The Master Of Strathburn

by Amy Rose Bennett

  He meant the kiss to be soft and lingering, a gentle homage to everything Jessie meant to him, but it soon became apparent that his passionate wife had other ideas. When she grasped the back of his head and moved her mouth urgently against his, he lost control of all the pent-up emotion within him and returned her kiss with equal ardour. And the mad world behind them disappeared.

  Robert pushed her against the brick wall of the close and devoured all she offered. His tongue and lips explored her mouth thoroughly, savouring her heady sweetness.

  He felt Jessie’s hands slide beneath his jacket and frantically clutch at the wet linen clinging to his chest and then his back; her hands were everywhere, as if she wanted to rip his shirt away. He too, was impatient to touch her skin, the wet silk of her gown was suddenly a barrier he couldn’t tolerate. His hunger for her, all of her, was growing steadily with each passing moment. He pushed his hand under the folds of the greatcoat, seeking her breast …

  ‘Now, now, Lord Lochrose. Dinna make me arrest you for engaging in inappropriate displays of affection an’ harassment of a lady in a public place.’

  Robert dragged his head up and looked over his shoulder. Captain McBryde, atop a fine cavalry steed, was right behind them. Damn the man to hell. Panic spiked. Robert prayed the soldier’s keen eyes hadn’t noticed the outline of the pistol butt beneath his jacket. He pulled Jessie closer to his body to hide the telling blood stains on her gown.

  Despite the officer’s outwardly stern expression though, Robert thought he detected a glint of amusement in the man’s eyes. Clearing his throat he said smoothly enough, ‘I’m just taking care of my wife, Captain. She was in the sedan chair with Lady Strathburn, you know.’

  Captain McBryde raised an eyebrow. ‘I see.’ To his credit, the man had not baulked in the slightest at Robert’s use of the word wife when he’d referred to Jessie.

  He glanced behind Robert to Jessie. ‘Do you know where Lady Strathburn is then, milady?’

  The question was inevitable. Robert felt Jessie stiffen in his arms, but she held the captain’s gaze steadily. ‘I’m afraid not, Captain. You see, I took a wee bump to the head and in all the confusion I’m no’ sure what happened.’

  Robert smiled inwardly; he was nothing but impressed with Jessie’s quick thinking and display of sang-froid.

  However, McBryde was frowning. ‘Are ye sure you are all right?’

  ‘I’m quite well, Captain,’ Jessie replied with apparent calmness. Her mouth lifted into a shy smile as she added, ‘especially now my Lord Lochrose is here to look after me.’

  Perhaps still sensing something was amiss, the captain’s gaze darted to Robert, before returning to Jessie. Given the incident this morning, and the peculiarity of Jessie accompanying the countess in a sedan chair meant for one, it was no wonder he was suspicious. Nevertheless, he merely smiled back and inclined his head. ‘Perhaps I could call on you later this afternoon at Strathburn House to take yer statement about the accident.’

  ‘Tha’ would be quite all right,’ said Jessie with an elegant tilt of her head. ‘We shall expect you.’

  McBryde’s brow suddenly creased with mock sternness. ‘Are ye sure this man isna bothering you, Lady Lochrose? I can still have him arrested if he is, you ken.’

  Her smile widened. ‘I can assure you, Captain, that I’m being verra well taken care of.’

  McBryde grinned. Then he caught Robert’s eye. ‘Well, as you were then, milord.’ He turned his horse away.

  Robert gave Jessie the lopsided grin meant only for her as he gathered her close again—the woman he loved more than anything, his wife. ‘Who am I to disobey the law?’

  Epilogue

  April 1758

  Lochrose Castle, Strathspey, Scotland

  The mirror-like waters of Loch Kilburn reflected the clear blue sky and the spring green foliage of the surrounding woods when Robert and Jessie chose a place to share their picnic. A weeping willow tree seemed as good a place as any to spread their blanket amidst the clusters of daffodils, purple crocuses and snowdrops. To Jessie it seemed like their own private paradise.

