Undone - Virginia Henley

by Virginia Henley

  The late sunset was turning the sky a spectacular crimson and fuschia as her driver pulled into the castle courtyard. Elizabeth, swathed in sable, stepped from the carriage and came face-to-face with John Campbell, who had been awaiting her for two hours.

  He grinned. "What took you so long?"

  She had never been as incensed in her life. "You arrogant swine!" Her rage almost blinded her. She reached up, grabbed the coachman's whip, and lashed out at him with passion.

  It caught him about the thighs, and he quickly gripped the thin leather thong and jerked the handle from her hands. "I see you are playacting again. What role is this? Molly Mallone, fishwife?"

  "Where is Jamie?" she demanded, her temper sizzling.

  "He's in bed at this hour, of course." He let the whip slide from his fingers. "Allow me to offer the hospitality of Argyll. Surely we can settle our differences in a civilized manner?"

  "Civilized? You are a Highland Barbarian!"

  "Follow me, Your Grace." His voice was smooth as black velvet.

  The last thing she wanted to do was obey him, but she knew she had no choice but follow him into the huge fortress that was Inveraray. The turreted castle dwarfed Cadzow, but Elizabeth felt confident that it could never be furnished as elegantly. As they entered the Great Hall she realized she was wrong. It was magnificent. Her glance swept the hall, noting the silken banners, the noble devices on the crests and shields displayed around the craggy stone walls. Below the emblems were weapons, and she marveled at their size and number. Her eyes came to rest on a strikingly attractive lady with graying hair who stood tall before the gigantic fireplace.

  "It gives me great pleasure to introduce my mother, the Duchess of Argyll. Mother, may I present the Duchess of Hamilton?"

  "Welcome to Inveraray, Your Grace." Her serene smile was genuine.

  "Thank you," Elizabeth said regally then stiffened as she felt her sable cape being lifted from her shoulders.

  John's mother looked at the exquisite female before her, gowned in purple velvet so dark it looked black, her throat ablaze with diamonds, and her glorious hair pinned in golden loops about her beautiful face. "Judas! Now I understand why I could not tempt John with Mary Montagu." She nodded to Elizabeth. "I shall retire and surrender the field to the younger generation."

  When they were alone, Elizabeth's eyes glittered their challenge. She was not afraid of John Campbell or any other force that threatened her child. She would defy him with her last breath. She would fight him to the death and never count the cost.

  "Elizabeth, will you sup with me?" he asked pleasantly. "I did not dine yet. I chose to wait for you."

  Her outrage did not diminish. "I cannot think of food until I have seen with my own eyes that my child is safe."

  "Of course you may see him. My son's safety is paramount."

  She bristled. "He is _not_ your son--"

  He held up his hand. "Yes, yes, you've made your position clear. Can we declare a truce and discuss this calmly over supper?"

  "Truce, my eye! You are a bloody colonel, trained to win a battle at any cost, or by any devious means!"

  "Surely a battle isn't necessary. A skirmish, perhaps?" he said lightly. "Come, I'll let you see Jamie."

  "A tactic designed to soften me!" She blushed at the sensual image her choice of words evoked.

  He raised amused brows. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

  "Yes, you are!" She refused the arm he offered. "Lead on."

  _Damn, I keep using the wrong words! He will certainly lead me on if I give him half the chance_. She followed him through the castle until they came to a set of stone steps that led up into one of the turrets. As she ascended beside him, she lifted her skirts so she would not trip over her hem and lose her regal dignity.

  He pressed down the latch on a studded oaken door and allowed it to swing silently open, then he put his finger to his lips.

  Elizabeth stepped inside but stopped halfway to the bed when she saw how peacefully her child slept. Beside him on the pillow lay his favorite bedtime toy, a stuffed donkey made in the image of Thistle. Her face softened as she looked at him, admitting to herself for the first time that Jamie was made in the image of John Campbell. She saw that a lamp burned low. The door to an adjoining chamber opened, and Emma came through it carrying another lamp.

  "Are you all right, Emma?" Elizabeth whispered urgently.

  "We're perfectly safe," Emma murmured her assurance.

