“It doesn’t look like any well I’ve ever seen,” Vin added dubiously, trying to discern a well in the large structure that was more akin to an ancient temple than a well.
Moira shrugged knowing she could not refute that simple truth. “It must be. Why else would they call it that?”
Vin shrugged as well and to his surprise, a smile lifted the corner of his mouth as they shared an amused glance. “Who knows?”
A little giggle escaped Moira as she covered her mouth with her gloved hand. “Who knows!
Watching her laugh merrily, Vin felt his heavy heart lighten. “Thank you for getting me out of there, lovey. I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”
Moira raised her hand to caress his cheek tenderly, halting his words. “The problem is that there’s nothing wrong with you, Vin. You just think there is.”
Vin shook his head. “You are the most confounding woman. Either there’s a problem or there’s not.”
With a chuckle, Moira squeezed his arm affectionately. “Oh, Vin! Just relax. You cannot expect everything to just fall perfectly in line like that!” She snapped her fingers. Her knitted gloves muffled the appropriate sound. “Give it time! Give your family time to know you again. Give yourself time.”
Covering her hand with his own, Vin marveled how Moira was able to take the catastrophe of the previous evening combined with his near eruption moments before so unflappably. He felt each moment he spent in the company of another human was nothing beyond the next ingredient in a recipe made for disaster yet she shrugged it all off as inconsequential. He considered her words seriously for a second before shaking his head in bemusement. Vin couldn’t say whether she was wrong or right, did not even care to consider the matter too deeply.
“It’s not at all how I thought it would be.”
“How did you picture your return?”
Vin shook his head, refusing to put words to his dreams.
“Let me guess,” she sent him a challenging look. “You thought you’d come home and that everything would be exactly as you remember it?”
Vin shuffled in embarrassment. “Once again you are spot on in your assessment. It was what Jason and I used to talk about. When we came home…together, we would have our lives back.”
Moira smiled ruefully up at Vin. “You imagined nothing would have changed? That Fiona would still be a child, your brothers naught but rowdy young lads – well, granted not much has changed there – and Geena Campbell would be waiting to be your bride still?”
“Geena Campbell?” Vin searched his mind before a shadow of a leer slanted his lips. “Ahh, Geena Campbell! I remember her. For any man who made an effort, she was an easy…” Vin cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Whatever happened to her?”
“She spent the first few weeks after you left telling everyone that you had asked her to wait for you.” Moira eyed Vin quizzically, wondering for the first time if her old nemesis had been doing no more than spreading wishful rumors.
Vin snorted. “As if I’d ever wed, much less to a lass who’d already had every…” Remembering whom he was talking to, he cut the thought short. “Needless to say, she was mistaken.”
“Not that it matters now,” Moira shook off the sinking in her heart that followed Vin’s words regarding marriage. “She wed Lord Fraser not a month after you left.”
“Benji Fraser? That weasel?” Vin gave a reluctant bark of amusement. “By God, I hope he enjoys her. Everyone else has.”
“That’s a horrid thing to say!” Moira slapped him on the arm but was secretly amused and relieved Geena’s quick marriage hadn’t saddened Vin. “You aren’t upset then that she didn’t wait for you?”
“Why would I have wanted her to wait for me?”
“Was there anyone you hoped would wait for you?” Moira returned his question with one of her own though she bit her lip for asking that leading question.
Absurdly, Vin had the thought that he wished Moira was yet unwed but shook his head at the insanity of the thought. So, he felt some desire for her. His forced abstinence was to blame for those improper stirrings because he simply could not actually want her. She was his friend, he reminded himself once again. Jason’s sister. He had kissed her scraped legs when she was ten years old.
Ahh, but you also dreamed of more than a kiss when she flashed those same long legs climbing up on her horse ten years ago, his mind mocked. Jason had caught him looking and given him a look that laid him low and threatened him before admonishing him to keep his eyes where they belonged.
Vin shook off the memory. He’d been young and at an age where any female looked good and Moira had just been blossoming into the beautiful woman she’d become. A random spurt of wanting did not translate in waiting and wedding.
