Tabby watched in fascination how the sisters created a festive air. Everything had been given extra care and attention. The food was superb and its setting lavish. Heavy silver adorned the table from the platters to the salt cellars. Heavy linen napkins, embroidered with the Cockburn crest; nestled beside newly pilfered goblets bearing Elizabethan crests. Musicians played on an upper gallery, and the girls were so animated and entertaining, there were no lulls in either the conversation or the laughter. Troy kept a sharp eye on the girls, refusing all encouragement to go and play dice with his men. Tabby realized he was taking over Paris's role of host and chaperon.
If Logan paid attention to Venetia, Shannon would give him a sidelong glance and whisper something amusing, and he was entirely hers, until Damascus traced the gold pattern on his doublet with a playful finger and fanned her lashes at him. Robert Kerr was obviously mad about Damascus, but when Venetia took his hands, to pull him up to dance, he needed no urging. Tabby watched in amazement as the girls manipulated the men with a word, a look or a sigh. Even Alexandria had Andrew so amused with anecdotes that he had to keep wiping his eyes from laughing too hard. It was like watching a play unfold before her eyes. Each girl would say a deliberately rehearsed line, and her partner reacted like a. puppet on a string.
Robert had a kind, open face. There was nothing about him that was intimidating, Tabby decided. She felt Damascus would be a very lucky girl if she got Robert Kerr for a husband. He was a young girl's dream come true— young, handsome, sweet-tempered and obviously head-over-heels in love. Tabby waited patiently until all the others were dancing, then approached him and said softly, "Milord, I beg you to help me. I have been kidnapped; and I am being held a prisoner here." He slapped his thigh and guffawed. "Pull the other one, sweetheart."
"Oh, milord, I am not playing games with you. I am. desperate. You must take me with you when you leave tonight." She raised imploring eyes to his, but his eyes only danced with merriment, "You don't believe me!" she gasped.
He winked. "Blame Venetia for spoiling your little game. She warned me of the trick you were to play on me."
Tabby could have screamed with frustration. She looked toward the other men in the room. and realized how futile her asking them for help would be. Damn the Cockburns, they were always one step ahead of her. She looked over at Venetia, who. gave her a rueful little shrug. She turned her back on the merry company so they couldn't see the tears in her eyes. She was hurt by the girls' actions. She would have been willing to help any of them out of trouble because of the fondness she was beginning to feel for them. Why wouldn't they help her? She decided it was because they feared that damned rogue of a brother, and in truth, she understood that fear. It made her tremble to think of how he would deal with betrayal or disobedience. She knew she was feeling sorry for herself but couldn't help it. She went up to her chamber. As she passed through Paris's room, The Mangler trotted up behind her. "You ugly old beast, I suppose you are still going to guard my door, even though he isn't here to give you orders." The dog threw herself down across the threshold. "I can't let you lie on that cold stone floor. Come on; girl."
Tabby loved the fireplace. Even in summer the castle walls were too thick to let heat penetrate. Mrs. Hall always made sure her fire was made ready and her bed warmed. It was a delicious luxury Tabby savored. She had suffered agonies from the cold all her young life. She stretched out before the fire on a thick fur rug, The Mangler sprawled beside her. She yawned, then yawned again. I wonder why I felt so miserable a few minutes ago? If I admit the truth, I have never felt so safe and warm before, she thought as she fell asleep.
Paris was glad to seek his bed early after the excursion into England the night before. He loved this room at Tantallon Castle. He stood naked before the fire, warming his body before slipping between the cold sheets. He lay with his arms propped behind his head surveying the room. The walls were covered with dark red Spanish leather, the fire reflected in the high polish on the black oak furniture, the bed hangings were luxurious velvet. Before he drifted off to sleep, he tried to imagine what would be happening at home. He wondered what Tabby would think of an evening spent entirely in pleasure. He could see her lavender eyes sparkle with the joy of a newly discovered pleasure. He never tired of watching her. An ache started in his gut and spread down to his loins. He wanted her in this bed with him. He could never let her go back to Abrahams. His shaft hardened and began to throb, and with a curse he blew out the candles and slid under the covers, trying to, get comfortable. Suddenly, he sat up as he heard something, his hand reaching for his pistol.
