Caught by the Scot

by Karen Hawkins

  And then she would be his in every way.

  Within seconds, she was on the bed and he beside her as he tugged off her clothes, and she tugged his. With hands that trembled in eagerness, laces were untied, buttons undone, and clothing thrown from the bed like sea spray from a ship’s bow.

  Conner had to stop to undo his boots and toss his breeches to the floor. That done, all that remained was Thea’s lacy chemise and stockings. He leaned at her side, resting on his elbow as he appreciated the sight of her naked except for that thin froth of lace that hinted at her dark areolas, and the tempting curl of hair at the juncture of her legs.

  “God, but you’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely. He put his hand on her gently rounded stomach, sliding it lower.

  She gasped and stiffened.

  He smiled. “Easy, sweet.” He leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “I’ve just begun.” Over the silk of her chemise, he cupped her breast, resting his thumb on her nipple.

  She arched into his hand with a suddenness that made his heart thunder anew. Knowing that she wanted this, he was free to pleasure her as he would. To show her that they belonged together. To make her admit she was his.

  He tugged the tie that held her chemise and slid it from her shoulders, exposing the creamy slopes of her breasts, the dusky pink of her nipples, the tantalizing lines of her stomach as it disappeared behind the cloud of silk. “Take it off. All of it.”

  She shimmied from the garment while he watched in appreciation, pausing to roll the silk stockings from first one leg, and then the other, each inch revealing more of her creamy skin. “Och, lass, you’re as delectable as a warm pasty on a frozen night.”

  He couldn’t stop devouring her with his eyes. She was so beautiful, so lush and curved. The warm firelight flickered over her skin, turning it gold, reflecting in her brown eyes, and beckoning him onward.

  He cupped her breast again, and this time, he bent to capture her nipple between his lips. He twirled and nipped at the tender bud, making Thea gasp and writhe with desire. He moved to the other breast, pausing to blow gently on her damp nipple. The bud tightened yet more, and she grasped his shoulder as she moaned softly.

  God, he loved her moans, the way they started in her throat and slipped over her damp lips, so that he could capture them with his own. He wanted to hear more, feel more. He trailed his fingers over her stomach, trailing his fingertips across her warm skin and down, down until he found the top of her curls. He splayed his hand and slowly drew it through her lush patch, pausing only when he reached her womanhood.

  He captured her mouth as he drew his hand over her mound. Her lips parted and she threw her arms about him, pressing against him, her legs spreading, drawing him forward.

  He fought the urge to claim her then and there. “You drive me wild, searc.”

  Theodora clutched at Conner, pressing against him in abandon. God, he knew every spot to touch and how to stir her in ways she couldn’t even imagine. He made her entire body tingle with nothing more than a look.

  Conner shifted slightly, his mouth close to her ear. “I want you so badly it hurts.”

  She lifted her leg over his hip, pulling him closer, her thighs slick from her excitement, her breath ragged and harsh.

  The head of his manhood rested against her, and she quivered. Without thought, she planted her heel on the mattress and lifted herself, opening to him.

  He slipped in, then drew a breath, closing his eyes as if in pain.

  And there was pain—swift and fleeting, and then she was filled, her thoughts a jumble of mad pleasure.

  “Searc, what you do,” he gasped against her neck, kissing and caressing as he slid his hands to her bottom and lifted her to him.

  She threw back her head and gasped loudly as he began to move, thrusting into her, the movement sending waves of wildness up and down her, her skin prickled with a million tremors.

  Never had she felt anything as delicious as this. She met him thrust for thrust, pulling him closer, grasping frantically at his muscled shoulders, his broad back, twining her fingers in his thick hair. A low hum of wanton excitement began to grow, and the ache between her legs was lost in a swelling tide. She moved faster and he matched her, repeating her name as he took her, thrusting harder and faster. “Mine,” he breathed as he rocked his hips to hers. “All. Mine.”

