The Heart of Love

by Platt, Meara

  “Yes, I’m sure he will.”

  Robbie had never heard anyone sound more uncertain. “Pixie, has he even kissed ye yet?”

  She raised her hand and pointed to it. “Yes, often. He bows over my outstretched hand and kisses it ardently. Not in any slobbering way…just, with feeling.”

  “And?”

  “Then he sets it down, and we might talk for a while, or he asks me to dance. Usually, he asks me to save a waltz and the supper dance for him. Robbie, why are you rolling your eyes at me? And why are your lips pinched? You look like you just ate a toad.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Ye are betrothed to the man, and he has never kissed ye on the lips?”

  “Should he have? Isn’t it frowned upon before one is married? More than frowned upon, in truth. It’s been pounded into my brain since I began tutoring for my come-out. Never kiss a man. A corollary to that is never be alone with a man. Although you and I are alone but out in the open. I suppose that does not count since I’m sure Uncle John and Uncle George are spying on us. Why are you frowning, Robbie?”

  “He wants to marry ye, and he hasn’t kissed ye? And are ye saying he dinna claim the privilege once ye were betrothed? I dinna like it, Heather. Not at all. He should be wild with frustration and desperate to taste yer lips. I would have kissed ye.”

  “Then why haven’t you?”

  “I’m not the one offering to marry ye.” But he ached to kiss her something fierce. Not just kiss her. Hold her. Love her. Protect her. Spend his entire life with her.

  A soldier’s life, which meant no life for her. He was right back where he started. Wanting her and knowing he was completely wrong for her.

  “Should I take him aside before the ball and require him to kiss me?”

  “Dinna ask me that,” he said with a growl.

  She tossed the book aside. “This is pointless. You would have kissed me, and he should have kissed me, but I shouldn’t ask him to kiss me? You’ve read this book. You know what it says. But you’re not helping me to understand it. All you’re doing is speaking in riddles. And my sisters, as much as I adore them, are also no help.”

  “They told ye to read the book.”

  “They told me to read it with you. Why? Because they hope we’ll fall in love with each other? Then you, Joshua, and Ronan can all remain best friends married to the Yorkshire Farthingale sisters, namely me, Holly, and Dahlia. One big happy family. That’s a big waste of time, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, it is. But not for the reason ye think.”

  “I do know the reason.” She tipped her chin up in indignation. “Isn’t it obvious? You don’t love me. You think I’m childish and spoiled, and let us not forget ignorant because I don’t know anything about anything. I make a laughable debutante. And now you think I’ll make an unworthy marchioness.”

  He snorted. “If ye’d read the book, ye’d know that is bollocks. Even if ye were all that, which ye’re not, how is my behavior any better? When was the last time ye took a drunken dive off a wall?”

  “Never.” She laughed lightly but then quickly turned serious. “Then what is the truth? I wish someone would just come straight out and tell me. My family seems to have chosen you as the bearer of these bad tidings. So just tell me already. What is going on? What am I supposed to know that I don’t know?”

  He took her hand when he saw it was trembling. “They are concerned you and Tilbury do no’ love each other sufficiently to sustain a happy marriage.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “There’s no passion between ye, lass. Do ye think Joshua could have ever kept his hands off Holly? And what about Ronan and Dahlia? Only a supreme idiot or a man in love would have ridden for hours with damaged ribs to return to London and the woman he loves.”

  “Tilbury has had no reason to test his love. I’ve never been in danger. I have no madman after me. It’s just an ordinary courtship. Well, not ordinary…but he’s been raised to be a gentleman and has had a noble sense of duty ingrained in him. He isn’t a military man, not used to leading a cavalry charge or seizing the high ground in battle. I don’t know that he has ever faced death or ever felt a sense of dire urgency. It isn’t fair to compare him to other men.”

  “Pixie, but that’s just it. Stripped down to our essence, we are all the same. King, marquess, soldier, or commoner. We are compelled by the same primitive urges to find our mate, the one we will love and protect from wolves, and breed offspring.”

