Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  Reaching up he brushed his fingers along her cheek before grasping her chin and forcing her face up. Her smile faded as her eyes locked with his. “Look at ye now, wee Abby. Yer nearly a woman grown.” He didn’t hear Abby’s sigh of disgust. “Look at ye. So bonny, so perfect…” he broke off as she swung away from him.

  Chapter 18

  May you live every day of your life.

  - Jonathan Swift

  Abby spun away, tugging the veil more fully around her.

  Perfect!

  She was mortified by his words. Sure, they were words she longed to hear, but Richard didn’t know the truth. Her beauty was a fairytale now. She put her hands to her cheeks, silently cursing the fates.

  Somewhere in the midst of their reminiscing, she had forgotten the present and only lived for those moments from the past. Just as the darkness had the night before, that recollection of days gone by had prompted Abby to forget the problems of today and tease Richard with relish, as she had done many a time.

  He made it easy to forget but it was all a sham.

  She wasn’t that girl any longer. It was easy to pretend, when Richard was unaware of her true lack of perfection, but when he finally knew, finally saw it, moments like these would simply disappear. While a part of her longed to take what she could while she could, the other part knew that his rejection, when it came – and surely it would – would be hard enough to bear without the knowledge that this flirtation between them might have been so very different if the past could be altered.

  “Abby, my dear.” Concern was plain in Richard’s voice. “What ever is wrong?”

  Tell him the truth, her logical mind told her. Just explain it to him. She’d always been able to talk to Richard about anything. If she told him of the accident, he would react much as Jack had, she was sure. He would comfort her when she spoke of how hard it had been to go into public, to be stared at and whispered about behind her back. Like Jack, he would want to pummel every man who had ever curled his lip in her direction.

  In short, he would treat her as a brother.

  That was not something she wanted from him. Of course, she wanted his friendship, she always had. However, there was so much more she wanted. Abby wanted more and more of the admiring looks he had directed toward her these past couple of days. She wanted that tingle that raced through her all the way down to her toes when he looked at her just so. Abby wanted to feel his arms around her one more time before the truth was out… and then one more time after that.

  Then another and another and another!

  Abby took a deep breath, but a shudder of longing raked her anyway. She wanted Richard with all the love of a woman. Just as she always had. His return, the desire in his eyes, the passion of his kiss… it was everything she’d ever dreamed of and more. It broke her heart to know that it might end. That honest attraction, that true passion.

  “Abby, what is it?”

  Abby could hear the confusion in Richard’s voice. It wasn’t fair to him to leave him wondering at her dramatic change of mood, but short of whipping off her veil and exposing the truth of the matter, she had no words to explain it to him. She was too much a coward to do it. She didn’t want him to see her.

  What a chicken I am, Abby thought with disgust.

  In all honesty, Abby knew that she did him a grave disservice by assuming what his reaction would be. Richard wasn’t a shallow person. He would never recoil. He would never wince. He would never by word or action deliberately hurt her feelings. She knew that in her heart. The problem was her own.

  Once he saw the damage the horse’s hooves had done to her, she would forever be watching his eyes, waiting for them to drift to her scars. Waiting for the pity. Waiting for… anything that would confirm what she knew. What hundreds of eyes had shown her over the years.

  Pity.

  Revulsion.

  That was not something she would ever be prepared to see from Richard.

  Ever!

  Abby turned and marched with purpose to her horse. “Jack, I need to leave now. Get Sandy down from there!”

  “What’s wrong, Abs?”

  “I forgot an appointment,” Abby lied quickly, going to her mount’s side. “I need to return to Grandmamma’s.”

  Jack’s gaze darted suspiciously from her to Richard and back again, a frown darkening his eyes. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that!” Abby snapped back, shoving her foot into the stirrup and trying to pull herself up into the sidesaddle without assistance. Given the drastic size difference between her and her mount, it was an impossible task, to say the least.

  “Here, let me,” Richard whispered softly at her side.

