Seduced by a Scot

by Julia London

  Nichol finally shifted his weight from her, falling onto his chest beside her. He felt a profound sense of esteem for Maura Darby. A press of affection.

  Affection.

  There it was again, that thing that had eluded him all his life. But he felt it thrumming through him. Her affection for him. His for her.

  Everything was not lost.

  Maura sat up and leaned over him. She kissed the back of his neck. “What do we do now, then?”

  “Now?” he asked, and rolled onto his back. He pushed her hair behind her ear, let his fingers trail down her body and breast. “What do you mean, mon trésor?”

  She smiled brightly at his endearment. “Do we couple again, mon Roméo?”

  He laughed. He gathered her in his arms against his chest. “Aye, again. But first, we rest,” he said, and kissed the top of her head.

  We have tonight. The night will turn to day and we’ll have only the memory, but we have tonight.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  NOT A MONTH AGO, Maura would not have considered giving herself to a man who was not her husband. She had believed in chastity, had believed in the sanctity of marriage. But then her world had been made a shambles, and everything she believed felt no longer true. She was glad she’d done what she had. It was a night she would never forget, an experience that would be branded into her heart for the rest of her life.

  She was remarkably sanguine about her sin, to her great surprise. She would rather give herself to a man she cared about and desired than a faceless man who needed to marry her because he couldn’t make his own match. She had no idea what to expect at Luncarty, but she knew very well what she had in Nichol Bain.

  She believed he cared about her—he’d certainly been very tender with her through the night, and the light that had shone in his eyes was real. She believed he was the first person to truly care about her since her father had died. She could see that now, could see that Mr. Garbett cared more for himself, and Mrs. Garbett and Sorcha never had, not really. But Mr. Bain...

  Ah, Nichol.

  She was swimming in a profoundly bottomless well of emotion. She felt things that were extraordinary, new and fresh and eye-opening. Never in her life had she felt such ease in the company of another person. Confident and desired, sheltered and warm. Perfectly compatible in every way. It was perfection.

  Was she wrong about this? Had that exquisite feeling, that lightness of being and deep regard for him been anything less than perfect?

  She had admired his physique as he lay next to her. He looked almost sculpted to her, like the drawings of the Greek statutes in her father’s books she’d studied as a child. But then he would move, put his arm around her, pull her into his side and kiss her forehead or her mouth, and he was warm, and he was soft and hard at the same time, and she was deliciously sore and had a secret and she never, never wanted this to end.

  During the night he’d told her about the baron, the man he’d believed was his father. He’d told her about the bitter cold of his boyhood, and that the baron had rejected him over and over again for so many years. He told her about his nomadic life after he’d come of age. Anywhere, he said, but Cheverock. How he’d changed his name, and kept his true identity to himself, had let his patrons believe of him what they would, had told only one other person who he was, and even then, he confessed, in a moment of weakness when too much wine had loosened his tongue. It was a secret he’d meant to carry to his grave, for he couldn’t bear to admit to anyone that his father despised him.

  And now, it hardly mattered at all. He belonged to no one. He had no one. He was a man completely unto himself.

  Maura’s heart broke for the lad he’d once been. She understood the despair he must have felt, perhaps better than she ought to have understood. Unfortunately, she knew what it was to be unloved, unwanted and to feel utter desolation. No wonder Mr. Bain had held himself apart. No wonder his facade was so hard to penetrate. No wonder, no wonder, no wonder.

  He had confessed the truth about himself without the casual regard she’d come to expect from him, but with true anguish. None of it changed her opinion of him. None of it made her esteem him any less. If anything, his heartbreak endeared him to her more.

  Neither did she care that he didn’t have a family name. Or a place he would call home. He was like her, wasn’t he? Had there ever been two people more perfectly suited to each other?

