Marshal and the Heiress

by Potter, Patricia;

  “I told you she needed a friend,” Sarah Ann said, and everyone turned to stare at her. Barbara and Hugh obviously hadn’t noticed her until just then.

  Duncan stiffened even more. “I shall see to dinner,” he said.

  Effie giggled. “I’ll be there to help ye dress, Lady Lisbeth.”

  “This is really quite … scandalous,” Barbara said, but her lips twitched. Lisbeth thought that perhaps Barbara had a sense of humor after all.

  Only Hugh’s expression remained black and grew even darker when Ben picked her up. His arms were becoming quite familiar to Lisbeth. His hands seemed to burn right through the dressing gown. She studied his bronze face above the snowy-white shirt and tie. He really was handsome, even with a clenched jaw and a muscle twitching in his cheek.

  They were silent until they reached her room and he lowered her to the bed, then sat next to her.

  “I think we’ve just created a scandal,” she said.

  “I think we did,” he said, his lips twitching. “Your sister-in-law was genuinely appalled.”

  “Only because it wasn’t her,” she said.

  His hand rested on her bare arm. It burned her. He must have felt the heat, too, for he suddenly let go. His eyes devoured her, though.

  “At least Henry and Annabelle seem to have made peace.” She tried desperately to hold on to some control.

  “Annabelle is mellowing with the coming of motherhood. Still, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her chasing Henry tomorrow. She can be rather fickle.”

  Lisbeth had heard only one word he spoke: motherhood.

  “I’m pretty sure she isn’t getting that fat with cream,” Ben continued.

  “Sarah Ann must be delighted.”

  “She’s not the one who has to find homes for Annabelle’s litter. It isn’t going to be easy. Annabelle isn’t exactly the most beautiful cat alive. And God knows her temperament would test His fondness toward all living things.”

  “Sarah Ann thinks she’s beautiful.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured.

  Intimacy was cocooning them again. She was aware only of him, of the warmth that flooded her body, of the headiness of being with him. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations, relishing the closeness. Then, she felt a sudden chill, and she opened her eyes.

  He looked at her strangely, his head tilted as if in question. He was no longer smiling. The muscle continued to twitch in his cheek, though. “I’d better leave before more damage is done to your reputation,” he said stiffly.

  Hurt and bewildered by his change in mood, she tried to shrug indifferently. She wanted to ask why, but she couldn’t. Everything was too new, too fragile.

  “Barbara will always think the worst, and so will Hugh,” she stated.

  “And the servants?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  He hesitated a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then he rose. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He turned and disappeared out the door, leaving her feeling more than a little bruised, but not from the physical injuries.

  Dinner was a stiff, formal affair. Hugh was barely polite. Barbara chattered but her gaze kept moving from Ben to Lisbeth and back again. Sarah Ann said little and was watchful. Lisbeth was silent, looking more than a little mystified. Ben couldn’t blame her.

  What the hell he was doing? He had compromised Lisbeth in more ways than one. A gentleman would propose marriage. But he had no intention of marrying. His luck with women was dismal; his judgment lacking. And he couldn’t escape the fact that Lisbeth wanted something from him, something he wasn’t sure he could give.

  The more he studied Calholm’s books, the more he realized that Hugh and Barbara were right. Continuing with the horse-breeding could mean the bankruptcy or loss of Calholm, Sarah Ann’s legacy. Even if Shadow won the Grand National, he doubted the horses would ever pay their own way. But doubling the number of sheep would double the income. Ben could never evict the tenants, even if he had the right, but the training and hunting fields could be turned into pasture for sheep.

  How would Lisbeth feel about him then?

  He already knew, dammit.

  He’d been a fool to make love to her. He’d been a bigger fool to make it public, even inadvertently.

  “Ben?”

  Barbara’s decidedly cool voice brought him back to the dinner table.

  “I just thought you should know I’ve employed extra servants for the next few days for the ceilidh. Some of the guests will be staying two nights.”

  He nodded, but his gaze lingered on Lisbeth, on the way she looked in a silk dress that emphasized every slender curve and made her eyes deep and mysterious.