“Regardless,” Moira forged on when he didn’t answer, “my point was that you should not have expected to come back after such a long absence and think things would be the same. Give it time, Vin. We are all here for you, to support you and to help you if you need it.”
A similar statement from another would have only irritated him, but that assurance coming from Moira warmed his heart. She was such a caring person. She deserved better than having to deal with him. “Do you ever wish I were Jason, lovey?”
“What?” It was such an unexpected question; Moira did not know how to answer.
Vin cupped her face in his hands and tried to wish the thought back, knowing her answer would slay him more deeply than a hundred swords. Still he couldn’t stop the words from being softly spoken. “Do you wish that Jason had come home instead of me?”
Closing her eyes, Moira turned her face into his palm and shook her head. “I would want you both home. What kind of question is that?”
“An honest one,” he chucked her chin. “Look at me, please.”
A welling of pain squeezed Moira’s heart as she met his tortured gaze. There was so much pain there…guilt. She truly did not know the answer to that question. One was her brother. The other held her heart. Both had been in her life since her birth. How could he ask her to pick between them? Not knowing if she even spoke the truth, Moira knew there was but one answer she could give that would spare Vin added pain. “I am so happy you’re here and alive before me, Vin. I would not trade this feeling for anything.”
Vin looked down at Moira’s sweetly upturned face. The chill of the January air put bright color in her cheeks and nose and the breeze ruffled the loose strands of her auburn hair. With her eyes so bright and filled with caring, Vin didn’t think he’d ever seen such a beautiful sight in his life. His hand rose of its own will to toy with a curl of her hair at her temple and smooth it back gently.
Moira froze under his tender touch, feeling that helpless hope burgeon up inside her once again. Would there ever come a time when he could look at her and she didn’t yearn for more? She was so conflicted. Her heart begged her to cling to Vin until she had his love yet her mind feared it would never happen. She didn’t know which way to turn. Her heart’s desire or heartbreak awaited her. Moira only wished she knew which one.
There was an urge inside Vin to simply bend his head and kiss Moira. He didn’t even know why he wanted to other than her lips simply begged for him to do it. It was just that same lust, he supposed, that had taken hold of him before. She was just so beautiful and he’d not had a woman in such a long time, but he could not vent it on Moira. She would be so shocked. Chances were she’d slap his face and never speak to him again and he refused to face the days ahead without her steadfast support. In addition to the fact, her husband would likely challenge him to a dual if he were to lay a finger on her.
Needing to put some distance between them, Vin drew her back to the base of the steps staring up the steep incline with a sense of dread. Clearly, he had not thought this out. “Jason would likely have handled it all better than I,” he said absently while he gauged his bodily reserves.
“Perhaps,” Moira conceded, again fighting back the bitter disappointment of another int
imate moment passed without any suggestion of affection beyond the brotherly from Vin. “Perhaps not. Stop trying to compare yourself, Vin. You are different people, so who knows what might have been? You cannot waste your life wondering.” Moira frowned as she noticed Vin contemplating the stone stairs with undue intensity. She followed his gaze then back at him in confusion. “What is it?”
A dull flush crept up Vin’s neck and he shifted uncomfortably.
“Vin?”
“I’m afraid I might not be able to make it back up those steps, lovey.” His humiliation was complete, waiting only on the pity to fill her eyes before he sank as low as a man could go.
She nearly offered to run for one of his brothers to help, but reading his embarrassment, Moira knew she could not subject him to an outward display of weakness before another. She hadn’t been thinking at all to bring him down here when he was still recovering. “Let’s just take them a few at a time, shall we?” she offered cheerfully. “We’ll stop as we need to, though I’d wager you’ll need to wait on me more than I’ll wait on you. These steps always have me faint with exhaustion. Will you hold my hand?”
Clasping her hand in his, Vin looked down at Moira and again felt the urge to kiss her senseless. Shaking off the fancy, he simply nodded as they began their ascent. It was gratitude, that was all.
