Thankfully, Jillian did not have long to wait. She heard stealthy footsteps approach, then the turn of a key in the iron lock. She held her breath, listening for the sound of the key being turned from the other side, but since there was no real danger of attack, they left it unlocked. She counted to ten and then slipped through the hedge that hid the door.
The path was steep and uneven with only a sliver of new moon to light the way, but she had explored this area when she’d first arrived, thrilled to live in an actual medieval castle. With her unwieldy stomach affecting her balance, Jillian made her way carefully down, sometimes holding on to the long, grassy weeds to avoid slipping.
The ground leveled as she neared the road. Up ahead, she could just make out the forms of Duncan and Broc in the near-total darkness. If they were speaking, she could not hear them.
Once they passed the cairn, the road narrowed to little more than a deer trail, nearly hidden by bracken, and edged its way along a ravine that served as a gully wash when the snows melted in the spring. Now only bramble bushes stuck out from its sloping sides, the bottom littered with broken branches and rocks from downstream.
Careful not to loosen a stone on the rutted path that might give her presence away, Jillian exhaled a relieved breath when she saw the small cottage with its thatched roof gone. Inside, she could hear male voices. She paused, waiting for Duncan and Broc to enter. A little lean-to shed looked like it might offer a good place of concealment. Cautiously, she crept closer and then slipped inside, hoping she was not sharing a rat or badger’s home.
The tiny room cut the chill of the air, and light from an oil lamp flickered through a crack in the mud-and-wattle wall, allowing sound to filter through as well. The conversation was muted though, and Jillian only heard bits of phrases like “Sutherland bitch”, “spotted nearing Ft. William” “need to…” The speaker’s voice lowered and Jillian brushed cobwebs away, stepping closer to the wall to hear. Her ankle turned on a jagged rock and she reached out, catching herself on the sharp edge of a hand plough stashed against the wall. The tin slashed her hand, and she stifled a scream.
Talking ceased inside the cottage.
Jillian dashed outside the shed, running clumsily for the cover of the bracken. She heard cursing and the sound of heavy boots behind her. Not daring to slow down, she followed the winding, twisting path, praying there would be some spot where she could turn off the trail and hide. Her side was beginning to ache, and she clutched her stomach to keep the baby from kicking. She had to get off the path and glancedin both directions. The brush seemed denser and better to hide in to her left. She turned, pushing though—and stepped into open space.
The ravine rose up to meet her as she landed with a hard thump on her side, rolling and tumbling down the craggy side until she landed in a huddled heap atop dead branches.
Above her, she heard the men continue on.
Chapter Fourteen
Mari still felt a little sore after the fall from the horse nearly a week ago and was grateful tonight’s entertainment was whist instead of a dance. She was seated at one of several card tables in Lady Castlereagh’s elegant ballroom-turned-card parlor. Hundreds of beeswax candles glowed from crystal chandeliers, reflecting light off the highly polished floor. Ornate brocaded chairs that normally lined the walls of the ballroom now were placed in fours around linen-covered tables graced with out-of-season hot-house flowers. Lady Castlereagh and her foreign-minister husband had recently returned from the Congress of Vienna and the viscountess wasted no time in letting the ton know she was back.
Mari gave Jamie a sidelong glance as he took the seat to her right. She had informed him before they left the townhouse that Lady Castlereagh was a stickler for propriety and he had to be on his best behavior. Jamie just grinned and told he was always on his best behavior. Mari started to challenge him on that point, but since her fall from the horse—and the kiss—Jamie had been a model of decorum, exhibiting only perfect manners.
She couldn’t decide if she liked him that way or not.
The kiss—how could a man’s lips be so firm and soft at the same time? And so warm and dexterous? Her face warmed as she recalled how slowly he had moved them over her mouth, brushing lightly, teasing, coaxing, enticing her to want more…and then his velvety tongue slipping inside, completely overwhelming her with sensation as she reveled in the taste and fullness of him. Her body flamed suddenly as she remembered her response. She had practically thrown herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck, digging her fingers through his silky hair and moaning like a brazen hussy. Was that why Jamie had reverted to respectable behavior? Because she had acted like a street doxy? How totally embarrassing. She would simply have to control her behavior from this point forward.
