by Lara Temple
He wanted to keep her.
He pushed the thought away before it sank its teeth into him.
‘So, we will have to do something about that when I return, mo leannan.’
‘What does that mean?’ she whispered.
He leaned his forehead briefly against hers before moving away. He had no right to say those words to her.
‘I will tell you when we return...’
He fell silent as the spectre of the McCrieffs rose again.
‘Goodbye, Jo. Take good care of Jamie.’
‘Of course I shall.’
He made it to the door when her voice stopped him, a little breathless and more than a little enthusiastic.
‘Do you mean it is possible to do...that...for myself?’
He curled his hand hard on the door frame.
‘Are you expressly trying to kill me? Yes, of course it is possible. If it wasn’t, there would hardly be sermons denouncing it, would there?’
Her eyes widened.
‘Oh, is that what it means?’
He rubbed his jaw, so tempted to drag her out of his chair, haul up her skirts and do something about the raging fire in his buckskins. At this rate he would come before he made it out the castle gates.
‘If there wasn’t so much riding on this meeting in Kilmarchie, I would take you upstairs and show you precisely what it means.’
She clasped her hands together, her cheeks flushed.
‘You should leave, then.’
‘Yes. Tomorrow I will meet you and Jamie. And when we return...’
He fell silent and forced himself to leave before he lost all sight of his priorities.
* * *
Jo returned to Benneit’s chair at the desk. She brought the maligned ledger back to face her and stared at it blindly.
In less than a day her life was transformed. She was a magical mouse and her Summer’s Solstice transformation was far better than any devised in her mind. Benneit had saved her life, danced with her and shown her a level of bliss she had not the slightest idea existed. It was thrumming through her like a chaotic mixture of the elements, jostling and dragging her towards what was either heaven or hell and she did not care. By some wondrous magic he wanted her. Perhaps the magical Minerva existed after all and had placed a spell on him? She laughed at the absurdity, but it was only marginally less fantastical than the thought that he wanted her...and with such passion. Or did all the women he enjoyed feel just this heat? See that blaze of lust in his eyes as they mutated from jade to razor-edged emerald?
She shut her eyes and brought back the image of Benneit leaning over her, his gaze and then his body scorching and devouring. It might be wrong, but she wanted it so very badly. She wanted him. She wished he had taken her right here in the study. Anywhere he wished.
Another image came—of Benneit with her on the Devil’s Seat, the stone warm and hard beneath her bare back, the grating of sand as their legs... She breathed deeply, blinking it away.
He was breaking through every one of her defences, but she still ought to be careful with her fantasies. She would see him tomorrow, but it would be in the home of the woman he was already pledged to, formal engagement or not. She must not begin to imagine a future with him. He was offering her a very temporary affair, that was all. He was on edge, concerned about his future on so many levels, and she was conveniently there, a distraction.
Worse, a convenience.
A convenience, again.
How useful you are, Jo. How accommodating, how soberly utilitarian, how...stupid.
Falling in love with Benneit Lochmore was the very definition of stupidity.
In love.
There was no hiding from that truth any longer. It wasn’t only the joy he gave her, it was him. He had brought her back to life, like a house re-inhabited, doors and windows set open to the world, light streaming in so she could see herself and, strangely enough, through his eyes she liked what she saw, even the flaws of faded carpets and outmoded furniture. She wanted so desperately to do the same for him, make him see himself as she saw him—complex, generous, troubled, honourable and so full of the feeling he kept it deep underground, like a shameful secret. She wanted to make him happy.
She might be stupid, but she was also blissfully, foolishly alive. And terrified.
Chapter Twenty-Six
This carriage ride from Lochmore to McCrieffs’ was utterly different from the ride from London just a few weeks ago. She was different. She had grown up more in these weeks than in the past two years.
