One Night with the Laird

by Nicola Cornick

  He raised a gentle hand and smoothed the hair away from Mairi’s cheek. She stirred in her sleep, making a soft sound and pressing closer to him, turning her face instinctively up to his. Something like a fist clenched tight in Jack’s chest, sweet and poignant at the same time. He surrendered to another impulse and kissed her very softly.

  Mairi stirred again and opened her eyes. When she saw him her lips curved into a smile, a smile that was sweet and warm and knowing. It sent a flare of lust through him and something else, something more potent and powerful still. Jack recognized the lust. That he understood. The rest was a mystery to him.

  “Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered, and she closed her eyes again, snuggling closer into the curve of his arm.

  Jack thought of Archie MacLeod then and felt the tenderness in him dissolve into a wave of primitive fury that was almost ungovernable in its strength. The man was weak through and through for not having the courage to tell Mairi the truth from the first. Unlike many of his contemporaries Jack had no issue with any man’s sexual proclivities, but he most certainly had one with MacLeod’s behavior. The fact that MacLeod had walked away, leaving Mairi and his father to deal with the aftermath of his desertion, was the act of a coward.

  With a muffled curse he got up and crossed to the dresser, splashing water from the bowl onto his face, trying to think clearly. He was fairly certain now that Michael Innes could have no idea at all that Archie MacLeod was still alive. With MacLeod alive, Innes was no longer the heir to Strome or the MacLeod barony. If he raised the matter in court he would be dispossessed of his inheritance. It was not in his interests to dig up this particular scandal.

  On the other hand, the penalty for sodomy was death. Jack doubted that the courts would impose such a sentence on the son of a peer, but he could understand why Lord MacLeod would do all in his power to protect Archie from that danger. MacLeod still loved his son no matter what the man had done. He could not take the risk. And if the matter went to court at all, it would give rise to the most monstrous scandal. The entire family would be destroyed. And Mairi... Here Jack released a long breath. Mairi would suffer most of all. As the former wife of so infamous a man, she would be dragged down into the cesspit of gossip and be utterly ruined.

  He wondered fleetingly where Wilfred Cardross came into the matter. Cardross’s attack was no coincidence. He was sure of it. There was a pattern here, but at present he could not see it for what it was, and until he could unravel it Mairi would not be safe.

  Smiling a little wryly, Jack slid back into the warmth of the bed, drawing Mairi back into his arms. He could see how thoroughly Lord MacLeod had manipulated him now. It had not merely been a matter of finding a man who would give Mairi the protection of his name until the threat of scandal had passed. The old laird had been looking for a man who would marry his daughter-in-law. He had chosen him because he was strong enough to deal with the threat Michael Innes posed, but he had also believed that once Jack knew about Archie MacLeod he would marry Mairi and keep her safe against the danger of the truth ever coming out. He had known that no man of honor would abandon Mairi to the scandal.

  Jack rubbed a hand through his hair. The only question left was whether he really was the man of honor that MacLeod believed him to be.

  Mairi was awake. He heard the covers rustle as she turned over to look at him. Her eyes were a hazy blue, soft with sleep and satiation. She smiled at him and yawned delicately, stretching, her throat arching, her body as sleek and satisfied as a cat in the sun.

  “So,” he said softly, “how do you feel?”

  “It is odd,” she said, “but I feel very happy.” The smile deepened in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, and Jack knew she was not talking about the sex but about something a great deal more profound and a great deal more dangerous. She had trusted him. She had entrusted her secrets to him. There was no going back.

  The thought made him feel uncomfortable and he sought steadier, less emotional ground.

  “I hope,” he said, “that I have managed to convince you that you are indeed an exceptionally attractive woman?”

  She laughed, though he thought he saw a shade of reserve come into her eyes. She had noticed that he had refused to engage with what she had said.

  “The only mystery is why you waited so long to take a lover,” he said.