  She woke up just as the sun was peeking above the horizon and admired him again, stretched on his side, his back to her. He was magnificent, God’s perfect creation of the male form. She wished she had a pencil and paper to capture this moment, fearful that one day she might possibly forget just how magnificent he was.

  Nichol made a sound of wakefulness. He stretched, then glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression sleepily confused for a moment. But then he grinned and reached for her, rolling her onto her back and coming over her. “What a scandal we’ve caused, Miss Darby,” he said, and kissed her.

  “’Tis no’ a scandal if we’re no’ discovered,” she reminded him, and put her hands on his waist, sliding down his hips.

  “We’ll be discovered, donna doubt it. I suspect Finella and her maid will visit your room as quickly as they discover my bed has no’ been slept in, aye?”

  Maura giggled. “This bed has no’ been slept in, either, Mr. Bain.”

  He kissed her more earnestly, crushing her to him as if he were afraid she would flutter away.

  It was astounding how quickly corporeal desire could envelope a person, how thoroughly it could push all rational thoughts from one’s mind. Nichol’s touch was bedeviling, and no matter how thorough his touch, she was left panting and wanting more. There was something about his reverence of her that scored her soul quite deeply. Her skin shimmered when he touched her, her body quivered where he kissed her. She clung to him, her desire as deep and fervent as breath.

  His pleasure was as obvious as her own, she was happy to note. She’d been transformed, from an innocent to a wanton, and she wanted him to want her.

  Nichol nipped hungrily at her lips and swirled his tongue around hers, and Maura eagerly met his kisses, her hands sliding over the stiff curves of his body, her fingers tangling in his hair. She stroked his bristled cheek and slid her hand over his hips. She pressed a hand against his chest to feel the heat in his skin, the steady and strong rhythm of his heart. She realized that the tingling she felt in all her limbs was her craving for his sex, and she pushed her body into his without thought, with only raw desire.

  But Nichol faltered in the heat of it. Maura opened her eyes, uncertain what was happening. Nichol was gazing down at her, his green eyes seeming much darker than normal. His jaw was clenched, and his hair dipped over one eye. He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “How bonny you are, Maura,” he said. “How...how cruel life can be at times.”

  She thought she knew what he meant. Their coupling was intense and so full of need. It was cruel to need so much, to want so much.

  He bent his head, nibbled at her earlobe, then carefully slid into her body with a soft groan of pleasure.

  Maura sighed with contentment and slid her hands over the corded muscles of his back. She would never have imagined it was possible to feel as if she and another person were truly one. This was where the two of them belonged, she thought hazily. Together.

  There was no question in her mind as her desire grew more imperative, no question as she wrapped her arms around him, pressed against him and let herself go. There was no question when he followed her release with his own, his breath hot in her hair, his hands possessive on her body. No question, no question, no question.

  Nichol brought her back to the land of the living with a soft kiss, then touched his fingers to her lips. “We must leave, aye? As quickly as we can, then.”

  She opened her eyes, and the feeling of bliss began to fade awa
y like a dream. She didn’t move for a moment, unwilling to let the night turn to day just yet.

  “Maura, leannan,” Nichol said, and stroked her face, kissed her breast. “We must leave before we are discovered.”

  She made herself get up to dress.

  They cleaned up the room as best they could—the bed linens presented something of a problem, but Nichol bundled them together for washing. They crept down to the drive, where Gavin was already waiting with the horses saddled. He looked apprehensive, as if he were anxious to be gone from Cheverock.

  They did not manage to make their escape before Ivan MacBain stumbled out the door in his dressing gown. “Nichol?” he said, his voice full of confusion, his expression one of disbelief. “Do you intend to depart like a thief in the night? I expected you to come to my father’s study last night after you spoke to him.”

  “Your father,” Nichol said and sighed. “Then you know.”

  “Know that you seek to use an old man ill?” Ivan said. “Aye, I know.”

  Maura gasped.