Jamie was different, too. He leaned against her unashamedly as they wove stories together about the stark countryside they passed. Her heart ached, but she didn’t once consider putting him away from her. She knew it was wrong of her to go to the McCrieffs’, but she did not want to lose a single moment of Benneit’s and Jamie’s company.
‘There’s the McCrieff keep!’ Jamie bounced on the carriage seat, looking very neat and proper and grown up. He had not even kicked off his shoes and he reached up to touch the hair Nurse Moody had slicked to one side. She looked out the carriage window at the structure now partially visible as they came down a rise. She could not see much of the keep through the window, but though it looked smaller than Lochmore, it gave the same impression of heavy stone and glum foreboding.
‘Oh, and there is Papa!’
Jo turned to follow his pointing finger and saw the men on horseback coming down from the rise behind the keep. Benneit was immediately recognisable, taller and much darker than the other men. Her body lit from inside with a harsh snap of nerves, crowding with memories of his body, his touch. She turned to inspect Jamie, busying herself with him and calming her breathing as the carriage drew to a halt.
‘Papa!’
Jamie launched himself at Benneit as he opened the carriage door and over Jamie’s dark hair she met his gaze, warm with pleasure and, despite her pain, she smiled back. In her mind she closed that circle by reaching out and taking Benneit’s hand. In a world of her making that would be her right. This would be her family. But it wasn’t and within moments she was being led away by a maid while Jamie and Benneit remained with the McCrieff brothers.
* * *
It was early evening when the same maid helped her dress and led her downstairs. Her dress was pale lilac blue, a colour suitable for a widow but still youthful, and she knew it enhanced rather than dulled her grey eyes. She could not compete with Lady Tessa on any scale that counted, but she would at least not appear a complete dowd.
‘Jo! We waited for you.’ Jamie rushed up the steps towards her and her throat tightened with pleasure and pain as she saw Benneit at the bottom of the steps. She had been prepared to enter alone and remain alone and this consideration warmed her as much as the banked heat in his gaze as he watched her descend. But he didn’t speak and she couldn’t.
In the hall they were greeted by a bluff hello from Lord Aberwyld and a more subdued greeting from Lady Aberwyld. There was no mistaking the animosity in her gaze before she turned from Jo to smile at Benneit and Jamie, and Jo was relieved when their attention was caught by a cheer rising from a group of children playing in a corner of the large hall they entered. A young girl, perhaps eight, beckoned to Jamie.
‘Jamie! Come!’
Jamie’s body angled closer to Jo even as his hand slicked his hair again. Jo caught Benneit’s frown and though she was not certain it was in response to Jamie’s shyness or to his move towards her, she bent a little towards him.
‘What is her name?’ she whispered.
‘Beth. Like our Beth,’ he whispered back. ‘There are many Beths.’
‘What are they playing?’
‘Spillikins. I am good at Spillikins. Ewan and Angus play with me.’
‘Say your hellos to Lord and Lady Aberwyld before you go with Miss Beth, Jamie,’ Benneit said and J
amie came forward, but at the last steps as he approached the great bearded figure seated on an armchair around which the room appeared to rotate, he clasped Jo’s skirts. Even when she sat he remained by her side, his hand fiddling with the embroidery on her skirt. Benneit stared straight ahead and Jo was caught between the need to hug Jamie to her and guilt that he was clinging to her so obviously.
‘So, boy,’ McCrieff intoned, his voice a vibration throughout the room. ‘Gave your papa a scare the night of the ball, didn’t you?’
Jamie turned scarlet, his fingers tightening on Jo’s dress as the Earl burst into rumbling laughter. Lady Aberwyld leaned forward and smiled.
‘I’m glad you are well, Lord Glenarris. Beth, take him to the children.’
‘That’s right, go and play,’ the Earl interjected. ‘This is a children’s house, as you can see, Mrs Langdale. He needn’t hang about your skirts. ’Twill do him good. Right, Tessa?’
