One Night with the Laird

by Nicola Cornick

  Robert did not answer immediately. “I never knew Archie MacLeod,” he said after a moment. “He was already dead when I met Lucy. I’ve never heard any scandal about him. By all accounts he was a thoroughly decent fellow.”

  “I heard that too,” Jack said, through his teeth.

  Robert laughed. “I believe they were childhood friends.”

  “I believe so.” Jack was beginning to wish he had not asked. He disliked the idea of Mairi and Archie knowing each other forever, with the bonds of deep intimacy that a childhood friendship implied.

  “Mairi married him in opposition to her father’s plans,” Robert said. “That I do know. The Duke of Forres had planned quite a different match for her. Lucy says he was not happy to be thwarted.”

  “Mairi must have wanted to marry MacLeod very much if she was prepared to defy her father,” Jack said.

  “Or,” Robert said gently, “she wanted to avoid her other suitor very much.” He let that sink in. “I do know one other thing,” he added. “Probably I should not tell you.” His eyes met Jack’s briefly. “Lucy said that Mairi once told her that she and her husband were not intimate. They did not share a bed. I don’t know why. I don’t know if it was always the case, but they were estranged, at least as husband and wife. And I’ve already said too much.”

  Jack felt the hairs on his neck lift. He thought of the night that Mairi had seduced him. She had said she had been seeking oblivion. He had assumed that she was mourning her husband’s death, but perhaps she had been mourning something quite different, the loss of a friend or the loss of trust in a relationship that had gone awry.

  “Jack.” Robert’s voice recalled him to the room. In the lamplight his cousin’s dark gaze was very grave.

  “Allow me to give you some advice,” Robert said. “If you want to know the truth, ask Mairi. If she trusts you she will tell you. But—” there was a hint of laughter in his voice “—you may have to work on that given your record.”

  Jack grimaced. He had given Mairi no reason to trust him and every reason to be wary of him. She might have granted him her body, but she had no intention of revealing her secrets. If he wanted to change that he would have to gain her confidence. No attempts at seduction behind the topiary. No stealing into her bedchamber after the household had retired. He was not sure how long he could keep that up.

  He groaned. He wanted Mairi very much and he was not accustomed to denial. Usually if he wanted something he got it. If it was a commodity he bought it. If it was a woman she was generally as eager as he to explore their mutual desire. Mairi, in contrast, had told him he was a cad, a set-down he had richly deserved. She had said she was too good for him.

  She was correct.

  He felt the old bitterness twist inside him, rolling in like a dark tide. Memories returned, memories of failure and regret. For a moment he had been in danger of forgetting that he was no one’s savior. He had seen himself as her knight protector.

  Don’t get close.

  Don’t take that risk.

  “I don’t need to know Mairi’s secrets in order to deal with either Cardross or Innes,” he said lightly. “Good night, Rob.” And he turned and left, before he could see the disappointment he knew would be showing in his cousin’s eyes.

  * * *

  “WELL?” AS HER HUSBAND came into the bedroom, Lucy put down the novel she had been reading and fixed him with her very bright blue eyes. “You have been gone an age! I had almost despaired of you.” She waited and then when Robert did not immediately reply she gave a little impatient wriggle. “Robert! What did he say? I have been positively expiring with curiosity here! Did he blackmail her into the betrothal? Did she blackmail him? Is he in love with her?”

  Robert laughed. “One question at a time, my love.” He discarded his dressing robe and slid into bed beside her, drawing her into the crook of his arm, her head resting against his shoulder. For a long moment there was silence between them, peaceful silence, comfortable silence full of unspoken thoughts and warmth and love. Lucy smiled and nestled closer, placing a hand on his bare chest.

  “It might be better not to do that if you wish me to concentrate on your question,” Robert said mildly, his hand coming up to cover hers and hold it still against his heart. “Jack agreed to the betrothal as a favor to Lord MacLeod.”

