One Night with the Laird

by Nicola Cornick

  “I am involved,” Mairi pointed out.

  “It isn’t seemly,” Jack rapped out.

  There was a silence. Robert looked as though he was trying not to laugh. “Now I’ve seen it all,” he said. “Jack Rutherford preaching on propriety. I wonder at the cause of this sudden change of character.”

  Jack took a step toward him and Mairi was afraid he was actually going to punch his cousin.

  “I am sure Captain Donald has no wish to witness our family bickering,” she said quickly. “Captain, thank you again for your diligence. I wish you a good day.”

  Jack tore his gaze away from Robert and stepped back. After a moment he sketched a bow. “Your servant, Donald,” he said abruptly and stalked out. Mairi looked at Robert, who gave her a faint lift of the brows and a rueful smile. She knew he was trying to apologize for the fact that in provoking his cousin he had disregarded her feelings and opinions. It was exasperating and she had no idea why Jack was behaving like a bear with a sore head.

  “Let me show you out, Donald,” Robert said, standing up to escort the captain to the door. Mairi went across to the long windows and watched the detachment of dragoons outside form up and march away. It was a glorious summer day and suddenly she ached to be out of the house and in the open air. She wanted to ride out onto the mountains and let the wind chase away the blue devils.

  She went upstairs and changed into an old jacket and trews that Murdo, one of Frazer’s sons, had lent to her years before, trousers being so much easier to ride astride in than a habit. She dispatched Jessie with a note for Lucy to tell her that she was going for a ride. The one thing she did not want to do was tell Jack. She had had quite enough of his overbearing ways for one day.

  “You’ll no’ be riding on your own, milady,” Murdo said as she came into the stable yard, “not with masterless men on the loose.”

  Mairi groaned. “You sound like Mr. Rutherford, Murdo,” she said. “Did he tell you to keep an eye on me?”

  A wide grin split Murdo’s face. “Aye, madam.”

  “He’s got a damned nerve,” Mairi said. “I’d like to see any of you try to stop me.”

  “Then at least let us come with you, madam,” Murdo begged as he led out one of Lucy’s mares. “That way we can tell Mr. Rutherford we looked after you.”

  “You’re afraid of him,” Mairi scoffed but the groom only nodded with no trace of a smile.

  “Aye, madam,” he said. “If anything happened to you I’d be terrified to tell him.”

  He gave her a leg up and Mairi swung up into the saddle and dug her heels in. The mare was fresh and as eager for the ride as she. They galloped out of the yard, scattering the grooms like straw in the wind. Behind her Mairi heard Murdo give a shout, but it was not until she reached the knot of pines halfway up the track that edged the mountain that she slowed down to wait for him and for Hamish to catch up with her.

  It was a good four hours later when they rode back down to Methven, and Mairi felt exhilarated by the ride. The sun was starting to drop behind the hills and evening was cool in the air. As soon as she entered the stable yard, though, she could feel a tension in the air. The grooms looked at her sideways from the corners of their eyes.

  She jumped down from the saddle and handed the reins to Murdo with a word of thanks. And then she turned.

  Jack was standing directly in front of her and it was clear he was blazingly angry.

  * * *

  JACK HAD NEVER felt so furious in his entire life. Only the fact that they were standing in the stable yard and were surrounded by grooms and servants who could barely conceal their anticipation of a huge row could restrain him from ringing a peal over Mairi straightaway. Lachlan and Dulcibella MacMorlan might air their grievances in public, he thought grimly, but he had too much regard for Mairi to do that even when she had gone expressly against his wishes.

  Her first words to him were not conciliatory, however, and he could feel his temper soar even higher.

  “Good evening, Mr. Rutherford,” she said, quite as though she had done nothing wrong. She looked flushed, her cheeks pink, her eyes bright and starry with the exhilaration of the ride. She looked beautiful. Somehow that annoyed Jack all the more when the images in his mind had been of her lying dead in a ditch like Wilfred Cardross. The only thing he could think was that he would never let her out of his sight again.

