Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  He trailed her at a distance but closed in when he realized she wasn’t paying the slightest attention to her surroundings. She was humming under her breath as she climbed the stairs leisurely. In the hall above, he waited for a chance to approach her and after passing a pair of giggling debutantes, the way ahead was deserted. “Might I have a word, Lady Shaftesbury?” he asked.

  Despite her earlier desire to remain at home, Eve was having a wonderful evening. She had danced as she hadn’t in years, feeling light on her feet during the reels and laughing merrily as she was lifted and spun through the turns. When Francis had taken her in his arms for the waltz, holding her tightly and whirling her about the floor until she felt giddy, she had been in heaven as he whispered to her words of love and beauty. With the exception of her single encounter with his ex-wife, it had been a nearly perfect evening.

  She was humming to herself as she sashayed down the hall to the ladies retiring room and turned with a smile when a cultured voice called for her attention. It was a voice that recalled London Society more than Edinburgh’s, rousing her curiosity. A figure lingered in the shadows behind her. “I’m sorry, sir, have we…” Her voice trailed off and a hand rose to her chest in disbelief as she beheld the man emerging into the light. She swallowed painfully, a knot of fear closing her throat as her heart’s tempo hit an abrupt crescendo of disbelief and then, panic. “William?” she choked out as the blood drained from her face.

  “Indeed, my dear, it seems as though you have been a very naughty girl in my absence.” William Ashley-Cooper took a step closer and wrapped a hand around Eve’s arm, the familiar grasp an echo of years past. “These past several weeks have been most enlightening.” Seeing the color leaving her face, he added, “But please feel free to faint. I will catch you.”

  Without choice, she did.

  When she roused, Eve found herself in a small bedroom, most likely one of the duchess’ many guestrooms, lying on the bed. She closed her eyes trying to contain the renewed racing of her heart, wondering if what she had seen was true or some terrible figment of her imagination. And if it were true…!

  Turning her head, she saw her husband seated on a nearby chair, his fingers templed before him as he watched her. It had not been a dream at all. Not her imagination. There he was, hovering like a hawk over his helpless prey. Thoughts were whirling through her mind too fast to grasp hold of even one. The implications of his presence! She groaned. “Oh, my God.”

  “Ah, so you do remember me! How very encouraging!” His snide sarcasm brought a shake of denial from Evelyn.

  “This is impossible. You are dead!”

  “Indeed,” Lord William Ashley-Cooper sniffed haughtily. “I really must provide some scolding for so quickly declaring me dead, my dear. It has been most inconvenient. Imagine arriving at my childhood home and having no one there who I recognized. Indeed, no one who recognized me! Earl Shaftesbury!”

  “But the Utopia went down and you were not among the survivors,” she insisted, still stunned to see her husband alive and well in front of her. “The Queen’s investigators confirmed your death.” It was impossible, inconceivable. Her own personal nightmare had come to life before her eyes. She shook her head again in denial.

  “No, my dear, I was never on the Utopia. Surely you should have realized that at some point? No, of course not.” He examined his fingernails with an air of boredom. “I had gone from Italy to Greece and then on to China in pursuit of a collection of quite lovely and priceless artifacts. Unfortunately, in my attempt to acquire them, I drifted into slightly illegal territory and had been detained as a guest this past year.”

  Eve rallied a bit at this and found herself able to laugh as she understood the nuance of his explanation. “You tried to steal them and were arrested!”

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes,” he admitted with a dark glower. Shaftesbury had already boarded the Utopia when his agent arrived at the ocean liner to tell him that the treasures they had been pursuing had been tracked down to a private seller in Greece. Within moments, he had left the ship, not bothering to notify the crew, thus his name had still been on the passenger list when it went down. Lucky and unlucky for him, he had disembarked. The seller in Greece had been arrested and the artifacts, a pair of 14th century Ming vases, were sent first to the consulate, where he had approached with an offer to purchase the ancient vases, and then shipped back to China. He had followed on the next vessel departing, an unfortunate month aboard a cargo ship, and again approached the government with an impressive offer to buy the vases. When they refused he had, yes, attempted to liberate them in a less than legal fashion.