  Her gaze slid away from his as though she was thinking back, considering. “I did not take a lover because it mattered too much, I suppose,” she said. “It felt too important simply to be treated as another fashionable diversion.” She smiled. “You look shocked, Jack.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “You must be the only man in Scotland who would prefer his mistress to be a faithless whore.”

  “That would certainly be more my style,” Jack said. “I’ve explored every vice there is and treated sex as no more than a pleasant game.” He did not want commitment and he had never asked for it in return. Now, though, he considered it. If he were to take Lord MacLeod’s commission to its logical end and marry Mairi, he would offer her, if not his love, then certainly his fidelity.

  Mairi was regarding him with her clear-eyed candor. “Why have you had so many lovers?” she asked, turning his question around.

  “Because it did not mean anything at all to me,” Jack said. For the first time in his life he felt, if not ashamed, then regretful that matters had not been different. He sat up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not mean that to sound disrespectful to you.”

  Mairi shook her head. “You said nothing that was a surprise to me,” she said. “I knew exactly where I stood when I agreed to our affair.”

  “What changed for you?” Jack said. “Why did you agree?”

  Again she considered the question thoughtfully. “I suppose I was tired of a life lived without color or excitement,” she said. “I was tired of always being in control and battening down my emotions. I wanted to know how it felt to make love with passion.” She sat up and pulled back the covers, about to swing her legs over the side of the bed. “I must go. It would not do for Jessie to come looking for me. As it is she will be wondering where on earth I am.”

  Jack caught her hand in his. “Stay,” he said. He was shocked at how much he wanted to keep her with him. He ran his hand up her bare arm, turning it over so that he could press a kiss to the hollow of her elbow. He brushed her hair aside to kiss the point of her shoulder. When she neither responded nor moved away, he laid her back against the pillows and pushed back the covers, exposing her breasts, taking her nipple in his mouth, stroking his hand down over her rib cage and stomach. He felt the tension leave him as he heard her sigh and felt her body loosen and warm beneath his hands and mouth. This was familiar, this game of seduction. Yet somehow beneath the familiarity was a difference. He felt uncertain; he was almost fearful that she would turn away from him and that if she did he would in some strange way be lost.

  It was only sex, he reminded himself. Physical intimacy was very different from emotional closeness. The hot, familiar sweep of desire took him then and he surrendered himself to it. His other thoughts, doubts and questions could wait until the morning.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “YOU FAILED, CARDROSS.”

  A ragged gray dawn was brewing over the mountains. Wilfred Cardross had been half-asleep, soaked, cold to the bone, huddled in the ruins of an ancient bothy halfway up the hillside. It gave him little protection against the elements, but it was a good vantage point. From here he had seen the soldiers fanning out across the glen, searching for him, city boys who hated these bleak mountains and the harsh terrain, stabbing ineffectually at the heather and the bracken as though they expected to find him hiding in a fox hole.

  He had laughed then, but he was not laughing now. This predator had come up on him unseen and unheard, and by the time he was aware of him it was already too late and there was a d
irk at his throat.

  “You?” he said. “Here?”

  He looked down at the blade. It was bright in the dawn and wickedly sharp.

  The other man smiled. There was no humor in the look. “I said that if I needed you I would find you,” he said. “Though actually—” The dirk pressed a little harder. “I don’t need you.”

  “Wait!” Cardross said. Panic scrambled in his chest at what he saw reflected in the man’s pale eyes. “It’s not my fault I failed,” he said. “They were too good for us. You said there would be no contest! You said my men would win—”

  “So it’s my fault now, is it?” The man was laughing at him. Cardross felt a vicious rush of hatred. “Somehow, with you, I suspect it is always some other man’s fault.”

  The dirk gouged a little deeper. “Give me another chance.” Cardross was gabbling now, playing for time. “I won’t fail again. I almost took her yesterday in the gardens. I got past all the guards Methven had set. It was easy—”

  “So where is she?” The other man’s voice was devoid of sympathy. “You almost took her—but you didn’t succeed. A broken tool is no use to me.”