  “Lady Mairi.” He bit out the words. “I wonder if we might speak privately?”

  “Of course,” Mairi said. She sounded cool, but Jack could see the pulse beating in the hollow of her throat. She was nervous. Well, she should be.

  She turned her back on him and started to walk toward the door that led to the tack room and from there to Lucy’s hothouse and conservatory. Jack nodded to Murdo and Hamish. “Thank you,” he said. At least Mairi had had the sense not to ride alone, but that fact did little to alleviate his anger. She had waited until his back was turned and that was what infuriated him more than anything else.

  Mairi was walking faster now. Perhaps she thought she could run away from him. Jack smiled grimly at the prospect of chasing her down Methven’s long corridors. The idea did hold some appeal.

  He caught up with her just as she reached the conservatory door and slammed it shut behind them. He knew it was not a particularly private place for a confrontation, but he could not wait any longer. They were immediately encased in the heavy air and gloomy light of the hothouse. It smelled of dry earth and the faint heady scent of lilies. A gardener who was working on the vines by the back wall caught sight of them and moved discreetly away. Jack heard the soft click of the door closing behind him.

  He took Mairi’s arm in a tight grip and spun her around to face him. “Perhaps you can explain to me how it is that I ask you not to take any risks yet I find you riding out alone the day after your cousin is murdered?” He realized that his voice was shaking with anger, within an inch of losing control. “Do you, then, have so little regard for your own safety—and for my concerns?”

  “Of course not,” Mairi said. She met his gaze fearlessly. Even in his anger Jack liked that about her, that she would not back down. He liked her. Respected her too. But he was still so angry with her he could shake her.

  “I took two grooms with me,” she said. “They were both armed and I had a pistol in my saddlebags. I fail to understand your objections.”

  “My objections,” Jack said through his teeth, “relate to the fact that I expressly asked you not to venture out until this matter was settled. Had you even thought that your late lamented husband might be behind this? That he might be the one who set up Wilfred Cardross? That he is trying to hurt you?”

  He saw by the way that she paled that she had not even considered it. She fell back a step, her eyes searching his face.

  “I could not mention it in front of Robert and Donald this morning since I did not wish to break your confidence,” Jack said, his tone softening as he saw her distress, “but you have to consider it, Mairi.”

  “No.” Her hand had come up to her throat. Her words were a whisper. “Archie would never hurt me. He is too gentle.”

  “Can you be sure of that?” Jack said. He thought she was naive in the extreme. “You are one of only two people who know that he is alive. If he sees you as a threat in some way—”

  “No!” Mairi shook her head violently. “I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it.” She came up to him. In the hazy light of the conservatory he could see a tiny shadow furrow her brow. “Jack,” she said slowly, “are you jealous of Archie?”

  “I’m trying to protect you,” Jack said.

  “Which does not answer my question.” She stood feet planted firmly, hands on hips. “Be honest with me. Are you?”

  Jack was. He realized it with a shock. It had been bad enough when he had thought the man was dead. Everyone seeme
d to have liked him and painted him as some sort of saint. Now, knowing MacLeod was still alive even if he and Mairi were no longer married, Jack felt a wrenching sense of jealousy.

  “I feel possessive.” He pulled her against him, ran his hands down her back and over her buttocks, pulling her against his body. “You’re mine, Mairi. Marry me.”

  He felt the shock rip through her. She drew back and stared at him as though he were speaking in an entirely foreign language. To be fair he was almost as surprised as she was. He had been thinking about it since the previous night when he had finally realized the full implications of Lord MacLeod’s plan, but he had not intended to propose in so abrupt a manner. It was not, he realized ruefully, something in which he had any practice at all and he had never anticipated having any.

