by Jarecki, Amy
“My men will bring him back, not to worry. They ken how much the old fella means to you.”
Seeing blood staining his sleeve, she gasped. “But you’re hurt.”
“Bah. ’Tis but a scratch.” He chuckled with a hint of worry making his voice deeper. Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips to her temple. “Och, I never want to see that vermin place his hands on you again.”
She shuddered. “He’s vile.”
“Think not of that man. I have you now.” He kissed her ever so tenderly. “Och, why did you not tell me about the missive?”
“I wanted to protect you.” Her stomach squeezed as heat spread through her cheeks.
“I’m nay the one who needs protecting, lass.”
Audrey thought back—the linens. “Mrs. Hobbs?”
“Aye, but she did the right thing in telling me.”
Audrey wasn’t convinced. “But Mr. Tupps said he would ruin you—and me.” She’d give the housemaid a firm talking-to upon their return.
“I’m a Scot, and a Highlander to boot. I’m not that easy to ruin. You forget, I’m also one of Her Majesty’s favorites.”
Audrey had to make him understand. “Nonetheless, please do not challenge that man. He admitted to having a hand in Papa’s death—he leaked information to the captain of the Royal Buckingham to lead them to become suspicious of your activities in France, and worse, he has proof you spoke to James.”
“The bastard,” Reid growled with ire oozing from his throat. After a deep breath, he shook his head. “There’s no law against meeting with the prince.”
“But what of the queen’s fear of popery? Does she not fear her half brother because she has taken a vow to defend the Protestant faith and prevent Catholics from ascending to the throne?”
“She does. But she also has no living heirs.” Reid slowed the horse to a walk, and ambled along the shore. “Let us not worry about politics or illegitimate cousins. The day is too fine not to enjoy it.”
Audrey relaxed and rested her head on his chest. She didn’t want to think about Mr. Tupps’s threats. She wanted to savor this moment alone in Reid’s arms. With him, she could overcome any adversity. If only he wanted to marry her, then she wouldn’t have to wed some fobbing noble she knew nothing about.
Again, he skimmed his lips over her temple. “I nearly died when I saw that scoundrel racing away with you and Allegro.”
“Honestly, I did as well. That man is horrid.”
“He is and I never want to hear another word about his baseless claim on you and the Kennet lands.”
Warmth spread through her chest as she nuzzled against the protection of his chest. “Thank you.”
“Och, you’re fine to me.” He inclined her face up to his with the crook of his finger. “I want to kiss you, lass.”
Though she’d tied her stays loosely, her head still swooned and her shoulder melted into his sturdy chest. His eyes grew dark as their gazes met, and his lips met hers with an easy brush. Though scandalous enough right there in the outdoors on the shore, Audrey wanted more. Her eyes fluttered open with her sigh. “I feel safe with you, my lord.”
“I’m glad of it. And ’tis high time you started calling me Reid.” He encouraged her to again rest her head on his protective chest as he drove the horse back up toward the alehouse and met Jeffrey.
“Where to now, my lord?” the stable hand asked, his face somewhat pale.
“We’ll meet my men back at the manse. This part of the waterfront is no place for Miss Audrey.” He glanced down at her with an arch to his brow. “And I reckon you didn’t sleep overmuch.”
“No more than you.” On a sigh, she smiled and slipped her hand around his waist—to hold on, of course. And to sink her fingers into him, to be near him, to breathe in the spiciness of his scent.
Oh, how she wished the Earl of Seaforth wanted her.
True, he’d kissed her again, but this time, his kiss had been fleeting, reserved, though not delivered with any less emotion. If only Jeffrey weren’t there, Audrey might work up the nerve to ask Reid why he’d kissed her and if he’d melted a little as she had done. Alas, she didn’t even dare steal another kiss.
Such a brazen public display could never be. She might die of embarrassment. Never in her life had she been shameless, and now was no time to start.
She heaved a heavy sigh while a twinge of melancholy made her fatigue catch up with her. How many times did she need to remind herself that the Earl of Seaforth had no intention of staying?
