Highland Wolf (Highland Brides)

by Greiman, Lois

  “I am much improved,” she said, turning her smile on Roman.

  Just a glimpse of him calmed her. For he was, as always, strong and stolid, stalwart and steady. But he was also in grave danger, for if Dagger recognized her, he would also recognize Roman.

  Dagger turned. Tara’s heart beat faster yet, but she held on to her smile with terrible tenacity.

  “Lord Dasset, may I introduce mon frere, the baron de la Fontaine.”

  Dagger’s gaze locked onto Roman’s. But Roman didn’t flinch. Instead, his eyes remained absolutely steady until the other finally nodded.

  “Lord Fontaine. Tis my pleasure to meet you,” said Dagger. “I was hoping to ask your permission to dance with your lovely sister.”

  No emotion showed on Roman’s face. Neither did his gaze turn to hers. “I fear this day has been a long and wearing one. I was just about to take Elise home.”

  Not now. They couldn’t go now, Tara thought. She had not yet captured the bracelet, and even if she had, it would surely seem odd if they scurried away just after their first introduction to Dasset. If he was not suspicious of them yet, that surely would make him so.

  “Non. So soon? The night is yet young,” said Tara.

  Roman’s eyes were exquisitely green and deadly flat. “I hate to risk you to another headache, ma soeur,” he said, but in that moment, she knew he worried about a far greater risk. So he, too, had recognized Dasset.

  Still, the greatest risk lay in being too hasty. Turning her gaze back to Dasset, she said, “My brother coddles me. I would be delighted to share a dance.”

  Dasset nodded and turned his gaze to Roman. “If you wish to return to your room, I would be honored to accompany your sister home.”

  For one panicked moment, Tara feared Roman’s stoic expression might crumble. She saw a muscle flex in his jaw, but finally he spoke, his tone as well controlled as before.

  “She is my only sister,” he said. “And though she is a bit headstrong …” He turned toward her. His brow was comically arched, but she could feel his anger and worry as clearly as Dasset’s hand beneath hers. “I would be loath to leave without her.” He nodded shallowly. “I will wait.”

  Dasset led her away. Fear was like a cold blade against her back, but she would not let it show. Surely, even if he recognized her, he wouldn’t turn them over to the magistrates. ‘Twould make no sense. But then, nothing she had ever heard about the Dagger made sense. He killed without reason, it was said—without reason, and without remorse.

  Roman watched Tara walk away, her hand held high on Dasset’s. A thousand emotions crashed within him. But fear won out. Fear for her. Dear Jesu, he should never have let her convince him to come here. He had to save her, take her away, before it was too late.

  He took a step forward, but suddenly a hand caught his arm.

  “Lord Fontaine.”

  He turned with a scowl.

  Christine stood beside him. She smiled, but it failed to reach her eyes. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  His attention flickered away. He had to get Tara from Dagger’s grasp. “I was just about to leave. If you don’t mind

  I-”

  “I know who you are.” Her voice was a tiny whisper, but certainly loud enough to draw his attention back to her. “When I first met you, I thought you were not the kind to give up on my David. I prayed you were not. It took me some time to piece together the puzzle, but I know you now. Where is he?” Her voice was softer yet.

  Turning back toward Tara, he convinced himself that she was well before looking at Christine again.

  “Please tell me,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “He’s in Devil’s Port.”

  For just a moment, Roman thought she might faint. He reached out, catching her wrist.

  “Are you well?”

  She straightened slightly, but still looked weak. “I need a bit of air is all. Will you assist me?”

  He glanced again toward Tara. She was laughing up into Dagger’s face. She was a consummate actress, he reminded himself. Or could it be she enjoyed the flirtation. And what if Dagger was only playing a part, too? What if he were only pretending not to recognize her?

  “Please,” Christine said, drawing his attention away.

  He could hardly walk away while she collapsed onto the floor. Thus they made their way through the crowd. The arched entrance welcomed them with the silence of a tomb. But soon they were outside. The air felt cool against his face.

  Two men passed, deep in discussion.