  “And this is why he is described as a man of noble breeding. Because he does not look at me that way. Nor does his family. I’ve met his mother and sister, and they like me.”

  “I’m sure they like boiled potatoes, too.”

  She yanked her hand from his grasp. “Are you calling me a boiled potato?”

  “No. Och, lass. It’s complicated.”

  “Apparently so, because everyone thinks I’m too dimwitted to figure it out.”

  “We’re all too dimwitted. None of us has yet to figure out what makes a person fall in love. Ye’re young and inexperienced. I’ve had years of experience, and still dinna know what the hell I’m doing. But this isn’t about me. It’s about yer future and happiness.”

  At this point, a man with any brains would have admitted he loved her. But he had no brains when it came to Heather. He loved her to the depths of his soul and also knew to the depths of his soul they were wrong for each other. She’d be so unhappy in Caithness, and it would ruin any hope of their love surviving.

  He decided to move on to a discussion of the next chapters. These were safer…he hoped. “Ye’ve read far enough into the book to know that we use our five senses to form our attraction to each other. Sight. Touch. Taste. Scent. Hearing.”

  “I’ve only read as far as sight and touch.”

  “The concept is the same for each sense. It isn’t so much what they are, but how you open yerself up to seeing what’s really before ye. It’s all about not lying to yerself and pretending ye see whatever it is ye want to see. So, let’s start with the look of Tilbury. What do ye like about him, lass? I mean, physically. We’ll get to the other qualities later. Name five things ye like about the look of him.”

  He waited for her response.

  And waited some more.

  Hellfire, what was going on?

  Couldn’t Heather come up with five things she liked about the man she was determined to marry?

  “Heether,” he said, his brogue more pronounced to reflect his concern. “Lass, can ye name one?”

  Chapter Five

  Heather frowned at Robbie. “Of course I can think of five things I like about Tilbury. He has a pleasant face. He is elegant. His hair is not falling out.”

  “Gad, I can see he’s swept ye off yer feet.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s three, lass. Why did ye stop?”

  “He is tall, although not quite as tall as you.”

  “I’m sure there’s Viking blood mixed in with the MacLauren bloodlines. Ye’re almost there. Can ye think of one more thing ye like about this marquess ye intend to marry?”

  “Why are you being such an oaf to me? He has nice eyes and a nice smile. There, that makes six in all.”

  He sighed. “Lass, ye could have been describing yer dance instructor from five years ago for all the passion ye’ve shown in yer description of him.”

  She clenched her hands. “Passion? Everyone tosses that word about as though it is something sinful to experience before marriage. How am I supposed to understand passion when I’ve never even been kissed?”

  “So why hasn’t he used his prerogative and kissed ye?”

  Her head began to spin.

  She already lacked self-assurance, and Robbie’s comments were only making her feel worse. Yes, Tilbury ought to have kissed her by now. What hadn’t he? “I don’t know why he hasn’t bothered to kiss me yet,” she replied in a shaky breath. “But why would he ask me to marry him unless he liked me? I bring nothing else to the marriage.”
r />   He groaned, his eyes now filled with pity.

  “What should I do, Robbie? You’re the one with experience. Do I insist on a kiss? Would he regard it as too forward of me?”

  “Go with what yer heart tells ye is right, lass. It isn’t fair of me to provoke feelings in ye that ye’ve been taught to deny. This would not concern me if ye were of a mind to marry for purposes of advancing alliances. But it is well known that ye Farthingale lasses will only marry for love.”

  She nodded. “My family is considered odd for encouraging it.”

  He studied her in a way that made the butterflies in her stomach flutter. “I think they have the right of it, if ye care for my opinion.”

  “Will you marry for love, Robbie?”

  “Not likely. My granduncle will arrange a marriage for me, I expect. He’s quite pleased with the match Malcolm made, marrying the Earl of Wycke’s sister. That’s a love match for certain, although he and Malcolm were, in fact, pushing for an alliance and nothing more.”