  “How unlikely,” Lucy said. She frowned. She did not know Jack well. He let no one close and gave the impression that he wanted little truck with his family. Yet she suspected that he did care for them. He and Robert had worked together for years and had strong mutual respect and loyalty. She was sure he loved his grandmother too, although he would probably die rather than admit it. But Jack’s skill lay in being incredibly charming while giving nothing of his true feelings away.

  “It is not like Jack to offer his help if he gets no return,” she said, a little tartly. “There must be something in it for him.”

  “I am sure that there is,” Robert said, his tone very dry. “I am sure he has exacted a price for his help from your sister.”

  “And I am not sure that she objected,” Lucy said as dryly as he. “When I asked Mairi about the betrothal, all she would say was that Jack was the best lover in Scotland. I know she meant to shock me into leaving her alone.” She sighed. “It is ridiculously romantic of me,” she said, “but I did hope that they were in love.”

  “Jack loves no one,” Robert said.

  “Except himself,” Lucy said.

  Robert gave a slight shake of the head. “Least of all himself. He blames himself for the death of his mother and sister. He will never let himself love anyone else for fear of losing them too.” He turned his head slightly to look at her, his dark eyes warming as they dwelt on her face. “You want Mairi to be happy. That is sweet of you. Did she say anything else?”

  “Nothing,” Lucy said. She felt a familiar sense of frustration. She and Mairi had never been close enough to confide, and that fact grieved her. “She told me she had the headache and sent me away with the supper tray as though I were a servant.”

  Robert dropped a consoling kiss on her hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry that she did not want to talk to you.”

  “I’m accustomed to it,” Lucy said. She drooped a little. “But it does hurt.” She cuddled closer to him. “Mairi and I don’t really talk. I suppose that Alice and I, being twins, excluded everyone else when we were children. We didn’t do it on purpose but we needed no one else. And when Alice died Mairi was already wed. Then she was widowed and acting the role she plays now of the fashionable widow. But it is all an act. I know it is.” She rolled over and stared up at the blue velvet drapes of the bed. “What makes it worse is that I am sure Mairi is hurting too, Robert,” she said. “She pushes people away because she is afraid to love them. It is Archie’s fault.” Her voice sharpened. “I am sure of it. She trusted him and he did something bad, betrayed her in some way.”

  It was clear to her that Robert was losing interest in the topic. He was playing with her hair now in the way she loved. There was concentrated warmth in his eyes as he threaded the auburn strands through his fingers.

  “So your sister thinks Jack is the best lover in Scotland,” he said. He moved suddenly, turning to face her. His hand dropped to the ribbon tying her nightgown. “What do you think?”

  “I admit,” Lucy said demurely, but with a very naughty twinkle in her eyes, “that I have sometimes wondered whether it was true. Jack is so very wicked and of course he has a great deal of experience.”

  Robert’s fingers paused on the satin ribbon. He looked at her, incredulity in his eyes. “You have been wondering what my cousin would be like in bed?”

  Lucy blushed. She could not quite banish the little smile that played about her lips. “Only in a purely academic sense,” she murmured. “Out of intellectual curiosity. You know how very curious I
can be, Robert.”

  Robert rolled her beneath him. “I do indeed, madam,” he growled. He kissed her, driving his hands into her hair, parting her lips with such hungry possession Lucy was lost in the overpowering intimacy of it. Robert tugged hard on the ribbon. It unraveled and he slid a hand inside the bodice of her nightgown, cupping her breast. Lucy gasped.

  “Still curious about Jack?” Robert demanded. He kissed her again, slow, deep and hot, until she moved feverishly to draw him closer still.

