The Highlander and the Wallflower

by Michelle Willingham

  But he didn’t force himself inside. No, he closed his eyes, waiting. And she understood that he was giving himself to her. He would never force her, never make her feel powerless.

  Instead, he was surrendering to her pleasure. And she revelled in the knowledge that she was in command.

  It was awkward at first, but she took the head of him inside. She was still a virgin, and the fit was tight. The strain upon his face was like a man caught up in torment. And as she started to move, he hissed.

  ‘I love you, Regina,’ he said. ‘I always have.’

  She wanted to answer the words, but her brain warned her not to. Not if she had to leave him. It would be cruel to say it and then go. Instead, she held back her love for him and brought his hands back to her breasts. ‘Will you touch me again?’

  He did, and he rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She felt her body giving in, welcoming him as she used her body weight to sink lower. There was a slight pinching sensation, and then he was fully sheathed inside her.

  Again, she expected him to begin thrusting. Instead, he sat up and took her breast in his mouth. She was overcome by the echo within her womb and could not help but move against him.

  ‘That’s it, darling. Just like that.’

  She rose up and then sank against him, unaccustomed to the sensation of having him deep inside. But she discovered that as she moved, some of her earlier pleasure returned. She changed the angle of her thrust and found that it heightened her sensation when she squeezed against him.

  Dalton was responding to her, meeting her thrusts with his own. But instead of feeling as if he had taken the lead, it felt as if he were trying to give her what she wanted.

  She tried to go faster, and when she bumped against him, her body began to tremble. Each penetration brought her closer to the brink, but she was afraid to reach for it.

  ‘Dalton,’ she said, bringing his mouth to hers. She kissed him lightly and then pleaded, ‘Will you make love to me now?’

  He rolled her to her back but kept her on the end of the bed. As he bent over her, he lifted her hips higher, and then began a timeless rhythm.

  She gloried in the feeling of him gliding in and out, and she murmured, ‘Yes. Like this.’

  He was gentle, and yet, she desired more. She wanted to feel the height of sensation again, and she tried to quicken his pace.

  ‘Not yet,’ he whispered, slowing down. ‘Savour it. Feel me touching you. Trust me, Regina, and let go.’

  He continued the relentless give and take, with such slight pressure, that she started to quake with the stroking. Over and over, he entered and withdrew, but again, it was with such tenderness, she wanted to grasp his hips and demand more.

  But her body recognised the pleasure he was giving, and she suddenly felt a part of her awakening, climbing higher. The ball of sensation tightened inside, caressed so gently, until it unravelled within her. Every fibre of her being came apart, rippling with the wave of pleasure so strong, she squeezed his shaft inside and cried out her release. He continued the pleasure as she arched hard, shaking until he emptied himself within.

  She wrapped her legs around him, feeling her own emotions growing raw. He had given her everything, taking away the past until there was only love between them.

  She wanted to weep at the thought of leaving. God help her, she didn’t know if she had the strength.

  He was collapsed on top of her, but his hands traced a soft caress upon her hip. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she lied. But not because of the physical release between them. It was the knowledge that he would soon be dragged into the sordid truth about Mallencourt’s death. She had wanted to avoid it—had hoped that no one would ever find out. But now that the Bow Street Runner was travelling here, he would confront her and her father about what had happened that night. And the only way to avoid it was to leave and hope that no one could find them.

  ‘You seem troubled,’ he said, withdrawing from her body. ‘Do you regret this?’

  She shook her head and forced a smile. ‘It was wonderful, Dalton.’ To emphasise her words, she reached up to kiss him.

  But as he drew her body to his, wrapping the coverlet around them, she could not help but feel as if their time was running out.

  * * *

  Something was very wrong with his wife. Although she now spent the nights in his bed, Dalton sensed her distraction. It was as if she were trying to separate herself. During the daytime, she hardly spoke to him any more, while at night, she welcomed him into her arms. He had invited her to go out riding yesterday, but she had declined, saying that she was worried about her father. He didn’t know how to bridge the distance between them, nor did he understand why she had suddenly changed.

