Rose In Scotland

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Rose In Scotland Page 12

by Overfield Joan


  “Angus and Begley have pledged to keep their eyes and ears open,” Hugh said, his voice so cool one would think they were still in the dining room instead of in the intimacy of her boudoir. “But ’Twould be best if you behave as if you are always under observation, because like as not, you are. Remember that.”

  Since it seemed a logical precaution, she managed a jerky nod. “I will,” she said, her voice sounding as rusty as an ancient hinge. “But I still don’t see why—”

  “I’ve contacted some former comrades and hired them as footmen.” Hugh moved to draw down the sheets on the bed. “You are to take them with you when you leave the house if I am not with you. They will be armed, and will guard you with their lives. If your uncle thinks to seize you, he won’t find it easy.”

  When she saw him climb into the bed, Caroline’s heart shot up into her mouth and then plummeted down to her toes. “N-no, I don’t suppose he will,” she stammered, watching wide-eyed as he settled back against the plump pillows.

  “And I shall carry a pistol when we are out of an evening,” he said, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. “You are my wife, and I will do what I must to protect you.”

  “That is very good of you,” Caroline said, too stunned at the sight of him in her bed to do more than gape. He looked so devastatingly attractive, his russet hair tumbling unbound to his shoulders and that knowing gleam lighting his pale-green eyes. It drove all thought from her mind. She had never felt desire before, but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognize it when it stirred warm and sweet in her blood.

  “Tomorrow I thought we might go to the theater,” Hugh told her with that same maddening calm. “As you say, ’Tis a good place to see and be seen. I fear we left the duke’s soiree rather precipitously.”

  Remembering the way he’d all but dragged her from the Greshams’ ballroom, Caroline felt a flush stain her cheeks. “Yes,” she agreed. “We did.”

  “Not that it matters; I hadn’t planned to stay overly long in any case,” he continued, cocking his head one side and regarding her with bright-eyed interest. “Caroline, might I ask you something?”

  She jolted and did her best to hide her nervousness. “Of course,” she said, relieved when she managed not to stutter. “What is your question?”

  “Do you mean to stand there all night, or are you coming to bed?”

  The frank inquiry, accompanied by a dimpled grin, shredded Caroline’s pretense of control. Her whole face turned bright-red, and the desire she’d been cautiously experiencing turned to a confusing blend of irritation and mind-numbing dread. The moment she’d been both fearing and anticipating was here, and she was at a loss to know what she should do next.

  “Caroline?” he prompted gently. “Will you nae come to bed?”

  For the briefest of moments Caroline hesitated, pride, fear, and desire all warring inside her. In the end pride proved the strongest of the emotions, and she squared her shoulders in determination. She was bedamned if she would quail before him like some timid virgin, she decided grimly. A virgin she might be, but she was also the daughter of an earl, and wasn’t about to let some arrogant Scottish brigand get the best of her.

  With her chin held high she advanced toward the bed, and if her legs weren’t quite steady, she could only pray it didn’t show. She slid into the bed before her courage deserted her. The iciness of the sheets was offset by the heat emanating from Hugh’s body. Caroline felt the warmth, and it made her all the more aware of the man lying beside her.

  She pulled the sheets up to her chin, her fingers clutching the crisp bedclothes in a death grip. Minutes dragged past, and her heart pounded in painful anticipation as she braced herself for an assault that never came. Finally, unable to bear the agony another moment, she turned her head to give him a wary look. Her mouth dropped open at what she saw. He was asleep!

  The thought had no sooner formed than his thick lashes lifted, and he met her astonished gaze with equanimity. “It’s all right, annsachd,” he told her softly. “Go to sleep.”

  “But you said you were going to … to sleep with me,” she stammered, then winced in embarrassment. If she didn’t take care, he would think she wanted him to make love to her.

  “Aye, and so I shall,” he replied, his lips curving in a smug smile. “By tomorrow morning there’ll not be a servant in this house who won’t know I passed the night in your bed, and make of that what they will. Your uncle will hear of it soon after, and know you are beyond his reach.”