Tessa McCrieff was seated by her mother’s side and she smiled over at Jo with the same cheerful sweetness as at the ball.
‘He had a grand time when he was here last. It takes a few moments though, Father. Don’t press.’
‘Press? I never press, girl! Where’s my whisky?’
Jamie cast a look of entreaty at Benneit, but when Beth approached he went with her, eyes downcast, and Lord Aberwyld watched them with satisfaction.
‘Too shy, that boy. Needs toughening. He’ll get that here.’
‘Beth will take good care of him, Your Grace,’ Tessa said softly.
‘Aye, she’s Duncan’s eldest and already a natural mother, that one. Like our Tessa here.’
‘Papa!’
McCrieff laughed and began talking of the clearances, though by the look on Benneit’s face the man’s views on that topic were hardly more welcome to him than his views on his son. But with some deft manoeuvring he shifted McCrieff to a discussion of the progress made in Kilmarchie regarding the distillery and Lord Aberwyld’s sons joined in.
* * *
The next day Jo hardly saw Benneit or Jamie. He was out with the men and she remained with the women, discussing family matters and the changes in fashion now the war was over. They might be hundreds of miles from Uxmore, but other than the Highland accent and the heavy stone walls, they might as well have been in Oxfordshire. It was utterly familiar to Jo and already foreign after the ease that had become part of her life at Lochmore.
The worst was how much she liked Lady Tessa. Jo had secretly been hoping that her pleasant behaviour at the ball was a ruse like Lady Aberwyld’s veneer of politeness, but Tessa was genuinely nice. She would, as her father advertised, make a fine mother. A fine wife. Jo wished she could be happy for Benneit that he would wed someone as generous and warm as Tessa, but she wasn’t noble enough. She liked Tessa, but she hated her from the bottom of her aching, weeping heart.
She wished the afternoon would arrive so they could depart, but the day dragged as they pored over the latest La Belle Assemblée fashion plates, lingering on one of a wedding gown with striped muslin skirts and flowers at the gathering of the sleeves. There was a round of tittering and meaningful glances in Tessa’s direction and Tessa’s rounded cheeks heated, but she ignored them, turning the page to a lovely evening gown of lilac sarsenet over a white underskirt and three elaborately braided flounces. The moment passed, but Jo’s misery deepened and she went to the window. The view was blocked by a tight clump of trees, but she stared at it none the less.
‘I wish they would not do that,’ Lady Tessa said as she came to stand by her. ‘That is all they can talk about since Papa and Lochmore spoke months ago.’
Jo clasped her hands together and managed a smile.
‘That is understandable.’
‘Is it? I am not certain I do understand. I feel like a prize cow on her way to the fair.’
Jo’s smile faltered.
‘Don’t you like His Grace?’
‘I like what I know, which is not much. We have not spoken often. I like him best because of Jamie. I tell myself that anyone who is so good to his son must be a fine man.’
Jo nodded, but couldn’t answer, and Tessa continued.
‘He called for you last night, you know.’
‘What?’
‘Jamie. Beth told me he woke and called for you and she came to comfort him.’
Jo was grateful for the gloom that obscured her harsh blush at her misunderstanding.
‘She should have sent for me.’
‘She is accustomed to tending to the little ones. She will make a far better wife and mother than ever I will. He is very attached to you.’
‘He is a wonderful boy. He will come to love you very much.’
Tessa touched the windowpane. Beyond it evening was swallowing up the landscape and Jo could see their reflections and the blur of people behind them. She wanted this over. She should not have come to the McCrieffs’ and now it was too late.
‘Did you love your husband?’ Tessa asked. Jo should have evaded her intrusive questions, but she couldn’t even do that. Everything was too late.
‘I cared for him.’
‘That is not the same.’
‘No. Not quite the same.’
‘Why did you marry him?’
‘We were good friends and he made me happy even if I did not love him.’
‘Did he love you?’
