“A grim omen,” Aidan muttered. She nodded. He waved a boy over. “Who died?”
“Packy Gilbride,” the youngster answered.
Aidan leaned back in the seat. “Did you know him?” Anne asked.
“Aye. He was a character. Had hair the color of Deacon’s and a temper to match.”
Lieutenant Fordyce rode up. “It won’t be much longer, my lord,” he reported officiously, as if theirs was a pleasure trip. “Major Lambert’s headquarters is over the next hill, about a mile south.” He was the model of respectful courtesy.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Aidan said dryly. They exchanged a few other words and then the officer left them. He laced his fingers with Anne’s. “No matter what happens, you must take care of yourself first, even if it means denouncing me and telling Major Lambert what you know.”
“I would never do that.”
He faced her. “You must. If I am to have peace, it will only come from the knowledge that you are safe.”
His face was so close to hers that she could see texture of the shades of blue in his eyes. “Promise,” he whispered.
She nodded, but silently vowed it was a promise she would not keep.
The coach started moving, and before she was ready, they arrived at the country manor that served as Major Lambert’s headquarters in Lybster.
“Courage, Anne,” he whispered, as they drove up the tree-lined drive.
Major Lambert greeted them himself. He was dressed casually in a white shirt, long vest, and riding boots. His neck cloth was slightly askew, as if he’d been pulling on it. He’d left off his wig, and his close-cropped hair gave him a relaxed, almost festive, air. His cheeks were ruddy with good humor, and drops of mud seemed to have splattered along the front of his vest and on his sleeves. He carried a riding crop in his right hand.
“Welcome,” he cheerily greeted them, as Aidan helped Anne down from the coach. “I had hoped you would join us too, my lord.”
“You knew I would,” Aidan said.
“I had anticipated the prospect.” He clapped his hands together, a happy man. “My asking you here on such short notice wasn’t too much of an inconvenience, was it? Of course, it doesn’t matter if it was.”
“We appreciate your concern,” Aidan returned. He kept his hand on Anne’s arm and she was grateful for the support.
Major Lambert laughed, enjoying his sport.
“My lady is tired,” Aidan said. “Do you have rooms for us?”
“Of course, of course,” Major Lambert answered. He brushed one of the flecks of mud on his shirt with a hint of irritation. “But first, I have someone I’d like you to meet.” He didn’t wait for their response, but took Anne’s free arm and walked her in the direction of the stables. Two armed soldiers fell into step behind them.
Aidan’s hand slid down her arm. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Courage.
Major Lambert led them toward a stone cellar built into the side of a hill. He would have hurried Anne faster save for Aidan, who refused to walk past a pleasant stroll. Anne felt a pawn between two kings.
There was a guard at the door of the cellar. As Major Lambert approached, he came to attention and then stepped back. “Come in,” Major Lambert invited.
“My lady will stay here,” Aidan said and Anne was relieved. She sensed she would not like what the major had to show her.
But Major Lambert would have none of it. “I insist,” he said.
Aidan would have protested but intuition told her the major wanted exactly that. It was not enough to crush a rebellion: Major Lambert wanted a pound of flesh from an old rival. “Of course, I will go in,” she murmured.
Her husband didn’t like it. “I’ll go first.” And she was happy to let him do so.
The good-sized cellar had a stone floor. A torch provided light. The air was dryer but no cooler than outside. However, instead of the potatoes, onions, and hams whose scent still lingered in the air, there was a single chair in the middle of the room. A man was tied to it, else he would have slumped over onto the floor.
The prisoner had been beaten severely to the point he was unrecognizable. It wasn’t mud that stained Major Lambert’s shirt, but blood. This man’s blood.
Anne could picture her father in that chair—or, God help him, her husband. Her stomach roiled. Aidan’s hand came around her waist and he pulled her close, shielding her face with his chest. “What joke is this?” he said in a low, dangerous voice.
“Why would you show such a thing to my lady, Major?”
“What?” the officer asked with a mild show of concern. “Oh, beg pardon, does it upset her? Here, then, let me do the introductions and we’ll be done.”
“What game are you playing, Lambert?” Aidan demanded bluntly.
“No game, my lord. This is anything but a game.” Lambert smacked his boot with his crop for emphasis.
“Are you questioning my loyalty to the Crown?”
“I’ve always questioned your loyalty to the Crown,” Major Lambert said simply. “Soon I will have the evidence I need. You recognize him, don’t you? Robbie Gunn?”
“I have never seen him before,” Aidan lied.
Anne didn’t know how anyone could identify him. His battered, swollen face made almost all of his features indistinguishable—save for the hair. His wasn’t as carrot colored as Deacon’s, but it was red all the same.
“I’d wager you have.” Major answered. “Gunn is a Jacobite and a traitor. I believe you are, too.”
“Then you must prove it. But I warn you, Lambie, there are laws in this land. I am not without friends. You will not further your own ambitions on the person of my wife. You will leave her out of any of your schemes. I insist she be sent to London.”
Aidan was sending her away, to safety. She started to protest, but his arms around her tightened, cautioning her to silence.