“At least you’re not wearing a corset,” Moira jibed under her breath and Vin was again tempted to laugh.
“Did I scare everyone off?” Vin asked wryly when they returned to find only Francis and Richard remaining in the parlor. They sat near the fire, each nursing a tumbler of whiskey.
“It’s late already, if you hadn’t noticed,” Francis returned as he put down his drink and rose. “Everyone left to prepare for their evening’s entertainment as it is nearing the dinner hour.”
Moira’s eyes darted to the mantle clock, noting the lateness of the hour. “My goodness! I had no idea we were gone so long.”
“Eve had your maid bring over a dinner gown so you might ready yourself here. She also let Aylesbury know to pick you up here,” Francis told her. “Fret not.”
“Thank you!” Moira hurriedly pressed a kiss to his cheek, to Richard’s and turned to Vin doing the same. “I must be off then. It wouldn’t do to keep Aylesbury waiting!”
Vin watched Moira flee the room, rubbing the feel of her kiss from his cheek. The only reason it had taken so long to return was because of their frequent stops up the long flight of steps. Moira kept up a stream of lighthearted chatter the entire time never leaving him to feel awkward. He was thankful for her consideration, but still exhausted from his labors and eager for an early evening. Still that simple kiss to his cheek had that unwanted ardor rearing its ugly head and Vin was once again shamed by his lustful thoughts toward Jason’s sister…his dear friend. A married woman.
“I fear I must get ready as well, as do you,” Richard said, catching his brother’s attention. “We’re to the theater this evening, Vin. Abby said to tell you she will expect you back within the hour to ride over with us.”
Vin shook his head, unwilling to voice his weakness. He could not go to the theater! He was trembling with fatigue already. The thought of climbing all the stairs to the Glenrothes box at the Royal Lyceum Theater made his head swim. The box was on the third tier! “I’d rather not, I think.”
“Fiona was counting on your for her escort,” Francis told him and Vin cringed, knowing there was no way he could let his sister down. He only prayed he didn’t humiliate himself in front of the whole of Edinburgh.
“An hour then,” Vin conceded heavily.
Richard nodded, seeming pleased. “Guthrie has an evening suit of Connor’s for you by the door. It should fit better than one of Francis’”
Connor, at twenty-two, was about the same build as Vin currently was. At least he would not arrive at that opera with an outward reason for mockery. There would enough reason, he was sure, without donning the wrong attire. “Thank him for me.”
“Thank Abby, she thought of it.” Richard turned to leave.
“Richard.” Vin’s harsh voice stopped the third brother in the hallway.
Richard looked back at his older brother where he hovered in the door of the drawing room. He could read the misery and hesitation on his brother’s face. Whether Vin believed it or not, Richard thought he knew very well the demons that clearly haunted him. Perhaps not the torture - Temple told him briefly of how they found Vin and the condition he had been in though Vin hadn’t said a word about it yet – but beyond the scars he carried with him. Richard could read the pained guilt in his brother’s eyes easily because he had seen it in the mirror everyday for years. “Aye, Vin?”
Vin looked down at his feet and kicked at an imaginary spot on the floor. Shame flooded him for having brought them to this awkward moment. But he thought no one knew, thought no one could understand. He wasn’t sure he even understood. “I must apologize for my harsh words earlier. I don’t mean to add to your guilt. I never blamed you for leaving when you had the chance. I would have done the same.”
Richard waited until Vin raised his eyes and gave him a nod. “You don’t have to apologize to me, brother. I owe you more regrets than you’ll ever know. Someday, when you’re ready to speak of it, I will be here for you.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, Vin turned to find his older brother standing behind him holding out a glass of whiskey. “Drink up, Vin. You look exhausted.”
Vin took the drink and tossed it back in a single swallow. “Truly, did everyone leave because of me?
“You might think that, but in truth most were only eager to be off to create more offspring.” A reluctant smile escaped Vin at Francis’ jest while he refilled their glasses. It was true that his married brothers were barely able to drag their gazes from their wives long enough to talk to him.