Might there be a way she could change his mind?
* * *
Once they arrived at the manse, Audrey met Reid in the parlor with her medicine bundle. “I’ll have that wound of yours set to rights in no time. At Talcotts each student prepared a basket of remedies.”
He chuckled at the obvious pleasure she took in her accomplishment. “Let me guess, yours received top marks.”
She sat beside him on the settee, placing the basket on the table in front of them. “Yes, but how did you know?”
“Just a hunch. I’ve noticed anything you undertake is done with precision.”
“Anything worth doing is worth doing well.” She pointed. “Now roll up your sleeve, my lord.”
He complied. “Using ‘m’lord’ all of a sudden?”
She gave a nod as she took his arm and examined it studiously. “’Tisn’t too deep.”
“I said it was but a scratch.”
She took a bit of cloth and moistened it with a bottle of avens oil. “Nonetheless, it needs to be tended, lest it fester.”
“Och aye, m’lady.”
She snorted. Reid could tell she was smiling, though she didn’t look up. Gently, she wiped away the blood that had congealed around the cut, hovering over his arm as if his injury were grave. He sat back, enjoying the attention, grateful that she wasn’t a blubbering mess after her ordeal. She had a stalwart backbone that he wouldn’t have guessed in a spoiled heiress. And why was it the lass surprised him at every turn?
She stopped dabbing for a moment and examined her handiwork. “Have you ever thought of marriage?” she asked as if speaking about the weather.
Reid could have spat out his teeth. Straightening, he cleared his throat. “M-me?” His voice shot up like an adolescent lad.
She glanced over her shoulder. “I do not see anyone else in the room.”
Reid swiped his free hand over his mouth. “Thought of it, I suppose. But I’m not the marrying type.”
“No?” She resumed her wiping, though her strokes grew choppy and coarse. “I think an earl would have a responsibility to marry—to produce heirs…”
“Aye, but I’m only three and twenty,” he argued.
“I’m nineteen and you expect me to marry forthwith.” She scrubbed the cloth over the cut like she was cleaning a spot off a silver plate.
He grimaced. “Your circumstances are different.”
“I fail to understand why.”
He knit his brows, and affected his most stern scowl. How could he expect Audrey to have any idea the extent of an earl’s responsibilities? “I have a duty to the House of Lords, to my clan, my lands, my crofters, not to mention the cause. And I’m rarely ever home to boot.” He bit his tongue. He wasn’t about to mention exactly how important clan unity was to the cause and how carefully he must tread. There were forces to the north that must be drawn together with an alliance, and bringing a Sassenach into the fray might tip the balance from Reid’s favor.
“Mm-hmm.” She dropped the cloth in her basket and slapped a bit of salve over the top of his cut, none too gently.
“Ow.”
“Did that hurt?”
He pulled his arm away and shoved down his sleeve. What the bloody hell did she mean by mm-hmm? She didn’t understand a damned thing.
Chapter Eighteen
After encouraging Audrey to rest, Seaforth headed for his chamber and collapsed on the bed. When Wagner Tupps had abducted the lass and headed for God knew where, Reid’s blood ha
d set to boiling. Thank heavens Audrey rode that old nag, or else the blackmailing swine might have eluded him.
Throughout the entire return ride to Coxhoe, Reid had kept a firm grasp around her. In such a short time Audrey had come to mean so much to him, it made his head spin. The thought of another man touching her made him want to hit something. She had no idea how every sound had set him on edge. Even the calls of the birds had made his skin twitch. He needed Dunn to return with the rest of his army, and fast. He was beginning to hate England, not that he’d ever relished being there, but they’d be far safer at Brahan Castle, where his lands were surrounded by hundreds of loyal clansmen.
Audrey would like it there, he decided out of the blue. Highland folk might be a wee bit suspicious of a Sassenach lass at first, but no one could fault her for anything. It wouldn’t take long and they’d love her. She’d charm them with her music or her painting or…or…her smile.