  “I’ll give you a guest list tomorrow and go over them with you,” Barbara persisted.

  Ben had no choice but to turn his attention to her. Hugh was frowning, jealousy apparent in his stare. He abruptly got up from the table and left without an explanation.

  Barbara looked flustered for a moment. “I don’t think … he feels well,” she said, trying to excuse him.

  Lisbeth sighed. “Hugh told me this morning he plans to leave Calholm after the ceilidh.”

  Barbara visibly paled. She bit her lower lip before covering her dismay with a slight smile. Her hands trembled, though.

  “He told you?”

  “He was saddling his horse when I went out to ride Shadow,” Lisbeth said. “He told me he would be sorry not to see Shadow at the steeplechase, and I asked why. He said something about Australia or America.”

  Ben watched Barbara’s fingers tighten around her wine glass, and saw the fear in her eyes. Did she really care about Hugh that much? Even if she did, it hadn’t stopped her from trying to seduce Ben and secure control of Calholm. That her heart might belong to Hugh had to be little comfort to the man who obviously loved her … and coveted Calholm.

  Ben’s gaze met Lisbeth’s. She was obviously searching for an explanation for his bewildering change of mood. He couldn’t explain. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  Ben was the first to lower his gaze, but not before he saw the hurt in Lisbeth’s face. He wanted to erase it. He wanted to kiss it away. But it would be a lie.

  He would hurt her again and again. He simply couldn’t trust totally. He had used too many people in his days as a lawman to believe others didn’t do the same.

  He’d never realized until now how bitter that legacy was.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Calholm filled rapidly with guests. Standing in the foyer with Sarah Ann beside him, Ben greeted them as they arrived. He tried to keep all their names straight. There were countless Hamiltons, many with the same first names. Then there were Lockharts, Flemings, Douglases, Montgomeries, Carmichaels, Boyds, and Cunninghams. And amidst the chaos, an army of servants, most hired from the village, scurried around like ants.

  After an hour of shaking hands and introducing himself and Sarah Ann, Ben was beginning to feel like an exotic insect on display, a “colonial” to the Scots, who wanted tales of gold and Indians. Moreover, his ears tired from deciphering the often heavy Scots accent. Added to that, he knew he would never get used to appearing in public wearing a skirt with nothing under it—and it didn’t make him feel one bit better that every other man in attendance was wearing one, too. He felt naked and embarrassed.

  To top it all off, he was wondering who was paying for all this. Calholm could ill afford the extravagance.

  Ben sighed. It was too late to do anything about any of it. All he could do was continue to shake hands and remind himself that it was for Sarah Ann, which made it worth the discomfort.

  So, he endured the newcomers’ questions, their inspection and their obvious skepticism. All knew about the missing heir, the adoption, the guardian. All had a fair amount of suspicion in their eyes. He was incredibly proud of Sarah Ann, who smiled and chatted courteously and curtsied again and again, charming everyone who met her.

  While Ben was patiently trying to answer two elderly Scotsmen’s questions about
Indians, he saw Duncan admit the one guest he had hoped wouldn’t come: Andrew Cameron. The damned Scot swept in as if he were Bonnie Prince Charlie.

  Sarah Ann saw him, too, and before Ben could stop her, she ran to Cameron. He swung her up into the air, earning gales of laughter and demands for a repeat. Cameron complied, then headed straight toward Lisbeth, who was sitting on a sofa in deference to her ankle and looking lovely in a gray silk gown. Cameron took her hand and held it much too long for Ben’s taste. The two exchanged greetings, then Sarah Ann whispered something in Lisbeth’s ear and Lisbeth whispered back, and Sarah Ann giggled. Then Cameron said something that made both females giggle.

  Ben felt left out, and thoroughly irritated. He didn’t want to believe his reaction had anything to do with jealousy.

  “Ben said you two had met.”

  Ben barely heard Lisbeth’s words to Cameron. His ear was being bent by Alex Douglas, who was rambling on with some nonsense about Indians he’d read in a book written by an author who obviously had never set foot in America.