  She clasped her legs about his waist and opened wider to him, breathless and wild with desire. With a suddenness that shocked her, a wave of passion so furious that it stole her breath and raced through her, making her cry out as she arched against him. “Conner!”

  He pressed into her as she writhed beneath him, her passion stoking his. As she gave a final gasp he roared her name, pulling free just as he spent his seed.

  Breathing hard, Conner slid his hand to hers, tangling his fingers with hers. Their bodies damp, they clung to each other, lost in the moment.

  Finally, Conner breathed out her name in a long sigh and then turned on his side and tucked her against him. “That was unforgettable, lass. Should I live to be two hundred, I’ll remember this moment.”

  She would, too. She snuggled against him, rubbing her cheek against his chest, his hair crisp against her skin. When she left tomorrow, at least she’d have this to take with her.

  Her throat tightened and she closed her eyes, savoring his arms about her, fighting the loneliness the thought of leaving him caused. She burrowed against him and he held her close, neither speaking as their breathing slowed.

  Soon, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and Conner’s deep breathing as he fell asleep holding her close, while she stared into the flames, dreading the coming morning.

  30

  Conner awoke slowly to sunlight streaming across the mussed bed, the light warm on his bared skin.

  Memories of the night before flashed through him, and smiling, he reached for Thea . . . his searching hand finding nothing but cool, empty sheets.

  He opened his eyes. The pillow beside his still held the imprint of her head. He scooped it to him and sat up, stretching. God, what a night of passion! He’d known Thea would be exciting in bed, but he hadn’t anticipated her adventurous spirit. She was fearless, bold, and his.

  He grinned, wanting to bellow like a happy bull. She’d laugh at him, and who would blame her? She was everything he’d ever wanted.

  He rubbed his face, noticing that the house was quiet.

  Abnormally so.

  Usually when he awoke, there was the chatter and soft laughter of the maids, the sound of doors opening and closing. Over the last week he’d gotten used to those noises, and now the silence seemed deafening.

  She is gone.

  The words hung in his thoughts as solid as stone, and his heart ached as if struck by them. He swung his feet from the bed.

  She couldn’t have left.

  Not after last night.

  He’d pledged himself to her body and soul, and she’d accepted that pledge. For her to leave—

  His chest tightened. He’d been pledging his love, but had she been saying good-bye? Telling him what she’d said all along, that she couldn’t live the life he wanted of his wife, one of solitude and loneliness?

  He looked around her room. A vase of flowers still sat on the table, and someone had tied back the curtains, so that the morning sun streamed through the room. The floors were shiny and clean, the wood gleaming, a cozy fire in the fireplace, the furniture dusted and comfortably arranged.

  Dunskey House was no longer a house, but a home. Or it had been, until Thea had left.

  Everything felt empty. Alone. Bereft. His heart beat as usual, but each beat was an ache, each thought an echo of what was.

  And in looking at the home Thea had made, and feeling the emptiness of it without her, he realized all he stood to lose. If only she’d waited— But that was not her way, was it?

  He squinted, listening. Had Thea taken Lance and Jane with her? If so, that could be to Conner’s benefit.

  He knew w
hat he had to do. It was a gamble, and it might not pay out, but he had to try.

  He threw her pillow to one side and roared, “Spencer!”

  Conner grabbed his breeches from the floor and pulled them on, bellowing again. He was just looking for his boots when Spencer knocked on the door.

  “Come in! Tell Ferguson he’s in charge of overseeing the final repairs.”

  “But you wanted to do that to make certain they were perfect—”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Ah. You already know, then? She left at dawn with the squire and Miss Simmons.”

  “I thought as much.”

  “We are to chase after her?”

  “Yes, but there’s something I must do first. Have a horse saddled for me, and one for yourself as well. A mon is coming to the docks today at ten. We must meet him.”

  “What’s this mon have to do with the miss?”

  “He may weel have the answer to my dilemma.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we ride after Thea.”

  “But how will you find her, sir?”