Och aye, how Reid enjoyed watching her smile. Especially when she wasn’t worried about how she might look. Unfortunately, Miss Audrey hadn’t had many reasons to smile as of late, aside when she’d confounded him with that damned red ball gown.
Rather than sleep, Reid spent the next few hours staring at the canopy above the bed, thinking about Audrey and not solving a thing. He could have used a good nap, but no. His mind had to go on racing, mulling over everything that had happened since setting sail from Calais what seemed like a year ago.
He was still wide awake when his men returned, and Graham rapped on his door.
Beckoning him inside, Reid was almost relieved for the interruption, until he heard the news.
“The bastard gave us the slip.”
Reid regarded his lieutenant while a furrow formed between his eyebrows. “What the devil? The milksop was riding a gelding older than Ben Nevis and you say you lost him?”
“Aye, well, we recovered Miss Audrey’s horse, but Tupps turned down a wee causeway. We thought we had him cornered, but when we made chase to the rear of a building, he’d disappeared.”
“What say you? No one simply vanishes.”
“I ken.” Graham stretched his hands out to his sides. “We hunted around, turned over every stick of wood, pounded on doors. Tupps either had an accomplice or he’s a bloody sorcerer.”
“A man who lives in a shite hole like the one I found him in is nothing but a swindler.”
“I agree with you there, my lord.”
Reid scratched the stubble that had grown on his face since the prior morning’s shave. “We must strengthen the guard—patrols on the hour. And I do not want Miss Audrey stepping outside this house without an escort. As a matter of fact, I will not allow her outdoors unless she is with me.”
Graham shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll like that one bit.”
“Aye, she will not, but Nicholas Kennet asked me to do one thing, and that was to see to the care of his daughter. On my oath I will protect the lass until Wagner Tupps is behind bars, or better yet, led to the gallows.”
* * *
A fortnight had passed, and Dunn still hadn’t returned when Reid set his correspondence aside and listened to the sounds of the harpsichord resonate through the library. During his stay, he’d caught himself more than once closing his eyes and allowing Audrey’s music to take his problems and make them float away. This occasion was no different. The lass had a way of expressing deep emotion through her music.
Had she been a man, she would have been a candidate for an organist at a cathedral. Her talent seemed to be wasted on the drawing room below stairs where few listened aside from the passing servant.
Today she’d selected a slower, melancholy tune. And why wouldn’t Audrey be feeling a bit low? Since their return from Hartlepool, Reid had been busy undertaking every precaution he could think of to safeguard the manse and lands. Presently, the guard was out on patrol and he had a bit of idle time for a change.
After wandering down to the drawing room, he leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his ankles. Her fingers flying over the keys, Audrey hadn’t noticed his arrival. She sat on the bench with her back erect, her hair pulled up in a chignon with curls framing her face as she oft wore it. Her delicate neck reminded him of a beautiful and graceful swan swimming on a loch while rich, wistful notes flowed like the cascading of a waterfall.
Audrey’s gown scooped low, allowing him to watch the fine muscles just below her nape work while her fingers commanded the keys. At once, her back stiffened while she struck a chord and then another. The resonance of the harmony filled Reid’s chest as if he could feel the sadness she imparted through her music. She struck four more chords before her head dropped forward and the chamber fell silent.
Transferring his weight to both feet, Reid stood very still for a moment while the sound of his own breath rushed in his ears. As if she could hear his next inhale, she turned. “I thought I’d heard you come down.”
“Whilst you were playing?” He moseyed forward. “I wouldn’t think you could hear over your bonny music.”
“Do you play?” she asked, gesturing to the bench beside her.
“Nay.” He took the seat and pushed his finger on a key. With a tad of resistance, it twanged the note like a harpist might do. Leaning forward he lifted the lid, peeking over innumerous strings. “How does this thing work?”
She pointed. “Pressing a key makes the jack rise, and the attached quill plucks the string.”
When Reid looked in, she played a note. “Fascinating.” He plunked a few more keys. “It isn’t all that difficult to make a noise.”
“No, but it takes a lot of practice to combine the notes into something that sounds…”
“Beautiful,” he finished, his voice but a whisper.
