Amber (Jewel Trilogy, Book 3)

by Royal, Lauren

  Kendra's jaw went slack. She didn't know whether to feel outraged or touched. "What do you mean, he's been watching me?"

  "Nothing as sinister as you're imagining." Cait laid a hand on her arm. "He asked Jane to let him know if anything seems awry. And every day, he sends a messenger to check with her." She offered a tentative smile. "He cares, Kendra."

  That explained why every day, sure as the sun rose and set, Jane had been asking if she was happy here at Amberley House. Kendra released a long, slow breath. "Were you sent here as a peacemaker?"

  "Aye," Cait admitted, a faint pink coloring her cheeks. "More or less. But I wanted to see you, anyway. I have news, and no one else to share it with."

  "News?" Kendra seated herself on a carved stone bench. "What sort of news?"

  Cait sat beside her, lacing her fingers protectively over her middle. "I'm with child."

  "Oh, that's wonderful!" Kendra grabbed her hands and squeezed tightly. "How are you feeling?"

  "Fine." Caithren laughed. "Motherhood agrees with me."

  "Jason must be thrilled."

  "He doesn't know."

  "He—what?" Kendra dropped Cait's hands. "You haven't told him?"

  "Nay, and you mustn't, either. Not until we've gone and returned from Scotland. I don't want to miss my visit home, and I'm afraid Jase wouldn't want me to travel."

  "You're right," Kendra said slowly, staring at Caithren's still-flat abdomen. "But won't he be furious when he finds out?"

  "I'll tell him I just then discovered it. I've never been pregnant before, so how should I know the signs?" She flashed a conspiratorial smile. "You won't tell him, will you?"

  "Of course not. I'm not speaking to him, remember?" Kendra returned Cait's grin. "When do you leave?"

  "Tomorrow. That's another reason I wanted to visit. To say farewell for a while."

  "For a month, do you think? Trick said he'd be gone a month, up and back and with time spent there."

  Cait nodded. "Aye, for a month." She looked around the enormous, quiet estate. "Maybe you would like to go stay with Ford? Or with Colin and Amy?"

  "I'm not speaking to Ford or Colin, either." Kendra's grin went flat. "Anyway, I've much to learn around here. By the time Trick returns, I expect to have this place running like clockwork. It's been missing a good financial manager, not to mention a woman's touch. Trick said his father built it, and so far as I can tell, there's never been a mistress here at all." She took Cait's hand and rose. "Come, let's have an early supper together. I've taught Mrs. Chauncey some new recipes, and you can help me see how she did with them."

  Their footsteps crunched on the gravel as they crossed the privy garden. They went through the back entrance to the house.

  "A letter, your grace." Just as he'd done for Trick yesterday, Compton held out a silver tray. "It just arrived for his grace, but since he is gone..."

  "Thank you, Compton." She took the letter and turned it in her hands. Trick's name was written on the back, but not in his mother's beautiful writing, or anyone else's she recognized.

  Well, of course it wouldn't be—she still didn't know the first thing about her husband or his acquaintances. Chiding herself, she hurried to the study with Caithren following behind.

  "It's probably nothing," Cait said as they dropped onto two chairs. "Open it."

  "It isn't addressed to me."

  "You said yourself he won't be home for a month. It could be important business."

  "I suppose you're right." Feeling more than a little uneasy, Kendra slid a fingernail beneath the black seal. "How odd," she said quietly.

  "Aye?"

  "It's addressed 'Dear Patrick Iain,' rather than by his title." She read further and released a little gasp.

  "What does it say?"

  "Listen." She drew a deep breath. "'I don't know if you'll remember me, since eighteen years have passed since I've set eyes on your face. But as a dear old friend of your mother's, I feel honor bound to warn you of possible danger. When Elspeth—'" Kendra paused. "That's Trick's mother," she clarified.

  "Go on."

  "'When Elspeth wrote the letter to summon you home, she was in perfect health. In the two days since, she has begun a rapid decline that I find inexplicable and alarming. I beg you, take heed. Yours in friendship, Hamish Munroe.'" She looked up. "What could he mean? Why would she write a letter saying she was dying, if she was in perfect health?"