  Cardross had meant to beg, but in the end he had no time. The conversation was over. He had expected a slash to the throat, and his hands came up in a vain attempt to deflect the blade. In the same moment he realized he had been deceived. The knife slid between his ribs. For a second he felt nothing and then the pain took hold of him and shook him like a rag doll. It was terrible. He had always been a coward, afraid of death, and now he had ample time for fear as his life leeched away. When the darkness finally took him, it was a relief.

  * * *

  THE RATTLE OF the bed curtains woke Mairi.

  “It is high noon, milady.” Jessie was placing a breakfast tray on the dresser. “Mr. Rutherford suggested I let you sleep late. He said you were quite worn out last night.”

  Mairi rolled over, blinking as the bright sunlight struck across her eyes. She had slept very deeply. She vaguely remembered that she had woken as the sun had been coming up. She had been in Jack’s bed, wrapped tightly in his arms. She had known that she had to return to her own room, but it had been extraordinarily difficult to tear herself away. She was sure Jack had carried her back to her bed. She even thought he might have kissed her before he left her, but that might have been her imagination or perhaps wishful thinking. Then she had fallen asleep again and there had been no bad dreams.

  She stretched, testing her feelings. Her mind felt lighter than she could remember it feeling in years. It felt as though a terrible weight had lifted and the darkness that had been paralyzing her life was banished because she had shared the burden at last and told Jack everything.

  A sweet flood of emotion filled her. It was the same sensation she had felt when she had made love with Jack at the inn at Kinlochewe. It was the same feeling she had experienced on the afternoon of the storm when Jack had comforted her so tenderly. But it was stronger now and deeper.

  She had wondered if she was the type of woman who could separate physical pleasure from emotional involvement. Obviously she was not. What she was feeling for Jack Rutherford was getting dangerous. She was falling in love with him. She had trusted him with her body. She had trusted him with all her secrets, but she could not trust him with her heart.

  The thought was enough to waken her completely and she sat up, reaching for her wrap. The sunshine was flooding in and it felt warm, but she did not want its caress on her body. She felt emotionally stripped bare, and that chilled her. She needed to wrap herself up. She needed to protect herself.

  Before the previous night she had thought that she would never trust a man again. Archie had betrayed her and smashed her faith. She had become accustomed to taking control and making her own decisions. Yet last night she had trusted Jack and that was because she was in love with him. She was not simply in thrall to the physical pleasure their affair gave her. She loved him and she wanted his love in return. But love was the one thing that Jack could never give her. He had made that abundantly clear right from the start.

  She drew her knees up to her chest and sat hugging them, the breakfast tray forgotten beside her. An affair with Jack was not enough for her now. She loved him and she wanted more than he could give her. She wanted his love; she wanted to marry him. But the fact was that Jack, the perfect lover, would never be a perfect husband. His definition of fidelity was probably to make love to only one woman at a time. He wanted no commitment. While she had been letting down her guard he had been reinforcing his to keep her out.

  She picked up her cup of chocolate absentmindedly. The rich liquid felt warm and comforting. Suddenly she had a huge craving for ice cream and marshmallow candy and just about anything else sweet that she could lay her hands on. If this was love, then it was going to make her very fat.

  Jessie had come back for the breakfast tray and to help her dress.

  “Mr. Rutherford sends his compliments, madam,” the maid said, “and asks that you would join him and Lord Methven in the library when you are ready. There is an army gentleman here with news of Lord Cardross.”

  “What news?” Mairi asked quickly. “You must know, Jessie. They say that the servants’ hall is always the first to hear.”

  Jessie looked furtive. “They say he was found dead in a ditch, ma’am,” she said. She lowered her voice. “Drowned in the storm yesterday.”

  “Drowned?” Mairi said. She could not believe it. “Wilfred?”