  “Who?” she said.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  BY THE END of the first week at Methven Castle, Mairi had remembered all the reasons she disliked house parties. She was cooped up with a disparate group of relatives and acquaintances, most of whom she would not have chosen to spend time with under other circumstances. Her elder brother, Angus, had never been a favorite of hers. He was pompous and self-important, had bullied her as a child and was still trying to tell her what to do. His wife, Gertrude, was a ghastly overbearing matron who was busy dragooning Mairi’s elder sister, Christina, into acting as chaperone for her daughter the following season. Lachlan had always been a wastrel and now seemed miserable and fretful as a small child and Dulcibella was frankly poisonous, her china-doll prettiness belying a tongue as sharp as a needle. Lachlan was most often the brunt of his wife’s bad humor, but when Dulcibella had seen Mairi at breakfast on the first day, her gaze had sharpened and she had positively glowed with the pleasure of having a new quarry.

  “I am so glad you were able to find the time for us in your vigorous social life, Lady Mairi,” she had purred. “I know the gentlemen are all wild for your...company...and you so hate to disappoint them.”

  “I restrict all my affections to one particular man, Lady Dulcibella,” Mairi said, smiling across the table at Jack with the most starry-eyed look she could summon up. “I always feel it is an advantage actually to like the person one is betrothed or married to, don’t you agree?” She cast a meaningful glance at Lachlan, who had taken his plate of rolls and butter to the end of the table the farthest from his wife and was perusing the newspaper with morose concentration.

  She envied Jack in those first few days. He at least was able to escape the confines of the house party by riding out with the regular patrols that scoured the hills for Wilfred Cardross. Mairi felt hemmed in and restricted. In part that was because she was limited to the physical boundaries of the Methven estate for safety, but it was also because she felt so on edge and aware of Jack that she could not relax. It disconcerted her that he was acting the role of the perfect attentive fiancé. He brought her cups of tea and glasses of lemonade on the hot afternoons. He sat beside her and talked to her, he turned the music for her when she played the piano after dinner and he walked with her in the gardens. He did it all with the utmost propriety and with a wicked hint of amusement in his eyes.

  He never kissed her.

  She assumed that like her he was aware that public decorum had to be observed, and yet it was contrary to everything she knew of his character. The Jack Rutherford she knew should have been trying to debauch her in the long gallery or whisk her into the maze for a quick dalliance. The fact that he did none of these things wrong-footed her. It disappointed her too and then she was exasperated with herself as well as him. On more than one occasion she lay in bed staring at the door that connected her room to the little dressing room next to Jack’s chamber. But she was damned if she would break her word and open that door. Jack might be attractive, but he was not irresistible. Or so she told herself.

  She had taken to visiting the library each night to select a book to help while away the long hours when she could not sleep. She chose works of philosophy and economic theory, the biographies of great generals and dry historical tomes in the hope that they might bore her to sleep. She thought that such dispassionate works of literature would be just what she needed to quell any lustful urges. Unfortunately the opposite seemed to be the case; the dryer the book the more frustrated she felt.

  Although the prime purpose of the family gathering was to celebrate Robert and Lucy’s second son’s baptism, Mairi’s betrothal also seemed to generate a great deal of attention. She cursed herself that she had not foreseen this. Day after day, visitors came to call, ostensibly to bring gifts and congratulate Lucy and Robert on Ewan’s forthcoming christening but also to glean the latest gossip on Mairi’s engagement. It was the talk of Edinburgh; Lord MacLeod had seen to that with announcements in every newspaper. It was fast becoming the talk of Scotland. The dowager marchioness in particular seemed overly excited with talk of trousseaux and family jewels until Mairi felt so guilty that when she saw Lady Methven coming she wanted to run for cover.

  One evening after dinner as Mairi was standing on the terrace, listening to Dulcibella’s fluting tones rise and fall like a peal of bells as she upbraided Lachlan on spending too much time in the billiards room, Jack strolled over to her side, turning half to face her, propping his back against the balustrade. He was in immaculate evening clothes, austere black and stark white. He looked shockingly handsome and rather dangerous. Her pulse fluttered in response to the thought before she composed herself. She was not going to swoon at his feet.

  “I have been waiting on tenterhooks for you publicly to dismiss my services,” Jack said. “Can it be that you have discovered you enjoy having someone to fetch your wrap or fill your champagne glass?”