  “I thought you had left.” Christine said when they were past. “I thought…” Christine took a deep breath, steadying herself.

  “You should not be out here with me,” Roman said.

  “‘Tis far too late to ruin my reputation,” she said.

  But that was not Roman’s worry. Tara was his worry. He glanced back through the door, but could see nothing of her.

  “Is she the Shadow?”

  The shock of her words brought him about full face. “What are ye speaking of?”

  “Shh,” she said, glancing quickly about. “Father will recognize your brogue.”

  Hell fire!

  “I don’t care if she is. I don’t care if she’s the devil incarnate. Just so long as you get David to safety.”

  For a moment, Roman concentrated on the girl before him. Or rather, he concentrated on the woman. For surely she was one. She was not at all the flighty flirt he had expected, but a woman, true and loyal. “So you cherish him still,” he said softly, remembering his French accent.

  She said nothing, but looking neither right nor left, she held out her fist. “Take it,” she whispered. “I care not what you do with it so long as you see him set free.”

  Roman’s mind returned with a jolt to their plan. Reaching out, he took the bracelet from her.

  She stepped back a pace, her head held high. “I shall never have him,” she whispered. “And it would not be safe for him to contact me. But if I know he is well…”

  “I will get word to you.”

  She nodded, then drew another steadying breath. “I had best go in. I am on the marriage mart, you know.”

  Roman let her enter alone. Finally, he could wait no longer. Keeping his strides even and steady, he walked back inside. In a moment he saw her.

  She stood by a huge silver bowl filled with wine. Dasset dipped a ladle into the liquid, filled a chalice and handed it to her, but as there hands met, the cup was jostled and a few drops splashed onto Tara’s hand.

  “My apologies,” Dagger said, then leaned closer to her ear and whispered something. Roman couldn’t hear the words, but Tara’s giggle was clear as he approached them.

  “I’m surprised they let you out in polite public, monsieur.”

  “And I do not think you are quite so innocent as you—”

  “You’ll excuse me,” Roman said. Control! Control was a necessity here. “But I must insist we return to our inn.”

  “Oh, but—” Tara began.

  “Now!” Roman said, then fought his instincts. “I fear we have an early day tomorrow.”

  Tara’s eyes looked exceptionally wide. In a moment she turned them back to Dasset, who still stood too near. Far too near. “I fear he is right, my lord.”

  “My offer remains to see you home.”

  “Nay!” Roman said, then loosened his fists and tried again. “I must refuse, Lord Dasset. After all, she is under my protection. You understand.”

  Their gazes clashed. Deep inside, Roman almost wished Dagger would accuse him of something, anything. Rage, jealousy, and fear were brewing to a fiery potion within him, and he longed to quench the fire with brute action. Did she not realize she was flirting with death?

  “Mayhap we will meet again,” Tara was saying.

  “Mayhap,” said Dasset. Lifting her hand, he kissed it again. “Until then.”

  Roman stifled the urge to strike out, he quelled the need to pull his dirk and proclaim her his own. He took her
arm in his hand. Beneath his fingers, he imagined he felt her tremble, but surely he was wrong, for she thrived on such sport.

  She waited until they were well outside the house before she spoke. “You have it?”

  Roman kept every muscle tight, lest he lose control. “It?” he asked softly.

  “Do not tease me, mon frere” she said. “Do you?”

  “Do you mean the bracelet?”

  “Shh!” For just a moment, she was yanked from her persona. Roman gritted a smile.

  “Aye,” he said. “While you were busy flirting, I did what we came ta do. But you wouldn’t—”

  “Shh,” she said, and smiled as a man in canary yellow hose passed them. “Joseph,” she called, raising one hand. “We are ready to return.”

  The carriage pulled up. Liam jumped down with a grin and a nod. “I hope you had a lovely time, Mistress Fontaine.”

  “Oh. Lovely indeed.” She sighed. Roman gritted his teeth, and taking her elbow, thrust her inside.

  “And Lord Harrington,” continued Liam. “He is well?”

  “Drive,” said Roman, and, following Tara, slammed the door shut in Liam’s face.