  It had been some weeks since they had managed to steal some time alone together. Their infant son, William Robert Alasdair Grant—or Will as Jessie was wont to call him—had only recently settled down for a proper sleep after a few fractious days and nights of teething. Although Annie Shaw, Tobias’s cousin, made an excellent nursemaid, it was not until this morning that Jessie had felt comfortable enough to leave their precious seven-month-old son for more than a few hours. Dark-haired like Robert, and brown-eyed like herself, he was a beautiful boy, healthy and strong, with generally—teething aside—a happy disposition and ready smile.

  Just like his father Jessie thought as she glanced at Robert. He was unpacking the bread, cheese and French Chablis from the basket Mrs McMillan had packed. A lock of his dark hair had fallen across his brow, hiding his deep blue eyes from view. He’d removed his jacket and half boots and was now dressed only in a linen shirt, open at the neck and buckskin breeches. She was suddenly hungry, but not for what was being spread before her on the blanket.

  She smiled to herself, contemplating how they would spend the next few hours. Yes, today she was determined to enjoy every single moment she had alone with her handsome husband. She knew they could count on complete privacy here by the loch. There was no one else at Lochrose, save for their son, who could have any reason to claim their time. Indeed, Lord Strathburn and her father were currently in Inverness on estate business and were not likely to return for another few days.

  Even though she was now a Viscountess, her father had chosen to continue on as factor. He had reasoned that the estate would need to have the best of managers to ensure his grandchildren would be inheriting the healthiest of legacies. And Robert and Lord Strathburn had been happy for him to do so.

  Robert had seen that in a very short space of time, her father had made a real difference to the estate’s profitability. In fact, it had taken only six months for the estate, under her father’s careful stewardship, to generate enough income for the reacquisition of the land that had been sold off to pay the mountainous debts of Lady Strathburn and Simon. With the restoration of Clan Grant lands and rapid replenishment of the family coffers, Robert was able to offer what he considered suitable compensation to all of the clan families that had lost someone at Culloden. Jessie suspected that Robert’s guilt would never be completely assuaged, but she knew that he was less troubled than he had been before.

  Of course, her father had been initially confounded and more than a little troubled at the unseemly haste with which she had become hand-fasted to Lord Lochrose. Jessie—out of a desire to spare her father unnecessary strain—had provided him with a highly edited version of the events that had taken place over the tumultuous seven days that had brought her and Robert together. She did not like to lie to her father, but detailing all of her near misses—particularly at the hands of Simon and Lady Strathburn—would only cause him stress and would not do a thing to alter what had occurred.

  Naturally her father had been deeply concerned that she was marrying a reprobate of the first order—even though Lord Lochrose was now a pardoned Jacobite. But she had soon convinced him that Robert genuinely cared for her and she for him, and that she did indeed wish to be his wife. So it was on a clear snow-powdered day in November of 1756 that her father had happily walked her down the aisle of Kilburn Kirk to be officially wed to her reformed gentleman Jacobite. It had been one of the most joyous days of her life.

  Lord Strathburn continued to be the most gracious of fathers-in-law, despite Jessie’s own humble background. He always made her feel as if she was more than a worthy partner for Robert, and for that she was most grateful. But even after a year and a half of marriage to a peer of the realm, Jessie still found it difficult to believe that she would be the next Countess of Strathburn, and that her and Robert’s son would one day be the earl. She felt truly blessed for all that she had been
given, not the least of which was her most beloved and loving husband.

  Lord Strathburn had quietly mourned the untimely death of his wife. After the countess’s body had been discovered with Simon’s duelling pistol in Holyrood Park, there had of course, been an investigation. Fortunately, Captain McBryde had believed both her own and Robert’s stories—that she had been dazed after the sedan chair accident and that Robert had come upon her as he’d been returning from Leith Docks. Baird had never been seen again. So with little evidence to go on, the coroner had ultimately made a finding of death by misadventure rather than suicide. Jessie thanked God every day that she and Robert had both somehow managed to escape unscathed.