  Conner smiled grimly. “Och, Spencer. Miss Cumberbatch-Snowe may be hard to predict, but her accomplice is nae.”

  Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “Then there’s hope.”

  “There’s always hope.” And Conner would die before he’d admit otherwise. “Come. We’ve work to do.”

  31

  The streets of Staithcorn rumbled with laden carts and braying mules, dust swirling into the early-evening air, the scent of coal smoke and sea mingling with that of fresh bread. Thea watched from inside the inn as people rushed by, all with a place to go. And someone to go to, no doubt.

  Her eyes grew damp and with a muttered curse, she pulled out a handkerchief, then dried her eyes and blew her nose.

  It had been ten hours since she’d left Conner, and the ache in her heart grew by the minute. She knew that one day, this would be nothing more than a memory. Or so she hoped. Right now, she felt as if she’d carry this hole in her heart for the rest of her life.

  A brisk knock sounded at her door and Alice’s curly head appeared. “Awake, are you? I thought you might be.” She stepped into the room, carrying a tray.

  “I didn’t request tea.”

  “No, but I thought you needed it.”

  Theodora hoped her eyes weren’t red from her tears, and she managed to say, “You’re turning into quite the lady’s maid.”

  Alice beamed. “I do what I can.” She set the tray on a table between two chairs at the end of the room, then patted the chair closest to the fire. “Come and have a drop of tea while I find a gown for you to wear to dinner. This is a proper inn, it is, and I was told you have to dress to eat in the parlor.”

  “Really? It doesn’t seem that fancy to me.” Theodora sank into the chair and picked up her tea, cupping the warmth between her palms. “I’m surprised Lance found such excellent accommodations.”

  “That’s because he’s still following MacLeish’s itinerary.”

  “Good God, does he still have that?”

  “Aye. And the way he’s going, you won’t get home for days, for he’s drawn the longest route he can between here and Miss Jane’s house.” Alice opened the portmanteau and pulled out a gown of blue silk, and another of delicate cream. “Which one, miss?”

  “The blue one, please.”

  Alice carefully replaced the cream gown, shooting Theodora a long look from under her lashes.

  Theodora put down her cup. “Out with it, Alice. You might as well say whatever you came to say, or you’ll burst. I can see it in your face.”

  Looking relieved, Alice dropped the gown on the bed. “Fine, I’ll say it. But you might want to put a mite of whisky into that tea before I do.”

  “The tea is fine as it is, thank you.”

  Alice blew out her breath with such a gust that her brassy curls fluttered. “It’s the squire and Miss Simmons. They are—”

  “In love. I know. I’ve known for days now.”

  Alice sagged against the bedpost. “Good lord, you know!”

  “Of course I know. They’ve been quite obvious about it.”

  “I was wondering how you didn’t see it. I thought maybe you didn’t want to, so—” Alice eyed Theodora with a critical eye. “So it’s fine with you?”

  “Completely. The squire and I decided days ago we were not suited.”

  “Then who are you suited for?”

  Theodora’s laugh held a tinge of bitterness. “That’s the question, isn’t it? I thought there was someone . . . but it didn’t work out.”

  “I know who that someone might be. I saw how you looked at him, miss.”

  Theodora’s face heated. “As I said, it didn’t work out.”

  “Perhaps, in time, things will change.”

  “That’s unlikely. But I don’t wish to speak of it anymore.”

  “Yes, miss, but—”

  “No! Not one more word!”

  “Very well.” Pouting, Alice reached out to adjust the curtain, pausing as a commotion arose in the inn yard.

  “What is it?”

  Alice peered into the yard. “It’s nothing. A horse and—” She stilled.

  Theodora took a sip of tea. “And what?”

  “A mail coach or the like. It’s nothing. Drunk people. A monkey. Just all sorts of things.”

  “A monkey? I want to see—”

  Alice slammed the curtain closed and swooped across the room. “You can’t. It’s gone.”

  “Already?”

