Good Lord, does Jane think herself in love with Conner? Her stomach sank at the thought. How could an innocent like Jane withstand his careless charm, when Theodora couldn’t do so herself?
As he carried Jane out of the room, Theodora followed, hurrying past them to open the door.
“That’s my lass,” Conner murmured to Theodora as he walked past her. “You’re always thinking ahead.”
“I try,” she said, her heart warming in a ridiculous fashion.
She followed Conner into the yard, the wind tugging her skirts. “Spencer!” she called to the footman. “Open the door for Miss Simmons!”
Spencer did so and Conner slid Jane onto the seat. Theodora climbed in after the poor girl and piled several blankets over her.
Conner stepped back from the coach and glanced at Spencer. “Foot warmers?”
“Ferguson is filling them with guid hot coals even now.”
“Thank you.” Theodora rubbed her cold arms.
Conner’s brows snapped together. “Bloody hell, lass, where’s your pelisse?”
“It’s inside. I—”
He cursed. “I’ll fetch it. Wait here.” He stalked off before she could say another word.
Jane, who’d been watching him with obvious longing, appeared disappointed he’d left without a single look in her direction.
Of course, the girl didn’t really know Conner. Perhaps Theodora needed to drop a hint into Jane’s ear about the futility of falling in love with a man like Conner Douglas. Once the girl felt better, Theodora would do just that.
She’d just tucked Jane in more securely when Conner reappeared in the doorway carrying her pelisse. “Put this on. There’s a nor’east wind today and ’tis nae forgiving. I can feel it, and I’m wearing far more than you.”
As she reached for her pelisse her hand touched his, and warmth flooded through her, her gaze jerking to his.
They stayed with their fingertips touching, the pelisse held between them, silence weighting the air around them. It was only a second, but it felt like centuries.
Then Conner stepped away.
“Where’s Alice?” Theodora managed to keep her tone cool, though her face was hot.
“She’s coming out of the inn right now. Good God—what’s happened to her?”
The maid was indeed coming toward them, encased in the large coat that had probably belonged to her father. It wasn’t the coat that gave anyone pause, but how much Alice now filled it out. She looked as if she were with child.
“We should leave now.” Alice pushed past Conner and climbed into the coach. “Right now.”
Theodora looked at Alice’s midsection. “What on earth?”
“Whot? This?” Alice slapped her stomach, leaving an indentation. “Mr. Douglas said we need pillows, so . . .” She reached inside her coat and produced a pillow, and then another, and another. Five pillows in all were placed upon the seat beside Jane. “There you go, miss.”
“Where did you get those?” Theodora asked.
“Miss Simmons’s room, and yours.”
“Did you ask the innkeeper?”
“Lud, no! Why do you think I had them under my coat?”
Conner snapped, “Just go. I’ll pay him.”
Alice’s smirk vanished. “Gor’! Why would you do that? He don’t even know they’re gone! Besides, had he proper pillows I would have only taken one, but these are so thin—”
Conner closed the coach door and shouted to MacLeish.
Alice sniffed. “That was rude.”
“What was rude was stealing pillows!” Theodora tucked some pillows under Jane’s head and made the girl as comfortable as possible as the coach rolled out of the inn yard. She spared a glance out the window and saw Conner on his horse, Lance nearby on a neatish mare.
And then they were all headed to Dunskey House.
21
An hour and a half later, the coach rumbled through the cobblestoned streets of Portpatrick, the damp salt air announcing their proximity to the sea. The small, picturesque town rested at the edge of a harbor that had been partially enclosed fifty years earlier to provide protection from the strong North Channel gales.
Many said the man-made breakwaters, which had been put in place with neither the advice nor the consent of the locals, were already on the verge of collapse. But for now they held, the ocean beating at them with each storm, every tide digging at their foundations beneath the deep water.
Jane slept restlessly but did not awaken, which Theodora was glad for. She suspected from the way Jane’s mouth had grown so tight at the start of their trip that the rocking of the coach had made her headache even worse.
Theodora pushed back the curtain, glad they were so close to Dunskey House.
