Nicola Cornick - [Scottish Brides 01]

by The Ladyand the Laird

  “Cardross is a traitor,” he said. “He has been using Golden Isle secretly as a rendezvous with enemy French ships.”

  Robert saw Jack straighten and come alive, his gaze narrowing with sharp interest. Up until that point he had been listening politely, but Robert had known his cousin’s attention was elsewhere. Now, though, his interest was acute. There was nothing Jack liked more than a challenge.

  “You are accusing Wilfred Cardross of treason,” Robert said. “You need to be very sure of your facts.”

  All the men looked back at him, certainty in their eyes.

  “No mistaking it,” one of them said. He looked as though he wanted to spit on the floor at the mention of Cardross’s name but thought better of it in the laird’s presence. “I’ve seen with my own eyes that totie wee craft he calls a ship. All scarlet and gold and sails as poorly as a tin tub, out there in the bay meeting with the French privateers.”

  “He takes their brandy and lace,” another man said, “and gives them information in return.”

  “What sort of information?” Robert questioned sharply.

  “Defenses, troop numbers, maneuvers,” McCall said quietly. “Details of the garrison on Zetland.” The others nodded.

  “One of Cardross’s crew was Frazer’s wee boy from Orkney,” one of the elders said. “He gave the game away when Cardross betrayed his brother to the press-gang.”

  “Double-dealing traitor.”

  “Turncoat.”

  “He stole our free trading rights,” someone said, sounding outraged that the islanders’ own illegal smuggling trade had been curtailed by Wilfred Cardross’s actions.

  “Bastard.” The word was hissed with a great deal of venom. Robert felt the ripple of violence and hatred around the room, growing now like a living thing.

  “The problem was that no one believed Frazer’s wee lad.” The eldest of the elders, whom Robert had believed to be asleep, now spoke up from the depths of his chair. “But they would trust you, laird. They would believe you.”

  “Aye.” Again the word rumbled around the room, this time accompanied by a number of fervent nods. All eyes were on Robert.

  Robert took time to reply. He knew that if he accused Wilfred Cardross of treason without proof, no one would believe him either. The earl would merely claim that he was using wild claims to undermine his case in the lawsuit. He would argue it was spite that motivated Robert’s accusations, not fact. And if Robert could not make good the charge, then he would be the one in trouble.

  He looked at Jack. His cousin knew what he was thinking; if they were going to catch Cardross, they would have to set him a trap. That suited Robert fine. Ever since he had seen the damage Cardross’s men had done to Lucy’s face, he had wanted to hunt him down and kill him.

  “You had better leave the matter with me,” Robert said.

  The islanders regarded him with unblinking eyes. “But you will take it up with the authorities?” the eldest elder prompted.

  “I swear it,” Robert said. It was his neglect that had allowed this to happen. It was his responsibility to put the matter right.

  “I’ll be sailing for Golden Isle on the afternoon tide the day after tomorrow,” he said, getting to his feet.

  He saw them awaken then. Light and hope sparked in their eyes. They turned to look at each other; nodded their approval. Robert offered McCall his hand, then shook hands with all the other men in turn. “Go and join the wedding feast,” he said. “I need to talk with my cousin.”

  “We wish you joy on your marriage, Laird,” the eldest elder said, tipping his cap to Robert. “Even if it is to a relative of the Cardross.”

  Jack was idly tracing the outline of a sailing ship on the back of one of McLain’s account sheets. He looked up as the door closed behind the last of the islanders. His green gaze was bright.

  “What are we going to do, Rob?”

  “I thought that you would be traveling back south with Lady Mairi MacLeod,” Robert said.

  Jack’s expression closed. “I’d rather help you out here,” he said. He pushed back from the desk. “I like these northern isles. They remind me of when we were in the wilds of Canada, a long way from the reach of the law.” He drove his hands into his jacket pockets. “Besides, I like a challenge. I get damnably bored otherwise.”

  “I thought Lady Mairi was a challenge,” Robert said.