  “Yes.” A firm hand grasped Theodora’s elbow, while another took the teacup from her hand. “Look at the time! You must change for dinner.”

  “We’ve hours before dinner.”

  “Lud, no. Didn’t the squire tell you that dinner had been moved up?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Men. They never pay attention to the details, do they?” Alice picked up the gown she’d laid out for dinner and tossed it back into the wardrobe, and then flipped hurriedly through Theodora’s other gowns. Finally, Alice pulled out a green silk ball gown and placed it on the bed.

  “Alice, I can’t wear that. It’s far too formal for dinner, and besides, it’s very low cut. I’d be too self-conscious to sit down at dinner in it.”

  “It’s what you’re going to wear.”

  “No, I’m not. Alice, what’s going on? Are you drunk?”

  “Yes. That’s it. I’m drunk. But you still must hurry, miss! The clock is ticking and you don’t want to keep the squire waiting, do you?”

  Theodora tried to argue, but Alice had a pert, ready answer to every protest. The maid worked with lightning quickness, chattering so much that Theodora was prevented from asking more questions.

  And so it was that Theodora found herself dressed in her best ball gown of green silk, her hair pinned on her head in a pretty if extravagant manner, and almost shoved into the private parlor where she found herself surprisingly alone. “Alice, where’s the squire?”

  “Late, obviously. He and Miss Simmons. I’ll go fetch them.”

  “But—” It was too late; Alice was gone. That’s it, Theodora decided, staring in bemusement at the closed door. As soon as I get home, I’m calling the doctor and having that girl examined for madness.

  A noise in the courtyard pulled Theodora’s attention to the window and she went to peer out. Where was the monkey Alice had mentioned? Surely that was—

  “Lass?”

  The warmly accented word rippled over her and set her heart aflutter. Heart in her throat, she slowly turned around.

  Conner stood before her, as handsome and seductive as he’d ever been. His swashbuckling coat and sword were gone, though, replaced by a sober dark blue coat and a pristine white cravat held by a sapphire pin.

  She wasn’t the only one who’d dressed for this meeting, and surprise shook her. “I . . . what are you doing here?”

  His gaze raked over her, lingering on her mouth, and then l
ower to the décolletage of her silk gown.

  Suddenly, Alice’s actions made perfect sense. That little wench! She dressed me like a Christmas goose in a wasted effort to entice Conner back to my side.

  Theodora would have words for that girl, but for now, she had to deal with the fact that she felt almost naked, and that Conner was far too appreciative of her exposed neckline. She fought the desire to cross her arms over her chest and instead said in as cool of a tone as she could find, “Why are you here? We said our good-byes.”

  “I never said good-bye,” he said evenly, although she caught the hurt in his blue gaze.

  It stopped her, that flash of pain. Had she been unintentionally hurtful, leaving in such a way? She owed him a final word, if so.

  He took a breath. “Come. Let’s have a wee dram.” He glanced around, looking relieved to see a decanter and glasses resting in a cabinet near the door. He poured a measure into the glasses and then brought them over. Raising his, he said, “To us.”

  She’d started to lift her glass, but at this she lowered it. “Conner, we’ve already been through this. It isn’t going to work.”

  His gaze warmed. “Yes, it will.”

  “It can’t.”

  “Och, but it can. But before we begin, I owe you an apology. I was wrong about everything. Every last, bloody thing.”

  She opened her mouth, and then closed it. What did one say to an apology like that?

  He gestured to the settee. “Please sit down; I will nae keep you long.”

  She put down her glass. “This will only make it harder—”

  “Please, Thea.”

  She couldn’t refuse the plea in his gaze. “Fine.” She perched on the edge of a chair, smoothing her gown over her knees.

  His gaze heated, and for a second, her breath caught in her throat.

  She thought he’d say something, or perhaps kiss her, but instead he picked up her glass and handed it to her before he claimed the seat across from hers.

  She cupped the glass between her hands. “How did you know we’d be here? We didn’t— Oh. MacLeish’s itinerary.”