Outside were simple seaside buildings—an inn, a tavern, and several small whitewashed, thatched-roof houses inhabited by the fishermen who manned the boats moored along the quay. The fresh scent of the ocean mingled with that of peat fires and the sea.
They turned down the main street and there, at the dock, sat the Emerald. Theodora had seen Conner’s flagship before, but it had been several years. The ship appeared so noble, polished and cleaned, more like a painting than a ship. Derrick had said time and again that no one kept a neater ship than Conner Douglas. Which shows where his heart truly is.
She leaned out the window to see Lance and Conner close behind. As they passed the street that led to the dock, Lance said something to Conner, then turned his horse down the lane and rode toward the ship.
“What’s happening?” Alice asked, crowding forward.
Theodora returned to her seat. “The squire is on his way to fetch the doctor from Mr. Douglas’s ship. They’ll join us at the house as soon as they can.”
“Oh. Have you seen Dunskey House? Is it very grand?” Alice asked.
“Mr. Douglas’s house is not grand, but with some work, it could be.”
Alice leaned past Theodora to the window. “Lor’! Mr. Douglas is riding right outside!” The maid waved wildly.
Sure enough, Conner was now riding alongside the coach, and Alice gazed at him greedily, her nose pressed to the glass. “He looks good enough to lick, don’t he?”
“Alice!” Her face hot, Theodora pulled the maid from the window.
As she did so she met Conner’s gaze. He winked and touched the brim of his hat.
It was a polite gesture any gentleman might make to a lady. But Conner did it with such rakish impudence that he stole her smile before she could stop it.
Embarrassed, she slid back in her seat, checking Jane, who was muttering in her sleep. With Theodora’s cool hand on her forehead, the girl rested more comfortably.
The road began to climb, and the coach swayed as the road became more deeply rutted. Theodora was glad for MacLeish’s cautious driving, which kept the movement to a minimum, for every jarring swing stirred poor Jane. After a few miles the road began to turn inland and the coach slowed before turning into a long, curving drive.
Theodora held back the curtain as Dunskey House came into view. The manor house sat on a bluff near a cliff on the North Channel, where majestic oaks cast shade over a long, grassy field that separated the house from the treacherous drop into the crashing water below. The crushed sandstone drive had aged over the centuries from gray to a creamy white and led the eye to the imposing house.
With red shutters and a gray slate tile roof, Dunskey was a large, square, three-story structure, with tall windows and a huge oaken door set within a simple pilaster. Thick vines climbed one wall, framing the windows and reaching for the roofline, while a huge oak—bigger than any tree Theodora had ever seen—sat to the east of the house, sheltering it from the heat of summer.
The overall impression was antiquity, simplicity, strength, and elegance. Or it would have except three of the shutters hung askew, having been broken in some storm and never repaired. Two windows were broken, as well, and several panes were missing in other windows, while several large tree li
mbs had fallen among the uncut shrubbery that had once been an imposing garden.
“Good lord, you’ve brought us to a hainted mansion!” Alice exclaimed.
“It’s not haunted,” Theodora said hotly. “It needs some care, but that’s the fate of houses where the owner is often gone. I— Oh, Jane’s awake.”
Jane, her eyes glassy, pushed herself upright, the blankets falling away.
Theodora smiled. “We are just now arriving at Mr. Douglas’s house.”
“Mr. Douglas? Is he—” The poor girl’s cough raked her body relentlessly.
Theodora waited anxiously until Jane’s coughing had subsided. “The doctor will be here soon; the squire went to fetch him.”
Jane’s lips quivered and tears filled her eyes. “I feel dreadful.”
The words were as plaintive as a child’s, and Theodora brushed Jane’s hair from her hot forehead. “You will feel better once we have you tucked up in a proper bed.”
The coach rolled to a stop, and Conner opened the door. His gaze went immediately to Jane. “Miss Simmons, I hope the journey was nae too difficult.”
Jane swallowed, grimacing at the pain. “I slept most of the way.”