“I can’t let her go,” Major Lambert said apologetically. “Because, Tiebauld, whether you like it or not, you are a rebel symbol in this country.”
Her husband exploded. “For God’s sakes, man! This is 1814, not 1745. My ancestor’s heyday is long over.”
“Is it?” Major Lambert attempted to lift Gunn’s head with the end of his crop. His prisoner did not move. Lambert looked up. “No, my guess is that if you join forces with the Gunn brothers, the highlands will go up in flames. Everyone is waiting for what you decide, you know.”
“I know of no such thing.”
“Turn over Deacon Gunn and I’ll believe you.”
“I haven’t a clue to Deacon’s whereabouts. You searched my estate. You saw for yourself.”
Major Lambert walked around them. The sound of his crop hitting his boots went right through Anne—and yet almost defiantly she stared him down.
“It is only a matter of hours before I get what I want from Gunn,” the Major said slowly. “I can wait. You’ll wait with me.” He nodded to a soldier to open the door. As he proceeded them outside, he said, “Colonel Witherspoon will be joining me this evening. He is very interested in what Gunn will have to say.”
“Then you’d best keep him alive,” Aidan responded. “Because right now, if he dies from your beatings, Scotland will go up in flames, and you will be known in London not as the man who ended a rebellion, but the man who started one.”
Major Lambert had not considered that twist. He hesitated, uncertain. “I know my responsibilities,” he chided, but some of the bluster had left him.
“Very well,” Aidan said, his voice cool. “In the meantime, my wife and I would like to be shown to our rooms. Hopefully, they will be better than the ones you’ve given Gunn. And I meant what I said, Lambert. If you hurt my wife, I will use every means at my disposal to ruin you.”
“You’ll find your wings clipped if you are in Newgate,” Major Lambert said stiffly. He led them into the house.
Inside, soldiers’ boots clumped on the fine wood floors. The furniture had been moved and pushed at angles for the men to talk o
r laze about. As the major walked through, they came to attention. He ignored them. Instead, he charged up the stairs and stopped at the room at the top. He opened the door.
“This is where you will be staying.” The room was comfortably modest. The walls were a green wash, the curtains heavy white damask. A four-poster double bed with a peach cotton spread took up the majority of the floor space.
Anne entered, pretending all was normal. “Is there water?”
“It will be sent up,” Major Lambert answered tightly.
“Then this will do very well,” she said.
“A guard will be outside the door.” He crossed to the single window and looked out. “Sound carries. We can hear everything you say.” He smiled, the expression chilling. “You will dine with me?”
Aidan said coolly, “I’d sup with the devil before I’d sit at a table with you.”
“You may receive your wish,” Major Lambert countered and laughed at his own small joke. He left the room and Anne collapsed on the bed.
“I’ve never seen anyone hurt the way Robbie Gunn was,” she whispered. “How can he still be alive?”
“He has a strong spirit.”
“Like his brother?”
Aidan smiled. “Aye. They are equally obstinate. Lambert doesn’t know who he is threatening. Robbie will die rather than give him names.”
A knock sounded on the door. At Aidan’s call, a soldier entered with warm water and linen towels. Another soldier set to guard them peered in with curiosity.
Aidan stood and said a few words to both men. He sounded perfectly at ease. Once they were alone again, he walked to the window alcove. He stood for such a long time, she asked what he was watching.
“I can see the cellar from here,” he said, his voice low. “Lambert has sent some men with food and water,” he observed. “He’s taking my advice to keep Gunn alive to heart.”
“Or is he planning to prolong the man’s agony?”
“Perhaps a bit of both.” Aidan turned from the window and there was a wicked gleam in his eye.
She stood. “You have a plan,” she said, with a conspirator’s eagerness.
“Yes.”
“What is it? What are we going to do?”
He took another look out the window a moment before saying, “We’re going to make love.”
“You’re joking.” She couldn’t have heard him correctly.
He smiled. “Anne, I’ve never been more serious in my life.” He began to untie his neck cloth.
Chapter 14
“We are surrounded by British soldiers,” Anne reminded Aidan as he hung his neck cloth over a chair in the corner of the room.
“Yes, I know.” He sat down in the chair and pulled on the heel of his boot.
He couldn’t seriously be going through with this! “You’re mad.”
“It’s been rumored,” he agreed. He tugged again at the heel and then looked to her in frustration. “Come play my valet, will you? I need help removing these damn boots. I don’t wear them enough.”
She dropped her gaze to his offered foot and back up to his face. He appeared almost comical, sitting in such an awkward position. “You don’t want to make love to me.”
“On the contrary, I haven’t been able to think of much of anything else since last night.”
“Well, you’ve done an admirable job of hiding it,” she answered briskly.
He put his foot on the floor. “Anne, come here.”
She frowned and took a step back. He rolled his eyes heavenward. “I should have known.” He held out his hand. “Please, Anne, come to me.”
Almost with a will of their own, her feet moved around the edge of the bed. She hesitated a moment.
“Trust me, Anne.”
“How can I, when you come up with such ridiculous notions?”
“Afraid?”
“Yes!” she admitted. “Yes, yes, yes!”
