by Karen Ranney
They shared a look. Although the words weren’t said, they both knew Catriona hadn’t acted in the manner she’d been raised.
“Where was he bound?” Jean asked.
When Aunt Mary only shook her head, Jean sighed again.
“Never mind. I’ll ask the stable master.”
“She’s ruined if she’s gone with him,” her aunt said.
“I’ll find her,” Jean said, patting her aunt on the arm, then went in search of Morgan.
Chapter 33
RULES FOR STAFF: You are responsible for learning these rules by rote, and must be able to recite them if called upon to do so.
“The trains don’t run every day from Inverness to London,” Morgan said.
Jean nodded, grateful for that at least. “But you think he’s taken her to London.”
He sat back against the carriage seat and studied her.
“I’m not so sure it’s a case of abduction, Jean.”
“I know,” she agreed.
The idea they might save Catriona from her own rashness was foolish. However, they could certainly prevent her from making matters worse. Once society learned of her decision to accompany a married man anywhere, her reputation would be forever sullied.
The best they could hope for was to intercept Catriona before she appeared anywhere publicly with Andrew.
She leaned her head back against the high seat, trying to forestall her tears. One escaped and she brushed it away impatiently.
Suddenly, Morgan was there beside her, sweeping her skirts out of the way and pulling her into his arms. She wasn’t the type to cry. She grew annoyed at weepy women. But she grabbed his jacket and buried her face inside it, hating the situation and loving the smell of him.
“Catriona has brought you nothing but shame,” she said a moment later. “I’m sorry for that.”
“What more can anyone say about me?”
A great deal, if the truth was known. Now was not the time to tell him, however, when they were racing toward Inverness to save her sister. Now was not the moment, when he was so kind and concerned.
Less than a quarter hour had transpired from when she’d told him about Catriona missing and the carriage being ready. Morgan had been willing to stop what he was doing to help her, and she’d forever remember that.
“Catriona was always a sweet girl,” she said. “She smiled a great deal, and went out of her way to be charming.”
“She probably learned early on her appearance mattered more than anything else.”
Jean closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest and finding the position remarkably comfortable.
“It’s not uncommon,” she said. “Women have no occupation, other than being wife or mother. We’re to be personable and helpful. Even the rules for maids accentuate our appearance. We are to be attractive, clean, and tidy.”
“There are rules for maids?”
Surprised, she lifted her head and looked at him.
“Didn’t you know? We were given to understand the Earl of Denbleigh had dictated those rules himself.”
His face clouded for a moment. “It wasn’t me. Perhaps my father did so. Are there other rules?”
“There are thirty-six of them,” she said.
An eyebrow arched upward. “That many?”
“Would you like me to recite them?” she asked. “That is another rule. We have to memorize them.” She sighed into his chest.
“If I’m ever tremendously bored, you can. Perhaps we’ll address the issue when we return to Ballindair.”
Before she could answer, there was a noise at the driver’s box.
“I see them, sir. MacDuff is driving them hard.”
“Can we catch them?” Morgan asked.
“He’s got our best pair, sir. But the landau is heavier than the barouche.”
“Pull over, Guthrie.”
She reached out and touched his sleeve. “Are you going to quit, Morgan?”
“Of course not,” he said. “We’re just going to go about the chase in a different manner.”
He opened the half door and descended the carriage.
She followed, watching as he and the driver worked on the harness of one of the lead horses. Before she knew it, the horse was free and Morgan was on it, gone in a clatter of hooves and dust.
She stared after him. Evidently, she was supposed to remain here, while he rescued her sister. Was a countess supposed to remain docilely behind?
Oh, dear Lord, she didn’t know.
“Guthrie,” she said, remembering the man as a kind and personable sort, “why aren’t we following him in the carriage?”
“I’d have to let loose Sally to make it balanced. The other two might be able to carry the load, but I’ll not ask it of them. And I’ll not ask the three to pull the carriage unbalanced, neither.”
She strode ahead to the lone lead horse. “Is this Sally?”
He nodded.
She stood in front of Sally as the horse bobbed its head at her. Cautiously, she raised her hand and petted it on its long nose, the very first time she’d ever touched a horse.
“I need your help,” she said, leaning close to whisper so Guthrie couldn’t hear. “I need to get to Morgan. Can you take me there?”
The horse raised its nose and whacked her on the chin. She stood back, eyed Sally, and decided the answer had been an enthusiastic yes.
“Will you let loose Sally,” she said. “And help me mount her, please.”
Guthrie didn’t look the least convinced of her equestrian talents. She wasn’t going to tell him she’d never ridden before, but how hard could it be? People got on a horse, directed the animal to a certain location, and the horse did all the work.
“Sally’s not a riding horse,” he said, his mouth set in a mulish line. “She’s a carriage horse. She’s used to pulling in tandem.”
Morgan had done just fine.
“If you’ll remove the harness, please, Guthrie, and help me mount.”
“Are you sure? It won’t be a pleasant ride.”
Since she had nothing against which to measure it, she doubted she’d mind all that much.