  “But your brother fell in love with his wife?”

  “From the moment he set eyes on her. I never thought any woman could tame him. I was sure his perfect match would be a firebrand, someone as stubborn as he can be, and not afraid to hurl a jug at his head to keep him in line. But Anne, she’s a quiet thing. Sweet. Never shouts, yet has the mettle to hold her ground whenever Malcolm gets pigheaded about something.”

  “I don’t think Tilbury has a temper. He always seems to be in control. How would I know if I love him, Robbie? What should I be feeling?”

  He closed his eyes as he leaned back to soak in the sunshine on his face. “I canno’ say. Everyone responds differently. Everyone looks for different things in a mate. This is where the five senses come in. For example, the look of ye. Some men may be attracted to tall blondes with big breasts…sorry, lass. Just saying. Some men like a handful of flesh they can grab onto.”

  “And you?”

  “Does no’ matter what I like. We’re talking about you and Tilbury. Obviously, he likes little pixies like you. Ye’re not all that little. Just average height, but ye have a light, graceful step, and there is a fey quality about ye that he must find enchanting or he would no’ be bothering with ye.”

  “It must be love for his part, because why else would he offer for me? I am not an advantageous match for alliance purposes. He seems to like me, and we always have a nice time when we are together.” She nibbled her lip. “But if passion is a fiery thing, then…do I set him on fire? If so, he is very good at hiding his feelings. Or am I very bad at noticing what he is feeling?”

  “Probably a mix of both. He hides his passion, and ye’re too inexperienced to know what telltale signs to look for in a man.”

  “I am woefully inexperienced. I readily admit it. This is why my sisters think I am still an ignorant child.”

  “And yet, ye’re the one who got the marriage proposal from a marquess.” Robbie frowned at her. “Is it that important to ye, lass? Are ye mistaking yer love for the title as love for the man himself?”

  This question should not have shaken her to the core, but it did. “I don’t know, Robbie. I hope not.”

  “This is why ye’ve been afraid to read the book. Ye don’t wish to find out the truth.”

  She felt her eyes begin to tear, but she fought to hold them back. “Our parents raised us to be a helpmate and consort to someone important. What else am I good for, if not that? I don’t have Dahlia’s artistic talents. My cousin Rose is also a brilliant artist. Laurel is a respected horse breeder. Lily is a scientist. Violet has one of the finest singing voices in England. But me? Nothing.”

  “Dinna say that. Ye’re young still.”

  “No younger than my cousins were when they reached for their dreams. The only dream I ever had was to marry a marquess. How’s that for a shallow, self-serving goal?”

  “Dinna be hard on yerself. Ye’d be an asset to Tilbury as his marchioness. As he gets to know ye better, he’ll learn to respect yer opinions. Obviously, he sees something in ye that he does no’ see in any other female.”

  “But what is that reason? Does he see a biddable idiot?”

  “No. Why would any man wish to marry a fool? Which ye’re not.”

  “Then what is the reason? This is what I am struggling to understand. I am not a wealthy heiress. I am not a lady of rank. And he has not been passionate in his declarations to me. So, what does he see in me to make him choose me?”

  Robbie took a deep breath. “This is why the chapters on the five senses are so important. Whatever he sees in ye, the sight of ye. The scent of ye. The lovely touch of ye. The sweet lilt of yer voice. This is what makes ye perfect for him.”

  “You’ve only mentioned four senses.”

  “Well, he has no’ kissed ye yet. I dinna mean kissed yer hand, although he probably liked the taste of yer skin. It isn’t quite the same as a kiss on the lips.”

  She stared at her hands that were now clenched and resting on her lap. “Robbie, did you ever desire to kiss me?”

  He said nothing for the longest time, to the point she believed he was going to ignore the question. Then he groaned lightly and said, “Yes, I did.”

  She glanced up, startled. “Because you have a strongly defined low brain?”

