by Paula Quinn
“I’m glad to see ye can take care of yerself, Mairi,” he bent over her and whispered close to her ear.
When she realized who was behind her, her struggles ceased—for a moment. “What the hell are ye doing here?”
“A query I was just about to put to ye.” Hell, she smelled good. Her hair against his nose, as soft and as thick as he remembered. Her body, captured in his unyielding embrace, set his blood to scorching. He wanted to whirl her back around to face him, feel her breasts against his chest, her warm breath upon his face, but she was too dangerous. And—she was no longer his. “What are ye doing snooping around in the duke’s rooms?”
“Let me go, Connor, before I—”
Beyond the study door another door opened. Someone had entered the chambers. “Ssh!” He closed his hand around her mouth, risking a bite.
She heard the sound and obeyed, her body tensing and driving him a little more mad with desire. He finally released her but pulled her deeper into the shadows, listening to the sounds on the other side of the door. It had to be the duke. He was alone judging by the sound of his footsteps. Connor offered up a silent prayer that Queensberry had no business inside this room and would go directly to bed.
“Now look what ye have done,” Mairi accused in a hushed voice turning on him.
“Me?” he asked just as quietly. “I wouldn’t be here if not fer ye.”
“I did not ask ye to follow me. Likely, I would have been done and on my way back to my room if not fer ye.”
The floor creaked just outside the door and they both went still. Connor did his best to concentrate and think of a good excuse as to what they were doing in here if they were discovered, but Mairi had inched closer to him, her warmth seeping into his body, her scent enveloping him. He was glad he couldn’t completely make out her face, her lips, or he might be tempted to kiss her. Aye, he was pathetic for certain.
“Done with what? What were ye looking fer?”
“It doesna’ concern ye.”
Everything she did concerned him. Satan’s balls, he still cared for her. Denying it only made him a bigger fool.
“The idea of ye being tossed into prison concerns me, Mairi.”
“Really, Connor, prison? Fer appearing in a man’s room?”
He could hear the smirk in her hushed voice.
“A man with whom I spent the night dancing? Mayhap I was simply waiting fer him to arrive so that we could share a private moment together.”
Connor considered how much noise throttling her would make. He shook his head, deciding against taking such a chance. “ ’Twould be difficult to share such a moment with him pummeled over the head with yer candleholder if it had been he who caught ye, rather than me, wouldn’t ye say?”
She went silent catching his point. Finally.
They listened for more sounds beyond the door. Thankfully, it did not open. They waited, as seconds passed into minutes and the sounds grew quiet.
“So, what are ye doing in here? I’ll not let ye leave until ye tell me.”
She sighed, her sweet breath reaching his chin. “Verra well. I was looking fer something.”
“What?”
“A name?”
“Whose name, Mairi?”
She sighed again and he knew they needed to get out of there quick before he hauled her into his arms and kissed her senseless. “Queensberry mentioned someone taking Richard Cameron’s place. I was going to see if there were any parchments in here with a name that might look familiar.”
Familiar? In what sense? How could anyone Queensberry knew be familiar to her? She lived in Skye, surrounded by mountains and water for hell’s sake! What did she know about the Cameronians? He cursed himself for not writing home more frequently.
Now wasn’t the time to question her. They had to escape the duke’s lodgings. He would speak to her about it tomorrow though.
“I think he retired to bed.”
In the dim moonlight she nodded and stepped toward the door. He reached his arm across her, stopping her and moving in front of her. She sidestepped and he bumped into her back.
Connor cast her a dark scowl she didn’t see. He wouldn’t have her go first. Someone could be out there waiting.
Taking her by the arm this time, he pulled her behind him, ignoring the soft, muttered oath coming from her mouth.
He opened the door slowly, listening to the silence. When he deemed it safe to proceed, he swung the door wider and reached behind him to take Mairi’s hand. She wasn’t there.
He felt her rush past him in a whoosh of heavenly scented wool, heard her light footsteps fall across the rushes, and watched her disappear into the night. All in the space of a breath, leaving Connor with nothing more than the sinking suspicion that she had done this before.
Chapter Nine
Mairi awoke the next morning to find the queen and seven guardsmen standing around her bed. Connor was among them. It took her a moment to clear away the effect of her dreams. When she did, she sat straight up in her bed and yanked her cover to her throat. “What…?” Her eyes darted to Connor, who at least had the decency to look away.
“The king is gone, Miss MacGregor.”
Mairi shook her head, not sure she heard the queen correctly. Gone? Gone where? She pushed her curls away from her face and rubbed her eyes, trying to understand what the hell was going on. Why was Connor here in her bedroom?
“He has disappeared, and your brother has disappeared with him.”
Mairi blinked at her, suddenly understanding it all very clearly. Colin. Och, dear God, he had done it. He told the king that his daughter still lived, and likely the king had insisted on seeing her.
“Do you have any knowledge of where they might have gone… or been taken?” Mary of Modena’s soft voice quavered at the last. She loved her husband. Mairi had seen the evidence of it last night in their tender touches. What should she tell her?