  Nichol gave her a grim look. “Stay here,” he said, and walked across the drive to his brother. Maura watched as he put his arm around his brother’s shoulders, which he immediately shrugged off. Nichol gestured for him to walk, and the two of them turned away from the horses, walking together a few steps. But then Ivan halted his step and glared at his brother.

  “Mi Diah,” Maura muttered to Gavin.

  There was an exchange between them—Ivan’s voice louder, Nichol’s voice unflappably calm, and then Nichol strode across the drive to the horses and without a word, lifted Maura up onto the saddle. He swung up behind her, told Gavin to ride ahead, then reined his horse to follow.

  Maura glanced back at Ivan, still standing in front of the house in his dressing gown and bare feet. Still staring after them, his face contorted with anger. “What did you say, then?”

  “The truth,” Nichol said quietly. “That I want nothing from the baron.”

  “But he’s so cross,” she said. She would think Nichol’s brother would feel his devastation.

  “He believes what my father has said of me,” he said, and gave a soft, bitter laugh. “I have missed him all these years and all the while, he was learning to hate me.”

  “Surely not,” Maura tried, glancing back again. “You canna leave him like this.” Ivan was striding up the steps to the house.

  “Perhaps I’ll return one day after the baron is gone, aye? Until then, there is no point in it.”

  “But—”

  “Och, lass, let it be,” Nichol begged her.

  She turned her head from the sight of Ivan MacBain as they rode away.

  It was apparent to Maura that the meeting with his brother on the drive troubled Nichol. But for her, the day was a confection of rainbows and blue skies. She talked, more to fill the silence than anything, for she couldn’t bear how quiet he’d become. Nichol smiled at her. He responded when she questioned him, he hugged her close when the horse cantered to catch up to the lad. Oh, she was babbling like a mad hen, she knew she was. But it was the only way she knew to keep the dark edges of reality from ruining her day.

  She was, in spite of everything, and in spite of Nichol’s quite demeanor, strangely happy. Her head was full of delicious memories, filling over and over again with images of being cherished, and the feeling, still so fresh, of the physical sensations. She could not help herself from imagining what could be. How could she? She was so keenly aware of him at her back. So keenly aware of the strength in his body, and how secure and happy she felt in his arms.

  Did he not feel it, too? Could he so easily push aside the night? But clearly, the news from Cheverock weighed on him. As the sun rose higher and higher above them, he sank more into quiet.

  Maura inwardly tried to reason with herself as she nattered on about the sky, the trees, the birds overhead. The revelations of his father had been profound, and she couldn’t forget that he’d come to her in a moment of raw need. He’d needed desperately to lean on someone. Perhaps she’d read too much into his desire. Was it possible a man could do all the things he’d done with her last night and not feel that ache in his chest as she felt in hers?

  Whatever he felt was heavy enough to suppress the air around them.

  Still, Maura was not heavy. She refused to allow it. She’d had her first taste of love, and she was not willing to let it escape. She thought of all those nights she’d spent lying in that awful hovel of David Rumpkin’s house near Aberuthen, uncertain what to do, how to think, which way to turn.

  Well, she knew what she wanted now. She knew what to do, how to think, which way to turn.

  What she wanted was to be with Nichol. On a forest floor, in a ramshackle house, with no home, with no name, she didn’t care, as long as he was with her. It seemed rather romantic to her, really.

  She did not yet know what to do about that.

  In the early afternoon they stopped at a public inn. Nichol sent the lad inside to eat while he tended the horses. “Luncarty is no’ two hours ride from here,” he’d told the boy. “Eat, rest a wee bit, then go and tell Mr. Cockburn we’ve come, aye? He will be expecting us any day now.”

  For the first time that day, the smile faded from Maura’s face. Of course she’d known where they were bound, but to hear him say it aloud soured her soaring spirits.

