He sighed, shaking his head and opened his mouth, hopefully to share with her what she needed to know, but just then another voice cut between them.
“Peg! You actually listened for once and stayed in the hotel. Though I do wish ye had remained in your rooms until we returned.”
Peggy looked up at her brother, raising her eyebrows.
“Seriously, Roderick? Did you really expect me to stay in my room all afternoon?”
“Nay,” he said with a grin. “But I had to try. Now, who’s ready for dinner?”
Chapter 5
They found dinner at a pub respectable enough that Duncan wouldn’t balk if he knew Peggy had been there. Despite her protests, however, it was back to the hotel afterward with no further entertainment for the evening.
“We’ll do more tomorrow, Peg, I promise,” said Roderick, though he seemed rather preoccupied by returning to his hotel room with his wife than anything else. Peggy rolled her eyes after the two of them as they left her at the door of her room. She had to admit though, that she was pleased that her brother had found happiness. She couldn’t think of another woman who would ever suit him as well as Gwen did. He just had to go halfway around the world to find her.
Not tired in the least, Peggy made her way over to the window of her second-story room, leaning out over the ledge to take in the street below, bustling with people. Did it ever slow down here, or was there activity at all hours of the day and night? Peggy stretched farther to get a better look. A soft tap at the door startled her, upsetting her balance, and she nearly fell out the window. Heart racing, she crossed the room and opened the door a crack, expecting to see her brother, there to ensure that she hadn’t gone anywhere.
Rory stood on the other side, and her eyes widened in astonishment.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, not opening the door any wider.
“Do ye want to go out or not?” he asked with a wicked smile, his voice at equal volume to hers, and she grinned at him excitedly, nearly jumping in the air in her enthusiasm. But somehow, she managed to retain her control.
“Of course!” she finally said. “Give me a couple of moments.”
Peggy shut the door on Rory as she quickly freshened up, splashing water on her face and running her fingers through her hair, still unbound and cascading in the slightest of waves down her back. She wasn’t about to start wearing it up, Glasgow or not.
She did all she could to maintain her nonchalance as she met Rory outside the door, noting that he checked up and down the hall before leading her along the corridor, down the steps, and out the door of the hotel.
“I’ve hired a hack,” he said, a hand at her back as he urged her to move more quickly through the door, as though Roderick was going to appear at any moment. “Promise me, Peg, you won’t say anything to your brother, will you? He’ll have my hide.”
“Of course not!” she exclaimed, sharing a grin with him.
He helped her up into the hack, and she turned to him, asking where they were going.
“A place owned by an old friend,” he said. “There is a bit of gambling, but nothing too disreputable. Stay close to me, and we’ll be fine. We willna stay too late, just long enough to give you the flavor of it.”
She nodded, excitement growing in her chest at his words — and, if she were to admit to herself, his nearness. For he sat on the seat beside her, his muscled shoulder hard against hers, warming her through. His thigh rested along hers, so very large and strong compared to her own, although she certainly wasn’t a dainty thing. Did he feel it too? Obviously not, for he shifted away from her as best he could on the close bench, putting a slight bit of space between them. She tried not to let disappointment simmer in her belly but rather focused on what was to come.
It wasn’t long before they pulled up at an old brick building, which certainly needed some upkeep, looking as though it hadn’t seen any care in some time. But Rory simply glanced over at her with excitement, and was out the hack door and halfway to the building when he seemed to remember that he should help her out of the carriage. Wearing a sheepish expression, he doubled back and held out a hand.
But Peggy was already down the stairs and following him into the building, and now raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking abashed. “I suppose you just always seem so capable, and as ye aren’t on a horse…”
Peggy cuffed him on the shoulder as he chuckled slightly. Then he looked beyond her at the dark streets, seemingly concerned at the dress and the manner of some of the people about them. But soon enough Rory took her arm and was ushering her through the door and down the stairs, where an abundance of light and sound hit her like a runaway carriage.
The large room was full of people, and Peggy looked about her in amazement. Tables were haphazardly spread throughout the room, and people crowded around them, throwing cards, chips, and coin in the dim light of mismatched chandeliers hanging above them. Through the hazy smoke that filled the air, Peggy could see the walls were draped in rich-green velvet, then covered in paintings of Scottish landscapes, though they were in such a variety of frames and styles that they looked as though they were the gathered castoffs from wealthy families. The smell of ale and a mixture of alcohol washed over Peggy, likely from the bar in the corner and the sloppily spilled drinks from about the room. She had to jump back to avoid getting splashed by one such mug, held by a man who seemed to be unaware of the people surrounding him.
“What is this place?” she whispered, but Rory apparently hadn’t heard her, for his gaze was fixed on a woman running toward him at a fairly rapid pace. Peggy watched in astonishment as the red-haired woman jumped into his outstretched arms while Peggy worried over the bodice of her dress, which, already low to start with, threatened to expose everything underneath.
“Rory MacTavish!” the woman shouted. “You’ve returned!”