"Paris," a voice whispered.
"My God, Margaret, you can't come to my quarters like this," he said firmly.
"I had to come. I can't help it. I cannot sleep with you here, under the same roof."
He fumbled with the candle and finally got it lit. When she sat on the bed beside him, her robe fell open to reveal her long legs and her naked breasts.
"Where's Magnus?" he demanded harshly.
"He's asleep. He'll never know. Please, Paris." She ran her fingers through the mat of curls on his chest.
He put his arm around her. "Maggie, honey, I do understand. He's getting older now, and you are still young. The fire in your blood sometimes burns for satisfaction until you think you will go mad." She reached up and ran her lips along his neck. "Sweetheart, I'll give you release but, Margaret, give me credit for some intelligence," he added dryly.
"What do you mean?"
"If I spilled my seed and got you with child, think of the dilemma I would be in. You could pass it off as Magnus's child; you know he would marry you in a minute if you conceived. I am his heir, but if he had a son, he would damn soon change that. I'd be doing myself out of the Earldom!"
"Paris, what a terrible thing to say. If I were having your child, I wouldn't pass it off as Magnus's. I'd shout it to the world! I'd marry none but you," she vowed passionately.
He rubbed her shoulder gently. "I would love a son more than anything in the world, Margaret, but you are forgetting I have a wife."
"We are too much alike, Paris. Neither of us would let her stand in our way."
He drew down the covers; and her eyes widened with pleasure when she saw that already he had achieved a full state of arousal. She slipped off her robe and slid into the bed. He began to stroke her breasts with one hand and her thighs with the other. He whispered, "Let me give you release, then you must go back. I insist, Margaret."
She could feel his hard member against her hip and longed to feel it plunge within her. When he made no move to enter her, she moved her thighs to cover him, but he blocked her with his hand, his fingers slipping up to the warm, moist center that throbbed and pulsated with her anticipation. Firmly, he increased both the pressure and speed of his movements as she gasped her mounting need to him. Finally, she peaked, and he gently massaged her as she shuddered and relaxed. He kissed her then; softly at first until she began to respond again, then he lifted her legs to his shoulders and bent his head to her.
He arose before sunrise, making sure he did not breakfast with Magnus. He was off at first light. Halfway, he stopped at an inn to dine and rest his horse, then pressed on to the Edinburgh town house. By eleven, a very different figure presented himself at the law offices. Paris was richly dressed, though not flamboyant for once. He decided to boldly cast the dice and divulge the whole story, except, of course, for the girl's whereabouts. He managed to convey the impression that she was being held out of the country. The shrewd manipulator across the desk didn't raise an eyebrow at the scheme presented to him but nodded slowly as each part was revealed. At last he spoke. "I will deliver my first communication to Abrahams today. We can work out the details later."
"No," said Paris with emphasis. "I cannot be seen coming here. The plan depends upon my complete anonymity. We will work out the details now."
"Very well. It will be as you wish, providing my fee is paid today."
Paris gave him a
sardonic look. "I anticipated you," he said.
McCabe grimaced; it was the closest he could come to a smile. "Did you anticipate how much I would charge?"
"You usually ask ten percent, but in my case it will be double. Four thousand, right?"
"You amaze me," he muttered with heavy sarcasm.
Paris wrote out a promissory note on his bank. He was satisfied. He had been prepared to pay five.
"From now on you will only be known as the party of the first part."
Paris took a paper from his doublet. "I have here a signed affidavit from the woman's maid that she has been chaperoned at all times, and the merchandise is still intact. I personally will not sign any document, but you will sign affidavits on my behalf that she will be returned in exactly the same condition that she was taken."
"Where is the gold to be delivered?" McCabe asked. -
"In England. Berwick-upon-Tweed. I will give you directions to a specific building when you have an agreement for me. There, the gold will be exchanged: for the lady, and everyone will be happy."
