by Tarah Scott
“Where is Lady Hilary?” Lord Burns snapped.
“At last we make progress,” the earl said. “What do you want with my dear cousin?”
“I want her to stay away from my son. She is trying to get her hooks into him.”
“Hilary?” Lord Rushton laughed. “When last I saw the chit she had nothing resembling hooks.”
“She was free with her charms last night,” Lord Burns snapped.
“Indeed? I would have given a small fortune to see that. In any case, you cannot blame her. It is, after all, a lady’s job to display her charms. How else are we men to know what we are getting ourselves into?”
Lord Burns was struck dumb. Eve understood how he felt, though her reason was, no doubt, different. Butterflies flitted across the inside of her stomach with the memory of the charms Lord Rushton had so obviously noticed in her.
“My son is to marry a woman with strong Scottish roots,” Lord Burns said through tight lips.
“That goes without saying,” the earl said. “But what has that to do with the youngsters? Surely, you remember what it was like to be young and flirt with the ladies? And we aren’t in Edinburgh, after all. If she danced two dances with your son instead of one, no one here on Mull will notice, and I find it impossible to believe Hilary’s brother would allow anything more.”
“Her brother isna’ here,” Lord Burns said. “He’s off fighting the Sassenach war.”
A cloud passed through Lord Rushton’s eyes. “David gone to war?” He sighed. “Given that Bonaparte sailed to Prussia and marched from there to the Russian front in mere months, you might consider the possibility that if he succeeds in crossing the channel he will march into Scotland just as quickly. This war belongs to us all.”
“Bah!” Lord Burns burst out. “I’m not interested in your politics. If your father isna’ here, tell your mother to keep a better watch on the girl. She was at the ball with her last night.”
“There you are,” the earl said. “Lady Rushton is the embodiment of respectability. You have nothing to fear.”
“My son is betrothed, has been since he was a child,” Burns said. “The girl is wasting her time.”
“I see,” Lord Rushton nodded. “You’re afraid Hilary will misunderstand your son’s attentions. But what have you to fear? You know how these young people are, they go out of their way to aggravate their elders.”
Eve couldn’t escape the notion that his lordship referred as much to himself as his young cousin.
Burns’ brows snapped downward. “My son knows his duty.”
“Then count yourself lucky,” Lord Rushton said. “He is far wiser than many older men. As for Hilary, she isn’t old enough to be allowed to hook a man yet, and I never knew her to take the attention of a swain to heart. Now, may I ask what brings you to Mull?”
Lord Burns blinked, clearly caught off guard with the change of subject. “James Rose leased a house here. He invited us.”
“James, a good man,” Lord Rushton said. “Do you hunt?”
“Aye, quail, and deer, sometimes.”
“Excellent,” Lord Rushton said. “You must hunt on Ravenhall. We have an abundance of deer. I’m sure we can arrange a time. My father is an avid hunter, and an excellent guide.”
Lord Burns stiffened. “I may not have time.”
The earl nodded. “I imagine James will keep you busy. However, there is a matter that might be of great interest to you, and one in which I think you might be in a position to help. Bring James, he will want to be apprised of the situation.”
“Situation, what situation?”
“We have a press gang stealing our men.”
“Press gang?” Lord Burns’ eyes blazed. “By God, are ye sure?”
“Absolutely certain. We encountered their ship on the way here.”
“God damn.” His face reddened in embarrassment and he glanced at Eve and Leslie. “Beg pardon, ladies.”
Eve nodded forgiveness, careful to keep the astonishment she felt at Lord Burns’ change of attitude from her expression.
“I understand Aberdeen is a favorite hunting ground for the slavers,” Lord Rushton said, “but I suspect this band bypassed the city this time.”
Lord Burns nodded. “The new legislation will have the constables on the lookout for the brigands.”
“Ahh, you know of the new law.” The earl nodded. “I had a suspicion you did. Are you acquainted with any of the constables in Aberdeen?”
“Aye, several, as a matter of fact.”
“Very good. My brother has been tracking Johnson, the captain of the ship we encountered. His inquiries have not gone as far as Aberdeen.”
“The bloody—” He broke off and cast Eve and Leslie another embarrassed glance, then said to Lord Rushton, “I’ll speak with James.”
“I look forward to hearing from you.”
Lord Burns nodded. “Ladies,” he nodded to them, then left.
“I cannot believe you didna’ shoot him,” Leslie said when the door closed behind him. “You know he didn’t want Hilary fraternizing with his son because your mother is English.”
“Perhaps,” Lord Rushton said, “but if I fought every man who didn’t want his child fraternizing with the English, I would have dawn appointments from now until Kingdom Come. Where is my father, by the way?”
“I haven’t seen him since you arrived.”
“You told Burns he was not here. Leslie, you lied to a guest?”
She gave a disdainful sniff. “I knew if I went to look for the laird, that fool would begin his own search. I couldn’t let him run free in the castle.”
“You’re quite right.” Lord Rushton winked, and Eve had to bite back a laugh. “Then I would have been forced to challenge him to a duel. You saved me.”
The maid blushed. “You exaggerate.”
