Kidnapped: His Innocent Mistress

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘Touch me and you’re dead,’ I said.

  ‘I thought that you did not approve of violence, Catriona,’ Neil said, as his hand came up to catch my wrist and the knife fell from my grasp.

  Chapter Nineteen

  In which love conquers all.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I demanded. ‘I thought that you were at the ball, and that Tolly Gulliver would be the one creeping into my bed!’

  Clearly this was not the most tactful thing to say on finding my husband in my bed rather than a conniving seducer, but then you are already aware that sometimes I have a talent for saying the wrong thing at quite the wrong time.

  Neil raised one arrogant black brow. He was leaning back, his hands behind his head, and he looked as though he was enjoying himself enormously.

  ‘You were expecting Captain Gulliver?’ he said.

  ‘It is not what it seems,’ I said hastily, as no doubt scores of errant wives had said before me.

  ‘What it seems,’ my husband said, ‘is that you were not precisely welcoming him into your bed.’ He turned to look at the knife, which he had safely stowed on the nightstand. ‘Unless,’ he added smoothly, ‘you have developed a penchant for dangerous games with your lovers?’

  The colour flared in my face. ‘What would you care?’ I countered unwisely. ‘You left me alone for two whole months.’

  ‘And now all the bucks in Edinburgh are dancing attendance on you?’ Neil finished. Suddenly he rolled over and tumbled me beneath him. ‘Oh, I care, Catriona,’ he said roughly. His eyes were almost black with passion now. ‘I care very much when the on dit is that my wife behaves more like a widow and flirts—and more—with Tolly Gulliver.’

  ‘You have your aunts to thank for that gossip,’ I said, thoroughly incensed now. I did not like lying there beneath him. I felt too vulnerable. And yet in some ways I liked it very well indeed, and that annoyed me even more. ‘They are the ones who have been spreading scandal and stealing your letters to me, planning to ruin me by drugging me and smuggling Captain Gulliver into my bed,’ I said furiously. ‘And now you have the audacity to turn up here and to blame me!’ I looked around, struck by a sudden thought. ‘Where is Captain Gulliver, anyway?’

  ‘I detained him,’ Neil said, not without satisfaction. ‘We had a little chat.’ He paused. ‘No, that makes it sound too civilised. I asked him, with my sword at his throat, what his intentions were towards my wife. I had heard the rumours, you see.’

  ‘Of course you had,’ I said bitterly. ‘I imagine your aunts made very sure of that.’ I sighed. ‘I suppose Captain Gulliver denied the whole business?’

  ‘No,’ Neil said. ‘He sang like a nightingale. He told me that you had invited him to a secret assignation tonight. He said that you had been writing him love letters and encouraging his advances.’

  ‘Why, the lying, deceitful, false-hearted, worthless scoundrel!’ I said wrathfully.

  I tried to sit up. Neil pushed me back against the pillows and settled his body more closely against mine. For all that I was fully clad beneath my voluminous nightgown, I felt as defenceless as though I were naked.

  ‘He showed me the letters,’ he said mildly.

  I fell silent with shock.

  ‘Neil,’ I said desperately, ‘this has all been set up to discredit me. Ask the servants if you do not believe me! They are hiding in the cupboard, ready to help me! Jessie has the very draught your aunt made up to make me sleep soundly tonight whilst Captain Gulliver was supposed to creep in. She overheard your aunts plotting, just as I did. And Ramsay can tell you what happened to all your letters and why they never reached me! And I swear I never wrote to Captain Gulliver, nor encouraged him in any way—’ I stopped as Neil gave me his heart-shaking smile. At such close quarters it robbed me of thought, never mind speech.

  ‘I know that you did not write those letters, Cat,’ he said. ‘They were riddled with spelling and grammatical errors. No schoolmaster’s daughter could have written such a poor effort—unless English was not your subject, of course.’

  I stared up at him. Could Lady Strathconan have made a mistake in her arrogance and pride and not written the letters herself? Had she thought such things beneath her and given the task to a servant? I had thought her too clever and too careful to make such errors, but she had also slipped up earlier that evening, when she had given Jessie the sleeping draught to deliver to me. She had come in later to see how I was, and I had made a fine pretence of feeling very drowsy, but by then her noxious potion was locked away as evidence.

