the road or the strangers wandering into town. But this was the start of the Pagan Moon festivities, so she expected many outsiders would swell the local population and fill the inns and taverns this week.
Avoiding Lyon now was one thing, but she did not want to wait for the festival to end before she spoke to him and confessed the truth. Indeed, she hoped to gather the three brothers and tell them tonight. Hopefully, they would all return at some point this evening, even if it was merely to change into evening attire before returning to town. Lucas and Matthew would be kinder to he
r than Lyon would be. She needed them to plead for her mercy.
The sun beat down on the road as she walked toward town. Perhaps she ought to have cut through the back gate, even if she risked running into Lyon. It was hotter than she’d realized and she grew thirsty. She hadn’t brought her reticule or coin purse with her, but everyone in the village knew her because Lyon had introduced her to all of them.
She’d also made it part of her daily routine to take Johnny for walks to the harbor or to browse the shops while Lyon was in Edinburgh. She could easily stop by one of the local tea shops for refreshments and charge it to his account.
Since Johnny was teething and enjoyed gnawing on something hard, she’d pick up some tea biscuits. Those were meant to be dunked into one’s tea or coffee to soften them before eating. She would purchase some honeyed buns for her and Mairi as well.
She was so lost in her thoughts, it took her a moment to notice the fine carriage that had slowed and now appeared to be following her. No, surely these travelers were only taking their time getting into town. The carriage finally passed her, only to stop just a few steps ahead.
Two men descended.
Her hand went to her throat. “No!”
Jenny glanced around, her heart pounding as she desperately sought help to escape her uncle and Lord Finster. But they were suddenly alone on the road, no one around to help.
How had these villains found her?
She had no intention of waiting for answers and took off at a run. Lord Finster was fast on his feet and blocked her path into town. She darted away to avoid his grasp, but the road to the castle was now blocked by her uncle and the coachman.
The three men began to close in on her.
“Now, Jenny,” her uncle said, “don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”
Yes, it was difficult. But she was not going to let them abduct her. With no carriages in sight, she had to outwit them on her own. Everyone was already in town enjoying the celebrations and would not know she’d been taken for at least another half hour.
“I’m not going back with you, Uncle Arden. And I’ll never marry your Lord Finster.” She turned to the younger man who might have been considered passably handsome were he not so indolent. He drank too much and frequented the less respectable gaming establishments. He was not a kind or generous man either. “Why are you here? Why am I so important to you? I don’t love you and I doubt you even like me.”
The man sneered. “You’re an heiress, don’t you know?”
She laughed. “Has my uncle been filling your head with this nonsense? If I were, don’t you think he would be digging into my trust fund already? He wouldn’t need you to marry me in order to gain access to it. Indeed, he would never want me to marry. He’d then lose control of my funds. So you see, he’s duped you.”
But neither man flinched nor did they waver.
She continued to back away.
What did they know that she did not? Had her father’s solicitor been in on a fraud? More important, would her father hold anything back from her? They’d always been close. What could he have hidden from her?
Lord Finster had now moved behind her, blocking her retreat to Castle Lyon. Her uncle stood in front of her, blocking her path into town. Their coachman stood near the carriage, blocking her escape route to the left.
She had only one direction to run and that was toward the cliff trail. The very trail she’d sworn she’d never, ever walk up again.
Jenny, you can do it. You must.
Fear took wicked hold of her, it’s physical effect palpable. Her heart began to pound as fiercely as a war drum. Her body began to tremble and she felt her legs about to buckle. Fight it. Fight it! Someone would see her running and come to her rescue before she reached those treacherous cliff heights.
Indeed, if she managed to climb high enough, she would be spotted from anywhere in town.
She held on to that slim thread and bolted for the cliff.
“Jenny! Stop! You can’t escape us,” Lord Finster called out, his footfalls crunching on the pebbles as he narrowed the distance between them.
She dared not lose precious time by looking back. Although her uncle was in no shape to catch her, Lord Finster was. She was no match for his long strides. She would have to fight him off once he caught her.
Please, not on the cliff path.
The narrowness of the trail scared her. The sharp drop off the cliff’s edge onto the rocks below terrified her. Even now, her head was spinning and her stomach roiled at the thought of climbing upward. But there was no other choice.
Her lungs began to burn, for she was running faster than she’d ever run in her life. Indeed, everything burned, even her legs. A fiery ache tore up her thighs, but she kept on going. She was breathing too hard to manage a scream, but someone had to look up eventually and see her.