Trying not to squirm in her chair, Mari made a pretense of smoothing the silk of her lavender evening gown. Jamie confused her. He was arrogant and bossy, expecting her to follow his orders, yet he could be amazingly gentle as well. When Nevin had returned with the carriage that day, Jamie had treated her as though she were a piece of fragile china, making sure she was seated securely on the seat, tucked into blankets even though the weather was mild. Was that the behavior of a man who probably now considered her somewhat of a lightskirt?
Once back at the townhouse, he had hovered over the physician’s shoulder, no doubt annoying the old man with countless questions until Aunt Agnes had firmly told Jamie he would not be staying in the room while the doctor examined Mari. The elderly gentleman had nearly been flattened, though, as Jamie bounded back through the door as soon as it opened. Would Jamie be so concerned if he did not still respect her?
Or perhaps, since she had shown such unrestrained emotion, he wanted to make sure she was well enough to continue what had been started? Not that Mari was clear about what would have happened next, but she was sure it would not meet with Aunt Agnes’s approval. But if Jamie wanted more—not that she should even be entertaining any idea of what more might be—then why would he be so politely distant?
Jamie truly was a man of contradictions.
“Are we ready to play?” Maddie asked, breaking into Mari’s reverie.
“Play?” For a moment, Mari thought her friend had somehow deduced her naughty thoughts, then she realized Maddie was referring to whist.
Nicholas eyed her intently across the table, and she hoped her face was not as hotly red as it felt. Mari managed a smile. “Of course. Forgive me for woolgathering.”
“There is nothing to forgive, my sweet. You look quite lovely when you woolgather. I must remember that for your portrait.” Nicholas glanced at Jamie. “I will deal. The rules say you shuffle the cards, Highlander.”
Jamie fixed his golden eyes on Nicholas like a hawk about to swoop in. Nicholas stared back, his gaze icy. A shiver ran down Mari’s spine, and for a moment she wondered if one of them was about to challenge the other. But for what? This was only a silly card game, and no insult had been given. Yet the air fairly crackled as neither man blinked. She glanced left toward Maddie, only to find her friend’s eyes wide and round. She sensed the tension too.
Merciful heavens. It would never do if Jamie and Nicholas resorted to fisticuffs right here in the ballroom. Lady Castlereagh would never overlook such an infraction to the rules. Mari had to do something. But what?
As if it had a mind of its own, her hand slipped down beneath the table and across her lap to tentatively brush Jamie’s thigh.
His reaction was instantaneous. Although he retained his stiff posture, she felt the tension easing out of him. Quickly, she removed her hand. So much for her deciding to control her behavior. Now what would he think? But she had to do something.
Jamie glanced down and picked up the deck, shuffled the cards loosely and placed the pack back on the table without saying a word. He hadn’t acknowledged her gross indiscretion, so maybe he understood why she had done it.
Nicholas smiled coldly as he presented the deck to Maddie to be cut. She did so rather clumsi
ly, her gaze still fixed on Jamie. Nicholas’s long, slender fingers adroitly slipped the cards to each person with a professional flair that made Mari think he had done this many times before.
Jamie picked up his thirteen cards, and Mari was getting ready to study hers when she felt his thigh press against hers. Barely managing not to gasp, she shifted slightly, breaking the contact. His leg followed, assailing hers once again, although he remained intent on moving his cards around.
Mari could hardly keep from sputtering. She shifted again, to no avail. Jamie’s thigh remained affixed to hers. If she moved any farther, she would practically be falling off her chair. Maddie was already giving her a strange look. Mari gave her a weak smile, trying to ignore the warmth from the contact spreading up her leg to pool deep in her belly.
“You are to play the first trick, sirrah,” she managed to say, although her voice sounded somewhat raspy.
Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “Ye want me to play a trick, lass?”
She sighed. Did he really not know the rules to whist, or was he being deliberately obtuse? Before she could respond, Maddie giggled and answered.
“You put out the first card. We each have to match the suit with a higher number if we can. You and I are partners as are Mari and Nicholas. Whichever team has the high card wins the trick.”
Jamie laid down the queen of hearts. “I like the idea of winning.”
“So do I,” Nicholas muttered.
“We shall see about that,” Jamie answered and caressed Mari’s leg with a slow movement of his own, although his gaze never turned her way.
Mari’s breath hitched as he continued the easy movement back and forth along her thigh. Lud! Had Jamie taken complete leave of his senses? How was she supposed to endure this torture? The leisurely stroking was doing strange things to her insides. The butterflies crashed madly about her stomach. Lower still, muscles clenched in her abdomen while a steady throbbing began between her legs. She felt warm moisture begin to gather there too, and suddenly her gown felt much too tight against her breasts. Mari panted slightly. The room was much too warm.
Yet Jamie sat there as calmly as if nothing were amiss.
“Are you feeling well, Mari?” Maddie asked. “You look a bit flushed.”
If she only knew. “It is just quite warm in here.”
“I was just thinking I might need my shawl,” Maddie answered. “Are you sure you are not ill?”
“I…I am fine.” Mari laid a card down, wishing she could openly glare at Jamie, but that would just draw unwanted attention. She settled for a quick kick to his ankle, although her soft slipper hardly made an impact against Jamie’s boot. A corner of his mouth lifted at the effort, and then he shifted his leg away.
She felt cold from the sudden removal of his body heat and shivered.
Maddie looked worried. “I really think you are coming down with something.”
“No.” Mari gave Jamie as deliberate a look as she dared. “I am sure I will be fine for the rest of the evening.”
“If ye need anything, lass, ye just have to ask,” Jamie said.
What did he mean by that? Was he implying more? Mari could not tell since he kept his face impassive. The man truly was insufferable. What she needed was to put some space between herself and him, but that would hardly be proper before they had played all thirteen tricks. What if he started up again?
To her relief—or at least she thought it was relief, for the pulsing between her legs had subsided—Jamie behaved himself for the rest of the evening.
As the four of them went to get punch later, Nevin and Yancy approached.
“Are you quite recovered, Miss Barclay?” Yancy asked.
“Very much so. I was just a bit shaken,” Mari replied as Nicholas returned.
“Nae thanks to either of ye,” Jamie nearly growled.
Both men had the grace to look chastised. “We should not have crowded your mount so closely,” Nevin said.
“Ye would be wise to remember that the next time ye approach a lady mounted side-saddle.”
“You were on a horse?” Nicholas interrupted. “Whatever were you doing riding?”
“My sister is an excellent horsewoman,” Mari answered. “Mr. MacLeod has been trying to teach me those skills.”
“N’est nécessaire pas,” Nicholas exclaimed with a narrow-eyed look at Jamie. “A lady should ride in a carriage.”
Jamie frowned and stood taller. “A woman should ken how—”
“Actually,” Mari said quickly to avoid what seemed to becoming a confrontation, “I am learning rather to enjoy riding.”
“Good lass,” Jamie said smugly.
Mari refrained from glaring at him. Good lass? Like she was some kind of house pet? The next thing he’d be patting her on the head. “Jillian always wanted me to learn.”
“’Tis a wise lady,” Jamie said. “My brother chose well.”
A muscle twitched in Nicholas’s jaw, and he didn’t look pleased. Mari wondered why, but before she could ponder the problem further, the Duke of Argyll approached.
“So sorry to interrupt, but might I have a word with you, MacLeod? Your brother passed by Inveraray on his way to Cantford, and I should like a little more information on the horses we discussed. That is, if you could spare a few moments from such lovely ladies?”