“Of course I’ve returned, darlin’,” Rory said with a grin as he set the woman back on the floor.
Peggy tried to ignore the burning in her stomach at the familiarity the woman took with him — clearly, there had been something between them, if it didn’t still remain.
“Told ye I would, did I not?”
“Of course,” she said, waving a hand in the air, though Peggy figured the woman put as much stock in the word of Rory MacTavish as anyone else who knew him — meaning little to none at all. The redhead, who Peggy could see was slightly older than Rory, hung onto his arm as she led him into the busy room, greeting the other patrons as she weaved in and around the multitude of bodies. Peggy stood staring until Rory finally returned and grabbed hold of her hand.
“Who is that?” she hissed at him as the woman in question waited, and Rory looked down at Peggy in surprise.
“Oh, Maggie? An old friend.”
“Mm hmm.”
“What’s this?” he asked in nearly a shout in order to be heard amongst the noise of the room around them. “Dinna say you’re jealous, Peg!”
“Of course not!” she bit out, holding her head high as she brushed past him toward the buxom woman, who stood waiting for them.
“Hello,” Peggy greeted her, refusing to be ignored any longer. “I’m Peggy. Peggy McDougall.”
She was surprised when the woman smiled warmly at her, apparently pleased by her introduction. “Nice to meet you, darlin’. I’m Maggie.”
Peggy turned around to shoot a glare at Rory as if to question his initial suspicion of her envy. His eyes widened as he looked back at her, before they crinkled into a smile as he accepted her challenge and pressed on behind her.
“Here you are,” Maggie said, stopping in front of a table covered in green felt, motioning toward a chair for Rory to sit. “The faro game is ready for you.”
“Ah, Maggie, I’m not sure I should—”
“Nonsense! Sit.”
He looked as though he was going to protest once again, but it didn’t take much besides a quick shove on his shoulder for Rory
to do as she said. He sat.
* * *
Lord, this had been a terrible idea. Rory looked at the table in front of him, grimacing. He took a swallow from his glass of ale, shaking his head at himself. He should have known better. Gambling always got him into trouble, and he shouldn’t have allowed Maggie to talk him into it. She had known him far too long, however, and apparently saw him as an easy mark for one of her tables. He had always loved faro, but it certainly didn’t love him.
He turned around to see Peggy leaning against the wall, watching him with a smirk on her face. He returned it before re-focusing on where to place his next bet. That was the problem with this game — it was all based on chance. Well, usually. He eyed his playing companions and the dealer. In the past, he hadn’t been completely adverse to changing his bet once the card was drawn, with the sleight of hand he had perfected. But his cheating ways had proven to be more trouble than they were worth — and not only for him but for his sister as well, who had found herself the recipient of the fury of a man he had cheated. No, he had learned from his mistakes, if nothing else.
Just a couple more rounds. He could win back his money and all would be fine.
But, of course, that didn’t prove to be the case. Finally, he sighed, pushing back from the table, his pockets a good deal lighter. He looked around for Peggy, embarrassed that she had witnessed this debacle. He had brought her here for a bit of fun, perhaps a drink and some dancing, and instead he had completely ignored her as he was drawn in by his old vice.
Where the hell was she? Rory’s heart started to beat rapidly as mild panic rose within him. She had been over there but a moment ago — or … was it only a moment ago? Perhaps it was more like a few minutes. Or even an hour? Sweat broke out on his brow as he began to envision himself going back to the hotel without her. What would he tell Roderick? The man would kill him. And if Roderick didn’t finish the job, Rory would have the remainder of the McDougall brothers to contend with, and then there was Peggy’s father himself. But none of that was as bad as the simple act of losing Peggy.
As Rory pushed through the people around him, men glaring at him for his rudeness, women either perturbed or looking at him enticingly, he tried not to think of what could have happened to her. She was always up for a bit of fun — would she have enough sense to turn down what might sound like particularly exciting invitations?
Rory stood as tall as he could, looking around him, when he heard a familiar voice in his ear.
“Lose something?”
“Maggie!” he said desperately. “Have ye seen Peggy? The girl I came with?”
She eyed him shrewdly. “You actually care about this one, then?”
“Come on, Maggie,” he said impatiently. “Do ye know where she is or not?”
“I do,” she said, a slight smile upon her lips. She cocked her head to the right. “Follow me.”
More relieved than he could ever admit, Rory followed her through the room, halting behind her when she stopped at one of the tables.
“Where is she?” he asked looking around, and Maggie waved an arm to the table itself.
“Open yer eyes.”
The panic fled and he found himself nearly shaking with relief when his gaze came to rest upon Peggy’s familiar frame, her dark hair flowing down her back. Rory stood for a moment, his hands on his hips as he watched her, angry, though primarily at himself. He had fallen into old habits — the very habits he had convinced himself were far behind him.
“I’ll take another,” he heard Peggy say, and he crept up behind her to see what she was playing. Vingt-et-un. He wasn’t particularly skilled at the game, and he didn’t even know that Peggy knew how to play it.