  By the scathing look he shot her, she realized she’d insulted him. “I told ye, ye’re not a low brain lass for me. Ye never were and never will be.”

  She stared at him, and he stared back, neither one of them blinking or turning away. What was he telling her? That if not for Tilbury, he would have courted her?

  She tore her gaze away from him and looked up at the sky. It was blue and clear, not a storm cloud to be seen. The air was dry, and the breeze was gentle. But it felt as though a lightning bolt had suddenly struck between them, leaving the air thick and charged.

  Her heart began to beat a little faster. “Robbie, was there ever a time you thought I was the one for you? That you could love me?”

  What would she do if he said yes? She truly did not know. She had never believed he could…

  But what if she was wrong?

  No.

  Robbie had only to crook his finger, and a hundred ladies would come running. Why ever would he single her out?

  Time seemed to suspend between them.

  He emitted another soft groan. “Dinna say a word until ye hear me out completely, Heether.”

  Here it was, he was going to let her down gently. He did not love her. But he did not wish to hurt her feelings since his two best friends had fallen madly in love with her sisters. So he wanted to be polite and try his best not to insult her.

  Her heart had now shot into her throat as she waited for his brutally honest assessment. She was a respectable girl, and he did not wish to malign her. Was this what he meant when he’d said he had only ever regarded her with his high brain, never his low brain? “All right. Just be truthful with me, Robbie.”

  “I will, lass.” He took a deep breath before pressing on. It seemed to be a painful struggle for him to exhale. “If I ever allowed myself to love, ye’d be the one I could love.”

  She gasped.

  “No, Heather. Hear me out. I dinna need to read that book to know I could have feelings for ye.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to respond. “No, lass. There’s more. It’s important ye listen to all I have to say first.”

  She nodded, barely able to concentrate after his admission. He loved her? Was it possible?

  “What I told ye earlier was the truth. I looked at ye differently from the first. Ye were never just another female to conquer.”

  “Why did you never tell me this before? Why did you disappear for months and never let me know your feelings?”

  “Because I have no feelings. It is a luxury I canno’ afford.” He cleared his throat. “Malcolm, that’s my brother, is heir to the Earl of Caithness. I am nothing.”

  “Robbie! How dare you think of yourself as—”

  �
�Lass, I dinna mean that I am worthless. All I mean is that I have nothing to offer ye but my heart. In a perfect world, this might be enough. But how can it ever be enough for ye after the way ye’ve been raised and the expectations ye’ve got in yer head? Ye’ll understand it better when ye read the chapter about our damn expectations and how they can destroy our chance at happiness.”

  “It’s in the book?”

  “Aye, lass. We’ll get to it later. The point I am trying to make is, would ye toss away a marquess to live on the wages of a cavalry captain?”

  “I don’t need to live like a queen.”

  “That is no’ all. As my wife, ye’d be expected to live in Caithness, because even though I’m just a captain in the Scots Greys, I am also the earl’s grandnephew. Not the heir, but nonetheless expected to make my home there. He has no children, so Malcolm and I were raised as though we were his own sons.”

  He spared her a glance and continued. “We’re a Highland clan, but so far north, it would take almost a fortnight’s ride south just to reach Edinburgh. It would take a month to reach London, assuming good weather most of the way. So how can I ask ye to leave yer family and lead a solitary existence with me? I dinna even know how much time I’d be spending with ye, for I’m still in military service and can be sent anywhere in the world on a moment’s notice.”

  “But you were the Scottish liaison to Parliament. Why can you not stay on in that role?”

  “Because my home is in Caithness. I dinna like being here in London. But you do. Yer place is here.”

  “I grew up in York.”

  His expression remained mirthless. “Ye’re flourishing here in London. If I brought ye to Caithness, yer heart would wither and die. We both know it. This is why ye refused to read the book with me until today. So, let’s have no more discussion about us, because we are not meant to be.”

  She rolled to her knees, her hands clenched and her head ready to explode. She was so angry. “Who appointed you the Lord High Judge? Do I not get a say in this?”