  In a moment, the carriage lurched off, drawn away from the festivities at a steady trot.

  “Where is it?” Tara asked.

  Roman watched her. Fear was beginning to fade, leaving behind the pungent residue of jealousy and anger. “‘Tis safe.”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Did Dasset seem familiar ta ye?”

  She drew a deep breath and just for a moment, her eyes closed. “He is Lord Dagger.”

  Roman said nothing for a moment, then, “I dunna ken what would be worse, ta think ye are so foolish as ta na recognize him, or ta think ye are so foolish as to recognize him yet try to seduce him.”

  She laughed. “I did not try to seduce him.”

  “Damn ye!” Roman leaned forward, abruptly grabbing her arms. “Think ye that I did not see how ye flirted with him? With him and a score of others? If seduction was not on yer mind, then what?”

  “Know this,” she said, yanking her arms from his clasp, “had I tried to seduce him, Scotsman, I would have succeeded.” She sat absolutely still, the picture of the perfect lady, beautiful, poised, superior.

  “And ye would have if the prize was high enough?” he asked.

  “Aye.” Her tone was steady, her chin raised. “If the prize was high enough, I would have indeed. But you cannot understand that can you, Scotsman? You are far too good to let anything make you sacrifice your morals.”

  Roman sat back slightly.

  “You are far above me, Scotsman,” she said quietly. “’Tis a good thing this will all soon be over so that you may return to those worthy of you. Just a few more details to see to, and you’ll be gone. Once Dagger accepts the bracelet—”

  “Ye’ll na go.” He kept his voice very steady.

  Hers was the same. “What say you?”

  “I’ll na have yer death on me conscious. Ye’ll na go to Dagger.”

  “It seems we’ve discussed this before,” she said coolly.

  “Thus there will be na need ta discuss it again.”

  “And you think you are the one to decide that?” she asked. “You? I go where I will, and I do what I please. There are not many advantages to being orphaned and destitute,” she said. “But there is this one. And I’ll keep it. You’ll not tell me what to do. I’ll go to Dagger.”

  “Truly?” Roman settled back in the carriage seat. “‘Twill look strange indeed when ye show up with na bracelet. He may be a wee bit disappointed. But mayhap ye can distract him as ye have always distracted me. Ye certainly gave it a good start tanight.”

  “Where’s the bracelet?” she asked, her tone even.

  “I’ll na tell ye,” he said. “‘Tis me own task ta do, and I’ll do it alone.”

  “You’ve no idea what you’re dealing with, Scotsman. Dagger is beyond your ken.”

  The carriage turned a corner and pulled to a halt. Roman glanced out the window, pushed open the door, and turned to her. “Then I will have trouble. But I tell ye true, lass, I will have trouble alone.” He reached for her hand. She did not give it to him. Her face looked pale and her eyes very wide.

  “Where is the bracelet, Scotsman?”

  “Do ye, mayhap, wish ta announce ta the entire neighborhood that ye be Lady Fontaine? Or are ye about to get away from prying eyes?”

  She reached for his hand and he drew her out into the night.

  Liam climbed down from his perch behind the team. “When will ya need me?”

  Roman held her arm in a tight grip. “She willna be participating in this one, Liam.”

  “I will—”

  “She willna,” said Roman, keeping his voice very low as he tightened his grip. “‘Twould be far too dangerous, for it seems Lord Dasset is also Lord Dagger.”

  “Dasset?” Liam whistled low. “God’s nuts! Pure evil and nobility, too.”

  “Aye,” Roman said. “And he got far too close a look at the lass here. ‘Twould be na but suicide for her to go-”

  She opened her mouth again, but he shook her slightly now and gritted his teeth.

  “She’ll na go,” he repeated, more for her than for Liam. “But I will need yer help tomorrow night, lad. At Cape Hood.”

  They parted soon after. Roman steered Tara into her room.

  She faced him in the darkness. “Why are you doing this?”

  Roman watched her. “Christine knows ye are the Shadow.”

  For a moment Tara stood stunned, but then she smiled, a small quiet expression. “So she knows,” she said softly. “Long ago, I misjudged her. And now I underestimated her.”