“I’m very sure,” she said, stepping out of the way.
Guthrie eyed her attire with some misgivings.
She stared down at her skirt, realizing what was making him pause. How on earth could she ride a horse with a hoop?
“Give me a moment,” she said, and strode behind the carriage. With only the birds, field mice, and an occasional eagle as her witness, she removed her hoop. Grabbing it up from the road, she collapsed it as much as she could and tucked it in the space beneath the carriage seat.
She rejoined Guthrie, who pretended not to notice her skirts were now trailing on the ground. She wasn’t acting very countesslike, but she wasn’t a real countess, was she?
Pasting a smile on her face, she eyed Sally with what she hoped was confidence, and proceeded to mount her first horse.
Thank God for MacDuff. When the man had seen him riding after them, he slowed the carriage. Morgan saw Andrew peering out the window, and after spotting him, draw back.
Now, Morgan dismounted, waiting for Andrew and Catriona to leave the carriage. If they didn’t exit on their own, he’d go in and get his sister-in-law—his foolish and self-absorbed sister-in-law.
Andrew opened the door, stepping down from the carriage with his customary smirk, an expression Morgan decided he’d seen just too damn often of late.
“What is it, Morgan? Feeling a need to rescue a damsel in distress?” He gestured with one hand toward Catriona as she peered out of the carriage. “There’s no need. Catriona is coming with me of her own accord.”
“I’ll speak with you, Andrew,” he said.
Andrew turned and said something to Catriona, then strode toward him.
“Are you about to make us walk to Inverness, Morgan? I never thought you to be so ill-mannered.”
“She’s not your usual conquest, Andrew. Leave her
be.”
Andrew smiled. “I will agree she’s not like Lillian, no. Lillian was a true slut, Morgan. Before she’s finished, she’ll have bedded most of London.”
Morgan didn’t comment. Andrew might well be right.
“She was so damn needy, you know? She needed attention, Morgan. She wanted affection or love or something passing for it.”
“You know this how? From your vast experience with women?” He managed a smile. “You’ve misjudged this time, Andrew. I’m not letting you take Catriona.”
“Can you stop me?” Andrew raised his fists.
The picture of Andrew, so much shorter, willing to fight him, might have been amusing at another time. Now, it just annoyed him.
“No,” Morgan said calmly. “I’m not going to fight you for Catriona. Nor am I going to fight you about Lillian. I find I don’t much care. You weren’t the first lover she had and you certainly weren’t the last.”
Slowly, Andrew dropped his fists and took a deep breath.
“That’s good, then,” he said.
Morgan’s fist shot out before Andrew could protect himself, the blow so hard it shuddered up Morgan’s arm.
Andrew stumbled back and nearly fell, but righted himself at the last moment. He bent over, hands braced on his knees, shaking his head as if to clear it. As he straightened, he cradled his jaw in one palm.
“I thought you said she wasn’t worth it,” he said, his words garbled.
“She isn’t,” Morgan said. “That’s for making Jean cry.”
He walked to the carriage, reached in and grabbed his sister-in-law none too gently by the arm. Once outside the carriage, he turned her to face him.
“You have a choice to make. And you need to make it now.”
Catriona pulled away, rubbing at her arm where he’d grabbed her.
“It was my decision to go with Andrew.”
“I understand that,” Morgan said. “I’m offering you another choice. To go and live with my aunt in Edinburgh. You’ll be chaperoned and taught the ways of society.” Before she could protest, he raised his hand. “I know, you were both educated properly in Inverness. I know you’re not a maid. If you accept my offer, my aunt will teach you what you need to know in order to take your proper place in society as the sister-in-law of an earl. As inbred as society is, being related to me will advance you far more than anything Andrew can do for you.”
“Even if you’re a scandal, Morgan?”
He smiled, admiring her courage, if nothing else. “You’ll find that a whiff of scandal will only make people more curious about you, Catriona. While they may wish to excoriate me, they’ll look at you with different eyes.”
He took a step closer to her. “If you go with Andrew now, Catriona, you’ll never be more than what he makes you. Is that the choice you want to make?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. Did she think herself in love? How did he convince her Andrew wasn’t worth the effort? Today, he might want Catriona. Tomorrow, however, his eyes might linger on another woman.
“Catriona,” Andrew said, approaching them. He stretched out his hand to her. “Come with me. We’ll have a lovely life together.”
“He’s married,” Morgan said. “Did he tell you that?”
She nodded.
“I love you,” Andrew said, a remark that had Morgan frowning. How many women had heard Andrew’s avowal?
“Will you live the life you choose, Catriona?” he asked her. “Or the life Andrew chooses for you?”
She smiled, then, and Morgan marveled at her beauty. Catriona would be well received wherever she went.
“Catriona, please,” Andrew said.
Perhaps Andrew did feel something for Catriona. A pity, since he had a wife and five children waiting at home. Andrew needed to visit his family more often.
Catriona turned, and without a backward glance, placed her hand on Morgan’s arm.
