“Yes, lassie, perfectly innocent.” But he somehow made “innocent” sound more like “indecent.”
Lord, she was being fanciful now.
“Go on, my lady,” the colonel said. “I don’t wish yer aunt to worry.”
“Very well.” She smiled at her Highlander. “Thank you for the dance, sir.”
“ ’Twas my pleasure.” He lowered his voice. “My very great pleasure.”
And with the delicious thrum of his brogue ringing in her ears, she fled.
Lachlan watched her disappear beneath the archway with his blood afire and his cock hard and heavy beneath his kilt. He must have lost his bloody mind, to keep kissing the lass so. But Holy Christ, she’d a way of making a man want her…
He swore under his breath.
“I agree wholeheartedly.” Seton glanced back to make sure Venetia was out of earshot. “Was that wise of you?”
“Dinna fash yerself. I know exactly what I’m about.”
Thank God the man hadn’t witnessed the kiss, or he’d see that Lachlan was lying. That kiss had shaken his self-control. No woman had ever affected him like that, not even his former fiancée, Polly, who’d thrown him over for a rich man.
No, Venetia was naught like the demure Polly, to be sure. Despite being the most elegant female he’d ever known, Venetia had a secret, passionate nature as ungoverned as any Highland fling. It drove him into a dangerous carelessness.
But mo chreach, her mouth alone would seduce the dourest Presbyterian…and her body fit so well in his arms that he’d been sore tempted to lay her down right here and—
Don’t be thinking that!
No matter how fine the lass’s kisses, she wasn’t for him. She could never be for him. And she’d be the first to remind him of it in the days to come.
“You almost gave me heart failure, you know,” Seton said. “When you disappeared through the door with Duncannon’s daughter and stayed gone so long, I thought sure you’d decided to snatch her tonight.”
“With half a dozen magistrates in the next room and the city full of soldiers and constables?”Lachlan snorted. “Don’t be daft, man. I’d be lucky to make it half a mile out of the city. But tomorrow the soldiers will be at Portobello Sands drilling for the review; that’s when we’ll do it.”
Seton let out a breath. “I can’t help thinking like an officer: strike while the enemy is at hand. I forget that the Scourge must be more careful—”
“Hold your tongue,”Lachlan hissed. “The Scourge is dead, remember? And he must stay dead to all but Duncannon and his family.”
“Speaking of his family, what did you hope to gain by alarming the gel’s aunt?” Seton asked. “You put Lady Kerr on her guard, to be sure.”
“And I gave you the chance to play the hero for her, as well. So the lady will be more apt to listen to you when her niece goes missing.” He headed for the entrance to the muslin tent. “If anything, I made tomorrow easier for you.”
He started to brush past Seton, but the man grabbed his arm. “I hope you’re right. One false move and we’ll both be hanging from the gallows.”
Lachlan faced him grimly. “If you’re having second thoughts, say so. I told you, ye don’t have to do this.”
“I’m not having second thoughts, damn it.” He drew himself up like the proud old soldier that he was. “Unlike Duncannon, I keep my promises.”
“You’ve repaid me a thousand times over—”
“For keeping that damned bastard from slitting my throat in Aviemore? How can that ever be repaid?”
“If you do what you promised tomorrow, that will be payment enough.” He glanced into the ballroom. “Is everything ready? There’s naught to tie you to me?”
“Don’t worry.” Seton puffed up his chest. “I took care of it. You’d think that by now you could trust me—”
“I do trust you, I swear. But it’s one thing to wheedle information out of your daughter about when Duncannon’s friends are traveling to Scotland, so you can pass it on to me. ’Tis quite another to aid in a woman’s kidnapping. For your daughter’s sake, your connection to the Scourge must never be found out.”
“Don’t worry about me and Lucy,” he said peevishly. “Worry about yerself. Worry about Duncannon going to the authorities once he realizes you’re not dead.”