  Caroline stared at him, comprehension dawning. Put that way, his presence in her bed made perfect sense, and she silently applauded his efficiency. Her grandfather had chosen her champion well, she decided with reluctant admiration.

  “Now if you’ve no more questions, I should like to be getting to sleep,” he told her, patting back a yawn. “I’ve a full day ahead of me tomorrow, and have no desire to spend the night chatting. Unless there is something else you’d rather be doing?” He arched a dark-red eyebrow inquiringly.

  To her fury, Caroline felt her cheeks flame again. “No,” she said stiffly, thinking it would be easy to learn to hate the heartless rogue. “There is nothing.”

  “Good.” He raised up and dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Caroline. Pleasant dreams to you.” And with that he turned his back to her, settling down to sleep with a contented sigh.

  Beside Caroline, Hugh lay in tense silence, his body clenched in an agony of pain and unquenched passion. He could hear the evenness of her breathing as she slumbered in sweet innocence, and it was all he could do not to scream in frustration. He was so hard he was desperate with it, and the hell of it was there was not a thing he could do about it. His bargain with Caroline didn’t precisely deny him the rights of a husband, but neither did it grant them to him. Theirs was but a marriage of convenience, and he would not allow himself to forget that.

  A sudden image of his bride arching beneath him as he thrust into her burst into Hugh’s fevered mind, bringing a sheen of perspiration to his brow. He was experienced enough to know he could overcome her maidenly objections with his touch, but he knew also he would never so besmirch his honor. He’d never forced his attentions upon a reluctant woman, and he wasn’t about to do so with his own wife.

  Eventually his exhausted body demanded respite, and he dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep. He awoke several hours later to find that in his sleep he had turned to Caroline, and she now slept in his arms. He stared down at her tousled curls, not certain if he should give in to the demands of his body and make love to her, or toss his head back and howl like a moonling. In the end he gently shifted away from her, knowing if he didn’t leave the bed he would lose all right to regard himself as a gentleman.

  He returned to his rooms in a sour mood, cursing roundly as he poured out tepid water from the pitcher on his wash stand to begin his morning ablutions. He was in the process of impatiently tying his cravat when Angus made his appearance.

  “Ye ought to have rung for me,” the elderly valet grumbled, knocking Hugh’s hands aside to finish tying the cravat. “Look at the sad mess ye’ve made of this.”

  “I’ve dressed myself for the past fourteen years and managed well enough,” Hugh shot back, although he remained still. “I’ve no reason to have someone dancing attendance upon me now.”

  “Which just shows what ye know,” Angus retorted, going to the clothespress to remove a jacket. “ ’Tis the grandson of a duke ye now be, as well as the laird of Loch Haven. Ye canna go about dressed like a beggar.”

  Because he knew the valet was speaking the truth Hugh swallowed his black temper, sullenly enduring the older man’s scolds and admonishments until he finished dressing. The one thing he would not endure, however, was Angus’s sly innuendos about his wedding night. When the remarks grew too personal Hugh whirled on him, his fists clenched in anger.

  “And what makes you think I bedded her?” he demanded, pinning the valet with a burning glare. “I am a gentleman, yo
u know.”

  Angus gave a derisive snort. “And how else would ye be keeping that limmer who is her uncle from having your marriage overturned? Once ye’ve taken her maidenhead, not the king himself can have the marriage set aside. Married ye are, and married ye will be until the year is ended and ye petition the courts in Edinburgh to end it.”

  Hugh didn’t bother with a response, although the matter preyed heavily upon his mind as he left the house. He was fairly certain he could trust Angus to keep his silence, but now he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen should anyone else learn the truth of his wedding night. Unconsummated marriages were easily reversed by English law, and he realized that in his misplaced gallantry he had just placed a deadly weapon in her uncle’s hands.

  He was still mulling over the matter when he raised his hand to hail a hack. The duke had given him a letter of introduction to his solicitor, and Hugh was anxious to see to the matter as soon as may be. He had appointments of his own regarding Loch Haven, and little time for patience.

  When a carriage stopped before him he entered it without thinking, not realizing it was occupied until it was too late.