  Jack scowled. “Mind your own damned business,” he said, “or I’ll call you out on your wedding night. We were talking about Cardross.”

  Robert smiled and accepted the change of subject. “Do you believe him a traitor?”

  “Without a doubt,” Jack said unhesitatingly. “It all fits. His pockets are to let, he’s in hock to the moneylenders and in the pay of the French and then you come back and not only is he in danger of losing his claim to Golden Isle, but his treasonable activities are also going to be exposed.” He grinned. “He’ll be terrified.”

  “Good,” Robert said. “I need you to go to Methven, choose thirty of the best men and bring them back here to Findon. Do it discreetly. I don’t want Cardross to hear.”

  Jack nodded. A smile still played about his lips. “You want everything already to be in place when he comes after you,” he said.

  “I do,” Robert said. “I will use McTavish to draw Cardross out. I’ll plant some ideas in McTavish’s mind. If he truly is in Cardross’s pay, he will send word to him straightaway. And when Cardross comes, we will be waiting for him.”

  “Do you mean to take Lady Methven with you to Golden Isle?” Jack asked.

  Robert frowned. “What has our grandmother to do with this?”

  “I mean your wife, you fool,” Jack said. “It would be safer to send Lady Lucy to Methven until her cousin is taken.”

  “Lucy stays with me,” Robert said. He felt a blaze of pure protective possession. He did not want Wilfred Cardross anywhere near her, and the safest way to ensure that was to keep her by his side and safe with his sword. He remembered the way he had felt when he saw Lucy fighting Cardross’s clansmen on the shore of the loch. Terror had flared through him in a way he had never experienced before. He had tried to tell himself that he only felt that way because Lucy was the key to saving his clan lands, but that did neither of them justice. What he felt for Lucy was a complex mixture of emotions. It had been that way from the start. As a rule he did not like complexity of emotion. It clouded the judgment and made a man weak. He was beginning to see, however, that when it came to Lucy he had very little choice about how he felt.

  He looked up to see Jack watching him speculatively and wondered if he had given away more of his feelings than he had intended.

  His cousin said nothing, however, merely raising his glass of brandy in a toast. “Well, then,” he said. “Don’t waste any more time.” He nodded toward the door. “You need to get an heir before Cardross kills you.”

  You need to get an heir...

  Robert was not sure what expression was showing on his face, but whatever it was, Jack lowered the glass slowly, his eyes narrowing.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Sensitive subject? Is Lady Lucy already—”

  “No,” Robert snapped, feeling a sudden urge to punch his cousin.

  “Oh,” Jack said. “Then—”

  “It’s a marriage in name only,” Robert said, wondering why he was confiding at all, and in Jack, of all people. Maybe he had had too much brandy.

  Jack choked on his drink. Robert had to slap him on the back, which he did with considerable satisfaction.

  “You’re joking,” Jack said, coughing, eyes streaming, “or possibly you’re mad.”

  “It’s called patience,” Robert said, through his teeth. “Not a virtue you are very familiar with.”

  “I resent that,” Jack said. “What on earth were you thinking, though, to make a marriage in name only when you have wanted her from the moment you saw her?”

  “Mind your own damned business,” Robert said, “or I’ll call you out o
n my wedding night.”

  Jack sighed, draining his glass. “I have to believe that you know what you are doing, for the sake of Methven.”

  “I do,” Robert said.

  “Good,” Jack said. He jerked his head toward the door. “Now go and play chess with your new wife or whatever it is that people do when they are married in name only.”

  They went out together, Jack back to the wedding party, Robert into the inn and up the darkened stairs. He rubbed a hand over his hair. He felt tired and his head ached as though he had had too much ale. He went into his chamber, which was all in darkness, and splashed water on his face, then stood in the window embrasure, leaning his palms on the stone, staring out to sea.

  He knew he had to keep his word and return to Golden Isle, but tonight he did not want to think about it anymore. He wanted Lucy. He needed her.