  Who knew they took their national treasures so seriously there? He had spent the better part of the year trying to convince his captors who he was. How important he was. It was only by sheer luck that he had managed to be freed. He had liberated the vase and fled back to England with bounty hunters in pursuit, only to find his identity gone and unverifiable without his wife. “And now I return to find myself declared dead, my fortunes and property out of my control and my wife behaving in a most disgraceful manner with another man. I believe appropriate retribution may be in order.”

  “Perhaps you should have told someone – anyone – where you were, William! I hadn’t heard from you at all since the day you left New York. You were to have returned on the Utopia! But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Why are you here, William? To punish me? I’m sorry, but you do not rule my life any longer.” Gathering her flagging courage around her, she stood and brushed out the creases of her gown with studied carelessness.

  “I believe that I have told you before, my dear, that I own you.” He gripped her chin in his hand and forced her to look up at him. “You are my property. By law. Mine to do with as I wish. Mine to command and I need you to come with me.”

  “Your rights disappeared the moment you were declared dead,” she informed him with false bravado since she didn’t know if that were true or not. She desperately wanted it to be. “You do not exist anymore. What is it you're trying to prove here, William?” Eve eyed her husband with deliberate disregard, though inside her nerves were clamoring. “That you can still control me? Punish me?”

  Shaftesbury laughed cruelly. “My dear, there will be consequences, naturally, but my punishment shall not be for you alone. I have been here for quite some time, watching you. I have tried to gain entry to see you many times, only to be turned away by some supercilious butler who does not know his place and denies acceptance of my identity.” His voice became icy. “I have watched from afar as my countess engaged in a scandalous affair. You have degraded the name of Shaftesbury. Brought shame down upon us. But now, all will be well. Lady Glenrothes and I have become quite good friends these past several days, you know. I am the solution to her problem as she will be to mine. And you will be coming with me, back to London.”

  I bloody well will not! Eve thought fiercely as she glared at the man who had so influenced and ruined her life. Indeed, he had stolen it and the person she had been. It would be a cold day in hell before she went with him and left everything that mattered to her here in Edinburgh. She drew up every scrap of confidence she had. “I am not going anywhere with you, William! I told you before you left New York that I wanted a divorce. Your death made things easy, but I am still willing to do things the hard way and Da will help me. He has more power and money than you. Oh, that’s right, you haven’t any money at all, have you?” She straightened her gloves and walked to the door. “Abandonment ought to do it, don’t you think?”

  “What of my son?” The words were coolly spoken but Eve perceived the threat in them immediately.

  She swallowed, then shot back with bravado, still facing the door, “He will stay with me, of course. You will have much to do to even gain back a legal identity. It may be years before you can. Right now, Laurie is the earl and I am his legal guardian. There is nothing you can do about that.”

  “Ahh, but it would be a shame, w
ould it not, if anything were to happen to him.”

  Eve whirled about and faced her husband, gaping in disbelief. “How can you even say that? He is your son!”

  “I could make another just like him, just like that.” He snapped his fingers coldly. “Walk out of here with me now and no harm will come to him,” he offered with dead serpentine eyes. “Create a scene and I promise you, you will never see him again.”

  Eve pressed her lips together, her fear-clouded mind racing, but finding no immediate solution. Where years of being under William’s control had brought humiliation and suffering, she had never feared him before. She thought she knew all that he was capable of and was able to face it. But now as she looked at him, Eve could sense a restrained violence that had never been there before. She had no idea what this William was capable of. That in itself was enough to foster fear. Seeing no recourse, Eve nodded hesitantly.

  “An admirable choice.” Returning the nod curtly, Shaftesbury strode to the door and opened it. “Shall we?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Initially to my rooms,” he answered as he took her arm firmly in his grasp. “Then I have one last piece of business here before we return to London.”