  “Come aboard Sergeant, come aboard,” a well-dressed man in an elegant powdered wig drawled, smiling even as he leveled a pistol at Hugh’s chest. “This is an unexpected pleasure, I must say. I was hoping for the chance to make your acquaintance.”

  Cursing himself for his carelessness, Hugh took his seat with studied caution. His gaze swept over the other man, taking his measure in a single glance. Here was one he’d not care to turn his back upon, he thought, deciding he was doubtlessly in the presence of the infamous earl of Westhall.

  “I cannot say the sentiment is returned,” he said, slipping his hand into the sleeve of his greatcoat to clasp his dirk. “I’ve no liking to have a pistol pointed at me before I’ve even taken my breakfast.”

  The other man’s lips curved in a thin smile, and his blue eyes sparkled with malice. “I am sure you do not,” he said, affecting an exaggerated concern. “Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Hugh MacColme?”

  “Aye, that you have,” Hugh responded cautiously, deciding he had nothing to lose by feigning ignorance. He also made his accent more obvious, hoping it would lull the other man into a false sense of ease. “And who might you be, sir?”

  “Do you mean you do not know who I am?” The earl’s pale-blue eyes widened with feigned shock. “Oh, dear, how very remiss of my niece not to have at least shown you my portrait, although I must confess I have never liked the wretched thing by half. It makes me look tiresomely plain. I am Charles, earl of Westhall. You know my father, I believe?”

  Hugh gave a nod. “Aye, I served with the general a great many years. I know him well,” he said, stalling for time. He wanted to get word to Caroline, and let her know her uncle had made his first move. He hated to think of her being faced with him unprepared.

  Westhall’s smile slipped a notch. “Yes, and so you must,” he simpered, venom all but dripping from each word. “Considering he handed you dearest Caroline in marriage. That is why I am here. I am come to offer you my felicitations on your marriage.”

  “That is good of you, sir,” Hugh said, wondering what deep game the earl was playing.

  “I should have liked to have been at your nuptials,” the earl continued, his drawling tones beginning to grate on Hugh’s nerves. “It was held so quickly, was it not? The very day after you met her, if I am not mistaken.”

  “ ’twas the day after that, to be accurate, my lord,” Hugh corrected coolly. “And as for the haste of it, ’twas your father’s doing. He wanted Caroline protected, you see. He had some fear for her safety.” He smiled, letting his mask drop to show the earl he knew precisely what the other man was about.

  The earl’s fatuous expression tightened, and his painted lips tightened in chilling fury. In that moment he looked every bit the monster Caroline had named him, and Hugh sent his wife a silent apology. Now he believed that she had indeed fled her home to escape this creature, and he shuddered to imagine what it must have been like for her under his power.

  “Yes, my father was always one to fly into a panic,” the earl said stiffly. “And Caroline, of course, is possessed of a most excitable disposition. High-strung, just like her dearest mama.”

  “Indeed? I have found Caroline to be a most sober young lady,” Hugh said, his voice soft as he gently called the earl a liar. “And as for the general, he has never panicked a day in his life. Did you have the opportunity to serve with him in battle, when the air is thick with lead and men are dying all about you, you would know he is a man who stands ever firm. Such men do not waver. They see what is to be done, and they do it.”

  There was a brittle silence as Westhall studied him with narrowed eyes. “I see,” he said, taking snuff from a porcelain box and sniffing delicately. “And you are also such a man?”

  “I pride myself that I am,” Hugh said, his eyes full of unspoken promise as he met the earl’s malevolent gaze.

  The earl regarded him a long moment before nodding. “Yes,” he said, “I can see that you are. How interesting. How very interesting. I see I shall have to rethink the situation. Evidently things aren’t as simple as I thought they would be.”

  Hugh wondered what the devil he meant by that, but the earl was already rapping on the roof with his gold-topped cane. The carriage pulled over to the side of the street, and the earl leaned over Hugh to push open the door.

  “I thank you for taking the time to chat with me, Mr. MacColme,” he said, his voice edged with mockery. “I can assure you I found it a most edifying experience. Do give my dear niece my best, won’t you? Tell her I am looking forward to seeing her soon.” And with that he slammed the door and drove away, leaving Hugh to glare after him in frustrated silence.