  She was in the parlour with her father, drinking tea, when he asked, ‘Regina, may I speak with you for a moment?’

  ‘Of course. Papa, will you excuse me?’

  The earl nodded. In the past few days, his appearance had grown haggard, and he seemed to have weakened. Though Dalton had asked if Regina wanted him to summon a physician, she had declined.

  He offered his arm, and she took it. There was tension in her demeanour, and as soon as they were alone, she asked, ‘What is it? Has someone arrived?’

  ‘No, not yet.’ He started to lead her outside, but she stopped walking.

  ‘Oh. Was there something else you needed from me?’

  ‘I wanted to spend time with you,’ he said. He put his hand upon the small of her back. ‘Let us speak outside, away from everyone else.’

  She didn’t argue with him, and he took her hand in his. They walked past the estate grounds, well beyond the garden, until they reached the shores of the loch. The morning sunlight gleamed upon the silvery water, with only the slight movement of a fish breaking the surface. ‘You’ve been avoiding me, Regina.’

  At that, she flushed. ‘How can you say that after last night?’

  Although he didn’t want to fight with her, he needed to understand why she had withdrawn. ‘You barely speak to me during the day. Any time I’ve asked you to go riding or to walk the dog, you find a reason not to go. Have I done something to offend you?’

  Remorse slid over her face, and she shook her head. ‘Not at all. I’m just...distracted right now.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’ The words escaped before he could stop them. ‘Do you no longer wish to be my wife?’

  Her eyes filled up with tears, and she stared out at the loch. Her silence was damning, and it was as if she’d thrust an invisible dagger into his gut. He didn’t know what to say, not when she made no denial. For a long moment, he waited for her to speak, and when she did not, he asked, ‘And what if there is a child?’

  ‘There isn’t,’ she said softly. ‘My courses started this morning.’

  But somehow the knowledge only seemed to widen the distance between them. He didn’t understand what had changed, beyond their intimacy.

  ‘Tell me what has changed since we became lovers,’ he said. ‘You owe me that much.’

  A tear slid down her cheek. But still, she didn’t answer. He wanted to confront her, to demand the answers. But he did not want to risk frightening her.

  ‘Because you deserve better than this,’ she said. ‘I thought I could run away from my past, but now I see it isn’t possible. And I won’t do anything that could bring ruin to your life.’

  He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. ‘You’re afraid,’ he accused. ‘Why? Is it because of your father?’

  She turned her back. ‘Dalton, please let it be.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of anything he has done. Whatever it was, it’s over and done with. We will keep him confined to Cairnross. I can help your mother hire a land steward to look after Havershire. It will be all right.’

  ‘No. You don’t understand,’ she s
aid, swiping at her tears. ‘If the Bow Street Runner has learned what happened the night I was attacked—if he knows that Mallencourt died at our house—it will all be over. There’s nothing we can do.’

  He stared at her, at the raw fear in her eyes, and her refusal to consider seeking help from him. She had no faith in him to defend her family.

  ‘I need to leave, Dalton. I need to take my father and disappear.’

  He was already shaking his head. ‘No. You’re not going anywhere.’

  She was starting to stride away from him, but he caught her by the waist and pulled her into his arms. ‘I’ve waited years for you, Regina. And I’ll be damned if I’ll let you go.’

  He captured her mouth, kissing her hard. But it was more than staking a claim upon her—it was the need to know whether she truly didn’t want him. He framed her face with his hands, trying to make her see how he loved her. ‘Trust me,’ he said against her lips. ‘I will guard you both.’

  She did kiss him back, but he tasted the salt of her tears. She wound her arms around his neck, weeping silently as he kissed her. He softened his mouth against hers, and at last held her close.

  ‘Don’t go, Regina. Let me fight for you.’

