“She’s lovely,” Kirsty said, remembering her own early recollections of the Marchioness of Stonehaven, whom she’d met the night Niall was born.
“Sit here,” Mairi said, and kept beckoning until Kirsty gave in and seated herself before the mirror. “Then there was Ella. Lady Avenall now. Dark-haired, and with skin like ye never saw. Golden. And her eyes as dark as her hair. A beauty.”
“I know. I’ve seen her for myself, remember. Any sister of Max Rossmara’s would ha’ t’be a beauty.”
Mairi giggled, and Kirsty realized what she’d said. “I meant that they’re good-looking people, nothin’ more.”
“O’course ye didna mean anythin’ more,” Mairi said, taking down Kirsty’s hair and brushing it with long, sweeping motions. “I’m glad Ella—Lady Avenall—got her Saber. Now there’s a handsome man and only more handsome because of those scars he hid from her so long.”
“We do silly things to ourselves,” Kirsty said. “With no’ thinkin’ we’re worthy o’ this or that for some foolish reason.”
“Aye,” Mairi said, catching and holding Kirsty’s gaze in the mirror. “We do that, don’t we?”
Kirsty was the first to look away. “Max never has told me the whole story o’ what happened after Ella married Viscount Avenall. D’ye know why there was talk of it no’ being a marriage at all?”
“Devlin North,” Mairi said, and sighed. “Another beautiful man. He fell in love wi’ Ella—like so many did—and tried t’take her from the viscount. His love for her drove him t’do terrible things. He injured Viscount Avenall and locked him away. Accused him o’ all sorts o’ crimes against Ella. But she fought for her husband, and everythin’ came out all right.”
As Kirsty watched, Mairi fashioned natural curls into ringlets and pinned them on either side of Kirsty’s head. Across the crown she secured a narrow piece of the material used to make the dress. This had been stiffened and white rosebuds sewed at each end. The roses nestled among Kirsty’s ringlets.
“There,” Mairi said. “Ye’re a beautiful girl yoursel’.”
Self-conscious, Kirsty began to poke at the roses.
“Now then,” Mairi said sternly. “Ye’ll no’ do that, miss. Here.” She applied the tiniest amount of light rouge to Kirsty’s lips.
Rather than protest, Kirsty looked at herself and felt too surprised to do other than say, “It looks nice.”
Mairi laughed. “O’course it looks nice. Now, the jewels.”
“I’d as soon put on the dress now,” Kirsty told her. “The jewels make me nervous.”
Once more she climbed into the petticoats and stood still while Mairi maneuvered the dress into place and fastened the back. A sash was attached at the back of the waist, then draped gracefully forward and down the length of the skirt. At the ends of the sash were more roses.
Standing before a long mirror, Kirsty held Mairi’s shoulder and put her feet into slippers covered with the same fabric as the dress. With every move she made, colors shot through the gown. She thought of her mother, and wished she could be here—here and happy to see her daughter dressed so.
Her mother wouldn’t be happy. Neither would her father. They’d both think she was shaming them by taking such finery from strangers. “I feel foolish,” Kirsty said. “As if I’m doin’ somethin’ I know I shouldn’t, and everyone will know.”
“Well, ye’re not,” Mairi said, and frowned when a knock came at the door to the sitting room. “Who is it?” she called.
“Max Rossmara,” came the low reply.
Kirsty’s hands went to her throat.
Mairi left her side at once and went into the sitting room.
“No,” Kirsty said urgently. “Mairi, dinna let him in.” She looked at herself again, at the expanse of her skin that showed over her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. And she looked at the rouge on her lips. Mother would say she was a painted lady.
“Come in, sir,” she heard Mairi say.
It was too late to change, or to plead being indisposed, either.
She saw Max enter. In evening dress he was a splendid sight.
“Come along then, Kirsty,” he said. “Great-grandmama asked me to accompany you to The Hallows.”
Mairi giggled, and Kirsty closed her eyes for a moment, praying she could be composed. She walked into the sitting room.