“And risk his daughter’s life? He won’t. Besides, he knows what he’s guilty of—that’s why he’s never gone to them before. He’ll try to deal with this himself, as he did when he sent men to murder me. Then I’ll force him to admit his crimes.”
“I still think you should have gone to the press with your claim—”
“So he can deny it? I have no proof, ye ken? He has to swear to it before witnesses, so I can get back what’s owed to me and my clan. No matter what I have to do.” But Seton needn’t know how far he was willing to take it. “If you decide this is too risky, I won’t blame you. I can manage without you.”
“I’m not going to change my mind.” Seton clapped him on the shoulder. “Just send me some of that fine whisky you and your clansmen cook up, and I’ll be content.” He headed for the courtyard. “Now, I’m returning to my guests before they come looking for me. And it’s time for you to vanish.”
“What will you tell Lady Kerr and Lady Venetia about my disappearance before the unmasking?”Lachlan called out.
“That I ran you off for sneaking in without an invitation and bothering my important guests.”
Lachlan snorted. “You think you can convince them of that? You’re not the best actor, you know.”
“I convinced Lady Kerr that I fancy her, didn’t I?”
“Only because you do fancy her,”Lachlan said dryly. “And from what I can see, your attentions annoy the lady. You’ve got to be more subtle if you want her under yer thumb.”
“I don’t want her under my thumb, I want her—” He caught himself, then scowled at Lachlan . “Oh, go on with you, you rascal. Don’t you be worrying about me and Lady Kerr. You ought to be worrying about you and the little lass.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s pretty as a picture, Duncannon’s daughter.” Seton gave him that officer’s stare. “So what were the two of you doing out here in the dark?”
“Nothing for you to be concerned about,”Lachlan lied.
Nothing he should ever do again, either. Because kissing Venetia could well become a dangerous habit. And he had enough danger in his life already.
Chapter Four
Dear Charlotte,
I perfectly understand your concern. The thought of two ladies alone on the road with only servants to attend them worries you, since you would never be so unwise as to travel without male protection.
Your cousin,
Michael
The morning after the ball, Venetia was transcribing ballads from her newest broadsides when Aunt Maggie went to answer a knock at their inn room door. Venetia hadn’t even heard it over the thunder of regiments marching off to drill.
After speaking with the servant, her aunt came to Venetia’s side. “Are you ready to go? Colonel Seton is here to fetch us for our outing.”
“May I finish writing down this last verse?”
“Certainly. I’ll go keep him company.” Aunt Maggie headed for the door, then paused. “Are you sure nothing happened last night between you and that Bonnie Prince Charlie fellow? I was horrified when the colonel told us he’d entered the ball without an invitation. The audacity of the man!”
She forced a smile. “No, nothing happened.” Much as she longed to gain her aunt’s advice about her secret encounter with the Highlander, Aunt Maggie would disapprove of furtive kisses in the dark with a stranger.
A rather bold stranger, according to the colonel, though he’d claimed not to know the man. How odd. She could have sworn that he had.
“I only mention it,” her aunt said, “because you seem rather glum.”
“I dreamed about Braidmuir, that’s all.” She sighed. “I m
iss it so much. I wish we could at least visit.” She hadn’t returned to their estate in years.
Sympathy furrowed her aunt’s brow. “I know, my dear, and one day I’m sure you will. Just not on this trip.” She smoothed her blue muslin gown. “Well then, I shall go join the colonel. Don’t be too long.”
As she left, Venetia stared down at her ballad notebook. She had dreamed of Braidmuir. But more important, she’d dreamed of Lachlan Ross.
In her dream, her parents had been arguing, their voices so loud that she’d sought solace in the cool glen near Rosscraig, with the burn that Lachlan had always liked to fish. She’d found him there, too, but he’d changed—grown taller, older, more filled out…rather like her Highlander from last night.
