He left the Kildrum residence and returned home where MacAdams was poring over the old documents he had brought from the castle. Most had been written in old Latin, but some were French. So far, he had not found any that gave clues about where the treasure had come from or why it had been hidden away. Perhaps Béatrice would give Lucy the answer some day.
In any event, Ian felt as though a massive yoke had been lifted from his shoulders. Whatever rumors Duncan started would be countered by the document Lord Galston had seen. Who would dispute an actual certificate signed by the vicar in the church where he’d been christened? No one.
Ferguson had already left for Brodie House and would see to it that the locks were changed and the house secured before Duncan had a chance to cause any damage there. Ian wrote a letter to him, notifying him of his reduced circumstances. Since he would no longer be responsible for taking care of his mother, his current income would have to suffice. Ian knew it was more than generous.
Had Duncan been anyone else, he might have settled a large sum on him and let him manage it himself. But Duncan was who he was, a man who had never been prudent with money. He was family, much as Ian hated to admit it, so the Craigmuir estate would support him as long as he lived.
After last night’s confrontation, Ian had no doubt that Duncan would start spreading the story of his bastardy. Ian only wished he had had the chance to tell Lucy before she heard it somewhere else.
* * *
“I hope you will not take it amiss when I tell you that I am pleased to hear you refused Mr. Parris,” Lucy’s uncle said.
She raised a questioning brow. Meg must have told him what she’d done at St. Cuthbert’s.
“I saw that he was not right for you from the first. He is a bonny young man, but…I believe Broxburn is the one. Which is why I invited him to join us at Holyrood the other day.”
“You did?”
“Aye. I thought he might make his intentions clear then, but he must have been put off. You do know he called here earlier today?”
Lucy shook her head. He’d probably come right when she was avoiding Joshua’s unwanted proposal. “No. No one told me.”
“He left no message, so I do not know why he was here, unless…”
“Unless what, Uncle?”
“I heard something this morning. Something quite disturbing.”
Archie’s serious tone worried Lucy. It must have been bad news. Perhaps the duke’s condition had worsened.
“’Tis about Broxburn.” Archie scratched a spot above his eye.
“Well, what about him, Uncle?”
“This is quite indelicate, to say the least, lass.”
“Whatever it is, my ears can bear it,” Lucy responded.
“Best you hear it from me…I heard it on good authority this morning that Broxburn is…”
“Is what, Uncle?” Dread flooded her. Was he ill? Injured? Oh, Lord – was he married? No, that could not be. Marriages were not kept secret. But this was Scotland. Who knew what the Scottish church allowed—
“It has been said that he is not the son of the duchess.”
“He is not the…?” Understanding dawned upon her. If he was not his mother’s – the duchess’s – son, then he was illegitimate. “Who says this?”
“I do not know where the tale originated, my dear,” Archie answered. “But it is said that he was born in Ireland of a…a serving maid.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt a little dizzy.
“Here, sit down.”
She sat, and slowly the blood returned to her head. It had been a shock, that was all – because she did not care whose offspring he was. He was Ian Munro, and she was in love with him.
Everything that had been missing in her friendship with Joshua was vibrantly present with Broxburn. He made her burn with passion; he made her heart sing and her bones melt. She had never felt this way with Joshua, had never wanted him the way she wanted Broxburn.
He’d been her family’s hero after the carriage accident, and their considerate host even while dealing with his father’s delicate illness. He treated his servants well, and he took care of his family and his heritage as a gentleman should, whatever it might take.
“Rumors mean naught,” Archie said.
Lucy shook her head. “No.”
“I suspect Broxburn’s cousin is behind all this foolish talk. Munro is slothful and deceitful. If I were a betting man, I would lay odds that he is jealous of Broxburn and intends to poison society’s opinion of him. He might even hope that Broxburn’s inheritance will be stripped from him.”
“Can that be done?”
Archie shook his head. “’Tis very unlikely. He is Craigmuir’s son. I’ve heard no word of any proof that the duchess is not his mother. Only whispers and innuendoes.”
Lucy did not care whether they were true.
“Do you think he will propose, Uncle?”
“I believed he was quite smitten with you, my dear,” Archie said. “And I think he would have come to Edinburgh for you right away, but his parents’ health prevented it.”
“And when he finally did come, and saw that Joshua was here…” She remembered that first meeting when he’d come to the house. “He must have thought all was settled between us.”
“I believe you may be right.”
“Oh, Uncle, how do we remedy this?”
Archie patted her hand. “Never fear, my dear. Somehow we will see matters set to rights.”
* * *
“Your name is being bandied about town today, Brox,” Malcolm said. “And not in a good way.” He’d stopped at Craigmuir Place, in formal dress for the Muirhouse ball.
Ian took Malcolm into his study and showed him the certificate from St. Anne’s Church in Armagh. “I know what they’re saying. Duncan is behind it.”
Ian had decided to tell no one of his true origins, except Lucy. He wanted her to know before he proposed.
“How does this gain him anything?”
Ian gave a bitter smile. “He thought that if he threaten me with this rumor, I would give in to his demand for an exorbitant increase in his quarterly funds.”