"Is there a deadline?"
"I don't think he will waste any time trying to get her back. Abrahams will not find it too difficult to get his hands on twenty thousand in gold."
McCabe poured Scotch whisky into lead crystal glasses, and they drank to their agreement.
"I will have my sister Shannon drop by soon, in case you need to get a message to me," said Paris as he departed.
He bought a few presents and headed home. He covered the distance in two and a half hours because he traveled alone. Before the evening meal, he dispatched three of his men to keep round-the-clock watches. One at Callum McCabe's law office, one at Maxwell Abrahams's home and the other at Abrahams's bank, with instructions to report all comings and goings.
After dinner, the family spent a typical evening around the fire entertaining one another. Damascus played her stringed lute so beautifully that it brought tears to Tabby's eyes. Alexander recited Murdock Maclean's famous poem, "The Tartan," and Paris quoted his favorite, "The Ballad of Chevy Chase." All the others joined in and quoted, verse after verse until the ballad was finished. As Tabby listened to Paris quote the lines with such relish, she realized how attractive and magnetic the man was. There was an overpowering maleness about him that called to something within her. She feared him, yet upon occasion, that fear thrilled her and tempted her to dare his manhood. More and more often she found his eyes upon her, almost caressing her with his glance.
They began to play a game where one quoted a couple of lines of a poem, and the next person in the informal circle finished the remaining lines. Tabby dragged her thoughts from Paris to concentrate upon the game. She listened to them in amazement. They were all so educated and witty, good-looking, well dressed and clever as monkeys. Whenever it was her turn, she just shook her head helplessly, and they quickly passed over her until Paris took pity on her and quoted: "And see ye not yon bonnie road that winds about the fernie brae?"
Tabby smiled her thanks at him shyly as she finished: "That is the road to fair Elfland where thou and I this night maun gae."
As he moved around the circle to stand behind her; her heartbeat quickened and raced madly. When he put his hands gently upon her shoulders, she jumped as if a red-hot iron had touched her skin. He bent low and whispered, "I knew you'd respond to me."
It was impossible for her to think coherently while he was so close. Suddenly, they were all looking at her, and she realized that once again it was her turn. In frustration she said, "Je ne sais rien, I know nothing!"
"Oh, how delightful, you speak French," cried Damascus.
"Paris had a year in France and Italy, but none of the rest of us have been," complained Shannon.
"That reminds me, you've never told us what you did in Italy," complained Venetia.
Paris winked. "I picked up a little Italian and had a marvelous time."
"Is there any need to be lewd? Why is it rnen always have to be lewd?" asked Damascus, her fastidious little nose up in the air.
"For God's sake, Damascus, your are completely bereft of a sense of humor, accused Alexandria.
"Oh, no, she isn't." Troy laughed. "She entertains Cessford, doesn't she?"
"For the last time, what have you got against Robert Kerr?" demanded Damascus.
"I've been telling you— it's that awful red hair."
"God, Damascus, you are slow-witted," said Alexandria. "He catches you with that one every time."
Paris took his hands from Tabby's shoulders. "I have something for you," he murmured low. "Did you know that when you get a present, your eyes sparkle like amethysts?" Paris handed out his gifts to the others first.
Damascus cried, "Oh, Paris, perfume. Mmm, if I'd had some of this last night, I think Robert might have proposed."
"Proposed what?" teased Paris.
Shannon got a pair of riding gloves, and Venetia was delighted with a hand-painted fan. He gave presents to the twins, who exchanged with each other before they even unwrapped them, as soon as Paris turned his back. He beckoned Tabby away from the others and irresistibly she approached him. The color rose high in her cheeks as she became aware of his bold eyes upon her breasts, then he slowly lifted his gaze to her mouth, where it fastened hungrily. As he handed her the tiny package, his hand brushed hers, and the shock of it ran up her arm. Though she ought to have hated him for having her at his mercy, he was right; she did respond to him. She couldn't help herself! To cover her confusion she quickly unwrapped the pretty package. It was a small ornamental mirror on a chain to fasten at her waist. Thoughtlessly, she said the first thing that popped into her mind, "Did you buy these or steal them?"