  Mairi opened her mouth. She looked suspiciously as though she was going to argue with him, so Jack kissed her to distract her and after a second she kissed him back, tangling her tongue with his, all hot and sweet and willing. He felt relief then that this must surely mean that she agreed to his proposal; relief, and a sharp desire.

  “Jack—” she whispered.

  Jack kissed her again, hard and insistently. She made a sweet sound of capitulation deep in her throat and again responded to his kiss with a fervency that stole his breath and made him want to carry her straight up to his chamber and seal their agreement in his bed.

  He took a step toward her, trapping her against the wall. He held her gaze as his hand moved down, unfastening the buttons of her jacket one by one. She met his eyes, her chin tilted up defiantly, but beneath his hand he could feel the frantic beat of her heart.

  When the jacket was undone he pulled it apart and without preamble pulled the linen shirt from the band of her breeches. She sucked in a breath but kept quite still. There was a defiant glitter in her eyes now and in the jut of that determined little chin.

  Jack smiled. He slid his hands beneath the shirt. She wore nothing but a thin shift and through it he could feel the warmth of her skin. With one swift movement he pushed the jacket from her shoulders and drew the shirt over her head. She was shivering now, but not from cold.

  Jack pulled the chemise apart, careless of the fastenings. He ran his hands over her breasts and felt her nipples harden against his palms. He heard her catch her breath and he kissed her again, driving his tongue into her mouth, exploring her. He released her only to bend his head to her breasts, nipping, tugging and biting softly and then a little harder against the sensitive skin. She tilted her head back. In the heat of the conservatory her hair was clinging in wisps to the damp skin of her throat and as Jack watched a drop of water ran down between her breasts. The sight was so erotic it already had him at the edge of his control.

  “Marry me,” he repeated. The thought of having her in his bed every night was like a dark dream of pleasure.

  But then she freed herself from his grasp, slipping away from him. Her eyes were a dark blue, shadowed with passion, but there was something else there in the depths, disappointment, perhaps, or regret. She bent down and picked up her jacket, pulling it together to cover her.

  “I cannot marry you,” she said, and there was a wealth of regret in her voice. “I am truly honored that you should wish to marry me because I know that it is not a decision you would make lightly, but I cannot accept.” Her voice changed. There was a pleading note in it now.

  “Please try to understand, Jack,” she said. “I was married to a man who did not love me and one day he left me for someone else he did love. I could never take that risk again.”

  “I would never be unfaithful to you,” Jack said instantly. “I swear it.” He meant it. It would not be a promise that would be difficult to keep. Yet in the same moment he could see that it was not enough for her.

  “But you could not love me either, could you?” Mairi said. Then, as his silence betrayed him: “You could not love me as I love you.”

  Jack swallowed hard. He had known she loved him the previous night, he thought, when she had trusted him with all her secrets, turning to him when she was at her most vulnerable. But he did not know how to love her in return. Love had been crushed out of him when he had been little more than a boy.

  He took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it, feeling her tremble.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. His voice was rough.

  She smiled but her eyes were tired. “I think it’s a little late for that.” She freed herself from his touch very deliberately and stepped away. “I’m not blaming you for anything, Jack. You made me no false promises. I’m not telling you I love you because I want to hear you say the words in return. I’m telling you because I want to be honest with you.” She wrapped her arms about herself as though she were cold even though the air in the conservatory was so humid it felt like a deadweight. “You say that you would never be unfaithful, but without love to bind us, what is there?” She smiled, but he could see the sparkle of tears in her eyes. She would not cry, though, at least not in front of him. She had too much pride for that.

  Jack felt fierce regret that he could not give her what she wanted and in the same moment an even more fierce determination that he was not going to let her go even if he could not offer her what she needed, even if he was in no way good enough for her.

  “Mairi—” he said.