She clapped with glee as the players revealed their cards, while a five, a six, and a jack lay on the table in front of her. “Twenty-one!” she said, and the dealer pushed a stack of chips toward her, which she added to a pile that was astonishingly large.
“Peggy!” he finally said, stepping up to hover over her shoulder, and she cast a quick look toward him out of the side of her eye before returning to the game in front of her.
“Rory,” she acknowledged him with the slightest nod. “Had enough of losing, did you?”
“How would ye know I lost?” he challenged. “You seem to have been keeping busy yourself.”
“I have,” she said with a shrug, as though it was of no consequence. “Ye should know me well enough, Rory, to be aware that I am not the type of woman to sit idly by and watch a man enjoy himself. I like to have my fun as well. Besides, it was becoming rather painful observing you.”
“Peg, I think ’tis time to go.”
“But I’m winning!”
“Peg.”
She sighed as she waved a hand at the dealer, signaling to him that she was finished, and Rory noticed that a few of the other players seemed relieved to see her go. She took her pile of chips with her, and he helped her cash them in, shaking his head as they did so. She had won nearly as much as he had lost, it seemed, though he would never admit the fact to her.
She was fierce, this one. He should probably never have brought her. But as he noticed the light in her eyes, the exhilaration emanating from her, he felt a bit better about his decision.
He had shown her a bit of fun — what was the harm in that?
Chapter 6
The problem, Rory realized as he escorted her out of the club, a hand wrapped around her elbow as he led her through the crowds, was Peggy herself.
As they walked, he was astonished by the number of stares trained upon them — well, on her, to be precise. Despite the fact that she likely wore the highest bodice of any woman in the room, she was attracting attention as they walked, with her unbound hair and spirited gaze, and Rory wasn’t sure he liked it.
It was just because he didn’t want to have to fight off any unwanted advances, he told himself. Peggy was like his sister, truly, and it was his responsibility to look out for her when her own brothers were not around.
But then he looked down at her, at the deep chestnut of her hair cascading down her back to just above her waist, her perfect hips, and her ample breasts. He couldn’t very well call her a girl any longer, now could he? And why was he suddenly noticing these things? He scowled but quickly hid his expression when Peggy turned to look at him, as though to ensure he actually was following her.
As they climbed the stairs, he had to close his eyes for a moment as her bottom seemed to be directly in front of his eyes, her skirts swinging behind her. For the love of—
“Rory? Are you all right?”
He opened his eyes and looked up at her, where she was now waiting for him at the top of the steps. He hadn’t even realized he had come to a complete stop.
“Absolutely,” he said, though his voice sounded slightly strangled, even to him. “Never better.”
He followed Peggy through the outer door, whistling for a hack to stop. He helped her into the small cab, sitting as far away from her as he possibly could. Although then, even though he wasn’t actually touching her in any way, it seemed as though he could sense her presence across from him, the outline of her profile in the light of the streetlamp which filtered in through the window. He pictured her lips, which tonight had seemed to be rosier than usual, her eyes bluer. Even her smile seemed slightly sultry.
“Are you sure you’re not ill?” she asked, and he could almost hear those very same lips pursing with concern. “You had an awfully strange look on your face. Did you drink too much?”
“Of course not,” he said, insulted that she might think such a thing. After all, he was a Highlander — a MacTavish!
“Then what’s the matter with ye?”
“Nothing,” he said, hearing the churlishness of his words, and he resolved not to talk to her again until they returned to the hotel. Thankfully, she didn’t push him, apparently picking up on his bad mood.
What was wrong with him? Every time he looked at Peggy, a flush came over him, an attractio
n that he desperately wanted to ignore. This was Peggy, the girl who had chased after him for their entire lives. She was his sister’s friend, the sister of his own friends and business partners. He had no right to want anything of her, especially when all knew of his reputation with women. He had his fun and then went along his way. All folks thought of him as Rory MacTavish, irresponsible womanizer.
Now here was one woman with whom he actually had a decent relationship — they were friends, if you will — and he was attempting to ruin it all by feelings for which he had no wish. They said nothing for the remainder of the ride.
When they pulled back up to the hotel, he helped her down, shock coursing through him from the heat of her fingers upon his, and he let go of her hand so quickly she nearly fell down the hack’s steps, catching herself on the rail just in time.
“Damn it, I’m sorry, Peg,” he said, but she shook him away.
“It’s fine.”
“‘Tis not.”
“I said it is.”
It was as though they were strangers now. He led her into the hotel entrance, finding a few patrons still awake, taking a drink at the bar. Peggy brushed past him, making her way over to a stool.
“Peggy.” He chased after her. “You should be going to bed.”
“Who are you, one of my brothers?”
Far from it, especially with the thoughts currently running through his head.
“No, I—”
“I’m fine here, Rory,” she said, lifting her arm to capture the barkeep’s attention, ignoring Rory altogether now. “Go on to bed, or wherever it is you wish to go. I feel as though I’m holding you back from something.”
Peggy’s Love: The Victorian Highlanders Book 5 Page 4