  “Aye, madam. Like the sewer rat he is,” Jessie said. The satisfaction faded from her voice. It turned cool. “Mr. Cambridge also presents his compliments, madam. He asked me to tell you that he had to leave early to return to Lord MacLeod at Strome. He will see you once you are back in Edinburgh next week.”

  “Thank you,” Mairi said. She was not sorry to have missed Jeremy’s departure and she would be in no hurry to seek him out.

  An hour later she presented herself in the library. She had dressed in bright cherry-sprigged muslin with a matching ribbon in her hair. It gave her courage in some strange way and she felt as though her emotions needed all the protection they could get. She had to make a conscious effort not to look at Jack as she came in; she felt curiously aware of his presence, even more so than usual, as though love had made all her senses acutely sharp. She could feel his gaze on her even though she greeted Robert first and only then turned to him with a casual smile.

  Jack’s lips twitched at the indifference of her greeting. “I hope you slept well, Mairi,” he said. “You look radiant this morning.”

  “Thank you,” Mairi said. One compliment and he was straight through her defenses, damn him.

  Jack and Robert had with them a young captain of the dragoons; his eyes widened in blatant admiration when he saw Mairi and he blushed.

  “Lady Mairi!” He sketched a bow, turning an even stronger shade of pink.

  Mairi felt rather than saw Jack stir at her side. “This is Captain Donald of the Royal Scots Greys,” he said. “The captain is in charge of the troops who found Wilfred Cardross.”

  “Congratulations, Captain Donald,” Mairi said. “Thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure, ma’am,” the captain assured her fervently. “Although I am sorry he was already dead. It would have been an even greater pleasure to drag him back to jail for you.”

  Mairi could see that Jack was trying not to laugh at the young man’s ardor. She frowned at him; he gave her a look that said Donald might admire her but he was the one in her bed. She felt her face heat.

  “I heard that Wilfred drowned,” she said, turning her attention away from Jack and back to Donald. “Can that be true?”

  She saw Robert and Jack exchange a glance. It was Jack who answered. “He was found facedown in a flooded ditch,” he said, “but that was not how he died. He was stabbed.”

&
nbsp; “The water had washed all the blood away,” Donald confirmed with rather too much relish for Mairi’s taste, “but we found the wound. Whoever killed him had left him there deliberately by the side of the road. They wanted him to be discovered.”

  Chills chased up Mairi’s spine. “Who would do such a thing?” she said.

  “Probably one of the band of outlaws who took part in the attack on your carriage, ma’am,” Donald said. “My understanding is that Cardross abandoned them in the fight. They would not take kindly to being double-crossed and would be looking for revenge.”

  Robert leaned forward. “We are not making news of the murder public,” he said. “We’re putting it about that he drowned.”

  “Dulcibella,” Mairi said, realizing. “Of course. She would have yet another fit of the vapors if she thought that another murdering outlaw was on the loose.”

  “We hope that Lady Dulcibella will feel able to go home now,” Robert agreed smoothly. “There is no virtue in causing further alarm.”

  Jack turned to Mairi. “Needless to say,” he said, “you will be traveling back to Edinburgh with me when we leave. I don’t want you taking any risks.”

  “With Wilfred dead, surely there cannot be any further danger,” Mairi said.

  “You will not,” Jack said, an edge to his voice, “put that to the test, if you please.”

  It felt as though the tension in the room had suddenly ratcheted up by several degrees. Mairi saw Robert watching them. There was a look of intense interest in his eyes as he surveyed his cousin’s taut face.

  “I think Mairi is right,” he said mildly. “The danger is surely past. Cardross was killed by a criminal with a grievance. It’s unlikely that such a man would attack anyone else and thereby risk being hunted down. Besides, with so many soldiers about we are surely as safe as houses here.”

  Jack turned on him with repressed anger latent in every line of his body. Mairi almost flinched but Robert seemed unmoved. “With respect, Robert,” Jack said, “you cannot know that, and I do not wish you to encourage your sister-in-law to get any further involved in this—”