  Abby’s eyes closed as his hands slid around her waist, wavering between misery and desire. She could feel the heat of him behind her, feel his breath tease the hair near her ear. The urge to lean back against him was strong, to lose herself in the shelter of his arms and stay there forever.

  Tears pricked at her eyes. Suddenly, it all seemed so unfair. Here she was, amid the greatest of her lifelong fantasies coming true before her very eyes, and Abby couldn’t even enjoy it for fear of its end. He had thought her beautiful. He had wanted her.

  It seemed almost cruel now that he hadn’t seen the truth right from the beginning.

  Richard put Abby into her saddle and she stared down at him as she gathered up her reins. Her tongue was tied with all the things she wanted to say to him.

  Bloody hell. Abby jerked the horse about, applying her crop to the mare’s flanks.

  “Goodbye, Richard.”

  Goodbye, Richard.

  There it was again, delivered with the same finality that her farewell had been last night. What was going on here, he wondered as she cantered away. Something must be amiss. Either that, or Abby had become a devilish minx determined to toy with her prey.

  “What was that all about?” Jack growled as he returned to his mount with Sandy close at his heels.

  “You tell me.” Richard shook his head in true confusion. “I don’t recall Abby running so hot and cold in the past.”

  “Ye must have said something to upset her,” Jack accused with brotherly defense. “Ye dinnae try to kiss her again, did ye?”

  “Of course not,” Richard denied, though he knew with all honesty that he might have done just that if the opportunity had presented itself. “We were just talking about years past. She was laughing, enjoying the conversation. Then… that.” He jerked his thumb at Abby’s retreating back as he swung a leg over his own mount’s back. “I don’t understand her at all! One minute she’ll be the Abby I once knew and then in a snap, she’s the ice queen.”

  Jack watched Abby’s retreat, Sandy hot on her heels once he was astride. He sighed ruefully. “Since the accident, Abs has never been entirely herself.”

  Confusion washed over Richard. Accident? He’d never heard of anything of the sort. Spurring his horse after Jack, who was in pursuit of his siblings, Richard wondered at the vague reference and asked as he pulled along side his friend, “What accident?”

  “When she got trampled by the horse five years ago at Ascot,” Jack frowned at Richard, who frowned back in bewilderment. “Where did you think she got all those scars?”

  Richard felt as if he’d walked into the midst of a Greek comedy where one player knew his lines and the other had no recourse but to improvise his own. A horse had trampled Abby? When? Why had he never heard of it? Scars?

  As they caught up with the younger Merrills who had slowed to a walk, Richard considered Abby as she spoke with her youngest brother. Her spine, stiff and straight, spoke of a deep-seated irritation. Though he’d been in the armies and away for England for most of the past five years, he’d thought he’d been kept abreast of all happenings within his own clan and the Merrills as well. Richard racked his brain, searching for any mention of such an accident among the hundreds of letters he had received from his family. He couldn’t recall any such news. He had his own measure of ir
ritation at being left unawares, but more than that, his worry for Abby’s well being took hold.

  “What scars?” Jack just glowered at him but Richard shook his head with true perplexity. “I haven’t a clue to what you’re referring.”

  Jack sighed with a shake of his head. “Granted she does a fine job of covering most of them, but surely you’ve noticed the scar here,” Jack traced a finger down his cheek. “I’ve told her time and again that it’s not so terrible but from the way the fashionable bucks react to it you’d think she’d been set on fire. They gawk and talk so when she’s out in Society, so she’s avoided it for years. The attention has made her wary, transformed her from my sister who radiated sunshine to one who lingers in shadows. She thinks it’s all anyone looks at any more. You truly haven’t noticed them, have you?”

  “Not at all,” Richard responded in all honesty.

  “Of course, you have had other things on your mind,” Jack allowed.