  Elizabeth nodded and walked quietly back to John Campbell who awaited her at the bedchamber door. She followed him up another spiral staircase to chambers above and, when she stepped into the first room, realized this turret was his. The sitting room was furnished luxuriously, yet every item was masculine in the extreme. The Georgian table, chairs, and bookcases were dark polished mahogany, the rugs were olive-green Aubusson, and a maroon leather sofa and chairs sat before the fire. The chandelier was Venetian crystal, and the paintings on the walls were old masters. _His taste is impeccable because it has been bred into him by his mother, Duchess of Argyll. She is a true noble lady, something I can never be_.

  Alone with her adversary at last, Elizabeth swept around to face him. She dug her heels into the Aubusson rug, lifted her chin, and set her hands on her hips. Before she could fire her first sally, Mr. Burke came in carrying a food-laden tray, which he set on the table. "Well, well, it seems I am outflanked and outnumbered. Mr. Burke, I trusted you, but you turned out to be a snake in the grass."

  "Forgive me, Your Grace. My loyalties are hopelessly divided."

  Her eyes told him that she did _not_ forgive him. She waited pointedly until he departed before resuming her attack on Campbell. "Because you have the power and wealth of Argyll behind you, you think you can order the universe and it will kowtow to you!"

  "If you marry me, the power and wealth of Argyll can be yours."

  "I have no interest in such things!" she stated emphatically.

  "Little liar," he murmured. "You stand before me reveling in the wealth and power of the Duchess of Hamilton. You are aware of how magnificent you look. You know I cannot resist you."

  "Flattery won't work ... I can certainly resist _you_."

  "I'm hoping you won't be able to resist the food. Come. Sit." He held a chair for her and watched as she lost the battle with hunger. Before he took his seat across from her, he poured them wine. " 'Where there is no wine there is no love,'" he quoted.

  "I can go further back than Euripides." She smugly displayed her knowledge of the arts. "_In vino veritas_."

  "Pliny. In wine there is truth." He lifted his goblet. "Then acknowledge this truth, Elizabeth: Jamie is my son."

  "James George Douglas is the Seventh Duke of Hamilton, Fifth Duke of Brandon, and Marquis of Clydesdale. _Know this truth_: As his mother and guardian it's my duty to see that these noble titles are not taken from him." She quaffed deeply to punctuate her words.

  "There is absolutely no need for that, Beth. If you marry me, I am prepared to keep my mouth shut about Jamie's paternity. I will sire another son to become heir of Argyll."

  _He thinks to cut my legs out from under me, promising to let Jamie retain the Dukedom of Hamilton. He does not yet realize I refuse to marry another noble husband and give up my freedom_. She set her goblet down. "I do not want another son."

  "I do!" he vowed. He lifted a silver cover to reveal a pair of game birds. "I'll never forget the blissful look on your face when you first tasted partridge."

  She sniffed indifferently. "My gorge rises at noble excesses."

  He nodded knowingly. "I should have ordered rabbit."

  "Go to hellfire!" _You know too well my likes and dislikes_. As he served the food and poured more wine, her eyes lingered on his hands. His long, tapered fingers contrasted with Hamilton's blunt, spatulate ones. Though Campbell's hands were strong and powerful, she knew them capable of tenderness and of arousing her passion. She quickly raised her eyes, and her glance came to rest and linger on his
mouth. This time it was more difficult to drag her attention away. _The wine is heating my blood. I must eat something_.

  He too seemed to have difficulty keeping his eyes from her.

  "Must you stare? Can't you restrain yourself?" she demanded.

  "I am restraining myself more than you'll ever know. I want to take you by the shoulders and shake you until the jeweled pins drop from your hair and it falls over my hands in silken splendor. I want to disrobe you, sweep the food to the floor, and lay you back on this table. I want to touch, taste, and feast upon you."

  She recoiled. "You think a ravening beast appeals to me?"

  "The last time we were together, it did."

  "That's because I thought of you as my lover, not my husband!"

  "I intend to be both."

  "The road to hell is paved with honorable intentions," she mocked, licking her fingers.

  "Christ, let me do that."