  "Maybe she wanted to reconcile, but didn't believe he'd come home for that alone."

  "Possibly," Kendra conceded. But her heart was pounding unevenly. "Yet this Mr. Munroe clearly believes that something is afoot. Trick could be in danger."

  "I imagine he can defend himself, seeing as he used to be a highwayman."

  Although she was tempted to tell Cait that Trick still was a highwayman—and share her concerns about that—Kendra knew he wouldn't want it discussed. Surprised to find herself bound to him by some form of loyalty, she suppressed the urge to unburden herself.

  "I think I should go to him," she said.

  "Pardon?"

  "I think I should go to Trick. He needs to see this letter."

  "I don't think Jason—"

  "A pox on Jason! He lost his right to tell me what to do when he married me off to Trick. Now I'm duty bound to warn my husband of possible danger."

  And she could also give Trick that second chance. In truth, she burned for it, now that she knew it wouldn't hurt.

  She rose and began to pace. "I must leave immediately." Her mind raced with possible plans.

  "Is tomorrow soon enough?" Cait asked.

  "Probably. He didn't seem in much of a hurry, so if I rush—" She turned and looked at Cait. "What are you thinking?"

  "We're leaving for Scotland tomorrow. Jason and I. Maybe you can come along. But you'll have to talk to your brother," she added with a small smile. "You'll have to break this vow of silence."

  "I suppose I will," Kendra said grimly. "And Mrs. Chauncey's supper will have to wait."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  "How dare you marry me off to a duke!"

  Seated at the desk in his study at Cainewood, Jason steepled his fingers atop a leather-bound ledger. "Ah, the return of the formidable Kendra. Leaving your husband already?"

  "No, he left me."

  Seeing his mouth drop open, Kendra felt a small nudge of satisfaction. "To go to Scotland," she added. "His mother is ill—dying—and she asked to see him. Except she wasn't dying until after she sent the letter. But Trick doesn't know that. I received another letter—"

  "Whoa. Slow down." Jason gave a violent shake of his head, then rose from behind the desk and came around it to embrace his sister. "How are you doing?"

  "I've been better," she muttered into his chest. "And I hate you, you know."

  "I'm sure you do." He pulled back and kissed her on the forehead. "Now sit down and tell me about these letters."

  "Ford?" Kendra called softly.

  Surrounded by burning candles and dozens of ticking clocks, her twin looked up from the gears in his hands, his gaze going to the dawn-lit window. "Is it morning already?"

  "It is." She walked closer, reaching a finger to set a pendulum swinging as she went. "We're leaving."

  As he stood and stretched, a clock started chiming, and another, and another, a cacophony of discordant tones. Laughing, Kendra wrapped her arms around her brother. "I'll miss you and all your experiments," she said, her gaze sweeping over beakers and magnets, chemicals and microscopes, and the long, impressive telescope she and Colin had given him as a birthday gift two years before.

  "I'm going to turn base metal into gold," he said, returning her hug. "And then I'll restore Lakefield House to a glorious standard."

  "And fill it with machinery, no doubt."

  "Of course." He pulled away, smiling. "Come, I'll walk you down."

  Outside, early-morning sun slanted against Cainewood's ancient stones, bathing the quadrangle in a golden glow. Kendra pressed a kiss to her twi
n's cheek and swung up to Pandora's saddle.

  "I'll miss you, too," he said. "Are you sure you'd rather not stay here with me? Jason can take the letter to your husband—"

  "We've been over this already. I'm going."

  Ford looked up at Jason, mounted on his favorite silver gelding. "Impossible, isn't she?" he asked his oldest brother. "I'll wager you're happier than ever she's another man's responsibility now."

  "Not yet, it seems." The glint of amusement in Jason's eyes offset his sarcastic tone. "But the minute we reach Duncraven, I'll be happy enough to turn her over."

  Sitting atop a shiny red-brown mare, Caithren shook her head. "Hush up, you two. You don't mean any of this." She turned to Kendra. "They love you, the both of them."