For a moment, Mari thought Jamie might actually refuse. Surely he must be aware that George Campbell was a powerful man. The duke might be Scottish, but Argyll, being so close to the Borders, had often sided with British kings in the past. Besides, the duke’s wife was the daughter of Countess Frances Jersey who, in turn, was one of the prince regent’s mistresses. Mari had little interest in politics, but juicy gossip of the royals was another matter. That the former Earl of Jersey’s wife was also the mother-in-law of the current Lady Jersey, who was quite conservative, made the whole thing even more intriguing.
“I do not think we are in danger of being abducted from Lady Castlereagh’s ballroom should you accompany His Grace,” Mari said lightly to Jamie.
“You have my assurance she will not be out of my sight,” Nicholas said.
Jamie fixed Nicholas with a look that made Yancy and Nevin take steps backward before he turned to Mari. “Ye will remain in this room, lass, and nae stray to the veranda. Aye?”
Mari had a good mind to kick him, but she remembered the non-effect her slippered foot had on him earlier. How dare Jamie give her orders like she was some errant child in need to admonishment? And in front of the duke, no less. She reined in her rising temper with an effort. This was not the time nor place to hold the rogue to account, but he would account to her later.
“Fine,” she muttered, since it was obvious he wanted an answer.
He nodded, looking quite pleased with himself, and turned away with the duke.
“It looks like we are alone at long last,” Nicholas said, ignoring the fact that Yancy, Nevin and Maddie were still standing there, “although your keeper made it quite clear you were not allowed out of the room.”
“He is not my keeper.”
Nicholas raised a brow. “Non? He is always at your side.” He paused. “But perhaps that is what you prefer, mademoiselle?”
“No. I do not prefer it.” Lord, how many times had she tried to explain to Jamie what his constant hovering would look like? “He gave his oath to my sister that he would protect me. From what exactly, I do not know, but he takes his word very seriously.”
“Most men take their oaths seriously,” Nicholas said agreeably, “but how is another man to have a chance at courting you?”
Mari felt a thrill of pleasure run down her spine. Nicholas had alluded to courting her before. Were his intentions serious? Did she dare ask him what he meant?
He seemed to read her thoughts, because he picked up her hand and swept a kiss over her gloved knuckles. “Ma chèri, I have been enchanted with you since we met.” He turned to the young men. “Do you not agree that Miss Barclay would make a fine wife for me?�
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Maddie gaped at him while both Yancy and Nevin muttered something that sounded like assurances, and then they all looked at her. Mari wanted to grab Maddie and do their special little jig, but she remembered where she was and decorum won out. “I should be pleased if you were to court me.”
Nicholas bowed. “It will be my pleasure to claim that exclusive right.”
Yancy and Nevin excused themselves quickly while Maddie looked around. “I see Abigail over in the corner. I think I will go speak to her,” she said and hurried away.
Mari smiled at Nicholas. “Now we truly are alone.”
“Except we are in a crowded room.” He held up his hand as Mari opened her mouth to answer. “I would not presume to ask you to go back on your word to the Highlander and venture out on the veranda.”
How sweet that Nicholas was so understanding. He was such a gentleman not to tempt her to go back on her word to Jamie. Although the more she thought about it, the higher her temper began to rise. Jamie had no right to expect her to stay in the room and not venture out for some fresh air. “I think I would enjoy a stroll,” she said as she lifted her chin defiantly.
Nicholas’s eyes lightened imperceptibly, but he shook his head. “I am quite sure the Highlander would embarrass you by creating a scene. Perhaps, though, we could arrange for a carriage ride and a picnic tomorrow? Sans your bodyguard?”
Mari furrowed her brows. “I do not know how to get Jamie—oh, wait. Could we go the day after tomorrow? I think Ian is due in town that morning.”
“Absolutely perfect,” Nicholas replied. “Perhaps we could select a spot for your portrait to be done while we are out as well.”
“I would like that,” Mari answered happily. “Of course, I will have to bring my maid as chaperone. Aunt Agnes will never consent to the outing otherwise.”
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