  Eve walked along by his side, her mind racing trying to figure out how to keep her son away from William so that he couldn’t be used as a threat, how to get away from him and how to get word to her father. She needed help. She needed Francis.

  Francis wondered what was taking Eve so long. The rumor mill had moved on from speculation regarding his relationship with Eve back to the rumors being spread by Vanessa about their marriage and divorce. He wanted to gather her up and take her home, away from this gala where rumor abounded and speculation reigned. If he could not announce his engagement to all the gossip mongers, gaining himself the right to be by Eden’s side – and he recognized that he could not, given Vanessa’s erratic behavior – he wanted to take her home where they might revel in the promise of their future together.

  His ex-wife had begun weaving her mischief again this evening. The thorn in his side had been circling the ballroom, raining a litany of his supposed abuses upon ears eager for gossip. Acquaintances of years past looked at him with pity, while others he did not know so well were examining him with suspicion and conjecture. Let the masses think what they would, he would not give credence to Vanessa’s bile by trying to defend himself against such nonsense. At least their hostess, the Duchess of Roxburghe, had taken notice and escorted Vanessa to the side of the room and was chiding her thoroughly, giving Francis opportunity for a hasty departure. But where was Eden? When he questioned Abby and learned that Eve hadn’t returned to the ballroom as yet, Francis became concerned.

  His height gave him the ability to see over most of the crowd and with relief he saw her finally coming down the stairs. Eve was being escorted by a man Francis had never seen before and though they seemed to be walking companionably together, he could see even from that distance that the hand the stranger had on her arm was forcible and rough, rather than guiding. She was glancing wildly around the hall before her eyes met his across the room. Eve looked at him pleadingly, the apprehension and worry clear in her eyes. A jolt of fear clenched his chest, reading her near panic.

  Francis pushed his way across the room, ignoring the calls of protest that trailed behind him. He broke into the main reception area, which was crowded with people but not as densely packed as the ballroom, just as the pair reached the bottom of the wide staircase. Eve started to come to him but the man pulled her back with a wrench of her shoulder. “Eve! What is going on? You there! Unhand her!”

  “Ah, Lord Glenrothes, we meet at last.” The man gave a mocking shallow bow but did not release Eve.

  “I said let her go, now,” Francis ground out in a low, threatening voice, his hands fisting by his sides.

  “My dear, perhaps you should tell your… friend that you are coming with me willingly. His barbaric stance makes me feel that he believes something is amiss.” Shaftesbury raised his brows at Eve when she wavered. “I would not think of hesitating, my dear.”

  She winced as the man tightened his grip on her arm and Francis took a step forward. Eve held up her hand, her eyes full of anguish when she spoke in a dull voice, “I am going willingly, my lord Glenrothes. Please allow us to pass.”

  “Who is this man, Eden?

  “I’m sorry, do allow me to introduce myself. William Ashley-Cooper at your service,” the man intoned haughtily, snapping his heels together.

  “Ashley-Cooper?” Francis repeated with a frown.

  “Shaftesbury,” Eve whispered. “My husband.”

  Chapter 37

  “Your…!” Francis drew in a shocked breath. “But he’s dead!” A few heads nearby turned curiously as his pronouncement rang out.

  “A nasty inconvenience that keeps raising its head,” Shaftesbury said dismissively. “However, it will soon be remedied. I had wanted to keep my presence here a secret until then and you are doing naught but attracting attention. Now, if you will excuse us, I must see my wife back to my rooms.”

  The emphasis on the ‘my’ had Glenrothes seeing red. He stepped closer and took Eve’s hand, trying to pull her away from the man who she claimed was her husband returned from the dead. Husband! Rage and jealousy burned through him and, in a moment of clarity, he realized how Eve must feel whenever she had been faced with Vanessa’s presence these past several days. “Over my dead body,” he snarled.

  “I would be truly happy to arrange such an event at a later date, but for now, please unhand my wife. Also, I believe you have your own little problem to consider as well. Nasty business with your own wife, what?” Shaftesbury being Shaftesbury, he managed to keep his voice at just the right pitch of politeness, Eve thought. So easy to goad Francis, rile him so that he looked the villain.