  He had, Richard conceded. He worried so over his brother every day that the only thing – or person – who had been able to distract him from it was Abby. She was becoming an obsession in her own right. One that brought him deep guilt for setting aside his worries for Vin even for a few moments.

  With this news, he was once again distracted from his greater purpose for a care of this slip of a lass. Studying Abby as she rode, he saw it then – not the scars - but the way she kept her head turned away from him just so. He’d thought that it was for nothing more than effect, for the way she peered up at him through her lashes in a sidelong fashion. It had been intriguing before, but now that he knew the truth, it rankled at his nerves.

  Jack was right, Abby had changed from the spirited lass he knew. However, since there had still been glimpses of his Abby in the private moments between them the previous night, and this afternoon, he had thought this detachment nothing more than a façade for the sake of society, a role she played. He would never have imagined that the dispassion she had shown at both balls was not society polish but rather a sort of barrier she had erected to keep away the hurt she must surely feel if she’d been shunned as Jack said.

  Richard hadn’t noticed any negative attention being paid to Abby and so hadn’t yet seen any evidence to support Jack’s words, but London’s ton had always been superficial, he knew. At one point in his life, Richard had reveled in the frivolous entertainment and shallow relationships. This, however, was beyond the pale. To think that anyone would think less of a woman like Abby simply because she was lacking in some trivial way was inexcusable.

  “Why had I never heard anything of this accident?” Richard wondered aloud. “I’ve had hundreds of letters over the years, none of this was mentioned.”

  Jack just shrugged. “I love my sister, Richard. I wanted to protect her. Moira and I deliberately went to great lengths to keep the incident from everyone so that Abby might have time to heal and come to terms with the results. Moira never even wrote Jace of it, I’d wager.”

  No, she hadn’t, Richard thought. If she had, Jace would have in turn shared it with him as they shared everything. “Francis knew of it.”

  Chuckling wryly, Jack only shrugged again. “What I know, Francis knows. And visa versa. Been that way since we were lads.”

  They neared the Boughton townhome in Belgrave Square just a few streets down from Hyde Park. As they approached, Richard could see Joshua Boughton, Abby’s grandfather, on the front walkway in conversation with another gentleman. It took only moments to recognize the other man as that Aylesbury fellow who had danced with Abby at both the Rosebery ball and her sister’s engagement ball.

  Aylesbury’s face lit with pleasure as he turned and watched them approach. There was one member of the ton at least who did not treat Abby as Jack said most men did, Richard thought with a growl low in his throat. The marquis was as besotted as any man Richard had ever seen. If Aylesbury felt any sort of revulsion over Abby’s mysterious scarring, he hid it very well.

  With Abby ahead of him, he couldn’t read her expression as the marquis waved a greeting, but her body language, they way she straightened in the saddle bespoke anticipation, if nothing else.

  Richard ground his teeth.

  Then thought he would swallow his tongue when Aylesbury reached up to help Abby dismount. Richard never would have thought that, with three other men present – one her grandfather and one her brother –that any man would take such prolonged pleasure in the act. It seemed an age before her feet were on the ground.

  If Aylesbury had taken a second longer in accomplishing the feat, Richard would have been hard put not to break them up. What was Jack thinking, letting Aylesbury’s hands linger so on his sister? On his favorite sister?

  “Harry,” Abby greeted her beau. “What brings you out?”

  “I thought to see if might be up for a ride in the park but it appears I am too late,” Aylesbury returned.

  The marquis hadn’t yet completely released Abby, Richard noticed. One hand remained low on her back while the other held her hand tightly. Richard turned a glare upon Jack who just stared back at him with a grimace as they dismounted.

  “Grandpapa, you remember Richard MacKintosh, don’t you?”

  “I do,” the older man took Richard’s hand, pumping it affectionately. “How are you, son?”

  In denial of every truth, Richard responded politely, “Very well, sir. And you?”

  “Good, good,” Boughton replied.

  “Harry, I don’t believe you’ve met my brother and Captain MacKintosh yet,” Abby continued before making the introductions.