“I take it you said no to his absurd demand.”
Ian nodded. “And I took the precaution of making sure Lord Galston had the opportunity to see this certificate. It is genuine, by the way. MacAdams found it while he was searching through the library for clues about the treasure.” The certificate might be genuine, but it was not quite the truth.
“I have no doubt it is genuine, my friend,” Malcolm said. “How did you manage to get it in front of Galston?”
Ian smiled, pleased with his own maneuver. “I invited the earl and his countess for supper. He just happened to notice it on the drawing room table.”
Malcolm laughed. “Well done, Ian. You could not have chosen a better method to broadcast your legitimacy than with that old gossip.”
“Which is what MacAdams said.” Ian owed quite a lot to MacAdams, and he intended to see the man properly rewarded for his years of faithful service, as well as his assistance regarding the Craigmuir treasure and Ian’s reputation.
“What about Miss Douglas?” Ian asked. “I thought you would escort your fiancée – not me – to the ball.”
Malcolm cleared his throat. “She, ah…Apparently she has a headache and is not up to going.”
Ian gave a nod. There had to be more to it, but it was not up to him to quiz his friend on his relationship to the young woman. Ian was not at all sure theirs was a good match, but Malcolm seemed resolved.
“Pour yourself a drink,” Ian said, “while I get dressed. I shall be ready shortly.” Ian disliked lying to Malcolm, but he had decided. No one but the woman he married would ever learn the truth.
* * *
“This must be the event of the season,” Meg said as they entered the Muirhouse ballroom. Lucy could not disagree. The place was packed with the scions of society, all dressed in their finest.
“Aye.
Lady Muirhouse hosts a ball to mark the end of summer every year,” Archie said. He and Calvin escorted them deeper into the crowded room. Lucy looked around but did not see Broxburn.
Joshua had declined to accompany them, though he did not seem terribly disappointed by her rejection. He must have known she was right.
After her encouraging talk with Archie earlier, she’d received the opposite from Calvin. He did not understand why she’d spurned Joshua, when all she’d ever wanted was to become his wife.
“And besides,” Cal had said, “you would be close to home, close to Mama.”
“You never worry about being close to home, Calvin,” Lucy retorted.
“It is different for me because I am a man.”
“Ha. Do you think Mama and Papa are happy to know you are thousands of miles away?”
She did not tell him that she now had hopes of marrying a Scot and staying here in Scotland. But it seemed her hopes were unfounded. For all she knew, Broxburn had gone back to Craigmuir Castle without saying goodbye.
“I shall get drinks for you and Meg,” Calvin said, “and you will give me your first dance.”
“When did Calvin become our father?” Meg asked when he walked away. “His imperious manner is tedious.”
“He is just angry that…you know. Joshua and me.” She did not wish to be overheard by anyone in the crowd. Several of the guests were already talking about Broxburn, some reiterating the rumor of his illegitimacy.
Then one gentleman, about Archie’s age, raised his voice above all others. “That is pure bletherskeit, I tell you. I saw his baptismal certificate, myself. The duchess is his mother. This is malicious gossip.”
“Lord Galston,” Archie said, identifying the man who’d spoken. “And it is very interesting. A baptismal certificate will go a long way to nullifying this nasty rumor.”
Lucy did not care. There was nothing that would change how she felt about Broxburn.
But he had not come. She feared she would never see him again.
The room was crowded and overly warm. Lucy fanned herself, but it was useless. She even felt a little bit faint.
Calvin returned with their drinks, and after a few sips, Lucy felt a little bit better. The orchestra took their places on a dais at one end of the room, and then Lucy saw Claire MacNeil. She bristled at the very idea of the pretty Scotswoman with Broxburn.
“Look, Lucy,” Meg said. “There are your friends with Lady Claire.”
True enough. Claire stood with Flora Carmichael, Alice Gordon, and Kathryn Hay. There was only one person Lucy wanted to see, but he had not come. She felt a crushing disappointment. She wanted to leave even before the orchestra played the first dance.
Meg took her arm and leaned toward her, whispering in her ear. “I feel certain he will be here.…He said he has business on Monday and did not plan to leave the city before then. Do not give up hope.”
Lucy tried to stay calm. What if he did not come? What if he believed she and Joshua had become engaged?
Nothing felt right about tonight. The voices all around her were too loud, and the people nearby jostled her. She had to get out, get some air.
“I’ll be back,” she said.
“Where are you going?” Calvin asked.
“Just there.” She indicated her group of friends.
The music began to play, and Calvin took Meg to the dance floor. Lucy went on, heading for the open doors near her friends. She made a quick exit, walking out to a stone terrace with steps leading down to a formal garden.
She could finally breathe.
It was a mistake to have come. Whatever she had hoped for was not about to—
“Sassenach.”
She felt his hand on her arm before she heard his voice. “Broxburn. You came.”
“Aye. To see you.” He drew her down the steps and into the garden.
* * *
“I did not see you arrive,” Lucy said.
Gesu, she was beautiful in a pale gown that shimmered in the candlelight from the terrace. “I did not want to be announced. I only came to see you.”