All she had to do was reach the cliff path.
Then Lyon would save her.
“Ha! Got you!” Lord Finster cried, obviously not nearly as affected by the run that had her heart about to explode in her chest.
She hadn’t climbed high enough yet. No one would see him drag her back to his carriage from here. That left her only one choice. She stopped struggling.
“Ah, there’s a sensible girl. You don’t want to make it worse than it has to be.”
The moment he eased his grip, she whirled around and smashed her fist into his face.
He yelped and released her to clutch his bloodied nose.
She yelped as pain shot through her hand. But she took off again, feeling the graze of his fingers on her arm as he lunged forward in a desperate attempt to catch her.
She gave silent thanks as she felt the wind strengthen and could hear the caws of the nesting birds growing louder. She was almost there. Just a little higher and someone would notice her.
There were several people on the beach.
She only cared about Lyon.
Where was he?
Could he reach her in time?
Chapter Eleven
Cheyne dried himself off and then donned his trousers. He felt the gaze of every woman in town upon him. The swim was a ritual, and all the men took part in it, so there were easily a hundred naked men wading out of the water along with him. But he was the duke so everyone’s attention was fixed on him.
Not that he cared.
He wasn’t particularly bashful.
But Jenny had been looking at him from her window. He could tell by the location of the sun’s glint off the spyglass. If she’d leaned any further out her window, she would have tumbled out of it into the garden below.
Having the spyglass meant she had gone into his chamber. He ought to have been angered by her trespass, but he wasn’t. His only thought was of her slipping out of her gown and shift yesterday. She had been standing naked beside his bed.
He hadn’t seen her, of course.
But he wanted her there again.
“Cheyne, are ye comin’ with us to the tavern?” Matthew asked a short while later. They’d finished dressing and most of the crowd had dispersed, leaving him on the shore with his brothers as they reminisced about the first time their father had taken them to the swim with him to open the festival.
Lucas grinned. “Aye, baring one’s arse to the ladies builds up one’s thirst.”
“I’ll be along shortly. Start without me.” Cheyne glanced back at the castle.
Matthew groaned lightly. “Be careful. I see the way ye look at John’s wife.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair. “By all that’s holy, do ye think I’d ever touch her?”
“It only takes the once,” Lucas warned, his gaze now diverted beyond Cheyne to the cliffs above. “What’s going on there? I think that man is chasing the lass.”
He and Matthew followed his gaze.
Cheyne was about to dismiss the couple as lovers eager to sneak off on their own, but there was something familiar...about the girl.
“Is tha
t our Jenny?” Matthew muttered.
“No, it canno’ be. She’s scared to death of heights.”
Lucas was frowning. “How do ye know?”
“I took her there a few weeks ago and she all but fainted in my arms. She made me promise never to take her there again. She wouldn’t scamper up those rocks even if her life depended on it. Even if... Lord, have mercy! It is Jenny!”
He took off at a run. Who was the oaf chasing her? Cheyne was going to kill him first and ask questions later.
“We’re right behind ye, Cheyne!” Lucas called after him.
He tore along the beach and began to climb the face of the cliff. It was the only way to reach the heights in time. There were lots of ledges and footholds he and his brothers could use to climb. It wasn’t that difficult. They had scrambled up and down these very rocks when they were younger, usually earning themselves a beating from their father whenever they were caught.
It was never more than a mild beating, for their father was a gentle man and never abused them. In truth, he ached worse than any of his sons ever had when administering the flat of his palm to their backsides.
Their father was the only one ever to shed tears afterward.
“Cheyne! Be careful. Don’t kill yerself!” Matthew called out.
Cheyne spared a short, curt laugh. “Then ye’ll be duke and all the lassies will be gawking at yer naked arse instead o’ mine.”
“I’d rather they looked at my face.”
“Yer arse is better looking,” Lucas joked.
“Stop talking and climb,” Cheyne muttered. “Dinna ye see, our Jenny is in trouble?” He hadn’t meant to refer to the lass as ‘our’ anything. She belonged to John. But she was running toward the cliff heights and he knew how afraid she had to be.
Why was this man chasing her?
He doubled his efforts, desperate to reach her in time.
He reached the heights and had just managed to roll to his feet when he saw Jenny struggling with the stranger a short distance away.
“You can’t escape me, you little fool. Don’t fight me or we’ll both fall over the edge,” the villain warned. “What did you do with the books? I want them. Where did you hide them?”