She kept forgetting that her Highlander was a distant Ross relation. But that—and the resemblance he bore to Lachlan —was the only thing the two men had in common. Lachlan had always hated the Highlands —he would never have called it his home. And even if both men had served in the army, so had many Highland men—it had been the only way to maintain traditions like the wearing of the tartan during the years those traditions were outlawed in Scotland .
Although Lachlan had never been averse to draping himself in tartan, he’d always despised the kilt, calling it daft nonsense invented by—
Walter Scott invented this daft nonsense.
Her heart skipped a beat. Her Highlander had said that last night. What if by some miracle it had been Lachlan? What if the papers had been wrong? It would explain why he seemed so familiar, why she’d dreamed of him.
She shook her head woefully. She just wanted to believe it was Lachlan because she hated to think of him as dead. She and Aunt Maggie and the Highlander had even stood there discussing Lachlan’s death—surely if the man had been Lachlan, he’d have revealed his identity then.
So her Highlander was probably exactly as she feared—some penniless foot soldier with no prospects and a bit of polish, who just happened to be skilled at kissing. A man in search of a fortune. She’d probably be disappointed if she met him by day and had time to assess his true character, so she must put him right out of her mind.
Once she went downstairs and they all set off for the park in the colonel’s splendid little barouche, that became easier. Who could think of fortune hunters on such a summer day, with a glorious vista rising before them? As they approached the park, the Salisbury Crags shone golden in the sun, and the balmy breeze warmed her chilly heart. She began to anticipate their climb eagerly.
When they stopped beside Duddingston Loch for their picnic, her heart leaped at the sight. Arthur’s Seat soared above them, a piece of the Highlands plunked down in the midst of Edinburgh . It was as close to home as she might ever get.
They dined on smoked salmon, creamy caboc cheese, and thick brown bread, laughing at Colonel Seton’s tales of his adventures abroad. She noticed that Aunt Maggie wasn’t entirely immune to the colonel’s flirting, which Venetia encouraged. She desperately wanted a good husband for her aunt.
So when Aunt Maggie rose to fetch her walking stick from the carriage and the colonel’s gaze followed her, Venetia had to smother her smile of delight.
“Your aunt is the finest woman I’ve e’er had the chance to meet,” he remarked.
“Is she now?”Venetia tried hard to appear nonchalant for her aunt’s sake.
“Do you think she’d countenance the attentions of an old soldier like me?” He looked for all the world like a commander plotting a campaign.
She bit back a smile. “You have a chance, yes.”More than a chance, if he proceeded with caution. “But you must be patient. She’s slow to warm to people.”
“Will you help me? We rough fellows tend to forget how to behave around fine ladies. But I think if I could get her alone—”
“Of course. Whatever I can do.”
“Splendid,” he said, glancing up at the mountain. “Just follow my lead.”
“What do you intend?”
He patted her hand. “Don’t worry—I won’t alarm her. But it’s hard to court a woman when she hides behind her niece’s skirts.”
She laughed. “I imagine it is.”
After lunch, they started their walk to Arthur’s Seat. The birches around Duddingston Loch took little time to pass through, but the actual climb slowed their pace. Thank heavens she’d chosen her most serviceable apparel—a sturdy pelisse robe of merino, her Limerick gloves, and her leather half-boots—because they had to clamber over many a boulder. Still, the walk proved invigorating, and her wide-brimmed straw hat protected her from the bright sun.
They’d just crossed the last hill before the summit when Colonel Seton stopped short and cried, “Damnation!”
“What’s wrong?”Venetia asked in genuine alarm as he sank to the ground.
He removed his boot to examine his heel. “An old war injury kicking up.” He rubbed his stocking foot, then winced. “I should have known better than to attempt such a climb, but I did want you ladies to see the spectacular view.”
“Just like a man, to be doing things he oughtn’t,” her aunt muttered as she went toward him. “Let me take a look.”
“No need, it’s fine.” Casting her a determined smile, he put his boot back on and stood. Only to yelp loudly and drop back down.
“Stop that, you silly fellow,” Aunt Maggie protested. “You mustn’t go another step. Sit here while Venetia and I fetch the carriage.”