  He opened the door of his chamber. A light still showed beneath the door of Lucy’s room opposite. He knocked and then pushed open the door.

  Much to his surprise, Lucy was still awake. She was sitting up in bed prim and neat in a white nightgown that he saw with amusement was fastened up to her throat. She was reading a slim leather-bound volume.

  Robert grinned. She looked exactly as he would have expected, very proper and respectable in a manner that should have forbidden him to touch her. Unfortunately the very laced-up neatness of her made him want to unlace her at once and tumble her on the bed. Except that he had promised he would not and he was a gentleman of his word.

  She looked up from the book, pushing the hair back from her face. It rippled like autumn leaves in the pale light and he itched to touch it, to bury his face in its silken softness, as he had from the first moment he had seen her.

  “I thought you would be asleep,” he said gruffly. “It’s been a long day and you looked tired throughout it.”

  He saw Lucy bite her lip and wished the words unsaid. They were not a particularly tactful compliment to his bride, whom he had thought looked beautiful and gracious—and strained. Nor had he made matters easy for her at the wedding feast. He was painfully aware of that. Being reminded of Golden Isle and the way he had failed in his obligation to the people there had set him in a dour mood, and everyone had felt the ill effects of that.

  He wished he had not agreed to her terms. He wanted to take her now and lose himself in the taking, savoring her sweetness, letting it wash the darkness from his soul. He did not want to think about the past. But even more he did not want to dwell on what he could not have. He needed to woo his bride with tenderness, to overcome her fears, not tumble her with no care for her feelings. His headache gripped his temples more tightly.

  “You were all that was charming,” he hastened to add, knowing he had sounded like a gauche boy. “I merely meant—”

  “I was nervous.” Lucy laid the book aside and spoke simply. Her eyes, when they met his, were clear blue with candor. He understood then and felt a rush of protectiveness.

  “I promised I’d not hurt you,” he said. The words came out more roughly than he had intended.

  Her eyes widened. “I know that.” Now, suddenly, she sounded every inch a duke’s daughter. “I trust your word. But there is more to marriage than what happens in our bedchamber.” Her gaze fell. She plucked at the edge of the blanket. “I am not sure I know how to be a wife,” she said. “I have had so little time to prepare.”

  Robert sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. “You know as much as I,” he said. “I have no more experience of being a husband than you do of being a wife.”

  A tiny smile touched her lips. “I suppose not,” she said.

  “I was concentrating so hard on finding my bride I never thought about what happened after the wedding,” Robert said. He was not quite sure why he was being so honest with her. Such a baring of his soul was hardly natural to him and yet her frankness deserved equal honesty.

  Her smile grew. “I had not imagined you would be nervous, as well.”

  “I’m terrified,” Robert said promptly.

  “Dear me,” Lucy said. She sounded demure. “You will forgive me if I find that hard to believe. I cannot see that you frighten easily.”

  “I have thought of a way you might help me, however,” Robert said.

  “Indeed?” Her eyebrows arched.

  “I want to stay here with you tonight,” Robert said softly.

  Wariness flared instantly in her eyes, quenching that flame of amusement. “But you said—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips and she fell silent. “It’s all right,” he said. “You have nothing to fear. I only want to be with you.” He was shocked to find himself within an ace of begging her. He knew he did not want to be alone. He knew he needed her.

  “Please,” he said.

  Lucy did not look entirely convinced. Robert leaned forward and kissed her very gently. Her lips felt impossibly soft and plush, yielding to his. His body hardened with arousal.

  She did not recoil from the kiss, but nor did she respond. He could feel the uncertainty in her and the fear. She trusted him, but that trust was on a knife edge and he could not betray it no matter how, in this moment, he was cursing his sense of honor. There were, however, other ways to deepen the intimacy between them until she was ready to consummate their marriage. She would never overcome her fears if they maintained a proper distance. Instead they would drift further and further apart until they became isolated strangers. He was not going to allow that to happen.

