Enchanting the Earl (The Townsends)

by Lily Maxton

  Robert’s face had turned white during Theo’s speech, his mouth pinched at the corners. “You are entirely too aggravating,” he said before stalking out the door.

  It appeared today was Theo’s day for vexing people. Unintentionally with Annabel. Intentionally with Robert. He hung his head in his hands, ashamed that he’d let his temper get the better of him, ashamed that he’d baited his brother, even though he didn’t deserve it.

  He sat, for a long time, in silence.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What a lovely little town!” Georgina exclaimed as she, Annabel, and Eleanor walked together along the seashore. The bay, dotted with fishing boats, lay ahead of them. Next to the bay a semi-circle of white-washed buildings comprised the town of Oban.

  If Annabel needed something quickly—or relatively quickly—like tea or sugar, she went to Oban. When Annabel had told the others she was going to make a trip into town to buy a few things, they’d decided to accompany her…albeit reluctantly, in Theo’s case. At first, she’d assumed it was because he didn’t want anything to do with her, after the kiss, but later she realized her assumption was wrong.

  Or at least not entirely correct.

  As they’d approached the town, she couldn’t help but note the tension in the way Theo held himself—the stiffness in his shoulders and the set of his jaw. He was riding just ahead of the cart, and she caught glimpses of his face as he scanned the buildings, taking in the streets—not in the casually interested way a tourist would, but as though their lives might depend on Theo knowing the landscape if something happened.

  He’d seemed much more at ease on the openness of the moors, where it would be difficult for someone to approach without being seen.

  She wondered if he always felt like this in new places. Her heart pinched at the thought.

  Annabel knelt down every now and then to pick up a seashell, enjoying the way the pebbles crunched under her kid leather shoes.

  Her mind inevitably drifted from Theo to what had happened in the stables. She wondered if he had relived their kisses in his mind as often as she had, if it had kept him awake last night. She wondered if he regretted what he’d said.

  Her fingers dug into her palms and she shook her head, frustrated. She was doing it again. Just as she had the night before, her racing thoughts were centered on one unfathomable man.

  It shouldn’t have mattered. She shouldn’t have cared. Her confidence wasn’t some fickle thing to be built up or torn down by a man’s opinion.

  Except, that wasn’t quite the truth when it came to one specific man.

  “Did you hear me?” Georgina asked.

  Annabel blinked at her guiltily. “I’m sorry. My thoughts were wandering.” And she would never, ever tell Georgina or Eleanor what she’d been thinking about.

  Georgina pointed across the street to an inn with a slate roof, white facade, small sash windows and smoke curling from the chimney. “Do you think that’s where Theo and Robert went?”

  “Oh, that’s Mr. MacPherson’s place,” Annabel said. She enjoyed talking with the inn’s proprietor when she came to town. He was a lively older man who enjoyed gossip and knew more history than anyone had a right to.

  They waited until a cart passed and then dashed across the street, avoiding a few piles of horse dung that hadn’t yet been swept away. They stepped into a spacious lodging room that smelled like roasted meat. Mr. MacPherson, old enough to have completely gray hair but active enough to seem younger than he was, was speaking to Robert and Theo, who sat at a table with glasses of whisky. They’d come to the right place for a drink. Mr. MacPherson was a firm believer in hospitality and always had plentiful food and even more plentiful whisky from the local distillery for travelers.

  At the moment, the lodging room was empty except for Annabel and the Townsends.

  Mr. MacPherson had a small bookshelf in the corner for travelers to peruse if they wished. The books were rather old, beaten up copies, and thus not a target for theft, but they were still readable. While Eleanor and Georgina stopped at their brothers’ table, Annabel went straight to the bookshelf to see if Mr. MacPherson had added anything new. She preferred being outdoors to reading, but she didn’t mind a good adventure tale every now and then. She told herself she was not avoiding Theo, but her inner voice wasn’t entirely convincing.

  There was nothing on the bookshelves she hadn’t already looked through, so she plucked a collection of poetry that she remembered enjoying from the shelves to re-read a few pages.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been reading before the sound of someone coming toward her drew her from her reverie. “Miss Lockhart?”

  She closed the book with a snap and turned to survey Theo, noting the dark smudges under his eyes. He looked as restless as she felt. His cravat was even starting to unravel, as though he’d tugged impatiently at the fabric one too many times. He was usually so meticulous with his clothing—this evidence of vulnerability made her pause.

  She pressed the book to her chest, willing her suddenly thrashing heart to slow. “Yesterday it was Annabel,” she remarked coolly.

  His thumb traced over the brass of his cane, though the rest of his body remained still. She was beginning to recognize it as a nervous gesture, and she felt herself softening.

  “Annabel,” he said quietly. “I—”

  “Please don’t tell me you want to apologize. I already know you regret the kiss. I don’t think we need to discuss it again.” She didn’t think her bruised pride could take it.

  He looked down at the floor. “I don’t regret the kiss. I regret hurting you.”

  Now she was the one at a loss for words. “You don’t regret it?”

  He exhaled a soft, sarcastic huff of air. “You couldn’t tell I was enjoying myself?”