  ‘Neil—’ I began again, hope sparking within me.

  ‘Oh, my aunts were very convincing,’ Neil continued. ‘They planted just the right seeds of doubt in my mind. But they had not banked on my meeting your cousin Ellen early on at the ball tonight, and on her telling me how delightful it had been to see you this afternoon. That made me wonder why Lady Strathconan had been so insistent—in such a sorrowful way, of course—that you had spent the afternoon with Gulliver.’ He raised his gaze to mine, and there was something in his eyes that made my heart turn over. ‘But I would never have believed it of you anyway, Cat. No matter the evidence. Not in my heart of hearts. You are too honest to play me false. You might come to me and tell me to my face that you no longer wished to be married to me, but you would never deceive me.’

  ‘Neil—’ I said for a third time. I felt choked with emotion that he knew me so well, and that he had trusted me when everyone and everything had conspired to suggest I had betrayed him.

  There was a confused sound of footsteps and voices on the landing outside the bedroom. Neil’s hand closed on my arm in warning and I fell silent. He shifted a little, drawing me more closely into his arms in the most intimate of embraces.

  ‘It sounds as though they have assembled half the household out there,’ I whispered in Neil’s ear.

  ‘I rather think that that is the point,’ Neil said grimly. ‘They want everyone to be here to witness your apparent disgrace.’

  ‘But Mackie showed you in,’ I said suddenly. ‘I heard her! Surely she will tell them that it is you and not Captain Gulliver—’

  ‘She’s new,’ Neil said. ‘I’ve never met her before. I was at the appointed place at the appointed time and I told her I was Gulliver. She had no reason not to believe me.’

  There was no time for more. Someone was already turning the door handle. In the middle of all the commotion I heard Lady Methven’s imperious whisper.

  ‘But where is Sinclair, Emily? He is supposed to be here!’

  Lady Strathconan hushed her impatiently, and I felt Neil shake with laughter.

  The room was suddenly full of candlelight and noise. I stuck my head out from under the covers, feigning shock and confusion, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  ‘Lady Strathconan! Good gracious, ma’am—whatever is going on?’

  Behind Lady Strathconan, Lady Methven was grinning like a gargoyle at the sight of another person in my bed, and the Earl of Strathconan himself—had he too been involved in the plot? I wondered—was puffing and muttering darkly at the back, showing quite an avid interest in proceedings for all that. I saw Mackie, tight-lipped with the virtuous pretence that she knew nothing about this, and Miss Anne Methven, with a vengeful gleam in her cold grey eyes. Jessie and Angus came tumbling out of the wardrobe to add to the general confusion. There were others there too, friends of Lady Strathconan, all the most sharp-tongued gossips in Edinburgh.

  ‘My dear Catriona,’ Lady Strathconan said, still sweet, still mild, but with her excited blue gaze riveted to the shape of a man beneath my blankets, ‘we came to see if you had recovered from your indisposition, but we did not expect to see so much.’

  She grabbed the covers and pulled them back with the flourish of a magician. Someone screamed. All the gossips in Edinburgh certainly saw a very great deal of Neil’s handsome physique then. I do believe one or two of the susceptible ones fainted dead away. The others were talking about his attributes f
or years after.

  ‘My dear Lady Strathconan,’ Neil drawled, making no great hurry about covering himself, ‘you have always shown the greatest of interest in my marital arrangements—indeed a rather unhealthy interest, if I may say so—but on this occasion I suggest that you and your minions—’ he flicked a contemptuous look around the room ‘—retire and leave me to make love to my wife in peace.’

  That cleared the room in the space of about ten seconds.

  ‘Are you not going to confront them?’ I demanded, as the last of the gossips was helped, shaking, from the room.

  ‘Not now,’ Neil said. ‘Later.’ He grabbed my nightgown and threw it aside. ‘Good God, you are fully dressed!’

  ‘Of course I am!’ I said. ‘You did not think I would run the risk of being undressed in bed with another man, did you?’