“Did anyone see or hear them leave?” She felt Connor’s interest pique, felt his eyes on her, and avoided them. It would not take him long before he figured out what she already knew. Would he tell anyone else? Sedley, mayhap? She didn’t trust him. How could she when he’d left so many broken promises scattered at her feet? Right now, it didn’t matter. She had to ask her questions and know for certain that she was correct and her brother had not, in fact, been abducted along with the king.
“No one,” the queen answered curtly. She was growing agitated, already suspecting that Mairi knew something and was evading the answer.
“Fergive my ignorance, please, Yer Majesty, but there are guards stationed around the entire perimeter of Whitehall and no one saw them?”
“That is correct, Miss MacGregor. Do you have any knowledge of how that might be?”
Mairi shook her head. “I am sorry, I dinna’.”
For a moment, she thought the queen might shout at her. Her small hands clenched the folds of her skirts and her lips tightened before she turned to Connor. “Watch her every move and report them to me.” She spared Mairi her briefest glance on her way out. “Good day to you, Miss MacGregor.”
A dozen different protests fought to escape Mairi’s lips, but she didn’t get to voice a single one of them as the last of the soldiers filed out of the room and shut the door.
“Where are they?”
One remained. Och, she didn’t care if the king himself gave the order, she wasn’t about to have Connor follow her around all damned day long. Last night was enough. When she’d returned to her room after their brief, but close encounter in Queensberry’s chambers, she’d had to fight to keep from crying herself to sleep. Damn him!
She snapped the cover off her and swung her legs over the side. “Get out!” she ordered in her nightdress, marching toward the door to open it for him.
“Mairi!” His command stopped her. “Think about what ye just did. If ye know anything, ye must tell the queen. If she’s fearful because the king has mysteriously disappeared, how do ye think the people will tak
e the news? How long do ye think it will take Prince William to turn their heads against their Catholic king?”
“What d’ye care about that, Captain?”
For a moment, he looked about to throttle her. She was tempted to step back, but didn’t. “Ye think I’m a Protestant then?”
“Why would ye not be? Ye have lived with them fer a long time.”
The lines of his face hardened. “Believe what ye will of me. I know, however, that ye care, so tell the queen where her husband is.”
“I dinna’ know where he is.”
“Does his disappearance have anything to do with why ye were snooping around in Queensberry’s rooms last night?”
“I already told ye why I was there.”
“Aye, ye did. And I would like to know what interest ye have in Cameronians.”
Damnation, she’d said too much last night. “My life is nae longer any concern of yers, Captain.”
His eyes bore into hers behind a few stray locks of gold. He looked serious… and dangerous. “Verra well, then. I suspect I know where Colin is taking the king. I will tell the queen myself.”
He pushed her out of the way, but she leaped back in front of him, stopping his departure. “Ye would risk the lives of my kin by telling her in the presence of her guardsmen?”
His jaw tightened and he muttered an oath toward the heavens. “Then they are indeed on their way home.”
“My home,” she corrected, surprised that he hadn’t surmised it sooner. There was nothing she could do about it, save to warn him to keep silent. “The king of England is on his way to my home with little or no protection, as far as I know, save fer my brother. Ye must say nothing in front of the guardsmen. No one here can be trusted.” Not even ye.
Lord, she prayed she was wrong. Mayhap he had converted his faith. That didn’t necessarily mean he would betray her kin, did it? “I ask ye to remember that someone close to the king’s daughter likely betrayed her. Colin told me that no one knew of Miss Montgomery’s existence save fer the men who guarded her.”
“Someone else knew as well.”
“Aye, someone did,” she agreed.
Her mouth went a bit dry at the way he looked at her, tilting his head a little to the side and smiling, as if considering what she knew and contemplating finding out how she knew it. She headed him off in another direction. Whatever his position on the Covenanters or on William of Orange was, it was safer if he didn’t know what she had been doing in secret back home on Skye. “ ’Tis why Colin and the king left in the cover of night. ’Tis why my brother didna’ tell ye he was going. Yer men have seen her.”
“They don’t know who she is.”
“If ye took them along, they would find out, and they would know where she was. If even one of them has sworn allegiance to the king’s enemy, how long do ye think ’twill be before he rides toward Camlochlin? Swear to me that you will tell no one.”
“Do ye think me that foolish then?” While he waited for her reply, his gaze drifted over the length of her scantily clad body.
Her cheeks blazed and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. Let him look. Let him regret leaving her, never being able to touch her again. “I dinna’ think about ye at all,” she lied. “Or is that too difficult fer ye to comprehend, Captain Grant?”
The arch of his brow and the amusement tugging at his mouth proved that he enjoyed going head–to-head with her. Or mayhap he enjoyed being the only man who could. “ ’Tis not nearly as difficult as trying to convince myself that ye’re not the coldest wench in England, Ireland, and Scotland combined.”
“Oh?” she asked mildly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of letting his grin goad her. “So ye admit then that ye are an expert on women?”
He had a way of lowering his head and looking at her from beneath his brow, or mayhap it was the smooth drawl of his voice, confident that he could parry whatever she threw at him that made her knees melt.