  Jessie suspected Lord Strathburn felt both the sorrow of losing a woman he had once loved as well as the disappointment of realising how bitter and vengeful she had become. But he had slowly adapted to the life of a widower. Indeed, it was evident to both Jessie and Robert that the earl’s recently recovered joie de vivre and vigour had directly coincided with the birth of Will. Lord Strathburn was very much the doting grandfather and could often be found in the nursery or the garden, dandling his laughing grandson on his knee.

  Jessie also firmly believed that Robert’s return home, together with the arrival of a healthy grandson, were the only reasons her father-in-law was able to cope with another loss in his life—the death of Simon.

  Word of Simon’s demise had come to Lochrose a little over a year ago. After The Phoenix had departed for the Caribbean, Robert had sent word of Lady Strathburn’s death to Drummond via another merchant ship bound for Jamaica. According to Drummond, Simon had not taken the news well; he had, by all accounts, gotten horrendously drunk in a tavern in a highly disreputable part of Kingston and had been killed in a taproom brawl.

  Jessie knew that Robert had fully intended to release Simon from his tenure aboard The Phoenix once a year and a day had passed. Drummond had reported that prior to putting into port in Kingston, Simon had actually started to show some acceptance of his lot and had begun to willingly participate as an active crewmember aboard the ship. This news had comforted Lord Strathburn a little; the idea that his youngest son had demonstrated some strength of character indicated that perhaps at last, Simon was actively attempting to reform himself.

  As for Robert, Jessie knew in her heart that the deep scars he’d borne for so long were beginning to heal. She could see it every day in his easy smiles and the laughter that was frequently alight in his blue eyes. Or oftentimes it was desire. Indeed, the eyes that were regarding her now contained a decidedly heated, speculative look as he handed her a glass of wine.

  Jessie accepted the cool, pale Chablis and gave her husband a deliberately provocative smile. She took a sip then keeping her eyes locked with Robert’s, she carefully placed the glass to the side of the blanket. She wondered if he’d already guessed what her plan was. Although they had been married nearly eighteen months they had never once visited the loch to make love. It was definitely time for her and Robert to create a new and lasting memory of their own in this place.

  Robert raised a dark eyebrow. ‘It’s not to your taste, my love?’

  She smiled again and began to fiddle with the ribbons lacing the front of her gown’s bodice. ‘It’s lovely, but … I rather think I hunger for the taste of something else right now.’ She noticed the immediate flare of reciprocal hunger in Robert’s eyes as she continued to loosen the ribbons, slowly revealing her fine lawn chemise. She’d deliberately chosen this dress—a lovely, frivolous creation of pale lemon and ivory striped silk with a low scooped neckline and trailing ivory lace sleeves—for its combination of prettiness and ease of removal.

  Since seduction of her husband had been foremost in her mind as she’d readied for the picnic, she’d also dispensed with wearing stays. She let her gown slip off her shoulders before she proceeded to slowly undo the three pearl buttons fastening the front of her chemise, one by one. All the while Robert was watching her with still and avid attention.

  He leaned back on one elbow, his long legs and naked feet extending out across the dark blue wool rug, the wine glass he held in his fingers all but forgotten. When she dropped her eyes to the telling swell within his breeches, she felt the force of her own arousal begin to pulse deep within her; her breathing quickened and her nipples hardened to tight, aching points.

  Her breasts now free of the constraining fabric of her bodice and chemise, she set about the task of slowly unpinning her hair from the carefully arranged coiffure on top of her head, letting the long curls tumble about her shoulders. She knew Robert loved it when she wore her hair unbound. Robert’s eyes didn’t leave her once. She was pleased to notice the pace of his breathing had increased as well.

  ‘I think it’s a wee bit warm today, milord, an’ you are wearing decidedly too many clothes, dinna you agree?’ she asked, her voice husky with wanting. She leaned forward and set aside his wine glass before loosening the cuffs on his sleeves and pulling the shirt from the waistband of his breeches. She was about to lift the garment over his head when he sat forward and pulled the shirt off himself, throwing it onto the grass unheeded. Her eyes dropped briefly to take in the sheer beauty of his lean, well-muscled torso. His mouth was now a mere breath away from hers. She licked her lips and his mouth curved in a smile.