  “Long ago?” Roman eyed her. “When?”

  She drew herself from her reverie. “It does not matter, Scotsman. The Shadow is no more. When this deed is done I will not stay in Firthport.”

  The room was quiet.

  “Ye’ll na do the deed, lass.”

  ‘Think you that I tolerated Dagger’s slimy touch for naught?” she asked.

  He remained very still, watching her. “Ye did na enjoy the flirtation?”

  “Enjoy it?” Her laugh was shaky. “Aye, I enjoyed it!”

  Roman gritted his teeth. “So ye were attracted ta him?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, aye,” she crooned, “and what woman would not be? He has power and confidence. Did you not feel it? ‘Twas nearly a tangible thing.”

  “Damnation, woman! Tell me the truth! Did ye desire him?” Roman asked, reaching for her.

  She jerked out of his reach. “Desire him!” she railed. “He killed James! Do you think me such a whore that I can forget that?”

  The room fell silent.

  Roman exhaled and loosened his fists. He had been a fool and he knew it. But his need for her consumed him. “I owe ye an apology, lass,” he said quietly. “I am na usually a jealous man. But never before did I know a woman I longed ta make me wife.”

  The room dropped like a stone into silence. Tara’s jaw dropped open. “Wife?” She breathed the word.

  “Aye.”

  Her smile was like sunshine. In a moment, she was in his arms. Her lips were on his, warm, passionate. She felt like heaven there, like drink to a parched man. Her arms were about him, and her hands…

  Her hands! Reality dawned on Roman with bitter intensity. Her hands could not be trusted.

  Kissing her back, he grasped her arms and pushed them up against her chest until she was pressed away from him.

  “I said I would wed ye, lass. I did na say I would trust—What the hell is that?” Roman asked.

  His eyes were narrowed, and his hands very tight on her wrists.

  Tara blinked and shifted her fingers ever so slightly. She must hide the bracelet from him. She must. “What?”

  “What have ye got in yer hand?”

  “You wish to marry me, Scotsman?” she breathed, leaning closer.

  “What have ye got
?”

  She lowered her head slightly so as to glance at him through her lashes. “I had heard you Scots were not the romantic kind, but surely a proclamation of marriage warrants a kiss.”

  “Ye have the bracelet, don’t ye?”

  “The bracelet? How ever—”

  But suddenly he had her fist in both hands and was prying it open.

  “What are you about? Don’t!” she gasped, outraged. Trying to hide the bracelet as quickly as she could, she twisted away. He spun her toward him again. She kept her fist wrapped about the jewelry and glared at him, frustrated and angry.

  Roman glared back, holding her wrists in a tight grasp. “How the devil did ye ken where it was?”

  “What better place to keep precious jewels than your codpiece?” she snapped.

  “Hell fire! Na where is safe from ye. Give it up.”

  “Nay!” She twisted again and lost her balance.

  But before she went down she placed her foot just so.

  Roman tripped, toppling with her. They hit the floor together. But while Roman concentrated on softening her blow, Tara concerned herself only with the bracelet.

  Her hand dipped swiftly toward her bodice.

  Roman took the brunt of their weight on his arm and side, but his head, too, struck the floor. They lay still, breathing hard. Roman groaned and rubbed the side of his skull.

  Tara grimaced. “Are you badly hurt?”

  “Aye,” he said, opening his eyes enough to scowl at her. “I am, so give me the bracelet and cease causing trouble.”

  He was beautiful, and he was hers. For one shining moment in time he was hers alone. “The bracelet will not soothe your aches,” she said softly.

  “Nay?”

  “Nay,” she murmured, and brushing back the dark hair from above his ear, gently kissed his bruise.

  “Ye canna go ta Dagger,” he said huskily. “Do na think ta dissuade me.”

  “Mayhap I only wish to touch you,” she said, and kissed his bump again. “Better?”

  He grunted noncommittally.

  “Is there another place that needs my ministrations?” she asked, drawing away slightly.

  He held her with his gaze, then cleared his throat. “Me wrist.”