  When the man paused for breath, Ben heard Cameron say to Lisbeth, “And how do you like the new … master of Calholm?”

  And then Alex Douglas began talking again, and Ben couldn’t hear anything else. But he saw Lisbeth laugh, and the beat of his heart slowed. His throat felt constricted, and he wanted to march the few feet toward Cameron and land a fist in his face.

  “Don’t Indians scalp their enemy?” Douglas said. “And run around naked?”

  Ben wanted to retort that compared to the Scots and their kilts, Indians were overdressed.

  “I heard your Scots army fought naked,” he said instead.

  “But that was hundreds of years ago,” Douglas pointed out.

  “Have you ever been in an Arizona desert?”

  “I have not.” The Scot drew himself up indignantly.

  “I suspect if you had, you might think nakedness rather desirable,” Ben said. “And now if you will excuse me …”

  He made his way over to Andrew Cameron and Lisbeth. “Cameron,” he acknowledged shortly.

  “Drew,” Cameron said. “Friends call me Drew.”

  Ben nodded, his gaze dropping to Lisbeth’s, noting the slight flush on her cheeks. Even Sarah Ann looked at Cameron with uninhibited adoration.

  The jealousy he’d tried to deny sliced through Ben like a sword. He’d never known anything like it before, had never tasted its bitterness.

  He hated it. And he didn’t understand it. Drew Cameron didn’t threaten anything he had, or wanted.

  Liar! an inner voice mocked him. You want Lisbeth, and you know it. The voice was so strong, so honest. He did want her. Not just for an afternoon or a night. He wanted her forever. He wanted her laughter and her determination, and her gentleness with Sarah Ann, and her love for Henry, whom no one else had wanted.

  “Drew is going to ride Shadow for me tomorrow,” she said, and Ben realized only an instant had passed, not the lifetime that such a soul-shattering discovery should take.

  The jealousy cut even deeper. The hunt would be for grouse in the morning, followed by races over the steeplechase course in the afternoon. They would take the place of a fox hunt, which Lisbeth refused to sanction. The race would give her a chance to show off Shadow, and she had planned to ride herself until her fall.

  Ben raised an eyebrow. “I thought Geordie—”

  “He’s not experienced enough,” Lisbeth said. “Drew’s raced in steeplechases before. That’s how Jamie and I met him. He’s a superb rider.”

  Ben realized his resentment was unreasonable. He had consciously played down his riding and shooting abilities. He was also intelligent enough to know that riding through mountains and deserts and valleys was not comparable to navigating a steeplechase course, with its closely placed hazards, some six feet high. He had few doubts he could keep his seat, but he would hold the horse back.

  “I wish you luck,” he finally told Drew. “I know how much this means to Lisbeth … and to Calholm.”

  “It will be good to have a Calholm mount again,” Drew said. “They’re the best in Scotland.”

  “In Britain,” she corrected him.

  “In Britain,” he agreed with a smile.

  And I might be the one who has to take them from her. Ben’s lips pressed together into a thin line. There had to be another way.

  Drew turned to him. “You’ve decided to stay in Scotland?”

  “I’m still waiting for word from your Parliament,” he replied.

  “I’m thinking about going to your American West,” Drew said.

  Ben hid his surprise.

  “Where would you suggest?”

  “Depends on what you’re after.”

  “Money.” Drew shrugged. “Gold. Excitement.”

  “Like Ian Hamilton?” Ben knew it must be common gossip now how Ian had died, shot down during a poker game.

  “I don’t intend to end up like Hamilton.” There was something suddenly hard in Drew Cameron’s voice, and Ben wondered whether he had underestimated the Scot, dismissing him as an aimless young lord who made a precarious living at gambling.

  “There’s gold fields in Colorado, silver mines in Montana. Mining camps are good places for gamblers … if you’re honest. If you aren’t, you’ll likely end up at the end of a rope. There are few formalities in the west.”

  Drew nodded. “I’ll take your advice. As you’ve probably discovered, there’s many an impoverished gentleman in Scotland. Ships headed for America are loaded these days.”