“You did?”
He’d thought of the crowd inside and Lucy’s friends who were inordinately interested in him, and decided to let Malcolm enter without him. All the young ladies knew Kindale was unavailable. He would not be swamped.
“Are you engaged to Parris?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
* * *
Lucy shook her head and the crystals dangling from her ears sparkled in the light. “No. I was waiting for you.”
He took her hand and led her to a remote corner of the garden and then turned to face her. “There is a question I would very much like to ask you…but there is something I must tell you first.”
“The answer is yes. It does not matter what people are say—”
He hushed her with a finger to her lips. “Aye, it does.”
She moved his hand away. “Broxburn—”
“Ian.”
“Ian, I am in love with you,” she said. “I do not care whether the rumor is true or not.”
Ian quickly gathered her into his arms. “Ah, Lucy, you cannot know how much tat means to me.” he said, then kissed her slowly and deeply. She seemed to melt into his arms, and when he broke the kiss, she did not move away. She laid her head against his lapel.
He tightened his arms around her. “I love you, Lucy, and I want you to be my wife. But you must know that what my cousin is saying is true. My father told me during a drunken rampage just before we met at Glencory Castle.”
“It does not matter, Ian,” she said. “You are the man I love. I do not care who your parents are.”
“And Parris? You do not regret—”
“I refused his offer this morning,” she said.
The weight of the past few weeks’ worries lifted, and he felt almost euphoric. He kissed Lucy again, but ended it quickly when a few others came into the garden. He took her hand. “Let’s go find your uncle.”
Her smile was the most beautiful thing he’d seen all day. “Yes, and my brother. And Meg, of course.”
They went inside and located the Kildrum group just as Lucy’s sister turned a pasty shade of white and abruptly left her uncle’s side. Lucy was not the only one to notice her sister’s distress, for Calvin went after her.
“I do not know what happened,” Kildrum said. “But I am sure Calvin will take care of it.” He turned to Ian. “You have news?”
“Aye,” Ian replied. “We would like to have a word with you, sir.”
The earl grinned. “Of course, lad. Of course! Not that I cannot guess what you wish to say. Let us find a quiet corner.”
* * *
A few days later, Lucy and Ian attended a house party at the Hamilton estate to celebrate their engagement. Lord and Lady Hamilton were the closest neighbors to Pentland Manor, Ian’s home away from Craigmuir. They were thrilled by news of Ian’s engagement and insisted on inviting all his closest friends for a fete in the betrothed couple’s honor.
The guests were all occupied that evening, providing the perfect moment for Ian and Lucy to slip away together. Ian had found a bedroom in an unused wing of Hamilton’s massive manor house – so while the rest of the guests remained in the music room listening to a string quartet play Mozart and Telemann, Ian was kissing Lucy in a small room on the third floor.
He closed the door and turned the key, then lit a candle near the bed. When he came back to her and took her in his arms, Lucy felt his lips touch the crown of her head. She closed her eyes, feeling his heart beat against her.
She sighed, and he pressed his mouth against her forehead, then her temple. “My little Sassenach,” he whispered, just before touching her lips with his own.
She skimmed her hands up to the back of his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. It had been far too long since they’d had enough privacy for her to touch him. This was what she wanted – warmth and intimacy, a chance to show him how utterly and completely she l
oved him.
He pulled her close, deepening the kiss as arousal, intense and heavy, tightened in the lower part of her body. His tongue swirled into her mouth and she tasted him – a heady mixture of gentleness and masculine power.
While he seduced her mouth, he unfastened her gown, then turned her to unlace her stays, kissing her neck and shoulders as he worked. “I have wanted to do this ever since you stumbled upon me in Glencory’s secret Viking hideaway.”
“I was not the one who was stumbling, my lord.” She smiled at the memory of that first meeting, when she’d thought he was nothing but an ill-mannered Scot. She had since learned that he’d had good reason to be peevish then.
“I readily admit that,” he said. “It was not my finest hour.”
She shivered with anticipation when her gown and underclothes dropped to the floor.
He turned her, and then he touched her naked breasts.
A heated flush spread from her nipples to her neck, then to her cheeks.
“Ah, sweet Lucy,” he breathed in her ear. She felt his mouth move down to her jaw, her neck. Her skin, already warm, turned fiery when his mouth reached the tip of one breast and he pulled it into his mouth.
She took his head in her hands and held him in place while he stroked her nipple with his tongue. A soft groan sounded in the room and Lucy did not know if it was she or Ian who’d made it.
When he moved to treat her other breast to the same tender attention as the first, Lucy felt as if her bones had turned to dust. Before her knees gave out from under her, Ian lifted her into his arms and carried her the few steps to the bed. He laid her gently upon the simple quilt and yanked his shirt over his head before coming down to her.
Reaching for him, she breathed his name. Her breasts brushed against the dark hair on his chest when he hovered over her, and she shivered with need. She encircled his neck with her arms, then slid her hands across the taut skin of his broad shoulders and down his back. Ian shuddered and tipped his head down to meet her lips in a fierce encounter of tongues and teeth.
Lucy and Her Scottish Laird Page 23