  But after he pulled back, he could see the doubt in her eyes. She kept his hand in hers and said, ‘Let’s go back home, Dalton.’

  It wasn’t a yes—but it was the best he could get from her.

  As they neared the house, he saw a coach stopped in front of the stairs. Regina stiffened at the sight of it, and he tightened his grip on her hand.

  ‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ she murmured.

  ‘We don’t know that yet.’ But he could tell from her posture that she didn’t believe it. They went inside, and MacLachor confirmed, ‘The Bow Street Runner has arrived, my lord. I bade him to wait in the parlour.’

  Regina had gone utterly white, and he thanked the butler. To his wife, he said, ‘It will be all right. He may have news for us.’

  ‘I should have left yesterday,’ she murmured beneath her breath. ‘Now it’s too late.’

  He squeezed her hand in reassurance, and when they entered the room, she remained at his side. The Bow Street Runner stood and greeted them. ‘Lord Camford, thank you for agreeing to see me.’

  Dalton gave a nod and then said, ‘Lady Camford, may I present Mr Travis Sidney.’

  Regina lowered her head in acknowledgement, but Mr Sidney’s expression turned solemn. ‘I regret that my presence may cause some distress. That was not my intention.’

  ‘I am certain that whatever you’ve learned, we can resolve it,’ Dalton answered. ‘Please, sit.’ He glanced at the Earl of Havershire, who was staring at the opposite side of the room. He held a handkerchief in one hand, and his expression appeared weary.

  ‘You asked me to find out who was blackmailing the earl and his family,’ the man began. ‘It took a few weeks, but I did find out that it was a woman. One who was rather desperate for funds.’ He cleared his throat and met Regina’s gaze with regret. ‘She was there at your residence, waiting for you that night before you arrived home from the ball.’

  His wife paled and touched her hand to her mouth. ‘Was it my maid? Nell’s grandfather was there that night. Did she come to visit him? I thought they were loyal to us, but perhaps I was mistaken.’

  Mr Sidney shook his head slowly. ‘No, my lady. It was not Nell.’ He turned to Dalton and said, ‘May I speak privately with you, my lord?’

  ‘My wife may stay and hear all of it,’ he countered. ‘This does involve her.’

  The man shook his head. ‘I have risked a great deal by coming here unofficially. This is not my jurisdiction, but out of courtesy, I felt it best to tell you what I’ve learned. And I fear, I must insist that we speak alone. That includes Havershire.’

  Dalton felt Regina’s icy fingers, and she seemed unsteady on her feet. ‘It will be all right,’ he told her. ‘We’ll talk of it later.’ He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she risked a look back before she took her father’s arm.

  Before they left, Havershire paused at the doorway. ‘I will keep her safe, Camford. No matter what happens.’ With that, he escorted her out.

  Dalton didn’t know what to think of that cryptic remark, but he intended to ask later. The Bow Street Runner waited until he was certain they were alone. A few moments later, he lowered his voice. ‘There are some complications you should be aware of, my lord. The blackmailer provided some anonymous details that could prove troublesome, should they come to light.’

  He sobered, knowing what the man was about to say. ‘It’s about Mallencourt, isn’t it?’

  Mr Sidney nodded. ‘The night he...died, the coroner ruled his death an accident. But the blackmailer has threatened to go to the press with details about how his death was a murder instead.’

  ‘It was not murder,’ Dalton argued. He wanted to reveal more but decided to hold back the truth.

  ‘That may be. But even a breath of this scandal would ruin both your families.’ Mr Sidney cleared his throat. ‘I am certain your father would not want this.’

  Dalton had no doubt of it. If the earl learned that he was now entangled in a cover up of manslaughter, his father would never speak to him again.

  ‘You asked me to identify the blackmailer.’ Mr Sidney reached for a pen and ink on a nearby table and scratched a name upon the paper. ‘This is she. But there is danger in this. If she is arrested for her blackmail, she has enough family connections to cause irreparable damage to your name.’