  The sunlight was streaming through the opened drapes when Caroline opened her eyes the following morning. The first thought to register in her sleep-dulled mind was that it was far later than her usual rising time, and the next thought was that she wasn’t alone. She opened her eyes to see Helene setting a tray on her bedside table. Seeing she was awake, the maid stepped back from the bed, hastily averting her eyes as she dropped a stiff curtsy.

  “Good morning, my lady,” she said, her gaze not meeting Caroline’s. “I trust you slept well?”

  To her chagrin, Caroline felt her cheeks flame with hectic color. “Quite well, Helene,” she managed in a strained voice, grateful Hugh had possessed the sensitivity to return to his own rooms afterwards. “Is my husband awake as yet, do you know?” she asked, striving for a casual tone as she reached for the pot of chocolate sitting on the tray. She had a vague memory of his mentioning he had several appointments for the morning, and wondered if he’d already set out.

  “Oh, awakened and gone, my lady,” Helene told her. “He left word with Mr. Beg-ley that he would be gone for the rest of the morning, but that he hoped to be home for luncheon.”

  “I see.” Caroline ignored a sudden stab of disappointment. “Did he leave a note for me?”

  “No, I cannot say as he did,” Helene replied, her brow wrinkling in thought. “If he did, Mr. Begley has yet to tell me. Shall I go and ask him, just to be certain?”

  “No, that is all right,” Caroline said swiftly, not wanting anyone else to know of her humiliation. “I will just enjoy my chocolate, and then I believe I shall dress for the day.”

  Anxious to inspect her new home, Caroline bathed and dressed quickly. She’d seen but the first two floors yesterday, and the housekeeper had promised to show her the rest. The inspection took the better part of the morning, and the sheer size of the place astounded her. She’d thought her uncle’s house large by London standards, but her grandfather’s residence was easily twice that size. Knowing of her uncle’s greed, she wondered why he hadn’t attempted to claim it as well as his own residence, and when she asked the housekeeper the elderly woman gave a disdainful sniff.

  “As to that, my lady,
his lordship was forever trying to lay legal claim to the place,” she said, her pleasure he had failed at his attempts obvious. “But His Grace’s man of business was too sharp for him. Your grandfather’s terms made it plain the earl could only claim those properties entailed directly to him as earl, and that everything else was out of his reach.”

  “Did he ever attempt to force his way inside?” Caroline asked, recalling the butler’s conversation with Hugh.

  “A time or two, yes, but like yesterday we were not allowed to grant him entry,” the housekeeper admitted, then cast her an uncertain look. “Do you wish us to continue denying him entrance should he return?”

  Caroline thought of Hugh’s warning and nodded. “I think that might be best,” she said reluctantly, envisioning her uncle’s wrath at such humiliating treatment. “At least, so long as my husband is from the house. He has asked that I not receive my uncle alone.”

  To her relief the housekeeper accepted her orders without quibbling. “Very good, my lady,” she said, giving a brisk nod. “And pray allow me to offer the staff’s best wishes on your marriage. Mr. MacColme seems a very worthy gentleman.”

  As she’d spoken those very words herself not twelve hours earlier, this was a sentiment with which Caroline could heartily concur. “Aye,” she said softly, unaware of the glow lighting her eyes. “He is a most worthy gentleman indeed.”

  Following her tour of the house Caroline retired to the library, where she discovered a stack of letters placed there by the ever-efficient Begley. She was sifting through them, deciding which to open first, when there was a knock at her door.

  “I beg pardon, Lady Caroline,” Begley intoned with a stiff bow. “But Sir Gervase has arrived and is insisting he be allowed to speak with you. Shall I admit him?”

  A frisson of fear shot through Caroline, but she was quick to suppress it. Sir Gervase was an overfed buffoon, she reminded herself sternly, and the day she couldn’t deal with him she had yet to see. Then she thought of Hugh’s probable reaction, and shook her head. “I do not believe that would be wise, Begley,” she said, meeting the butler’s astute gaze with aplomb. “You will please inform the baronet that I am not at home to him.”

 

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