The smile on Max’s face faded. His hands dropped to his sides and he stared at her. From head to foot, he stared at her, coming back to look into her eyes.
“Och,” Mairi said suddenly. “We’ve almost forgotten the jewels.”
“She doesn’t need them,” Max said. “She’s more beautiful than any jewels. But I’ve brought what she’ll wear.”
Flustered, Kirsty looked about until she found the fan the dowager had sent for her. She laughed lightly and flipped it open. “Another speedy lesson. I’m afraid I dinna know how t’say anythin’ wi’ the thing, but at least I can use it to make mysel’ cooler.”
Still Max didn’t smile. His dress was severe. He did wear a white waistcoat but it was made of a heavy, plain fabric rather than satin. His cravat was simply tied and secured with a smooth gold pin devoid of any gems.
From his right coat pocket he pulled a handful of glittering stones. “I decided I should like to see you entirely in diamonds. Aquamarines are pretty enough, but not pretty enough for you. May I put these on for you?”
She hadn’t even the wit to argue. At a loss for words, she stood and allowed him to fasten a necklace formed like a collar made from a web of diamonds. A matching bracelet soon adorned her left wrist, and he carefully put a single large diamond on each ear.
Kirsty drew in a shaky breath, lifted her wrist so that the bracelet threw prisms of light in all directions, and said, “Max Rossmara, ye foolish man. Ye know it’s no’ seemly for me t’be seen in such finery. Take it off now. What would people say?”
He laughed aloud, and with such delight that she caught his hand and shook him to try to get his attention. “It’s no’ seemly for ye t’have me wear these.”
Max kept on laughing until Mairi joined him.
“Och,” Kirsty said. “Look at the two o’ ye. Daft, ye are. Laughin’ at nothin’ but foolishness.”
When she tried to unfasten the bracelet, Max stopped laughing and his large hand descended on hers. “Oh, no, dear one. I went to some lengths to obtain those, and you will wear them.”
Mairi withdrew discreetly to the bedroom and closed the door.
“What’ll everyone think?” Kirsty asked when she was alone with Max.
“Let them think what they please.”
“And what will the dowager say when I dinna arrive in her—”
“Tell her quietly that I insisted you wear these. She is a tyrant, but she reacts appropriately to such things.”
Kirsty decided not to pursue that topic. “I’m no’ goin’. I’m no’ meant t’be at such things.”
“The carriage is at the door, Kirsty,” Max said. “And I am going to take the most beautiful guest of all to the ball.”
Max took the light shawl and arranged it over her shoulders, and held out her reticule.
“We appear to be ready,” Max said, offering his arm.
Kirsty looked at it.
Max waited, then said, “What is it? What are you thinking?”
She placed her hand on his arm and glanced up at him. “I’m thinkin’ o’ moors in summer. An’ bare feet. An’ the smell o’ flowers in the sun.” She had to stop and swallow. “An’ I’m thinkin o’ pretty bubbles shinin’ in the air.”
“And wishes?” he asked.
She nodded. “Aye, and wishes.”
“I won’t lose you, Kirsty. I can’t.”
Her breaths grew shallow. She parted her lips and felt her color rise.
“You do know that, don’t you?”
“I know there are plenty who intend t’make sure we canna be together. An’ they’re powerful, Max.”
He brushed the backs
of his fingers over her cheek. “When I look at you there is no man more powerful than I am. I could slay dragons for you, and I will if I have to. And I’m no longer prepared to make do with compromises. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
She could only frown at him.
“Do you understand?” he persisted. He raised her left wrist where the diamonds he’d placed there shimmered with white brilliance. “I have purchased something else to go with this, and one day you shall wear it. There are matters I must attend to first, but you will wear it, Kirsty.”
He spoke of marriage. Kirsty’s heart plunged. He was big and strong, and at this minute, in this place, alone with her, he was sure of himself and determined. But when his family stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, they persuaded him that he had certain duties, and he could not go against them. Then what? She had agreed to be his mistress, and then she’d offered herself. She had stood naked before him, and he’d denied her. Did that mean he would not have her on those terms?