“I never exaggerate. I suppose you had better run along now.” She left and he faced Eve. “You look a little more the thing than you did when we arrived earlier.”
“I am somewhat rested,” she replied.
“Will you walk with me to the great hall? We might be able to scrounge up some tea.”
She would rather do anything than spend time with him—especially alone—but she had to speak with him. Eve smiled. “Tea would be heavenly.”
He startled her by grasping her hand and placing it in the crook of his arm. Eve’s heart leapt and the urge to cry unexpectedly rushed to the surface. Dear God, she had to find a way to stop reacting to his touch.
“I half expected Lord Burns to call you out,” she said in what she prayed was a half amused tone.
His hand fell away from hers and left her aware of the play of muscle in his forearm as he walked, which was little better than the warmth of his fingers.
“The marquess wouldn’t take lightly a challenge made to his son in his own home. I suspect Burns knew that and it squashed the impulse,” he replied.
“I wanted to shoot him myself,” she said.
“We really must do something about your penchant for shooting men, my dear.”
She laughed. “That has more to do with the men I have been associating with of late. You must admit, Lord Burns would have deserved a bullet in his leg.”
“Perhaps, but it is far less dangerous to be the one making the challenge.”
“That is nonsensical. There is no difference.”
He smiled indulgently. “You have clearly never fought a duel.”
They entered the corridor and Eve started to precede him down the narrow passage, but he laid a hand on hers, preventing her from pulling away. His fingers exerted gentle pressure and Eve fought the impulse to look down at his hand, which felt as if it had swallowed hers in warmth.
“I am surprised you would suggest I engage in another duel.” His deep voice caressed her like the soothing water of a brook. “You seemed quite overwrought when I challenged Neville.”
Her stomach somersaulted in response to the remembered fear that he would die in th
at duel. “You were so set on dueling with Lord Halifax that I assumed it was a hobby of yours.”
“Ah, but he deserved it. Burns, on the other hand, isn’t worth the risk I would have to flee the Continent.”
She looked sharply at him. “What?”
He smiled down at her. “Not every battle is worth fighting.”
Her stomach did another, harder, somersault. “You are a strange man.” Eve realized what she’d said and clapped her free hand over her mouth.
His eyes lit with amusement. “And you are a very unusual woman.”
She removed the hand from her mouth. “That is not a compliment.”
“But it is.”
They turned a corner and Eve watched the floor ahead of her. “Do you think Lord Burns will truly help apprehend the press gang? What is your plan? You didn’t tell me what happened.”
“Not my plan, Miss Crenshaw. Ash will deal with the slavers.”
“But you told Lord Burns you wanted to speak with him about them.”
“Yes. I will apprise him and James of what happened. They might be able to provide information that will aid Ash in discovering the slaver’s destination.”
A strange melancholy seeped through her. “Of course. You won’t remain in Scotland long enough to help.”
“Sadly, I will not.”
“I am surprised you can do without the pleasures of London long enough to marry.” The words barely passed her lips and she wondered what kind of idiot she was for opening that can of worms.
“I know my duty,” he said with such obvious amusement that she wanted to box his ears.
“You had better speak with Lord Burns before he has a chance to remember why he came here,” Eve said. Lord, she had to change the subject. “I saw what you did to him.”
“What did I do to him?”
“You turned him from a charging bull to a supporter.” A light began to glimmer in her mind. “Now that I think of it, you got Leslie to nigh worship you.” And all with a wink.
“Worship me?” He laughed heartily. “You have a way with words, Miss Crenshaw.”
Eve looked at him. “You—you are doing it to me! Good Lord, I see it now. You’ve been doing it all along. Oscar was determined to kidnap you, but he scarcely had you inside the carriage before you charmed him into chasing after me instead. Lord Somerset follows your commands without a whimper when only days ago he wanted to challenge you to a duel.”
“Challenge me to a duel?” Lord Rushton frowned. “Why on earth would he do that?”
“Don’t pretend you have forgotten when you walked in on him and I at—oh, whatever party it was. He was furious with you.”
“I do seem to recall he was overset, but surely it wasn’t so bad that he wanted to shoot me?”
“You know he wanted to shoot you.” As did she. Eve was beginning to feel the urge yet again, then the last piece of the puzzle fell into place and she understood the thought that had begun to form when she observed how the earl handled Lord Burns. “You are a diplomat!”
He looked at her in surprise. “I think you overestimate my abilities.”
“I highly doubt that.”
He considered for two heartbeats. “I am…able bodied.”
Eve’s pulse stuttered. What was he saying?
“Of course, I have yet to prove just how able bodied.” His fingers flexed on her hand and her stomach quivered— as it had last night just before she’d melted beneath his touch. “But I stand ready to command.”
Ready to command? Scorching heat crept up her cheeks.
They turned another corner and a massive room came into view a few feet ahead. They entered and Eve was forced to concentrate on each step her legs took as he continued toward the long table in front of a massive hearth. His hand stubbornly remained on hers and she felt as if she were heating up like the large pot that hung over the fire.