  "I know," Kendra said with both a huff and a smile. No matter that she hadn't yet quite forgiven them, she knew her brothers would always be there for her. Family. That was what mattered.

  Would she ever forge one with Trick?

  Not if they didn't get going. Toying with the stones on her amber bracelet, she looked over at the three carriages—one for themselves should they tire of riding, one for their servants, and one for everyone's baggage—and knew this journey would be a torturously slow affair. With her husband traveling ahead, blithely unaware of the danger that might lurk at his childhood home.

  "Are we not going to leave?" She lifted Pandora's reins, an impatience in her voice she felt helpless to control. "Trick has two whole days on us—let's be off."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Night was falling and Trick was spooning up the last of his soup when his wife blew through the door of the World's End tavern.

  It was storming outside, and the room was dark, and for the barest moment, he wondered if he were seeing things. God knew he'd thought of little else than Kendra these two weeks past. She'd consumed his thoughts both waking and sleeping.

  But she wasn't a figment of his imagination. She was actually here. He knew that because, had he conjured up his lovely and exasperating wife, he certainly wouldn't have conjured up her brother and sister-in-law along with her.

  He stood, nearly knocking over the small square table. "What the devil are you doing in Edinburgh?"

  At the sound of his voice, she turned. Then just stood there, halfway out of her cloak, her mouth hanging open.

  "Looking for you," Jason answered for his uncharacteristically speechless sister, striding forward to shake Trick's hand. He removed his dripping wide-brimmed hat. "But we had no expectations of catching you. We were planning to bring her to Duncraven tomorrow."

  Aghast, Trick dropped back onto the hard wooden bench. "When did you leave?"

  "Two days after your own departure. We were already planning a visit to Leslie, and Kendra talked us into tagging along. I can see we made better time than you did. Was your journey unpleasant?"

  "It went well." He just hadn't been in a particular hurry. The closer he got to Duncraven, the less he looked forward to a reunion with his mother. Half of him was afraid to hope for a reconciliation—afraid she'd disappoint him again. The other half was hoping too much.

  "Finding you here is a timely stroke of luck," Jason added.

  Perching her wet cloak on a rack beside Kendra's, Caithren aimed a coquettish glance over her shoulder. "Does this mean we get our own room at an inn tonight?"

  Jason's green eyes sparkled down at her. "Just like old times, sweet," he said, referring to their own madcap courtship, conducted mainly on the road.

  His wife went on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips.

  "Delicious," he declared, pulling back with a grin. "Speaking of which, I'm going to get us something to eat."

  He took Cait's hand and drew her toward the bar.

  Kendra slid onto the bench next to Trick.

  "How long have they been married?" he asked, moving close.

  She smiled. "Almost a year."

  "Newlyweds," he murmured.

  "We're newlyweds, too," she reminded him. As though he could have forgotten. He moved closer still.

  Unbelievably, she leaned against him.

  This wasn't the Kendra he remembered—the one who always shied away from his advances. To convince himself she really was here, he ran a hand through her dark, rain-soaked hair. It felt as real as it looked. "I still like it this way best."

  She pulled something from her pocket and glanced up at him. "What?"

  "Your hair. Wild and streaming down your back. And wet isn't bad, either. I'd like to see all of you wet."

  She blushed, then removed his hand from her head and put a letter into it. "I came all the way to bring you this. Read it."

  "What could be so important?" Pushing his soup bowl aside, he spread the paper on the table and dragged a candle near. The letter was wrinkled and the ink a wee bit runny, but still readable.

  "Dear Patrick Iain," he said under his breath, then scanned the page and whistled.

  "It's a good thing I brought it, no?"

  He nodded thoughtfully. "It could mean nothing. My mother might have asked him to write it just in case I'd decided not to come. A last ditch effort, if you will. But it's difficult to tell. I'm left to wonder what I'll be walking into."

  "What we'll be walking into."

  He nodded again, not at all sure he was happy about that.

  But he was happy to have her here tonight. Wondering what could have happened to change her attitude, he tentatively laced his fingers with hers, smiling when she didn't pull away.