Max pulled her into his arms so unexpectedly she cried out. His mouth on hers made certain that if she made another sound it wouldn’t be heard. He kissed her gently enough, but left her in no doubt that she had, indeed, been kissed.
“We must go,” he told her softly. “I should prefer to remain here with you, but I would bring my father’s wrath upon our heads, and I don’t intend to do that. From time to time my uncle and Father have suggested I should make a fine politician. I think I shall show them that they may be right. Persuading them of the wisdom of leaving me to make my own decisions regarding my personal life would certainly be an excellent example of my potential as a statesman.”
Kirsty smiled at him and went with him downstairs and outside to the carriage, expecting to see other members of his family present.
The carriage was empty.
As if he heard what she was thinking, Max said, “There are too many of us for one carriage,” and helped her inside.
The coachman put up the steps, and they were off, swaying and trundling over the ground. Kirsty didn’t know for sure where The Hallows lay, but she knew it was some miles distant.
Max sat opposite. Light from the swinging coachlamps spread precious little illumination inside. Kirsty’s voluminous skirts spread over Max’s knees, and she attempted to move the material aside.
Without warning, Max reached down and clasped her ankles. He lifted them onto his thighs, and before she could protest, he said, “Don’t begrudge a man a small pleasure. A chaste touch of his beloved’s feet beneath the drape of her skirts. What harm can there be in that?”
“It isn’t seemly,” Kirsty said, proud of her firm voice. “And we both know how these things have a way of leading to other things.”
“Oh, no such thing,” he told her, managing to sound vaguely outraged at the suggestion. “A man such as myself, above reproach in all things? You think I would take advantage of the fact that you are a great deal smaller than I, and that I have your ankles in my grip so that if you try to escape me, I can have you tumbled and completely at my mercy with the minimum of effort?”
“You, Max Rossmara, were a bad laddie, and ye’re a bad man.”
His grip on her ankles tightened until it hurt.
“Max!”
“Don’t call me that again.”
“Ye change so swiftly. What did I say t’make ye angry now?”
The last thing she expected was for him to go to his knees on the floor—between her legs. And she didn’t expect him to put his head in her lap.
“Get up,” she told him urgently. “Quickly. What if we have t’stop for somethin’?”
“We won’t have to stop for anything. Comfort me, Kirsty. I need your comfort. I need you.”
Bewildered by the sudden change in him, she rested a hand on his hair. “I’ll always gi’ ye comfort. Ye know that.”
“Hold me.”
Kirsty bent over him. She ran her fingers beneath his stiff collar, combed her fingers through his hair, stroked his back. “What is it, Max? Tell me.”
“I hate the world. I hate the way it takes and twists things. Good things. I hate the way it doesn’t treasure what’s good, and how it rewards evil and avarice.”
“And you do your best to be fair,” she told him. “You do your part to make the world better. But we’ve only one tiny bit o’ the world. Think o’ that and dinna try to deal wi’ the rest.”
“Wise Kirsty,” he said.
He ran his hands up the backs of her legs to the tender places behind her knees.
The effect shocked Kirsty deliciously. She jumped and pressed against the squabs, turning her head aside. “Ye shouldna, Max. It’s no’ seemly.”
“It’s no’ seemly,” he mimicked, his voice oddly rough. “But it feels so good, my love. And I yearn for what feels good—as long as it’s with you.”
So easily he switched his attention to the tops of her thighs above the garters that held her stockings in place. “This is such arousing flesh. Did you know that?”
“No,” she told him very firmly. “How should I know such a thing . . . except, I admit . . . it does feel verra good when ye touch it.”
He raised his head and reached up, seeking her mouth, and she kissed him back with all the passion she felt for him. The tickling of his fingertips in her groin made her nipples tingle, and she squirmed. Max chuckled and darted his tongue into her mouth. For an instant his fingers left their quest, but only long enough to separate her drawers and find a way inside. He tugged lightly on the hair there, kissing her all the time.