Tapestries adorned the walls, illuminated by a scattering of lit sconces. Through an open doorway near the fireplace, Eve glimpsed a woman opening the door to a large stove and wished with all her might she could return to her room. Her cheeks were blazing. If any of the women saw her they would surely know something improper had passed between her and Lord Rushton.
“Will we dine here?” Eve asked.
“Not tonight. This room is reserved for larger parties.”
“You might consider just such a party. I can see the room filled with ladies and gentleman dancing. Grace is a wonderful dancer. She would be delighted to partner with you.”
“Madam, I have no intention of stepping into the lion’s den.”
Before Eve could reply, a woman stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Good afternoon, Laird.” Her gaze shifted to Eve.
“Belinda, this is Miss Crenshaw. Miss Crenshaw, may I present the honorable Mrs. Henderson. She is the housekeeper I mentioned earlier.”
Eve smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you,” she replied. “Would ye like a bite to eat?”
“Belinda is the best cook in all the Highlands,” Lord Rushton said. “Perhaps as good as your Mrs. Larson.”
He remembered her cook’s name? Heaven help her. Eve smiled at Mrs. Henderson. “Just tea, if it isn’t too much trouble. The long journey is beginning to catch up with me.”
“Unexpected trips have a way of doing that,” he said.
Eve startled. Was he reminding her of his kidnapping? “Beware,” she said with asperity, “there is yet time for more surprises.”
“You have a perverse sense of humor, Miss Crenshaw,” he said, then added, “Tea, Belinda. I believe the lady needs fortification.”
Mrs. Henderson ducked back into the kitchen, and Lord Rushton said, “Shall we sit?” he nodded to the bench at the long table.
Eve nodded and sat down as she said, “My lord, Grace and I cannot simply rusticate here as if on holiday. You must marry Grace and I will return home with the news to my father.”
He sat down beside her. “I don’t think so.”
Eve was caught off guard by his quick response. “If he doesn’t hear from us soon, he will come in search of us and I assure you, he will not be pleasant.”
“If you return home unmarried, he certainly will be unpleasant.”
“I can deal with my father,” she said.
“Miss Crenshaw, you aren’t an idiot. You know he won’t let you remain unmarried.”
“That is not your concern.”
“But it is.”
“It is selfish to force me to marry you because you want Grace less than you want me—and I do not want you.”
He shrugged. “I think you do.”
Her mouth opened in shock. “You are an arrogant ass.”
“You cannot have only just noticed that.”
“Let me be clear—” From the corner of her eye, Eve spied a girl emerge from the kitchen with a tea tray. Eve waited until she set the tray on the table and left before continuing, “I have no intention of marrying you because you made the mistake of coming into my room.”
“Will the fact you had me kidnapped do?”
“You, sir, are not a gentleman!”
“Sadly, I am not.”
Eve stared. “You are purposely being obstinate.”
“I believe I once pointed out that we are alike.”
“I will not make you a good wife.”
“I see.” he nodded. “I said I will make a bad husband, so you are responding in kind.”
She shook her head impatiently. “You misunderstand. I will not remain here in Scotland.”
“That is fortunate, for neither shall I.”
Dread stuck like a knife clear to her soul. She envisioned them retuning to London—and him returning to the women he touched just as he had her. “What I mean is, that I shall never return to Society,” she quickly added.
“May I ask why?”
“I cannot be a Society wife,” she said.
“Exactly what is a Society wife?”
; “A woman who marries out of obligation, then looks the other way while her husband lives his own life.” And she lives her own life, Eve privately added. “Grace can do that. I cannot. But, my lord, you would not flaunt your mistress in front of her, would you?”
“I do not keep a mistress,” he said coolly.
“That is only because even a mistress would not countenance a protector who fraternizes with other women like a butterfly flits from flower to flower.”
“Flits from—Madam, I do not flit.”
“Of course you do, but you will not do so after you are married—” at least she prayed not “—which means you will then keep a mistress as discreetly as other men of your station.”
“Married folk have lived together with just that sort of arrangement for eons,” he said.
“Not all. But you will, for you must choose a bride not out of love, but on the basis of her qualifications.”
“I think, my dear, the choice has been made.”
”Sir,” she began, then hesitated. “In Society, a wife cannot become too attached to her husband. I know this will sound foolish to a man like you but, well, I had rather planned on liking my husband.”
“And you do not like me?”
“No—I mean, yes. Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean.”
“You had hoped to form a more serious attachment than that permitted an earl?”
She nodded. “Forgive me, my lord, but that is your life. Not mine.”
“It seems my life is not to be envied,” he murmured.
“I did not mean it that way.”
He gave her a gentle smile. “I know.”
His gaze moved past her and Eve looked over her shoulder. A tall, older man strode toward them.
Lord Rushton leaned toward her and whispered, “Gather your wits, lass. You are about to meet the marquess.”
Chapter Sixteen
Erroll rose as his father approached, and pulled Miss Crenshaw up with him. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said as the marquess halted in front of them. “May I present Miss Eve Crenshaw? Miss Crenshaw, my father, the Marquess of Rushton.”
She dipped into a perfect curtsy. “My lord.” She rose.
“Miss Crenshaw,” he said. “I trust you are well?”