“Jean said you were kind,” she said. “But I thought she was saying that because you were her husband and she had to.”
His laughter surprised them both. “I doubt Jean would say anything just because she had to.”
“She really will make quite a good countess,” Catriona said.
He nodded. “I do believe you’re right.”
Before he could say more, screams interrupted them.
He turned to see his countess, the irrepressible Jean, bent over the neck of a horse, her hands clenched in its mane. He couldn’t decide who was more terrified, the wide-eyed horse or Jean. But since he was married to the latter, he went to her rescue.
Chapter 34
RULES FOR STAFF: None of the equipment, service, tools, or equipage belonging to the family is to be used by the staff.
“Are you feeling better after your equestrienne adventure?” Morgan asked, entering the sitting room.
Jean felt warmth suffuse her face, which didn’t displease her all that much. Morgan had said she was beautiful with a blush. Silly man.
“I am,” she said. “But you needn’t have treated me like I was an invalid. I’m perfectly fine. Only a little sore. And Sally? Has she recuperated as well?”
“Sally’s none the worse for wear. Guthrie’s been cooing to her all evening, and has given her an extra ration of feed.”
“I can just imagine what he’s saying to the poor horse. ‘Never mind, Sally, I’ll never let the nasty woman on your back again.’ ”
Morgan’s laugh had a booming sound that filled the room and made her smile.
“And Catriona? Safely on her way?” he asked.
“She couldn’t wait to leave,” she said. “I think she was afraid you’d withdraw your offer. Does your aunt know what to expect?”
“I sent along a letter of introduction, enough money to see her through the end of the year, and a warning to Catriona. If she doesn’t behave, she’ll be forced to do good works with my aunt. My aunt is very strong on good works.”
“And Andrew is no doubt in Inverness by now,” Jean said. “Good riddance to him.”
He came to stand in front of her, reaching for the empty cup she held.
“My footman,” she said, as he placed it on the nearby table.
He didn’t respond, merely lifted her out of her chair and sat again, with her in his arms.
She made a sound of surprise, but settled back into place quickly enough. A remarkable experience, sitting on Morgan’s lap.
“I’m not ill,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“I know,” he said. “I just wanted to hold you.”
She was silent after that surprising announcement.
“Thank you,” she said. “For what you’ve done for Catriona.”
“I was thinking about sending her to my aunt before she decided to leave with Andrew. I should have mentioned it earlier.”
They sat companionably for a moment.
“I do respect you,” he said, startling her again.
She raised up and looked at him.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, about trust and respect being paired. I think you’re right. And I wanted you to know I do respect you.”
She waited, but when he didn’t say anything else, she asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” he said, and the word was so quickly spoken she knew it was true.
Turning, she placed her hands on either side of his face, reached up and kissed him. Sometimes, he shaved twice a day, but today he hadn’t, and the bristly feel of his whiskers against her palms was curiously arousing.
She wanted to thank him for being a gentle lover, for teaching her about passion, for giving her pleasure. She wanted to thank him for his kindnesses, not just to Catriona, but also to her. He’d never ridiculed her, even in her silliest moments, or when she’d gone exploring for ghosts. Instead, he’d shared the adventure with her.
Morgan was not the arrogant boor she’d thought him at their first meeting. Instead, he was a complicated, intense man who sought to achieve
his father’s honor, never realizing he’d surpassed the 8th earl in decency, caring, and responsibility. For the last few days, he’d been the steward of Ballindair, and when his daily duties were done, he’d spent time with Mr. Seath.
She’d believed him to be autocratic, and now she knew that the man who’d first come home to Ballindair had been in pain. She folded her arms around his neck, placed her cheek against his and wished she could remove those memories, as well as any of his doubts.
He deserved someone to love him, and she did. He deserved someone to honor him, and she did. But he also deserved someone to be honest with him, and she’d not yet done so.
He pulled back and kissed her, and tears peppered her eyes beneath closed lids.
She loved his kisses, loved everything about him. Even when he annoyed her, he charmed her.
Standing, she stood and stretched out her hand to him. Without a word, they went into the bedroom, and in the light of the Highland night, she removed her clothes. When he would have moved to help her, she shook her head. She wanted to come to him naked, to bare everything of her body since she couldn’t share her mind, her past, or a great many of her thoughts.
When it was done, when the clothing was neatly folded and placed on a chair, she pulled down the counterpane of the bed and knelt there, reaching for him.
First, his shirt, and once that was done, she placed her hands flat against his chest. How magnificent he was. Muscles ranged from his corded neck all the way down to his broad and long feet.
“You’ll have to do the rest,” she said, pointing to his trousers.
He only smiled and rid himself of his clothing.
The light in the room should have shamed her. She should have kept beneath the covers instead of letting him look his fill. But as she touched him, she could feel his eyes on her.
She reached out and held that part of him that fascinated her. She knew he liked her to explore him, with her fingers and her mouth. Now, she dared herself to make his eyes darken and his breath come fast.
A powerful man, one momentarily in her thrall.
Her hands moved from his beautiful cock to rest on his hips.