She grew impossibly hot and managed to shrug out of her shawl. Max used the opportunity to lick the tops of her breasts, and to thrust his tongue beneath her neckline to tease a nipple.
“Oh, Max,” she said, sighing. “Oh, Max.” She blinked and tried to focus on what was outside. Very little was to be seen. “Please stop. I dinna know how much more I can take an’ still manage to look mysel’ when we get there.”
“You will never be who you were again, my love. I claim you for my own. Remember those words,” he said against her breasts. “You are mine.”
The heat in her body was wonderful, wonderfully sweet. In the distance she saw lights. “Max, I think we’re almost there.”
“Then I must not be so leisurely, must I,” he said. With one finger he found that most private opening into her body and moved inside the slightest way.
“Max!”
“Hush, sweet. It’s all right. I’ll do nothing to hurt you.”
He moved the finger, and while he did so, he flipped his thumb back and forth on the smooth place that swelled at his attention. Everything he touched swelled, and grew damp. Kirsty slid her bottom forward on the seat. She shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself.
“My love,” Max whispered, moving his finger and thumb faster. “Relax and let this happen to you.”
Kirsty already knew what to expect, and she yearned for it, strained from her inner self to reach it. “What about you?” she asked him. “I want to do this for you.”
“And I want you to do it for me. And you shall. And you will also tell me whose idea it was for you to initiate that little shock you used to all but bring me to my knees the other day.”
“Oh,” she gasped. It was happening, the darting, burning feeling that joined breast and belly, and the places beneath his fingers, in exquisite sensation. Her hips rose from the carriage seat, and rose again. She could do nothing to control the movements of her body.
“Who told you to do that to me?”
“The . . . dowager.”
He paused for an instant before continuing. “Your mind is addled.”
“That little shock almost brought you to . . . Oh, Max. To your knees. You’re on your knees now. Oh, Max!”
With mouth and tongue he moved one side of her bodice beneath her breast and fastened his teeth on the nipple. Each firm suckling echoed a contraction within her womb and her womanly passage.
He released her nipp
le, and said, “The dowager told you how to fondle a man until he loses control of himself?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t think anymore. “To make sure there would be no babies until you and your wife have your own babies, I think she said. She said a mistress must be practiced in such arts.”
“That woman will always have the power to amaze me.” Making what sounded like a growling noise, Max tossed her skirts over his head and used his tongue to finish what he’d started.
Chapter Twenty-four
Gertrude hadn’t struggled against abject adversity throughout her early years without developing enough courage to deal with the likes of the man who glared down at her tonight. She had spent years grooming herself, making enough of herself eventually to entice a doddering old count to bed her, then marry her when he was too drunk to know what he was doing.
The old fool had had money, too, and he left it all to her when he died. He just hadn’t had enough money to keep Gertrude as she intended to be kept forever. The opportunity to make sure she never wanted for another thing in her life had finally presented itself, and she would not allow it to slip through her fingers.
She stood in her parlor, ready to go down to the ball. Why had this impressive man chosen this, of all nights, to arrive with his demands?
“You will never speak my name, is that understood?” he said, stopping his pacing for a moment to fix her with a stare that might wither most people. “I know a certain other gentleman came to see you on this matter. He reported back to me, and I had expected the offending material in my hands some time ago. Where is it?”
The countess checked the fastening on her diamond and jet bracelet. “I think you may have forgotten the terms of our agreement, my lord.”
“I never forget anything,” he told her, bowing his large head slightly. “You may have forgotten that I am the man who has brought thousands to their knees on the field of battle. I shall not be intimidated by one greedy woman. Harriette Wilson’s nonsense memoirs were one thing. Damn courtesan past her prime. Commonplace enough affairs, so to speak. Publish and be damned was what I told her of her foolishness when she asked for money to keep me out of them. This is another matter. This I will not have made public. I demand that you present what you have at once.”
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