  He pulled off his boots and tossed them aside. She was watching him, her blue eyes troubled. He shrugged himself out of his jacket and pulled the shirt over his head. Now her eyes were as huge as dinner plates as her gaze rested on his bare torso.

  “You’ve got brothers,” Robert said, to lighten the tension. “Surely you must have seen a man in a state of undress.”

  “When we were young,” Lucy said. “But they didn’t look like you.” Her voice sounded slightly husky. “Lachlan is skinny and Angus is lumpen. They don’t have...uh...muscles.” She pulled her gaze away from his chest, blinking as though she had stepped into sudden daylight. Robert liked her surprise. It made him feel like a god.

  The breeches, though, would have to stay for now. He had no intention of taking her beyond surprise and into shock.

  He blew out the candle and slid into the bed beside her. He felt her shift a few decorous inches away from him and bit his lip to smother a grin.

  “There is plenty of room for both of us,” he said. It was not actually true. The bed was small. The cotton sleeve of her nightshirt brushed his bare arm. Farther down, her hip was wedged against his and her bare thigh was warm against the material of his breeches. He gritted his teeth.

  They lay like effigies for minutes. He could hear her breathing, quick and shallow. She was as rigid as a statue.

  She shifted a few inches farther and he grabbed her arm to prevent her rolling off the high mattress completely. He braced himself on one elbow above her and gently smoothed the hair away from her face. Her skin was like silk, so soft, so tempting. Oh, he should not do this. He had intended only for her to become accustomed to sharing a bed with him, nothing more, but desire drove him hard.

  “If I promise to take it no further,” he said, “will you kiss me?” He hoped she could not tell from his voice how much he wanted her to agree. He was sure she could.

  Her breath fluttered. Her breasts rose, brushing the side of his chest. She made a little sound of assent in her throat that made his cock harden further in an instant. Best that she did not know that or very likely she would leap from the bed, never mind roll out of it.

  Robert touched his lips to hers again. This time, after the initial hesitation, they warmed beneath his, moved and parted. Hot lust rolled through him like the tide. He reined it in with iron control and instead of kissing her to within an inch of her life, he drew back.

  She was looking at him as though he were some sort of complex puzzle she could not quite decip
her. She raised a hand to his cheek and rubbed her fingers experimentally against the roughness of his skin. Robert closed his eyes and tried not to groan.

  This time she was the one who tentatively kissed him, stealing a hand about the nape of his neck and bringing his lips down to hers. She was a little clumsy and unpracticed, but he let her explore, feeling the curiosity behind her anxiety, willing her to let it free. Her tongue slid between his lips, tasted him and discovered him. Such innocent exploration was so arousing he thought he might explode, but somehow he managed not.

  “All right?” he murmured as their lips parted.

  She blinked. Her eyes were a sleepy blue.

  “Kissing you is nice,” she whispered. “That is what worries me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Robert said. “Don’t worry at all.”

  A faint shadow came into her eyes. “I think you are trying to seduce me,” she said.

  “Not yet,” Robert said, hoping it was true. He smiled. “You have my word.”

  She nodded. He saw her relax. The third kiss was so good it almost undid all his honorable intentions once and for all, sweet, exciting, hot, full of endless promise. He drew back, watching her, the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the fine lawn of the nightgown, the hot color of arousal in her cheeks. This time she did not open her eyes.

  The room was sinking into twilight. Downstairs the wedding feast was rolling on, the guests roaring out songs now, the thunder of feet beating on the floor as they danced.

  Robert put out a hand and pulled the ribbon at the neck of the nightgown. The smooth silk slipped between his shaking fingers. He bent his lips to the exposed hollow of her throat and curled his tongue against the warm saltiness of her skin. Lucy made a little sound but kept quite still. Robert felt strung out like a wire, wound tighter than he had ever believed possible. Very slowly and carefully he edged the linen from her shoulders and kissed the shadows above her collarbone, the curve of her neck, the little dip beneath her ear, before returning to the base of her throat where the pulse hammered against his lips.