  Dalton stared at the name in disbelief. This would indeed cause Regina pain. He crumpled up the paper and walked over to toss it in the hearth. It caught fire and blazed, turning the name into ash. ‘What do you advise?’

  ‘Keep your wife here, in Scotland. She is out of London jurisdiction here and can be kept safe. Let the blackmailer reveal the knowledge, if she will, and there is a chance that no one will believe her. Since she is destitute with no father to speak for her, she could be viewed as manipulative or scheming to gain money.’

  Dalton thought about it for a time and said, ‘So we are calling her out?’

  The Bow Street Runner paused. ‘I have known men like Mallencourt. I wouldn’t let a dog near him, much less a lady. I am willing to let the past remain there.’

  ‘So be it.’ It wasn’t the greatest solution, but it was best for all families involved. ‘I will speak with my wife and let her know that she cannot return to London.’

  Mr Sidney stood from his chair and extended his hand. ‘And should anyone ask you, I did not travel to Scotland, nor did we have this conversation.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Regina was pacing in Dalton’s bedchamber, waiting for the news, when finally, the door opened. ‘What did you learn?’

  He went to sit on the edge of the bed. ‘The investigator believes it’s best if you remain in Scotland. It will be safer for you to avoid scandal. The woman has threatened to tell everyone about Mallencourt, if she is arrested for blackmail. She has enough influence to cause problems for both our families. But Sidney thinks that no one will believe her, since it happened so long ago, and she is rather desperate for funds.’ He paused a moment and said, ‘I think he’s right. If you stay in Scotland, and we say nothing, it’s for the best.’

  She couldn’t imagine how a servant or a commoner could have so much power. No one in the press would believe such slander. ‘Who was it, Dalton?’

  His mouth tightened, but he admitted, ‘It was Lord Blyton’s daughter, Lady Anne.’

  Anne? It felt as if she’d taken a blow to her stomach. At first, denial rose to her lips. Anne was her friend. They had laughed together, attended outings along the Serpentine, and she could not imagine such a thing. ‘How is this possible? Why would she—?’ Her words broke off as she considered it. Anne’s father had died years ago. Her mother had many daughters
, and the earl had left them penniless. No doubt Anne was trying to survive—but the betrayal cut her deeply.

  ‘Never mind,’ she murmured. ‘I know why.’ She clutched her hands together. ‘I never knew she was there that night.’

  ‘Mr Sidney doesn’t think she actually saw anything,’ Dalton said. ‘But she was aware that Mallencourt was there and that he was dead the following day.’

  Inwardly, Regina felt as if she had swallowed stones. Had anything been real? Or was their friendship only a means of Anne getting closer? She had spent many days with her, sometimes inviting her to stay over the night. They had spent long hours talking, and she supposed Anne had come over that night and was waiting for her. She had not attended the ball, for since her father’s death, the family had received few invitations.

  ‘Will the blackmail stop, do you think?’

  Dalton shrugged. ‘Possibly. Now that we know who it was.’ He reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘Are you all right?’

  She didn’t know. It felt as if her entire friendship had been a lie, and it hurt to know that the bright, spirited young woman had been stealing thousands of pounds a year from her father. Had Papa known this? Had he paid the money to avoid scandal? Or was it charity? Somehow, she didn’t believe it was the latter, for Ned had borrowed money from Tavin MacKinloch over the years to pay it. Her father had remained silent about their finances, never alluding to his financial troubles. It seemed that he had only revealed his debts to Arabella after he had restored his wealth—but he had not breathed a word about the blackmail.

  ‘I don’t know what to think of all this,’ she admitted, ‘but I agree that it would be best to keep it quiet.’ She thought about writing to her former friend to offer financial help, if she would cease the blackmail and remain quiet. But then, there was no guarantee that Anne would agree. It felt as if she didn’t even know her friend any more.

  ‘What do you want to do if she reveals everything?’ he ventured. ‘What then?’