  Neil laughed. ‘You thought of everything, did you not, Cat? Lady Strathconan had no idea what she was taking on when she chose to cross swords with you.’ He picked up the knife. ‘Keep still. I need to cut your laces.’

  ‘Neil, we must talk—’ I began, but Neil shook his head and pulled me down into his arms.

  ‘Not now,’ he said, his lips an inch away from mine. ‘Later.’

  It was later—a week later, in fact—when we were walking in the gardens at Glen Clair together and finally we did talk properly. There had been much talking before that, of course. Before we had left Edinburgh, high words had been spoken between Neil and his uncle, which had led to a final rupture between them. Lord Strathconan could not break the entail and disinherit his heir, but he had cut off Neil’s allowance. Now all we had was Neil’s Navy pay, and whatever Glen Clair might bring in when it was set on its feet again.

  But we were happy. We were ecstatically, deliriously happy to be alone together for a little while. Neil planned for me to accompany him to Lochinver when he returned there. All was perfect. Except that Neil had not told me that he loved me.

  But I am getting ahead of myself.

  Naturally Lady Strathconan and Lady Methven had denied any plot against me. The sleeping draught was put down to an unfortunate mix-up amongst the bottles in Lady Strathconan’s cupboard. The words that Jessie and I had overheard were alleged to be all a misunderstanding. Tolly Gulliver was written off as a lovesick fool. Lady Strathconan’s dramatic entrance into my chamber, accompanied by half of Edinburgh—the malicious half—was presented as no more than a touching concern to ask after my health. The missing letters, which Ramsay had told me had been delivered punctiliously to Lady Strathconan each day, along with all the rest of the mail for the household, were never found. When I discovered that Neil had sent a beautiful crimson and silver cloak as my Christmas present, and heard from the servants that it had been given away to the poor, I was almost tempted to run down to the Edinburgh stews to find it and take it back.

  ‘Why did they do it?’ I asked Neil now. ‘I was not that unpresentable.’

  Neil laughed. ‘No, but you were not Anne Methven either.’

  ‘Explain,’ I said.

  ‘I had forgotten,’ Neil said, ‘that there was a fund of money set up by our grandfather—Anne Methven’s and mine—that could only be accessed when and if we married each other.’

  I remembered what Ellen had said about it being an understood thing that Neil would one day wed his cousin. No wonder his marriage to me had thrown such a cat amongst the pigeons, and the family had decided I had to be disposed of as quickly as I had been wed.

  ‘I suppose your family have been casting you and Anne in each other’s way for ever?’ I said, trying not to feel cross and jealous.

  ‘They have,’ Neil said. ‘And the more they did it, the less I wished to marry Anne.’ He sighed. ‘It is unchivalrous of me to say it, but actually I never wanted to marry her at all. She is as cold as a snowy night on Sgurr Dhu, and less hospitable.’

  I tried not to laugh. ‘Poor Miss Methven,’ I said. ‘I think she wanted to marry you.’

  ‘She wanted the money,’ Neil said brutally. ‘They all did—my uncle, his scheming wife, my aunt, her daughter…’

  ‘Well, there is still time,’ I said. ‘If I were to meet with an unfortunate accident, or you were to change your mind about wishing to be wed to me—’

  ‘You’re clutching at straws,’ Neil said. ‘I’m not letting you go now.’ He linked his fingers through mine, warm and strong, and we walked on beside the lake. A peacock strutted across our path and gave its harsh cry.

  ‘But you did not care about the money,’ I said, ‘or you would never have married me in the first place.’

  He gave me a look that made the blood beat hot in my veins. ‘No,’ he said slowly, ‘I did not want the money. I wanted you.’

  The fresh snow crunched beneath out feet

  ‘Did you ever wonder,’ Neil said suddenly, glancing at me, ‘what was in all those letters I sent you?’

  I remembered then what Lady Strathconan had said about Neil being in love with me. I wanted to believe it. I ached to believe that he loved me as much as I loved him. But he had not told me so. Not when he had made love to me through the long, hot hours of our wedding night, not when we had been reunited so joyously in Edinburgh, nor even here and now, in the cold, clear Highland air.