  She shook her head. “I would spend each day wondering if you would find someone you could love, Jack,” she said. “I would spend each day wondering if this was the day I would have to let you go. Better to do that now than to lose you when we were wed.” She raised her hand and touched his cheek in the sweetest and most fleeting of caresses and then she turned on her heel and was gone. Jack heard the sound of her footsteps fade into silence and then he was alone.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  IT WAS FORTUNATE that Mairi met no one on her way back to her room because she was crying so hard that she could not really see where she was going. It infuriated her. She knew she had been right to refuse Jack. She just wished it had not been so damned painful.

  Jessie was waiting for her. She wondered what on earth she must look like. Her lips were stung red from Jack’s kisses, but her eyes were equally red from crying. Jessie was looking at her out of the corner of her eye. It was clear she was struggling hard not to say anything. Silence was not really her forte.

  “Lovers’ quarrel, madam?” she said after a moment.

  “Something of the sort,” Mairi said wearily. “Mr. Rutherford proposed to me and I refused him.”

  “I hope ye did not,” Jessie said. “I thought the two of you were already engaged!” She put her hands on her hips. “Such goings-on as between you and Mr. Rutherford, ma’am! I couldnae stay in your service if ye didnae wed. I’m a respectable girl.”

  “I know you are,” Mairi said. “I’m sorry.” She sank down onto the seat in front of the mirror. She looked in what Jessie would no doubt describe as a “right state.” Her hair was tousled, her face flushed and her lips looked swollen. She touched them lightly and felt a voluptuous shiver echo through her. Her body’s indiscriminate response to Jack’s lovemaking just made her feel more despairing. It did not care that he did not love her. It just wanted more sensual pleasure.

  She half turned in the seat. “I don’t feel like dinner tonight,” she said. “Please would you draw me a bath? I’ll maybe take supper later.”

  “Very well, madam,” Jessie said.

  When the maid had gone out Mairi quickly slipped the jacket off, throwing it to one side with the shirt and the breeches. She resumed her seat before the mirror, naked now but for her drawers, and examined her body with curiosity and more than a little awareness. The skin of her neck was stung pink in places where Jack’s stubble had rubbed against her. Lower, her breasts also showed tiny pink marks where Jack had pressed those delicious tiny biting kisses ove
r her skin. Her nipples were still swollen and aroused. She plucked at them and felt an echo of the pleasure that Jack’s touch had brought her.

  She sighed. She had wanted Jack very much. It was exciting to be desired with such fierce passion after so many barren years, but it was not sufficient to sweep away her scruples over a loveless marriage.

  There was a knock at the door. It sounded accusatory as though Jessie thought she might have been getting up to all sort of wickedness as soon as her back was turned. Mairi grabbed her robe and slipped it on, tying it at the waist.

  “Come in.”

  The bath was deliciously hot. Methven might be a medieval castle in origin, but Robert had spared no modern expense when it came to heat and warmth. Mairi was most appreciative. She sank back in the water and let it take the knots of tension from her neck and shoulders. She also let it wash away the niggling worry that Jack might actually be right about Archie being the one who was hunting her. She could not believe that he would set out to kidnap or murder her. It seemed an absurd idea. He had always been the most gentle of souls, with a hatred of cruelty and violence. Besides, he had loved her. Not as a husband did, never as a husband, but as a true friend. It was the friend that she had mourned when Archie had left her, that and the loss of trust.

  She could feel her shoulders tightening again and consciously turned her thoughts away from Archie, letting her mind float free as she sank deeper into the scented water. She thought again of Jack and all that she had learned at his hands. He had shown her how much pleasure could be found in exploring the sensuality in her own nature. It had been a revelation.

  The thought woke the arousal in her body that had scarcely been lulled by the caress of the scented water. She felt the knot tighten in her belly and a pulse beat between her thighs. Grabbing her robe, she stood up and stepped out of the bath, wrapping the material around her, feeling it cling to her skin as the water soaked through. Every touch of the cloth on her felt like a caress. Her body felt ripe and languid, heavy with desire.