“We need to get you some tea and honey.” He looked at Theodora.
“Of course,” she said. “And some laudanum, if there’s any in the house.”
“I daresay the housekeeper has some. If nae, Murray always carries it in his case. Jane, allow me to sweep you off your feet for a few moments.” Without giving her time to protest, he reached into the coach and lifted her into his arms.
The girl slipped her arms about his neck, resting her cheek against his shoulder trustingly.
Conner carried her to the house as Spencer came to pull out the steps for Alice and Theodora.
“Well!” Alice sniffed. “He didn’t offer to carry you to the house, did he?”
“Don’t be silly. I’m perfectly able to walk.” Theodora allowed Spencer to hand her down from the coach, and Alice followed.
Ahead of them, Theodora could hear Conner telling Jane how he’d purchased Dunskey House with the proceeds of his first effort as a privateer.
Jane listened, rapt, her eyes wide as she gazed up at him, her arms tight about his neck.
Conner’s expression was that of a brother with a sister, or perhaps even that of a parent with a child. Was this how Conner would be if he had a daughter? Theodora could almost imagine it—how tender he was, how careful he seemed to be of her feelings—
Good God. How could she imagine him as a father, when she couldn’t imagine him being responsible enough to be a husband? She frowned, thinking about this. Conner wasn’t lacking in the area of responsibility when it came to his ship and his position as a privateer. Then he took great pains to do whatever he could for the betterment of his fleet, ships, and crew. It was his damnable wanderlust that kept him from carrying that responsibility over into other areas.
The heavy oak door swung open as Conner reached it, and his housekeeper appeared. Mrs. MacAuley was an older woman with a mass of iron gray curls that peeked from under a lacy mobcap. She had a round face, a number of chins, and was so short that she seemed wider than she was tall.
As Conner strode past her the housekeeper started to curtsy, but the sight of her master carrying a young lady froze the curtsy in mid-dip. “Ah! This must be the ill young lady Ferguson was telling us aboot.”
“Where should I take her?” Conner asked as he went into the house.
“We’ve two bedchambers ready, with more to come. You may put her in either the green or the blue bedchamber.”
Conner walked straight for the stairs, Jane’s skirts trailing against his legs. “Which is the warmest?”
“The Green Room, sir. Top of the stairs and to the left.”
“Thank you.” He hurried up the flowing staircase. Spencer appeared with Jane’s small trunk and followed.
Theodora started to join them, Alice behind her, when the housekeeper exclaimed, “Miss Cumberbatch-Snowe! How nice to see you again!”
Theodora unbuttoned her pelisse and cast a hurried glance at Conner, but he was already at the top of the stairs and showed no sign of having heard the housekeeper’s greeting. Relieved, she sent Alice after him, only waiting for the maid to disappear from sight before turning back to Mrs. MacAuley. “It’s good to see you again. I didn’t expect to be back so soon, but we had a bit of an emergency.” She moved away from the staircase and added in a low voice, “I hope you don’t find this uncomfortable, but would you mind keeping my visit here a few months ago just between us?”
Mrs. MacAuley’s brows rose. “Och, ’tis a secret then, is it?”
“No, I just haven’t mentioned it yet to Mr. Douglas and don’t wish him to think I had nefarious plans in coming without him being aware of it.”
The housekeeper chuckled. “Nefarious? You?”
Theodora smiled. “We’ve been too busy to discuss such things, what with Miss Simmons being ill. After I tell him, of course you may say anything you wish. It would just be awkward if he found out from someone other than me.”
“Of course, miss.”
“Thank you. I hope our sudden arrival hasn’t put you out too much.”
“We’ve done what we could. As soon as Ferguson brought word the master was on his way, I hired some girls from town to help set the rooms to order. They’re working on the west bedchamber now, and should have it ready for occupancy soon.”
“Excellent. I should join Mr. Douglas in settling Miss Simmons in her room.”
“Shall I bring a tea tray? I’ve honey and whisky for the young lady, too. It might be of some help.”
“Thank you. And some laudanum, if you have it.”