  ‘I suppose I did,’ I said. My heart started to beat like a drum. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course I wanted to know.’

  He let go of my hand and walked a little away from me. There was tension and wariness in his stance now. I saw it in his face and in the taut line of his shoulders. It reminded me of the distance that there had been between us on Taransay, when I had realised that he did not love me and did not want my love either.

  ‘I have been very foolish,’ Neil said, ‘and I do not deserve you.’

  For a moment I was terrified he was going to confirm all my fears and say that he could not love me, that I was too good for him, that he had betrayed me with Celeste McIntosh or one of her sisterhood, that he could never be faithful because it was not in his nature, that he could never feel for me as I felt for him. The pain blocked my throat and stole my breath. But then I saw the expression in his eyes, and for the first time there was vulnerability in his face, and a new awareness that somehow made him look older.

  ‘When the Cormorant was wrecked and I thought you would die,’ Neil said, his voice shaking, ‘I knew then that I loved you, Catriona, but I could not accept it. I had never felt that way before.’ He moved his shoulders uncomfortably, as though the weight of the emotion was still too grave to bear. ‘I am not practised in love,’ he said roughly. ‘I do not know how to love someone. Not really. I never had the experience.’

  He looked at me, and for once I was silent. I remembered the confidences we had shared on those long dark evenings on Taransay; the tales of his loveless childhood. I held my tongue.

  ‘I thought about what it would be like to lose you, and the feelings so terrified me that I could not face them,’ Neil continued. ‘I thought that if I backed away, if I withheld something of myself from you, then all would be well. I had done it before with women.’ He grimaced. ‘It does not seem right to talk to you of them, as though it cheapens what we have—’

  ‘Never mind that,’ I said, as impatient as always. ‘Get to the point.’ Hope was rising in me like mercury in a barometer. I never could hold my peace for long.

  But Neil was not to be hurried now that he had decided to speak.

  ‘Women always wanted something from me,’ he said, ‘and I always held back from giving it to them. I thought that I could do the same with you.’ He looked at me. ‘But I could not. When we spoke each night by the fire in our little white cottage I ached to make love to you. You know that. But I ached to love you as well, and as we grew closer so it became more and more difficult for me to keep my feelings at bay. I told myself that what I felt for you was lust, and when I faced the need to marry you to save your reputation I told myself—and everyone else—that I was only doing it out of honour. I w
as stupid and cruel and arrogant in my attempts to protect myself.’

  I did not contradict him. I had suffered quite a lot on account of my love for him, and it seemed fair that he should suffer a little too before I told him how much I loved him.

  ‘Then we were married and I made love to you at last,’ Neil said. ‘It was all that I had ever secretly dreamed of, but so much more—so much that it tore down those barriers I had erected in my heart and I knew I would never be able to keep you out or pretend again. Yet still I was not ready to accept it, and I was glad when my orders arrived to take me away. You saw that, didn’t you?’ He looked at me. ‘You saw in my face that I was glad to be leaving, and you thought it was because I did not care for you. But it was not. It was because I loved you too much, not too little, but I was too young and immature to be able to confess that.’ He came back to me and drew me close to him. ‘Well, I confess it now, Catriona. I confess it with all my heart. And if you love me too—’

  I stood up on tiptoe then, and stopped his words with a kiss. It would have been pleasant to make him confess his love for me over again a few times more, but I am a generous person, and could not stand to see his unhappiness any more. Besides, I wished to kiss him, and for him to kiss me back, which he did with very satisfactory ardour.

  ‘I do love you,’ I whispered against his lips. ‘I have loved you for a very long time, even when I believed that you did not want my love.’

  He caught my hand and we ran towards the house. He swung me up into his arms to carry me over the threshold, then did not put me down until we had reached the top of the stairs and the privacy of the little room that had been mine from the first time I had come to Glen Clair. He tossed me into the middle of the bed and followed me down, and the poor bed creaked in protest.

  ‘Be careful,’ I said, as his fingers started to unfasten the buttons of my bodice, ‘for I do not think this bedframe can take too much strain.’

  ‘I will be as gentle as I can,’ he promised.