  ‘Still hungry?’ he asked, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. He sought to tease her too, but she was not finished with him, not by any means.

  She kissed him lightly on the mouth before drawing back slightly. ‘Very. But I think I’m in the mood for something a wee more full-bodied than a kiss.’ After eighteen months of wedded bliss to a passionate, loving man, she was shy no more when it came to giving and receiving physical pleasure. Not that she ever really had been when it came to Robert …

  Robert let her push him back onto the rug and she ran her fingers over the hard planes of his chest and ridged abdomen until she reached his breeches. He was holding his breath, waiting. She flicked the buttons of his fall front open with tantalising slowness, deliberately building his anticipation until at last his engorged cock sprang free. An intensely hot thrill skittered through her. He was all hers to do with as she liked.

  Smiling, she caught his heavy lidded gaze and brushed one of her peaked nipples across the head of his cock, noting with satisfaction his sharp intake of breath. She lazily ran her fingers down the long, rock hard shaft until she held him firmly around the base, the better to hold him steady as she feasted.

  Then, no longer able to resist the temptation he offered, she bent her head and swirled her tongue around the ruddy head, glorying in the silky texture and musky taste of his sex. Delicious. He groaned and she felt his hands twist into her hair. Then she took as much as she could of his sizeable length into her mouth, sucking rhythmically up and down with hot sliding suction.

  She revelled in the power she had over him, thrilled to hear him pant and groan her name as he began to lose control and swell even more in her mouth—until he exploded into her and she drank willingly of his warm, salty seed. Raising her head, she licked her lips and smiled down at her husband as he lay sprawled before her, spent and gasping. There was no sight in the world that she could ever possibly enjoy more.

  When Robert opened his eyes at last, they were dark, almost black with desire. He reached up and pulled her head down to claim her mouth, his tongue stroking and teasing her thoroughly whilst he gently tugged and rolled one of her nipples with the fingers of his other hand. She moaned and he released her mouth.

  ‘My turn now,’ he growled before rolling her underneath him. ‘You’re not the only one who’s starving, mo chridhe.’

  * * *

  Robert looked down at the beautiful woman beneath him, and tipped his mouth into a slow, crooked smile. The divine creature that was his wife had taken her fill—now it was definitely his turn to taste and tease until she shuddered and cried out his name.

  He’d already suspected that she had more than a picn
ic in mind when she’d asked Mrs MacMillan to pack a basket for their lunch. Will, their handsome, healthy son, had been all smiles in the nursery earlier so he knew that Jessie would be happy to leave the babe in the care of his nurse for most of the afternoon.

  Which meant he’d been looking forward to this time alone with Jessie all morning—no, that wasn’t quite true. If he was brutally honest with himself, he knew he’d longed to make love to Jessie by the loch from the moment he’d first seen her here, all that time ago. And for the life of him, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of this sooner. But his wife had, and he was about to thank her.

  He claimed her sweet siren’s mouth again and caressed the sensitive undersides of her full breasts with feather-light touches that provoked her rose-pink nipples into tight succulent buds. She shifted so that his fingers grazed over the furled dusky points and he smiled against her lips. ‘Do you want me to taste you there, mo ghaoil?’

  ‘Aye,’ she murmured, burying her hands in his hair and pushing his head down as she arched up. ‘You torture me with wanting.’

  ‘Hmm. Well let me see if I can ease the pain.’ He dipped his head and began to suckle and lave each breast in turn until she was panting and squirming, her legs and hips pushing against his, making his cock throb all over again.

  He rose up onto his knees and lifted her skirts, running his hands up her long, slender thighs, until his thumbs reached the tight ginger curls that hid her sex. She parted her legs willingly, and he smiled with lazy satisfaction when he saw how she glistened with moisture. He was going to enjoy this.

  He slid this thumbs along her folds, parting them gently until he had exposed the hard nub of her clitoris. Hot lust pounded through him at the sight, making him dizzy. Bending forward, he delicately flicked her quivering centre with his tongue. She gasped and her hands twisted into the blanket beneath her.