  She remembered the hard press of his erection against her thigh and couldn’t keep a telling heat from rising in her face.

  “It’s beside the point. It would be irresponsible to allow it to happen again. I have nothing to offer you, or any woman.”

  He said it with such solemn gravity that she knew he believed it. “I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true.”

  “Because every bride dreams of a damaged husband?” he said. Not with self-pity, but as though he was stating a fact he’d accepted long ago.

  “When I look at you, I don’t see a damaged man,” she said. “I just see a man.”

  Her heart thumped painfully in the silence that followed. She wondered if she’d said too much, if she sounded smitten. She wasn’t smitten—he was still as overbearing and maddening as ever—she just didn’t like the word he’d used to describe himself.

  People, in her opinion, weren’t either damaged or whole—it was too simplistic a view for all the vagaries of life. Theo had been through four years of war, and he was changed. She didn’t know why “changed” meant “broken” in his mind.

  “Anyway,” she said quickly, breaking the silence. “I meant kissing, not marriage.”

  “Pardon?”

  “When you said you had nothing to offer. I meant you weren’t bad at kissing.”

  He looked at her. “Not bad?”

  Exceedingly good. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Passable. Why, with practice you might even become skilled at it.”

  “Strange,” he commented. “For only being passable, you seemed eager to continue.”

  “It’s not gentlemanly to remark on my eagerness or lack thereof.”

  “There was no lack thereof, Annabel.”

  Her heart was thrashing wildly again. This time at the intensity in his voice, the arrogance.

  “Beast,” she said, gratified when his lips twitched. “Though, I suppose, if you don’t regret it, and I don’t regret it, there is no reason why we couldn’t…”

  “What?”

  “Practice,” she finished. She immediately regretted her impulsive words. What in the world would he think? Would he assume she was desperate or lonely? Would he guess th
at she’d thought about the hard press of his lips all night, and let her fingers run over her own skin in a shallow imitation of his touch? Would he know that she ached for him?

  His face went blank even as his eyes brightened with hunger. At least she knew she wasn’t alone in this unwanted attraction. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out whether he was going to accept her proposition or deny her. She couldn’t figure out which outcome she should hope for.

  If she was practical, there were too many reasons why repeating those moments in the stable were a horrible idea. If she wasn’t practical…well, then she would only focus on how those stolen moments had made her feel—womanly, sensual, alive, wanted—so, so wanted. It would be all too easy to yearn for that rush, to crave it.

  One taste, and she already was.

  Theo opened his mouth to speak and everything in her tensed, as though she waited at the edge of a precipice. He paused suddenly, closing his mouth again. An instant later, she realized why.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Georgina, who’d come up behind her, boomed in her ear.

  Annabel dropped her book, producing a loud thud that made everyone in the lodging room turn to stare at her. Mr. MacPherson narrowed his eyes, no doubt disturbed by her lack of regard for the written word. Georgina peered at them suspiciously as Annabel fumbled to pick up the fallen volume.

  “Your face is flushed,” Georgina told Theo.

  In an automatic gesture, his hand went up to touch his cheek. “No, it’s not,” he protested.

  But it was a little darkened.

  “So is yours,” Georgina said now, focusing on Annabel.

  “George,” Theo said irritably, “have you no grasp of proper behavior at all?”

  “Well,” his sister sniffed, sounding more prickly than wounded. “I can tell where I’m not wanted.”

  She stalked off to talk to her sister, and Mr. MacPherson replaced her at their side.

  After they greeted one another warmly, he said, “Why are ye throwing my books around? Not to your liking?”

  “You know Defoe is one of my favorites. It just slipped from my hand,” she said. Her subsequent laugh was a little shrill. She very carefully didn’t meet Theo’s gaze.

  Mr. MacPherson leaned closer to them. “Have ye heard the latest gossip?”

  “No,” she said, intrigued. “Something good?”

  “Something murderous.” He quirked his eyebrows—Mr. MacPherson liked to lead in with an air of mystery.

  “Do tell us, Mr. MacPherson,” she said, playing along. “We can’t stand the suspense.”

  “Yes,” Theo said drily. “I’m about to collapse in a heap.”

  She resisted the urge to nudge him in the ribs.

  “A gentleman was found dead at his country house a little over a fortnight ago, from a bullet wound to the chest.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Oh dear.” She needed to come to town more often if this was the sort of news she was missing. “Do they have any idea who shot him?”

  “This is the scandalous part,” Mr. MacPherson said. “They think his wife did it. There’s a warrant for her arrest.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye. She was gone when the sheriff’s officers arrived and there was no sign of housebreaking. Took their daughter with her, too.”

  Annabel’s stomach clenched. She told herself it was simply a coincidence. “A daughter?” she asked. “How old?”

  “Oh…four or five years, I think?”

  Mary was four. Annabel struggled to control her breathing. “Do you…” She swallowed. “Do you know the name of the gentleman?”

  “I’m dreadful with names, but I know it was Mc-something.”

  Unfortunately, this didn’t rule out Fiona. She resisted the urge to grab his coat and shake him until he remembered. There had to be more genteel Scottish families with one four-year-old daughter than just Fiona’s.