He sighed. “The carriage won’t make the climb. You’d have to unhitch a horse and lead it up here. Though perhaps if the two of you would let me lean on you, I could limp back down—”
“No, indeed,”Venetia said hastily, realizing he was waiting for her to “follow his lead.” “I shall hurry down for the horse. It won’t take long.”
“And I’ll go with you,” her aunt said.
“Certainly not. We can’t both ride. I can fetch it myself. You should stay here and keep the poor colonel company.”
Aunt Maggie looked torn, but practicality won out. “All right, dear. But do be careful, will you?”
“Of course,” she said with feigned seriousness.
Venetia set off down the path in a hurry, then slowed her steps once she was out of sight. It wouldn’t do to ruin Colonel Seton’s efforts.
Fanciful thoughts of Aunt Maggie and Colonel Seton in some future marriage absorbed her as she strolled down the mountain. His daughter Lucinda would surely be happy about it. The wedding could take place in Edinburgh, and Venetia might even persuade Papa to let her come to Scotland again…
Spinning such delightful scenarios kept her so absorbed that she was near the bottom before she knew it. She’d almost reached the woods skirting the loch when a strange man emerged from among the birches, giving her quite a start.
Not that it was odd for people to be in the park today—they’d encountered several walkers—but something about the single-minded expression on his face gave her pause. Even his gentlemanly attire—the chocolate-brown frock coat, buff trousers, and polished Hessians—didn’t assuage her discomfort.
Casting a nervous glance about her, she realized that this part of the park was presently deserted. Worse yet, the man seemed to be headed right for her.
Then she noticed his stiff gait, and her heart stuttered. He was tall, with the same chiseled chin as her Highlander. As he doffed his broad-brimmed beaver hat to her, she spotted the jagged scar on his wide brow. Relief flooded her.
“Good day, lass. I don’t know if you recognize me without the costume—”
“I do indeed.” Except that it wasn’t the masquerade that she was thinking of. In the brilliance of a sunny day, with his mask gone, he looked even more like…
She caught her breath. The color of his eyes, the arch of his brows, and the shape of his features were the same. And oh, Lord, although his hair was shorter now, falling only to just above his shoulders, the particular chestnut hue was an exact match to that of—
“Lachlan?”
“Lachlan Ross!” she cried. “You really are alive!”
Chapter Five
Dear Cousin,
Once again, sir, you attribute to me notions that never crossed my mind. Why shouldn’t two women travel the country with only servants to attend them? This isn’t the England of your childhood. Highwaymen are scarce these days. I daresay women have more to fear from London pickpockets than from good country Scots.
Your annoyed relation,
Charlotte
Devil take her, he had hoped the lass wouldn’t put it together so quickly. He’d planned to give her a false name until he could lure her into the carriage by playing on their acquaintance from the ball. That wouldn’t work now.
A shame he couldn’t just toss her over his shoulder and carry her off, but a party of walkers had emerged from the woods, headed for the climb. The park was lousy with visitors today—anyone might hear her scream and come to her rescue.
He’d have to play along until he got her where he wanted her. That meant he’d have to explain his miraculous resurrection. Or avoid explaining it.
“Yes, I’m alive.” He clapped his hat back on his head and made a show of looking around for enemies. “Can you lower yer voice? No one’s supposed to know.”
Such secrecy must have appealed to her, for she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “Why? And how can you be alive when the papers said—”
“I know, lass, I know.” He cast a furtive glance at the party passing them. “Can we talk about this somewhere more private? Let’s head for those woods.”
“Oh, I forgot! Forgive me, but I must hasten to Colonel Seton’s carriage.”
As she continued down the path toward the woods, he followed along. She was playing right into their hands, she was. “Is that where yer friends are?” he asked in feigned innocence.
“No, I have to ride a horse back up the mountain for the colonel. We were walking to the top when he supposedly injured his leg, and now must ride down.”
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