  Mairi smiled reluctantly. “I have plenty of servants who could do that,” she said.

  “In which case you must have decided that you want me for another purpose,” Jack said.

  “Not a very admirable purpose,” Mairi admitted. “I am afraid that I am using you to thwart Dulcibella. I did think about breaking off our association, but I could not bear to give her any more ammunition. Besides, I am relishing the novelty of being lauded for my respectability.”

  Jack laughed. “It is oddly enjoyable,” he agreed. He leaned closer. The back of his fingers brushed her cheek as he gently touched a strand of her hair. “Though I would enjoy being thoroughly disreputable a great deal more.”

  “I daresay you would,” Mairi said. “However, our relationship is taking a reverse route to that which is considered the norm. It started with a consummation and ends with us going our separate ways. At present we are in the middle phase where you dance attendance upon me and I refuse to sleep with you.”

  Jack caressed the nape of her neck. “May we not reverse the process?” he said softly.

  Mairi was momentarily confused by his touch. It was so warm and so seductive. His fingers tangled in her hair, stroking with the most beguiling gentleness. It made her tremble helplessly. In a flash she remembered the procession of sleepless nights lying staring at the connecting door and defying herself from going to him.

  “No,” she heard herself say, and even she could hear the regret in her tone.

  Jack laughed. She knew he had heard it too. “A pity.” He exerted the slightest pressure to bring her closer to him, so close that the skirts of her gown brushed his leg. “Can I not persuade you to change your mind?”

  His lips grazed hers. He nipped at her jaw. Mairi shivered. It was impossible to deny the heat that flared between them. Her body hummed with it. He had not touched her for four days. She had been waiting for this.

  “There you are!” Neither of them had noticed Lady Methven bustling out to join them. Or so Mairi assumed. Hot on the heels of that thought came another: had Jack seen his grandmother approaching and flirted with her to add another layer of verisimilitude to their false engagement? A cold shard wedged in her heart. Just for a moment she had been seduced into believing he was sincere.

  “I cannot blame you for taking refuge out here,” Lady Methven said. “I have just heard Lady Dulcibella telling poor Lucy that she spoils little James shamefully. Since she has no children of her own, how can she possibly be an
arbiter of such matters?” Without waiting for a reply she patted Jack on the arm with her fan. “Anyway, there is something I wished to discuss with you both. Your wedding.”

  Mairi stiffened. She shot a glance at Jack.

  “Grandmama—” he started to say.

  “I think you should set a date.” Lady Methven was like a ship in full sail. “The autumn would be nice, before the weather turns too bad to travel. Shall we say six weeks? That is long enough to put together a modest trousseau, and as Lady Mairi is a widow and you are no green youth, Jack, there can be no need for a grand event.”

  Mairi felt Jack look at her. “Lady Mairi and I have been betrothed for barely a week—” he said.

  “Well, that is no reason to delay,” Lady Methven said robustly. “Neither of you is young. You should know your own minds.”

  “Lady Methven.” Mairi thought that she would give it a try, but Jack caught her hand in his.

  “Please excuse us, Grandmama,” he said. “I think that Lady Mairi and I need to discuss this in private.”

  “Of course,” Lady Methven said. She looked triumphant. “I knew you would see my point of view.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” Jack said. He had ushered Mairi back inside and appropriated the small study off the library, shutting the door against the rest of the party. He did not sit and she could see tension across his shoulders. “I suppose we might have anticipated that this would happen,” he said. “Grandmama has been trying to marry me off for years, and now that she thinks the moment is finally here she sees no reason to put it off. Are you cold?” he added, seeing Mairi shiver and draw her gauzy silver wrap closer about her.

  “Just a little,” Mairi said, seizing any excuse for the misery that suddenly racked her. She could not explain it, nor did she know why her spirits had dropped so hard. All she knew was that she had had enough of pretense.