  “The family of the gentleman is livid. They said they willna leave any stone unturned until the wife is found.”

  “Really?” Annabel asked.

  “Oh yes,” Mr. MacPherson said with relish. “Powerful people, too, so I hear—titled. They’ve been gathering people to help search for her.”

  “How many?” she asked, hoping she sounded casual. Anyway, it still might be coincidence. She couldn’t believe Fiona would have kept something like this from her. “Do they have any idea which way she went?”

  “I wouldn’t know how many, lass,” Mr. MacPherson said with a shrug. “I’ve heard all this from gossip, not the sheriff himself. But I heard old Ferguson say they think she went south. Maybe to Glasgow?”

  “Do you feel all right?” Theo asked Annabel softly.

  She started, uneasy that he’d been studying her. “Fine. I’m fine.” She turned her attention back to Mr. MacPherson. “How do they know she didn’t sail off somewhere, never to return?”

  “They must think she’s still in the Highlands, because they’re focusing all their efforts here. Mayhap there were no ships sailing that she could have reached in time?”

  “Yes, perhaps that was it,” she said weakly.

  Mr. MacPherson excused himself to check on something, and Theo moved closer to her.

  “Annabel,” he said.

  “Oh…it’s just such a violent story.” This he frowned at—and Annabel wasn’t surprised. Nothing she’d done in their entire acquaintance had indicated she might have a weak constitution. He couldn’t know that her mind was racing, trying to think of all the reasons why this woman couldn’t be Fiona. “That poor child,” she rushed on. “I hope she didn’t see anything that might stay with her.”

  Theo’s expression cleared. He must have thought this explanation sounded more like her. “It’s not fair for a child to pay for the sins of their parents, is it?”

  She shook her head. “Unfortunately, fairness rarely has any place in life.” She was remembering their conversation when she said it. Repeating words that were so close to his. He’d accused her of being naive, but she knew that children paid for the sins of their parents, and even the best people could be brought low… She just wished things were different. Especially when she looked at Theo Townsend—an honorable man who believed he had nothing to offer.

  “The whisky is done,” Robert said jovially, approaching them with a broad smile. He was steady on his feet, but she wondered just how much whisky he’d had to drink. “You two need to stop staring at one another so intently. It’s too much tension for such a beautiful day.”

  Theo lifted his eyebrows. “You could have saved some for me.”

  “As lovely as Miss Lockhart is, you shouldn’t have left to speak with her. I thought you’d forfeited your share.” He clapped his hands together as though it was no matter. “Shall we be off, then?”

  “Yes,” Theo said, and Annabel nearly laughed at his disgruntled expression. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  As they crossed the room, she told herself she was being silly. She had an overactive imagination. The coincidences really weren’t all that damning when she held them up, side by side.

  “Miss Lockhart?” Mr. MacPherson called.

  “Yes?”

  “I just remembered the name. McKendrick. Colin McKendrick.”

  She nearly stumbled. Theo put his hand on her elbow to brace her and glanced at her quizzically. She forced herself to smile, to play off the moment as clumsiness, but inside she’d turned to ice.

  With those seemingly innocuous words, it felt like her whole world had shattered around her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Annabel had been distant all day. Ever since they’d spoken at Mr. MacPherson’s inn. Theo assumed she was regretting her reckless proposition to him—which was as it should be. As tempted as he was—and yes, he could admit to himself that he was tempted by Annabel, beyond all reason and all good sense—it would be a mistake. Even if they succumbed to the desire that burned bright between them, she would still be leaving as soon as h
e heard back from his solicitor.

  And he would still have nothing to offer her.

  But logic wasn’t enough to quell the frisson of heat he felt every time he imagined them “practicing.”

  To combat this heat, and to prevent himself from doing something incredibly stupid—like collapsing at her feet and offering himself like a fruit for the plucking—he went for a stroll. The wind whipped at his hair and coat and the clouds in the sky were starting to break apart, revealing patches of pale blue.

  Eventually his steps led him to the stable, where he was comforted by the soft snorts of Robin and Marian, and the smells of hay and manure. Of course, those smells and sounds inevitably drew his mind back to rain-soaked skin and hot, smooth lips and the terrified feeling that he wanted to kiss Annabel until every inch of him drowned in her.

  The stables were a mistake.

  He was on his way out when a movement caught his attention. A small girl was crouched in the corner by some piles of hay. She looked startled when Theo caught her gaze, as though she’d been trying to hide from him.

  “Good day,” Theo said curiously.

  The little girl smiled. “I’m not supposed to be out here.”

  “Where are you supposed to be?”

  “Inside.”

  “In the castle?” Theo asked.

  The girl nodded. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  Was she one of the servant’s children? The cook or the maid? She didn’t look much like either woman. “I won’t tell anyone if you walk back with me.” Whoever she was, someone might be worried about her, and it wasn’t safe for such a young child to be around horses unsupervised.

  The girl looked up at him in awe as they walked side by side. “You’re very tall.”

  Theo’s mouth twitched. “You’ll be tall someday, as well. Or taller, at least.”

  “I will?” She sounded flabbergasted.

  “Of course. It might take a few years.”