"Thankless little bitch! Too bad your scruples won't allow you to enjoy ill-gotten gains. I had a bathtub and full-length mirror for you, but now I suppose I'll have to make use of them in my chamber." He hid his smirk and took the usual large box of chocolates up to the White Tower.
"Oh, Mrs Hall, I've just done it again!" she bemoaned.
"Put his lordship's back up?"
"I'm afraid so. He was in such a mellow mood, I should have pleaded my case to return me to Edinburgh. I feel guilty because I know clearly where my duty lies."
"Ye should take lessons from these lassies in how to handle men. They sweet-talk and flutter their lashes, and the men eat out of their hands." Personally, Mrs. Hall thought her charge prettier by far than the other girls.
"Oh, I know. I should look at him with big, sad eyes, plead and beg, wring his heart with pity at this poor maiden in distress. Tomorrow I'll do it! But I must learn to control my tongue."
Mrs. Hall said, "I've decided I like it here. Everyone's so jolly, and the kitchens are busy day and night. The food is the very best and always plenty, even for the servants. In fact, I've only met one woman I don't like. A Mrs. Sinclair. You'll know her when you see her—she's very thin with coal black hair and a mouth like a rat trap." Mrs. Hall helped her to undress and hung up her clothes. She took the two silver-backed brushes and began to brush out Tabby's long, thick auburn tresses. She continued, "This Mrs.Sinclair was very nosy, asking questions about you. She looks after some invalid or something. Anyway, she didna get a thing out of me." Mrs. Hall brushed Tabby's hair until it crackled with a life of its own. The candlelight gave it a burnished glow.
"You've been very kind to me, Mrs. Hall. I like being mothered."
"Then into bed wi' ye now I've finished your hair. You have to be wearing your prettiest face tomorrow if you are to plead wi' his lordship."
Paris had decided to make use of the bathtub before he had it carried to Tabby's chamber tomorrow. It was quite an improvement on the- bathhouse attached to the men's quarters. A man could get used to bathing before the fire, he decided as he stepped from the tub. He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror and paused to examine his reflection. He was heavily muscled about the shoulders and chest. He flexed an enormous bicep and smiled at the tattoo that stood out upon it. What sai
lor had not succumbed to the lure of the tattoo parlors that lined the docks of every foreign port? He ran his fingers over it. A Scotch thistle in full bloom. A thick mass of red curls covered his chest and ran down his belly to his groin. Still wet from the bath, the hair looked almost black. He turned his back to the mirror and looked over his shoulder to observe himself from behind. The muscles of his broad back tapered down to a narrow waist and flanks. He laughed at the whiteness of his buttocks in contrast to the rest of his body.
He faced the mirror and stood, hands on hips, with his legs apart. The emerald dangled rakishly from his ear, giving him the look of a pirate.
His legs were thick columns of muscle, one marred by a livid scar that ran from groin to knee; a souvenir from a Gordon sword. Perhaps tomorrow night Tabby would do as he was now doing. His imagination was vivid as he saw her step from the tub, shake out her lovely mane of hair and catch a glimpse of her naked beauty in the full-length mirror. She would come timidly forward, then more boldly appraise her body in the glass.
His shaft hardened as his thoughts ran on, until it stood high and erect, reaching toward his navel. Mirrors were mysterious things, with an almost magical quality. If his naked image should suddenly reappear as she was standing before it, what would her reaction be? He laughed at his absurd thoughts and took one last look at himself. God, his naked body was very likely enough to frighten a young girl to death.
CHAPTER 5
Tabby was late down to breakfast the next morning. When she finally sat down, the girls rushed her through the meal. No-nonsense Shannon said, "Paris has made plans to take you with him today, and he has an iron-clad rule never to be kept waiting. Especially by a female."
"Where is he taking me?" asked Tabby, half-afraid.
They completely ignored her question.
Wild Hearts Page 7