  When the lad had gone, he smiled at Maura and gestured to the inn. “A bite to eat, aye?” he asked, and escorted her into the public room of the inn and to a table near the back wall. He helped her from her cloak, then asked the lass who brought them ale to bring them stew. As they waited, he looked around the room, and Maura wondered if he was avoiding her. “Will you no’ look at me?” she asked him.

  Nichol shifted his gaze to her. “Of course I will.”

  “You’ve scarcely looked at me all day, Nichol.”

  “Ah,” he said, and sighed, pushing back into his seat, one fist against the table. “On the contrary, I have looked at you all day. I canna take my eyes from you, in truth. But I’ve been a wee bit preoccupied.” He smiled reassuringly.

  Maura surged forward, both arms on the table. “I donna want this to end.”

  Nichol reached across the table for her hand. “Neither do I, leannan.” He took her hand in both of his, holding it tightly. “You have my word that I’ll see to it you are properly settled before I go, aye?”

  That was not what she wanted him to hear. “Donna say that,” she warned him.

  “I must say it,” he said. “I told you what would happen, and you agreed, Maura. Nothing has changed.”

  “Everything has changed,” she argued. “My entire life has changed, and so has yours, if you’ll only admit it.”

  He smiled sadly. He brought her hand to his lips and lingered on her skin. He did not act like a man who would “see her settled.”

  “I am forever a changed man, aye, I am,” he agreed. “As much as I wish it were no’ true, our circumstances havena changed—I am still a man with no name. You are still a lass with no prospects.”

  “Stop—”

  “You’ve no’ seen Luncarty, Maura. You will like what you find.”

  That remark vexed her, and she yanked her hand free. “How can you say such a thing after what we’ve shared! Do you believe a fine house will appease me? I’ve been in big houses, Mr. Bain, and I have found them wanting. There is no love, there is no warmth in them. Garbett House was a fine house and it was full of hostility. Cheverock was frigid. I donna care for fine houses.”

  “You would care verra much after a few nights on a bedroll, I can assure you.”

  She gaped at him. “Do you feel nothing for me, then?”

  “Mi Diah, leannan, I feel everything for you,” he said pressing his palm against his chest. “Everything. And it pains me beyond measure that I canna give you what you deserve. I ca
nna give you an honest name or even a home of your own.”

  “But you could,” she pressed.

  He shook his head. “You canna know how it destroys me to know that I am a man whose occupation it is to put to rights things that have gone horribly wrong, but in this one thing, the thing that matters most, I canna repair it. I canna fix this problem, because the problem is me.”

  “I donna care,” she said stubbornly.

  “Aye, you do,” he said calmly. “You may no’ realize it yet, but you do. You want to believe you can bear never knowing where the next bed is, or the next meal. You want to believe you can bear living under different roofs or no roof at all, aye? You want to believe you can forgo children for it, because there would be no roof for them, either. You want to believe you can bear all of that, but what if you find it impossible? What if I get you with child? There is no escape once you’ve stepped onto that path, Maura. There is naught I can do to help you if you find it unbearable. I canna find a better situation for you. I canna make it right. Do you see, Maura?” he asked plaintively. “Do you see my torment?”

  Of course she saw it. She knew what he was saying was true. She’d known it even last night. But she hadn’t expected to feel like this. She hadn’t expected her heart to be so full. And she couldn’t very well empty it out because he said so.

  Maura tilted her head to one side and considered what he’d said. “What if your friend doesna care for me, then?”

  Nichol smiled wryly. “If he doesna care for you, he’s a bloody fool. He will. You will charm him as you’ve charmed me.”

  “What if he doesna offer for me? I can hardly hide my esteem for you. I certainly canna hide the fact that I’ve been tossed out on my arse.”

  His smile grew deeper. “What are you about, then, lass? Are you plotting? Do you mean to cause me trouble again?”

  She shrugged.

  “He will offer. He already has, in fact.”

  “No’ to me,” she said, and folded her arms. “He must extend an offer to me, then, and I must accept it for it all to be legal and proper, aye?”