  “Francis, please,” she begged. She wanted assistance but a scene wasn’t going to help anything. For completely different reasons than any William might have, she definitely didn’t want anyone to know who this man really was. “This is not the time to create a scene.”

  “You cannot mean to go with him, Eve!” he argued, pulling on her hand. But they were beginning to attract the attention of the other guests, he could see. Richard and Jack were weaving their way toward him through the mass of onlookers with Abby and Moira following in their wake.

  Eve shook her head as her husband tightened his grip even more. She sent him a pleading glance. “Please, Francis! Laurie…”

  Francis understood immediately what leverage Shaftesbury had wielded to gain Eve’s acquiescence. Rage welled in him. Motherly instincts were most definitely her weak spot. “You bastard,” he growled at the other man. “You’d threaten her with something like that?” He took a step forward, fists clenched.

  “Francis, what is going on here?” Richard asked as he finally reached them, holding his brother back as he started to charge the aristocratic man holding Eve’s arm.

  “Richard, please stop him!” Eve begged, as she eyed the gathering crowd and lowered her voice to a fierce whisper. “This is my husband, not dead as was assumed.” She indicated the man with her and waved off Richard’s gasp of surprise, directing her next words to Francis. “This is not the time or place to argue. He is insisting I go with him and I will. Let us leave without a fuss, right now, and we will work this out.”

  “Work it out?” Francis ground out, wrenching his arms away from his brother’s grip, though both Richard and Jack stood by to halt him again if he made an aggressive move. Both saw the logic in Eve’s words.

  Eve stepped as far away from Shaftesbury as he would allow and, in a low tone meant only for Francis, whispered desperately, “Please protect my son. Please…” before the earl yanked her back, gaining another snarl of anger from Francis.

  “Ye better stop yanking her around if ye know what’s good for ye, mon.”

  Shaftesbury tsked lightly with some amusement, interested in this new turn of
events. He had originally planned on getting his wife out of here quickly and quietly, taking her off before he leveled his revenge upon this Scottish barbarian for taking what was his. Seeing that Glenrothes was not going to allow them to go as such, he quickly revised his plans. In fact, this way might turn out even better for him. He curled his lip tauntingly at the man across from him. “A wife, my good man, should be kept in line by any means necessary, like a dog or horse. You never did learn that with your own wife, did you?”

  Francis lunged forward with a growl as Richard and Jack grabbed his arms again.

  Shaftesbury grinned and leaned toward Francis, lowering his voice. “She is my property, not yours, yes? I own her body and soul. I can do anything I wish to her. Anything at all. In fact, I could take her now and whip her like a bitch hound and there is nothing you can do about it.”

  Richard and Jack traded a significant look and released Francis. Enraged, Francis leapt forward and took Shaftesbury under the chin with a hard right. The earl’s head snapped back and he stumbled backward, nearly dragging Eve down with him before he released her. Glenrothes caught his opponent’s coat front and jerked him forward to meet a punch to the stomach, followed by another to the jaw that had him sprawled out on the floor.

  Around them, guests gasped and whispered over the spectacle Glenrothes was making over the widowed countess and the other man whom no one seemed to know. Fisticuffs over the countess, right there at the duchess’ ball! It was unheard of!

  The whispers grew in excitement as the news travelled across the ballroom. Rumors were renewed of the supposed violence to his former wife and of his propensity toward physical abuse. Some who had dismissed the tales earlier were now reconsidering.

  Shaftesbury struggled to sit up, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his bloodied lip. He examined the red stain on the linen and looked up at Francis with a strangely satisfied look on his face. “Interesting, Glenrothes. Your savage country’s propensity for violence really knows no bounds, does it? I believe things will be much more interesting from this point.” Expectantly, he turned to the crowd as Vanessa burst through and flung herself against Francis as he was trying to steady Eve.