“To the next generation,” Vin offered, raising his glass in a toast.
“To my heir,” Francis returned.
“It's good to see you so happy, Francis. I never thought I’d see the day when a woman was the source of it though.”
“Things change, Vin. People change.” Francis sipped his whiskey thoughtfully as he studied his closest brother. Time had surely changed Vin, not only in appearance but in manner as well. He sensed through the entire afternoon just as he had the evening before that Vin was trying to put on a jovial air for the family though the effort came up a bit flat. He doubted the younger ones noticed for they had all been less than twenty years of age when Vin visited on his last furlough, but the older set had. Francis saw the worry in Richard’s eyes and Jamie’s, too.
Aye, people might change, but some things always stayed the same, he thought wryly and forwarded those thoughts to his brother. “Of course, some people do not. Have you?”
“In what way?”
“Are you still able to live your life after all you have seen and done and remain unaware of the facts of life right before your eyes?” Francis asked softly.
“What does that mean?”
“Never mind…I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” Francis set his glass down, wondering if he had ever been as obtuse as Vin or if the horrid reality of his own life in years past had simply been too vivid to ignore. “Well, let’s be off. You have an evening to prepare for and I’ve a beautiful woman waiting for me. Shall we?”
For a moment Vin envied his brother that moment of expectation but shook the feeling away. “After you, old man.”
Chapter 12
It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.
Henry David Thoreau
The Royal Lyceum Theater
Grindlay Street, Edinburgh
That Night
An hour later, Vin arrived back at Moray place and joined his party in their carriage for the short drive to the theater that sat just a couple blocks back from the Prince’s Street Gardens. After dropping off their coats in the cloakroom, Vin hadn’t been two steps into the lobby of the Royal Lyceum before he
heard familiar laughter, and to his surprise, found Moira and her husband lingering in the lobby.
There was an elegance and formality to her dress Vin hadn’t seen before. Her gown was ivory satin gown with bronze netting that was gathered up into little poufs that served as sleeves and used as an inset across her breasts filling the plunging V neckline that went to her waist. There were a trail of bronze and ivory silk appliqués of butterflies trailing from the bodice and down the bell skirt. Smaller on the top and growing in size as they descended. She was breathtaking, the ivory and bronze complemented her coloring beautifully. All her jewelry was of gold and topaz and as dazzling as the gown. Between the necklace, earrings, bracelets over her ivory gloves and even a tasteful tiara, she looked every bit a wealthy marchioness.
Who was unfortunately clinging to her marquis’ arm at that moment and laughing gaily at whatever Aylesbury had said. Just seeing it brought a frown to Vin’s brow. They were talking to another young couple and, as their party approached, Vin could see the curiosity in their eyes as they studied him.
He didn’t know who they were. Vin supposed, new members of his family notwithstanding, there would also be newcomers to Society he didn’t know. Glancing around, he saw many new faces but some recognizable faces as well. Some who whispered behind their fans and still others who immediately approached to greet him with a smile and handshakes. Within moments, he was surrounded by curious well-wishers while gossip increased as the news was passed around the lobby. Many wanted to know who the stranger was and others were happy to pass on the old stories of his disappearance and death.
Thankfully, Abby and Richard handled the explanations for him leaving him only to nod and shake hands as both friends and the curious approached him from the left and the right. It made his head spin to have so many names tossed at him, to see the women begin to smile his way once they found out who he was.
It never occurred to Vin, in returning to Society that he would be once more taking up the title of ‘eligible bachelor’. Plainly, given the number of women crowding in, bachelors were a limited commodity this year. It made sense then that James hadn’t seen fit to join them. For fifteen minutes, he was coyly smiled at, giggled at and, once, covertly propositioned. Mothers dragged their daughters to meet him. They bobbed their curtsies in their white dresses, looking entirely too young, innocent and sheltered to be thrown at a man with his demons.
A Question of Lust Page 9