He shook his head. Coming to his feet, he walked the short distance between them. His large, capable hand cupped the side of her head. “My Anne, so bold, so brave, and yet so timid of what is right and natural.”
The beat of her heart accelerated. It always did when he stood this close. “And you are a fool—”
His lips covered her mouth, effectively silencing her. For a moment, she couldn’t think. She could only react—and she did, by kissing him back.
Suddenly, she was tired of fighting. This felt good. It felt right.
His hand slipped around her waist. He pulled her body up against his. His lips left hers as he nibbled a trail along the line of her jaw. His other hand cupped her breast. “Anne,” he whispered.
She answered by melting against him. Pleasure. Her body quivered with needs she hadn’t known before his touch.
He lifted her up and carried her the few steps to the bed, where he lowered her to sit on the edge.
The sudden motion made Anne dizzy because of her racing pulse. She started to sit up, but he kissed her down—with demanding, possessive, hungry kisses—and Anne responded in kind. This time, when his tongue stroked hers, she opened eagerly to him.
Her senses were full of him. Sandalwood and citrus. Warm, masculine man. Her lips tasted his skin, reveling in the texture. She didn’t ever want to stop kissing him, not even for breath.
His hands moved with purpose now. His fingers loosened her laces before pushing her sleeves down her shoulders. The kiss stopped while she had to slip first one arm and then another free, his hands already greedily dipping into the bodice of her chemise and cupping her breasts.
At the first touch of his skin on her flesh, Anne cried out in a combination of surprise and relief. She’d wanted this. She longed for it.
Still, she must have had some semblance of sanity, because when a footstep sound outside the door, she struggled for conscious thought, coming up on her elbows. “It’s the middle of the day.”
“The best time for love,” he murmured, kissing the line of her hair down to the tender skin beneath her ear. His fingers scattered her silver pins onto the mattress.
“Aidan, people will hear us.” Her voice ended on a squeak as he touched her ear with the tip of his tongue. The feel of his warm breath on such a sensitive spot almost sent her reason through the ceiling like a shooting star.
“We’ll be quiet.” His words hummed through her ear.
She moaned. “I don’t know if I can be.”
He brought his face round to look her in the eye. His were twinkling with laughter. “Then make as much noise as you’d like, love. We’re married. We’re newlyweds. Everyone expects us to do this.”
Love. “Did you hear what you called me?”
He grinned. “Aye.” He brushed her nipples with his thumbs. “Love,” he repeated with more meaning.
Anne laughed out of nervousness and wonder. “Love,” she whispered.
He pushed her chemise down to her waist until her breasts were completely free of confining material. He weighed them in his hands.
Doubts, uncertainties, and reservations all fled. For one shining moment, she let herself believe he loved her. With blinding insight, she realized she’d withheld a part of herself from him out of fear of being hurt and abandoned. Everyone she had ever loved had left her. The need to protect herself from the pain of abandonment had been the driving force behind her desire to leave Kelwin that morning.
Now, she released all apprehension. She wanted only to live in the moment. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. She wanted to give herself freely and completely to the man she loved. Joyfully, she threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him back, and kissed him as if her life depended upon it.
Aidan laughed, falling onto the bed and rolling her with him. The time for words was past. His hands skillfully untied her garters and pushed her stockings down her legs. She curled her toes, letting her shoes drop softly to the floor.
His lips left hers. She objected, but her indignation turned to a happy sigh when his mouth closed over her ni
pple.
Anne practically jumped off the bed as he drew it into his mouth. The pull of his mouth on her breast did strange things deep inside to the woman’s part of her. It raised a need…and a knowing, both as old as time.
His hands slid up the inside of her thighs and he touched her in the most intimate place of all, mimicking the movement of his tongue. Anne was lost, captured in a haze of driving, spiraling emotion she’d never known before.
“Aidan, what are you doing to me?”
He lifted his head and grinned, his eyes so blue they took her breath away. “Loving you.”
She held out her arms. “Please, be with me.”
Aidan undressed himself down to his breeches. He made quick work of it and had no trouble removing his boots. His muscular body was a work of art in the late afternoon light.
Reaching up, she ran her hand down his chest, marveling at the flat planes and hard surfaces.
Her dress was around her waist. Laughing, he drew it over her head and tossed it aside. She was naked.
For a moment, Anne moved as if to cover herself, but his hands on her shoulders steadied her. His expression intent, he combed her hair with his fingers until it curled down around her shoulders, the ends almost touching her breasts.
“I’ve pictured you like this,” he said. “It is how I want to remember you.”
His words reminded her of where they were, what could happen to them, but before she could respond to fear, he stood, one knee on the bed, the other foot on the floor. “Unbutton me, Anne. Show me you want this as much as I do.”
Her anxiety disappeared, replaced by startled bemusement. He expected her to be a willing participant. She’d assumed a woman’s body was nothing more than a vessel for a man to do whatever it was he wished.
This was new. This was exciting.
She scooted to the edge of the bed. Her fingers trembled as she unfastened the first button. She could feel the length of him beneath the fabric. She slipped another button from its hole and another.
His fingers brushed her hair as she worked. At last, she’d freed the last button. “Take it out, Anne,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.
The Marriage Contract Page 18