  "Now _you're_ doing the playacting, pretending that everything I do arouses you, while what you're really trying to do is disarm me and bend me to your will. But I have learned that between a man and a woman it is always about domination and submission."

  "You play the game well." His eyes showed their admiration.

  "John, please understand. I am _not_ playing games."

  "Neither am I, Beth. I am deadly serious. You need a husband, whether you realize it or not, and Jamie needs a father, no matter his paternity. His land, castles, and wealth need to be managed by a noble hand, a strong hand. There's none so powerful as Argyll." He stood, moved around the table, and reached for her.

  "Don't touch me! Keep your powerful, _ignoble_ hands from me!"

  "As you will. But I ask that you honor our truce, Elizabeth. Tonight I am asking you to marry me. Tomorrow morning I want you to ride out with me over Argyll. Then you may give your answer."

  She wanted to shout _No_! but held onto her temper and nodded her assent. He led her back downstairs and showed her to a chamber not far removed from her son's. When she went inside and closed the door, Dandy was sitting on the bed as if he awaited her.

  As she lay in bed with the little dog curled against her, she felt emotionally drained. Unused to two goblets of wine, she soon succumbed to temptation when sleep beckoned.

  Elizabeth awoke early. She retrieved a bedrobe from her trunk and slipped along to awaken Jamie, with Dandy at her heels.

  "Mamma!" He stood on the bed and wrapped his arms about her.

  She reached beneath the bed for the chamber pot. "Pee pee."

  "Uh-oh." He pointed as Dandy cocked his leg up the bedpost.

  "Bad boy!" she scolded the dog. "Come, we'll take him outside."

  On the main floor of the castle they found a door that led outside. As Elizabeth opened it, a tall, craggy-faced man filled the door frame. She instinctively knew it was Argyll.

  "Dandy peed," Jamie informed him.

  Beth wanted to sink through the flagstones.

  Argyll's dark eyes glittered. "This is Mother, no doot?"

  "_My_ mamma!" He placed a possessive hand on her bedrobe and pulled her away from the elderly man.

  "I beg your pardon, Your Grace." She lowered her lashes.

  "Ye need never beg tae get what ye want from a mon. Tho' I suspect ye already know that, Lady Elizabeth."

  She blushed against her will. _Another John Campbell... another silver-tongued devil_! She stepped aside to let him pass and watched him limp away with an awkward gait. After Dandy made his deposit, they returned upstairs to find Emma unpacking. "No need to unpack my things, Emma. We will not be staying."

  "Bath!" Jamie shouted with glee.

  "Yes, go get your ship. You can have a bath," Emma agreed. "The bathing room is huge... tub's big enough for both of you, Mamma."

  "I've agreed to ride out with Campbell. I must dress, Emma. If I keep him waiting, I shall be at a disadvantage."

  Wearing the jade-green habit that Charlie had given her so long ago, Elizabeth rode sidesaddle beside Campbell. Morning mist hung over the purple peaks of the Grampian Mountains. The vistas were breathtaking. The crystal air smelled of bracken and heather.

  "Argyll land stretches as far as the eye can see, north, south, east, or west, far beyond the Grampians. If you ride west until you come to the sea, beyond that is Morven and the Isle of Mull. If you ride south to the bottom of Loch Fyne, you will see the great Isle of Kintyre. Those are the places I must go to recruit. The men of our isles are natural born and bred sailors."

  The vastness of Argyll was magnificent, impressive, but for Elizabeth it was also overwhelming. In the not-too-distant future, John would be Duke of Argyll, lord of all they surveyed. His wife would be Duchess of Argyll, and she knew she could never live up to the standards set by past and present duchesses. Nor did she have the least ambition to do so. _I even hate riding sidesaddle_! "I encountered your father this morning. He was limping badly."

  "An old war wound that never bothered him when he was younger--but now he's permanently crippled. It hasn't affected his eye for the ladies, however." John grinned. "He said you were feminine enough to quicken an old mon, then amended it to _even a dead mon_."

  "Why do men always bring sex into it?" she bristled.

  He tried to hide his amusement. "Human nature. You are playacting anger, when in truth you are flattered. Human nature."

  "You have an answer for everything!"