  Ben thought of two other impoverished Scotsmen: Ian and Hugh. It had to be difficult to be born in wealth, grow accustomed to it, and then be left with little or nothing because of archaic inheritance and tax laws.

  Regardless, he would be glad as hell to see Drew Cameron leave Scotland.

  Barbara came over then, drawing Ben away to meet two new arrivals. Sighing inwardly, he followed her. He would have sold his soul at that moment to be able to toss Lisbeth and Sarah Ann, even Henry and Annabelle, onto the nearest ship and take them to Colorado. He wished for his own horse, and he longed for the mountains and rich valleys. He longed for the home he hadn’t really considered a home until he thought he might lose it. He longed most of all for Lisbeth to share it with him.

  He longed for much more than he’d ever had.

  But at the moment, a kilted Scot and his wife stood waiting for introductions, and Ben could see the questions about barbarous Indians and ruthless gunslingers on the tip of their tongues, waiting to be asked.

  Lisbeth couldn’t dance with her twisted ankle, but she watched and tapped her foot to the tunes provided by the small band of musicians Barbara had hired. She loved the fiddles and flutes, the infectious gaiety of Scottish music.

  Barbara, as usual, was in great demand, but she was saving most of her dances for Hugh, which was odd. Usually, she flirted with everyone, giving no man more than a dance or two. She had been unusually attentive to their distant cousin lately.

  And Ben. Dear God, he looked magnificent in the plaid and jacket. His primal strength was emphasized by the heavy belt and jeweled dirk. He towered over everyone present, and his hard bronzed visage was striking among the paleness of many of the other faces. He looked, in fact, like a chief of old, dominating the room with his very presence.

  Lisbeth noted that despite Ben’s bad leg, he danced well. She’d already known by his speech and manners that he’d been raised as a gentleman, and this evening she’d seen further proof of it. In selecting partners who had few offers, he showed an innate kindness and compassion.

  Ben Masters was truly an extraordinary man. She only wished he wasn’t such a puzzle, a living, breathing contradiction. She was quite convinced he was a man who had lived on the edge of danger and had never stopped looking for it, even though he claimed to be a lawyer. He was also a man used to being alone. What else could explain the distance he tried to maintain between himself and anyone else, including her?

 
; “Lisbeth?”

  Lisbeth tore her gaze from Ben and looked up to see Drew Cameron standing beside her. “You look lost in thought.”

  “What do you think of Ben?” She shouldn’t ask such a question, but she trusted Drew’s judgment. There was much more to him than the profligate gambler he appeared to be. She often wondered why he flitted around like a gadfly when he had a mind like a steel trap.

  His face screwed up thoughtfully. Then, sitting beside her, he said, “He’s what he seems, and he’s not.”

  “That’s cryptic enough.”

  Drew grinned. “’Tis the best I can do. I have few doubts he’s a solicitor. He thinks like one. But he’s more than that. I can’t put my fingers on it, but … there’s a sharp edge to him. He doesn’t trust me, but I can’t fault that.”

  “I think you’re one of the most trustworthy people I know,” she protested.

  “Few would agree with your discerning generosity concerning my character,” he returned lightly.

  “I don’t think he trusts me, either,” Lisbeth confided. She needed to talk to someone, and Drew was the one person, other than Callum, she really considered a friend. He always made her feel comfortable and worthy of respect, perhaps because he too came from the Highlands.

  “I’ve seen the way Masters looks at you,” Drew said. “He practically devours you. And your eyes shine when you look at him.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “I’m afraid it is, my dear.”

  She sighed. “Barbara wants him.”

  “I think Barbara is occupied with Hugh. And in Edinburgh your Ben Masters didn’t look at her the way he looks at you.”

  “He isn’t mine. I’m not sure I even want anyone to be mine.”

  “Why?”

  “I like being independent,” she said, biting her lip. “I didn’t know how much until …” She stopped, realizing she’d almost said “until Jamie died.” She said a quick prayer for forgiveness.

  “It’s all right,” Drew said gently. “You didn’t cause his death. Don’t blame yourself for finding a measure of freedom.”