  Aylesbury shook Jack’s hand before transferring his firm grasp to Richard. Richard gripped the marquis’ hand tightly in return, meeting the fellow’s bright blue eyes. There was a wealth of humor held behind them and Richard was hard pressed not to ask what the marquis found to be so bloody amusing.

  “Aylesbury.” Richard found his voice tight and couldn’t help but wonder why meeting Abby’s suitor face to face would rankle him so. He had a thousand memories of Abby, all filled with the love of a brother for a sister. For the lass she had been.

  Of course, what he felt these days was anything but brotherly. Though he did feel a certain need to take her over his knee for her foolish worries over something well beyond her control.

  “Captain,” Aylesbury returned pleasantly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “I cannot say the same.”

  “I find that very interesting. I…”

  “Harry, enough!” Abby cut in, though she kept her gaze averted still from Richard. But not from Aylesbury. It irritated Richard all the more that Abby might trust the marquis with certain truths that she hadn’t deemed fit to share with him, a lifelong friend, as yet. “Why don’t you just go home?”

  A sharp glance told Richard that this statement was directed at Aylesbury, not himself. Even in the face of such a rebuke, the marquis looked on the verge of laughter. Bloody hell! Was the man never serious?

  “But, my love, its such a long walk home,” Aylesbury argued plaintively, though the words held more teasing than whining.

  “Oh, please!” Abby rolled her eyes. “Go! I will see you tonight.”

  “Oh, very well!” the marquis sighed and bowed slightly to Lord Boughton, Jack and even Sandy before turning to Richard. “Captain. A pleasure.”

  Richard almost couldn’t restrain his snort of disbelief, and the marquis must have noticed, because he turned away with a chuckle and ambled slowly to the townhouse just left of the Boughton’s and opened the door. At the entrance, he turned with a jaunty wave and went inside.

  Chapter 19

  Women are meant to be love, not to be understood.

  - Oscar Wilde, Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime and Other Stories

  “He lives next door?” Jack asked, sparing Richard the need to voice his own incredulity. “Isn’t that convenient?”

  Again, Jack’s sarcasm echoed Richard’s own. How much access did the marquis have with Abby living
just next door to him? How long had they been courting? For a moment, Richard turned those thoughts over in his mind. Abby seemed very comfortable and affectionate with the marquis. Too comfortable, to his mind. Suddenly he recalled Abby saying to Jack the previous night that her father had brought his daughters – all his daughters – to London to marry them off.

  How close was Haddington to accomplishing that feat with Abby?

  Richard mentally willed Jack to ask the question but was disappointed. If Jack held the same measure of curiosity on the subject as Richard did, he either felt disinclined to voice it or had already gotten an answer.

  Restraining the urge to ask himself, he said instead, “I thought you said your father had gotten a townhouse on Mount Street?”

  Again, Abby glanced across in a sidelong fashion. “I had Jack meet us here so that father wouldn’t know that Sandy and I were meeting him. I imagine you need to be on your way, so we won’t keep you.”

  “I’m sure you’re in a hurry as well.”

  Abby looked at him blankly.

  “For your appointment,” Richard added and earned a glower from Abby.

  “Yes, for my appointment.” She turned away, clearly intending to leave him standing on the street.

  Little coward, Richard thought, torn between the irritation that Aylesbury fellow had infested him with and the more solicitous need to set things straight with Abby, to assure her that a few little scars wouldn’t change a thing.

  “You boys are welcome to stay for tea,” her grandfather offered politely.

  Abby spun on her heel. “I’m sure Richard’s in a rush, Grandpapa.”

  “Not at all.” Richard leveled a stare at Abby, daring her to meet his gaze. For a moment, she did. Her eyes flashing with irritation before she turned that glare on her older brother who just shrugged.

  With a huff, Abby shook her head and stalked into the house with Sandy on her heels. Her tight “Do whatever you like” offering no encouragement to stay.