‘Yes. Perhaps in time my feelings would have deepened. I think they would have. I was not very trusting to begin with—of myself or others. It takes trust to truly love someone.’
Tessa nodded, tracing a finger through the sheen of condensation forming on the pane.
‘It is peculiar—I know we do not know each other, but I can talk to you. I wish you could stay. I know that is impossible, but I wish you could. I wish...’ She turned back to the room. ‘We are being summoned. Come.’
Jo followed, heartsick. She never should have allowed Benneit to convince her to come to the McCrieffs’.
Tessa did not subject her to more confidences, but she remained close to Jo, almost protective of her, especially when Lady Aberwyld indulged in thinly veiled snipes about Jo’s lack of youth and looks and her imminent departure. Jo was immensely relieved when it was time to leave, but the carriage ride was hardly any better. Jamie was full of his visit, his palpable pleasure adding great boulders to the weight on Jo’s heart. She hated her jealousy, but controlling it was beyond her. She would just have to endure this as well.
Jamie finally fell asleep just as they passed Lochmore village, his head slipping on to Jo’s shoulder, and Benneit gathered the boy on to his lap, his hand brushing her arm accidentally. She tensed, but Benneit merely looked out the window into the falling darkness as afternoon slipped into dusk. She leaned her head against her side of the carriage and closed her eyes, weary and miserable.
‘Tired?’
Benneit’s voice was a murmur and she forced herself to straighten.
‘A little. They were very nice.’
‘Yes.’
‘Jamie felt at home.’
‘Yes. Thank you for coming with him.’
‘Thank you for inviting me. It was pleasant,’ she lied.
He did not speak again.
* * *
When they reached the castle it was already night and, though Ewan and Angus came to greet them, Benneit raised Jamie to his shoulder and took him upstairs. She knew she wasn’t needed, that following him was a form of self-flagellation, but she did so anyway. He did not send for Nurse Moody, but brought a nightshirt from the wardrobe and dressed Jamie himself while she placed Jamie’s clothes on a chair. Then she left the room before temptation strangled her. She just reached her door when she felt him behind her, the words a murmur that flowed under her skin.
‘Will you come with me, Jo?’
She tightened her
hand on the door knob.
‘No, Benneit.’
‘You are tired.’
‘Yes, that, too, but that is not why. I cannot do this. Perhaps if I had never met her, or knew... I cannot.’
He leaned his hand on the wall. She did not look at him, but she could feel the tension coursing through him, the sheer bulk of his presence overshadowing her, pressing her into no more than a core of need around a howl. Her hand was boiling on the doorknob. It would surely melt or crack under the pressure of his silence. She turned it and pushed open the door but could not move.
‘Jo.’ His voice, full of dark heat, acted like a spur even as his hand rose towards her and then she was inside her room, the door closed behind her, before she could betray herself. She stood there, hardly breathing, her palms pressed against the cool wood door for ages and ages, until the scrape of his boots marked his departure.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The most effective hell is a twisted version of heaven, Jo told herself as she followed Jamie up the cliff path.
The week since their return from the McCrieffs’ was outwardly no different from the week before the ball. She and Jamie explored and read. They went more often to the village and twice with Angus and Benneit to The House where Mr Warren and Mr Carruthers, the engineers, were staying to assess the village port. Jamie was enchanted with the engineers’ tools and tales and they treated him with kind tolerance, giving him little tasks which he carried out with enthusiastic concentration. Jo was happy for him, happy for the pride in Benneit’s eyes as he watched his son, but also utterly miserable.
She could not help turning to Benneit when Jamie sparkled with pleasure at his successes or frowned with interest as he listened to the engineers’ explanations. It was as instinctive as the lurching of her heart whenever Benneit appeared, joining them suddenly on the beach, or in the nursery, or when a summons arrived from The House to join him and the engineers for nuncheon.
She paid for those moments. Benneit never again asked her to come to him, but he was torturing her.