  Conversation buzzed around them, mixing with the sounds of eating and drinking. "Do you remember this Mr. Munroe?" she asked.

  "Aye. He was a jolly type, always hanging around, it seemed. A very old friend of my mother's—they grew up together." His other hand gripped his tankard, and beneath the table, he slid his foot against hers. "From what I remember seeing through the eyes of a lad, I wouldn't be surprised to learn he was sweet on her."

  "Did that not bother your father?"

  "He was never home. In any case, I'm sure nothing ever came of it. Of course, Father accused Mother of all sorts of things..."

  Musing, he took a long sip. He didn't like to think of his mother as an adulteress, no matter what his father had said.

  Something brushed his boot, and regardless that Edinburgh was teeming with rats, he'd lay odds it wasn't one. It was, incredibly, his wife's shoe. Looking toward her, he gulped more ale.

  A faint smile curved her lips. "Now that your father is dead, what's become of her home, then?"

  The question jarred him back to his senses. "Why, it belongs to me," he said, surprised at that sudden realization. For most of his adult life, he'd done his fighting best to banish all thoughts of home from his mind. "The castle was her dowry. So it belonged to my father, which means it's now mine. But I won't be selling it out from under her. She may have been an appalling mother, but I won't put her out on the streets."

  He drained the rest of his ale, wondering whether to be annoyed or pleased that his wife had materialized in Scotland. Experimentally, he tried to draw his hand from hers, feeling his body quicken in response when she held it tight.

  He was pleased, he decided. A long abstinence did much to sway a man's emotions.

  Not to mention the apparent change of heart on Kendra's part. Mystifying, to say the least. But he'd be insane not to take advantage. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "Only tired." Her gaze flew over to Jason and Cait, heads leaned close at another table as they talked while Jason shoveled meat pie into his mouth. "We ate but a couple of hours ago." She yawned, meeting his eyes. "We're too far from Duncraven to travel there tonight in the darkness, I presume?"

  "Aye. It's a good day's ride."

  "Then will we stay here?" she asked, the words threaded with husky curiosity.

  Sweet Mary, she wanted to sleep with him. He could hear it in her honeyed voice, see it in her darkened green glance.

  It was too good to be true.

  "I've
already taken a room," he said, amazed at this new good fortune. He rose, nearly stumbling over his own feet. "Shall we go up?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Trick stopped only for a stack of towels before he rushed Kendra to the room he'd rented. Once inside, he dropped them on the polished wood floor, paused a fleeting moment to set down the candle he was carrying, and dragged her into his arms.

  His mouth on hers was hot and needy, and she responded in kind. She found it amazing how much she'd missed him. How much she'd missed this.

  His tongue swept into her mouth, meeting hers with a thrilling urgency. Craving his solid warmth, she plastered herself against his body, reveling in the heated kiss, his arms around her, the feel of his hard muscles against her softness.

  A long time later they pulled apart, and she leaned back in his embrace, gazing up into his seductive amber eyes.

  How could she have put him off so long? Just the scent of him made her head swim.

  She swayed in his grasp.

  "Are you too tired?" he asked.

  She was exhausted, but, "God, no."

  His smile was blinding. "You missed me, aye?" Her heart flip-flopped at the sound of the low, throaty words, and when she nodded, he kissed her all over again, his mouth even more demanding, if that were possible.

  Her breath was ragged by the time he stepped back. "You're soaking," he said.

  Her gaze slid down his now-damp form, and her hands went to her drenched skirts. "I'm sorry."

  "I told you, I like you wet." Lazy and persuasive, his grin seemed to touch a place inside her. A warm, melting place. "Come, leannan, let's get you out of these clothes."

  She only nodded as, with practiced fingers, he detached the tabs on her stomacher and unlaced her bodice, then drew it down to her waist. His palms reached out and fitted themselves to her breasts. Puckering in response, her nipples strained against the thin fabric of her chemise.

  He sucked in a breath. "I've wanted to touch you like this," he said huskily.

  A little mewling sound rose from her throat. She'd wanted him to touch her like this, too. He hadn't done so since the night they were wed, and goodness, she'd craved his hands on her body.