“Aye, I’ve a wee drop or two. I’ll also bring a basin and some rose water to bathe her forehead. If you think of anything else, let me know.”
“Thank you.” Theodora went up the stairs, stopping on the landing to smile down at the housekeeper. “Thank you again. I know it’s a lot, being descended upon without warning.”
The housekeeper looked pleased, but waved a hand. “Pssht. I’m used to such; Mr. Douglas never says when he’s to come.” She looked about wistfully. “I just wish we were able to keep this house to the standard she deserves.”
“Perhaps one day,” Theodora agreed. It was a lovely house, and she’d been appalled when she’d seen it the first time months ago. Appalled and awakened. And launched upon this very journey, in fact.
And now, she’d come full circle. Sighing, she hurried to Jane’s room.
22
The green bedchamber was large, and although a fire smoked and crackled in the fireplace, the room was still chilly. Theodora was glad to note none of the windows were missing glass panes, and there didn’t seem to be any strong drafts. Still, the bed was ancient, as were the threadbare velvet canopy and curtains, but at least an adequate amount of blankets were piled upon the bed.
A hand pressed to her temple, Jane sat on the edge of the mattress, looking up at Conner as if he could move heaven and earth.
“You should sleep,” he was saying in a tone one usually reserved for cantankerous children.
“I cannot. I’m in my traveling gown and—” A cough cut Jane short, wracking her with spasms.
Conner handed his handkerchief to the poor girl, who clutched it like a lifeline and then shot a pleading look at Theodora.
“So we need a night rail, do we?” she said briskly as she went to Jane’s trunk at the foot of the bed. “Some good news, Jane! Mrs. MacAuley has both honey and whisky, so your sore throat will soon be eased.”
“I cannot drink whisky,” Jane croaked. “I’m just cold, is all. Perhaps if I put my coat back on?”
Conner frowned at the fireplace. “It’s smoking like a ship afire. I’ll check the damper.”
Theodora found the night rail and a matching robe and carried them to the bed. “The whisky will warm you up and open up your lungs.”
�
��I had a sip of my brother’s once, and it burned most unpleasantly.” Jane pressed a hand to her throat and winced. “I’m coughing enough without it.”
Having adjusted the damper, Conner added a log to the fire. “Whisky often does the same to me, although I find that quickly taking another drink helps.”
Theodora lifted an eyebrow. “And then, after that, you’ll need another—”
“—and another, and another.” Conner grinned at her. “I cannae hide my secrets from you, lass. I never could.”
Her gaze locked with his, and she knew what he was thinking. He was worried for Jane, amused at Theodora’s instant understanding, irritated at the path this trip was taking, and mixed with all of this was his desire for her.
She could sense it from across the room, taste it on her tongue, feel it in the sudden weight of her breasts against her lace chemise. Her throat tightened and she wished with all her soul that she could partake of his passion.
She forced her attention back to Jane. “Let’s get you into that night rail. You need rest.”
“If you’ve nae need of me, I’ll take my leave,” Conner said.
“Thank you.” Theodora unlaced one of Jane’s boots, saying over her shoulder to Conner, “Could you let Mrs. MacAuley know we need a bed warmer?”
“Of course. If you need anything else, ring the bellpull. I’ll nae be far.” His boot steps echoed on the marble floor as he left.
Theodora fought the urge to watch him. “There. Both boots off. The doctor should be here soon.”
“I don’t need a doctor.” Jane’s rusty voice carried a hint of petulant tears.
“Of course you do.” Thea placed the girl’s boots beside the bed. “And while I know ’twill be a bother to see a doctor—”
“One I don’t even know.”
“He is sure to be the best to be had, or he wouldn’t be on Conner’s ship.”
Jane looked mournfully at the empty doorway. “That’s true. If Conner trusts him, then I do, too.”
“Quite so,” Theodora said drily as she helped Jane out of her gown and into her night rail. Jane shivered piteously and it was a relief to them both when she was done and could huddle under a blanket on the edge of the bed while they waited for the bed warmer.
Caught by the Scot Page 22