A lovely shade of rose filled her cheeks, and she averted her gaze to the keyboard. “You have artistic fingers, my lord.”
Reid frowned, following her line of sight. The skin on the back of his hands was riddled with thin, white scars, a testament to any man who wielded a sword. “To be honest, they’re warrior’s hands.”
“I don’t know.” She grasped his left in her palm and examined it. “Your fingers are large, but they’re quite long.” She stroked her pointer finger from his wrist clear to the middle nail. “I believe your hands are both artistic as well as warrior-like.”
Reid’s mouth ran dry. Did she have any clue how erotic her light touch felt? He leaned closer. “Do that again.”
This time her touch was more deliberate and slower.
Gooseflesh tingled all the way up his arm to the back of his neck. Dash it, if he didn’t find a diversion soon, he’d have his arms wrapped around his ward, begging for another wee kiss. Forcing himself to glance away, he regarded a puppet theater against the far wall. “That’s yours, I presume?”
“Yes. Papa gave it to me for my seventh birthday.”
“I imagine you’re quite practiced with the marionettes as you are with everything else?”
“I enjoy working with them, but I prefer to paint their faces.” She blushed again. “The puppets are about as skilled at dancing as I am.”
He stood and tugged her up. “As I recall, you aren’t half as bad at dancing as you think you are.”
“Perhaps the red gown emboldened me, distorting your opinion.” She tapped her fingers to her lips, silencing a giggle. “Any well-executed dance steps were the fault of the dress.”
“And I do not believe that for a moment.”
She led him behind the theater, where marionettes hung from hooks on the wall. Bending down, Reid examined each one—children, a chimney sweep, elegant ladies young and old, a boxer and a tinker, and a dapper gentleman complete with periwig. “These are extraordinary. Such detail.”
Audrey’s face beamed. “They kept me occupied. Being an only child was tedious at times.”
It had been for Reid as well. “What happened to your mother?”
“Succumbed to smallpox when I was four years of age.”
> “’Tis an awful malady. It takes far too many before their time.”
“It does.”
Reid returned his attention to the puppets while an awkward silence filled the air. If only he could make her happy. Talking about death and scoundrels like Wagner Tupps, and trying to find the lass a husband, brought on far too much worry—and now Watford had advised he’d gone ahead and recommended abeyance to the magistrate, the coward. Ah, well, Reid could deal with Watford in time. The estate was Audrey’s, and he’d attest to the fact in any court of law in the kingdom.
Reid toyed with the chimney sweep’s strings. “Which is your favorite?”
Audrey grinned with a low chuckle and reached for a puppet dressed in a voluminous, low-cut red gown, with many beauty spots, as well as a pile of coiffure atop her head that would put any courtier to shame. “Undeniably Lady Fanny, the Duchess of Ne’er-Do-Well.” Cradling the puppet in her hand, she gazed upon it with amusement.
“And why is that?”
“Because the duchess is everything I am not.” Audrey grasped the wooden operating cross and let the marionette drop, then waggled Lady Fanny’s shoulders. “She hasn’t a shy bone in her body. Indeed, the duchess says exactly what she thinks about everything. She’s haughty and aloof and would never allow anyone to embarrass or insult her.”
Reid enjoyed the lassie’s animation when she described the puppet’s character. He suspected that deep down Audrey was more like the marionette than she realized. “Indeed, the Duchess of Ne’er-Do-Well sounds a wee bit like my ma.”
“Oh please. There is no one in Britain as pompous as this audacious lady.”
Reid pulled the tinker puppet from the hook. “Very well, then show me.”
“Why did you choose the tinker and not His Lordship? The Duke of Ne’er-Do-Well is every bit as pompous.”
“Two pompous nobles?” Reid snorted while he made the tinker dance a floppy jig. “Such a combination would be as dull as attending a royal ball.”
“All right.” Audrey dropped Lady Fanny onto the puppet stage. “How does our story begin?”
“Perhaps the Duchess of Ne’er-Do-Well is having a miserable day?”