  "Not quite, Beth. I don't have the answer to the question I asked you last night." His face was intense. "Will you marry me?"

  _I want him to love me, and I think he does, but if I were his wife, we would both eventually be miserable. I cannot be molded into something lam not. It would be a joyless existence_. She reined in and met his eyes. "John, my answer is no."

  She saw surprise written on his face. It quickly turned to anger as he narrowed his dark, glittering eyes. "I did not want to issue an ultimatum. I didn't want it to come to this, but you leave me no choice. I will not allow you to deprive me of my son. If you agree to marry me, our son will remain Duke of Hamilton and none will ever know that he was not James Douglas's legitimate heir." His powerful hands tightened on the reins. "If you refuse to marry me, I shall take Jamie from you, reveal to the world that he is my son, make him my heir, and he will be deprived of the Hamilton title and holdings."

  It was Elizabeth's turn to feel surprise. "You would truly deprive him of his Hamilton title and holdings?"

  "Not I, Beth. _You_ would deprive him. The choice is yours."

  A curl of fear spiraled inside her. It mingled with her fury. She was shrewd enough to contain her anger so she could think clearly and weigh the advantages and disadvantages for herself and her son. If she pit herself against the power of Argyll, she would lose. _I thought he loved me_! Her sense of loss was staggering.

  Without a word, she set her heels to the sleek mount he'd provided and rode, as fast as the restrictive saddle allowed, back to Inveraray. The need to escape was overwhelming.

  John Campbell let her take the lead. She had much to consider. He remained silent. He had presented his position and felt confident she was intelligent enough to do what was expedient. When they arrived at the stables he wisely did not try to lift her from the saddle. He'd not give her the chance to scorn his offer.

  She could feel his eyes boring into her stiff back as she walked from the stables. He remained behind to see to the horses, even though there were many grooms about. She went directly up to the bedchamber she had been assigned, closed the door, then gave vent to her frustration by removing a riding boot and hurling it against a mirror. It bounced off the polished silver surface without doing the least damage, and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Ruefully, she realized that was as much effect as she'd have if she pit herself against Argyll; she wouldn't even leave a dent.

  Once more, she slowly went over her catalogue of reasons why she did not want to marry, with their attendant disadvantages. The list was compelling. A knock distracted her, and when sh
e answered the door, she found a maidservant had brought her lunch. Then Jamie arrived, accompanied by Emma, who had their lunch on a tray.

  Elizabeth pushed her silent dilemma from her conscious thoughts--although it remained just below the surface--as she enjoyed the sojourn with her little boy. "What have you been up to this morning?"

  "Tacking," he replied happily, his mouth filled with cheese.

  "He means tracking. Mr. Burke was showing him animal tracks. Milado has taken quite a shine to the man."

  "Jamie isn't the only one," she said pointedly. "I'm sorry, Emma. I have no call to chastise you. It was two dominant men against one woman. I'm grateful you stayed with him."

  After lunch, Elizabeth knew she must get back to making her decision. Doubtless, it was the most important of her life. "Why don't you go with Emma and have a nap?"

  "No!" He grabbed his mother's hand. "Come out an' play."

  Elizabeth was torn. Jamie could always persuade her. _He's just like his father_. "It's all right, Emma. We'll go outside. Jamie, let me wipe your mouth." He wriggled as she rubbed away his milk mustache, then they descended to Inveraray's courtyard.

  He immediately spotted John Campbell, sitting on a bench in the pale sunshine, cleaning his weapons. Jamie loosened his mother's hand and ran toward the dark man. She almost stopped him but thought better of it. What surer test than to observe the Scot's reaction to, and treatment of, her child? And vice versa.

  Campbell sheathed the sword he'd sharpened. "Hello, Jamie." He saw that the weapon was a magnet for the small fingers. "It's dangerous. It can hurt you, so be careful."

  Jamie took hold of the scabbard and tried to draw out the blade.

  "Like this." John revealed the trick to it, resheathed the sword, and handed it back.

  Jamie's chubby fingers imitated the maneuver exactly, and he laughed as he successfully drew out the blade. He touched the tip of his finger to the sharp edge and cut himself. "Ooh!"