“Well, I haven’t yet been to France, so I wouldn’t call myself an expert.”
At her sides, her fingers curled around her nightdress in an effort to keep them off his throat. “Dinna’ be modest, Captain. Ye and I both know ye are an expert at bedding and then running from lasses.” That was enough to wipe the glib smirk off his face. She should have felt victorious, but she didn’t. “Now, if ye dinna’ mind”—she continued on toward the door and swung it open—“gather up some of that decency ye once possessed and leave so that I may dress.”
Relief washed over her as he made for the exit. Being in the same room with him, alone… again—was perilous to her good sense. When he reached the door though, he pushed it shut with one hand and coiled the other around her waist. “Stubborn lass,” he groaned, dragging her forward. He bent his mouth to hers and snatched away the remainder of her protests on a hard, melting kiss that buckled her knees.
Hell, he might carry himself like an Englishman, but he kissed like a Highlander. Some fading part of her demanded that she fight him, but she could scarcely move, could hardly breathe. His tongue swept into her mouth like a brand, reclaiming ownership to what no man besides him possessed. The swift beating of her heart made her light-headed. Or mayhap, it was the scent of him covering her, the exquisite, possessive way he took her, as if he had never lost that right.
But he had. Last night she had been a fool to allow her old feelings for him bubble to the surface. She didn’t miss him or the life she had always wanted, but was denied. She didn’t want him back… or the dreams he’d once fired within her. She pulled away, tilted her head back to gaze into his face, and then slapped him so hard his head drew back.
For a moment, he did nothing but roll his jaw around the pain she caused him. Then, turning his scalding, hungry gaze on her, he swept her clean off the floor and into his arms. She pushed against him, afraid of how easily he quickened the embers of those dreams back to life. She had never wanted anything more than to be his, to wake up to his face each morning, and watch him play with their bairns at night. She had never wanted another man to kiss her, to touch her, not after Connor.
She had no defense against his masterful assault and even while her voice shouted in her head to stop him, she looped her arms around his neck. He hauled her back against the door, knocking the breath from both their bodies. Her fingers tunneled through his hair as he lifted her thigh around his waist, all the while keeping her wedged tightly between the cool wood and the length of his even harder body. How could she fight him when he tamed her so easily with just a few strokes? His lips devoured her until she groaned against his teeth, wanting him, needing him, missing him more than ever before.
Nae! She was stronger than this. He’d made her stronger. She had conquered the memory of him. Swore to herself she would never trust him again. She would not go back! No matter how right it felt to be in his arms, in his presence.
She pushed him away. He withdrew, his breath heavy, his eyes glittering as they moved over her face like jewels caught between light and shadow, robbing her lungs of air, her head of reason.
“Mairi, I—” Whatever else he meant to say ended when a hard rap on the other side of the door drew a tight curse from his lips.
“Miss MacGregor?”
Mairi closed her eyes at the sound of Lord Oxford’s voice. When she opened them again, Connor’s beautiful face was there, so close. How could she continue to resist him if she had to see him every day? He was the heather that swayed across the moors, the mighty wind that whistled over misty mountain ranges.
“Send him away,” he whispered against her temple.
She shook her head. It was good that Oxford had come. Her body wanted Connor too desperately to deny him, but her heart would never survive losing him again. And she would lose him. He might remind her of home, but his heart belonged to England. “Let me go,” she breathed along his jaw, choking on the words as they left her.
He pulled his head back to look at her as if he had never seen her before this day. Sh
e turned away when he stepped back to reach for the door.
Without giving her a moment to pat her hair back into some semblance of neatness, he pushed her behind him and tore the door open.
“Oxford, what the hell are ye doing at her door an hour after dawn?”
Blocked from sight, Mairi pressed her ear to Connor’s back to hear more sputtering from Henry. Poor Henry. How was any meager man expected to stand against such a force? She jabbed her elbow into Connor’s spine.
“I came to escort her to breakfast.” She heard more clearly once the brute before her jerked a bit to the left after her poke.
“I’ll be doing that.” Connor informed him. “Good day to ye.” He slammed the door shut in Henry’s face and turned to her.
“Does he escort ye to breakfast every day then?”
Another rap on the door halted her reply. This time, Connor did not bother with concealing her when he swung open the door. He did not bother addressing Lord Oxford either, but looked over his shoulder and motioned to another man. “Lieutenant Drummond, escort this man below stairs and see that he doesn’t return to this door. If he refuses, take him to the queen.”
Mairi watched him lean against the door after he closed it, his gaze settling on hers again. “Ye can do better than that, Mairi.”
She turned away. She did not want to fight with him now. Her emotions were too raw after their kiss. Her lips still burned, along with every other part of her body. The bastard! How dare he try to push his way back into her life? What right did he have to make every other man feeble and obsolete when compared to him? She wanted to move on. She needed to, and now he was back to ruin any chance she had to be happy with Lord Oxford—or any other man.
“Get out.”
“Nae.”
Nae? The arrogant son of a—! Clenching her fingers at her sides, she stopped and pivoted around. “What do ye mean, nae? Do ye want a dagger in yer eye?”