Mad for the Plaid

by Karen Hawkins

  But even as she had the thought, suspicion made her look at him with narrowed eyes. His expression was one of concern, and appeared quite genuine, but she couldn’t erase from her memory the way he’d talked to his men when he hadn’t known anyone was watching—in a bold, arrogant way.

  That was not the prince she now faced. She forced a smile. “That is a kind offer, but I already have a plan in place to rescue Her Grace and Lord Hamilton.”

  Impatience flashed through his eyes. “I suppose your little plan has to do with paying the requested ransom.”

  My little plan? Her jaw tightened, and she didn’t answer.

  “Because if it does, then you, my lady, are making a great error. Paying the ransom will only encourage those who took the captives to ask for more gold. And then more again.” His jaw firmed. “Oxenburg does not pay ransoms.”

  He said the words as if that one sentence settled matters, which only raised her ire all the more. “What would you suggest, then? Storming in, swords drawn and pistols blazing, hoping Her Grace and Lord Hamilton do nae get injured in the melee?”

  His smile faltered and then disappeared. “Of course I would not ride in with pistols blazing. That’s—” He broke off, his mouth pressed into a straight line. But after a few moments, he seemed to regain control of himself, for his expression softened. “Come. We should not fight; we have the same goal, which is to save our loved ones. And nyet, I would not race in thoughtlessly, as you suggest, for I am not a fool. But paying the ransom is not the way.”

  “It is worth trying, at least. If it wins back the prisoners with nae blood shed, then we will all be relieved.”

  “And if it does not, then you have merely encouraged the abductors to think you weak.” He bent down and captured her free hand, cupping it between his own. “Please. Let me help you. My men and I know best how to handle this situation.”

  Though he held her hand so comfortingly, there was a set to his mouth that told her that no matter what she said or did, he would do as he saw fit.

  She looked down at where her hand disappeared in his and gently freed it. There was nothing stopping the prince and his men from setting out on their own; she knew that. But she hadn’t shared the exact location of the ransom meeting with Lord Apraksin for a reason; she’d wished to keep some of the cards in her own hands. It had seemed overly cautious at the time, and Gregor had even questioned her about it after Lord Apraksin and Mr. Rurik had left the small study, but now she was glad—so glad—she’d followed her instincts.

  The prince might know how to handle this situation in Oxenburg, but he didn’t know the Scots the way she did. He had no understanding of the complexities of clan relationships, and could never bring this unfortunate episode to anything but a regrettable end.

  She and her party would leave in the morning as she’d planned, and the prince and his men could do what they would, although they’d have no idea where to begin their search. She would not forgo caution for bravado.

  It was time to put an end to this. She held her hand to one side to drop the cigar to the ground.

  Before her fingers could loosen enough to release it, the prince’s large gloved hand closed about her wrist and she was tugged forward, her astounded gaze now level with the second button on his coat. Less than an inch separated them; she could feel the heat from his body through her heavy wool coat.

  It would be best if I don’t look up, she decided, her heart thundering in her ears, her skin prickling with awareness.

  The prince plucked the cigar from her surprised fingers.

  “What are you doing?” she heard herself ask in a breathless voice.

  He bent closer, his breath warming her chilled cheek. “Taking what is mine.”

  She knew he was talking about the cigar, but for a breathless moment she closed her eyes, a willful thought scampering unbidden through her imagination. I wish he were talking about me.

  Surprised at herself, her eyes flew open, and she found herself drowning in his green, green eyes. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t, so she lowered her gaze to his chin, forcing her distracted brain to focus on that and nothing else. But that firm chin was attached to a very sensual mouth, and the sight of it tugged her forward.

  One small move on her part, and she’d be against him, her chest to his. And if she lifted up on her toes, her mouth might touch his, which would be foolish—

  Or would it? Perhaps in kissing him, she could regain some control over this situation, over him. If he thought she’d fallen under his spell, he’d think he’d won, and that would give her the time to figure out how to deal with this new development.

  Without giving herself too much time to think about it, she lifted up on her toes and kissed him.

  She wasn’t sure who was more shocked, for they both froze in place, her body pressed firmly to his, her chilled lips over his warm ones. And och, how delicious his lips were.

  Nae, nae, nae! That’s enough! One kiss, nae more! she warned herself frantically. She lifted her foot to step back, but the prince’s strong arms slid about her and locked her in place.

  And suddenly, she was no longer the one kissing, but was the one being kissed. His mouth, warm and insistent, covered hers, teasing and tempting. He didn’t just kiss, he kissed, bending her back, pressing her lips apart, his tongue brushing hers in a wantonly intimate gesture.

  Heat flooded her, overwhelmed her, consumed her. He deepened the kiss, nipping her bottom lip and—

  She broke away and stepped back, her breath rapid, her heart galloping madly. Her gloved fingers brushed her burning lips. That was . . . Oh my.

  He watched her and she caught a flicker of surprise in his green eyes before he lowered his lids and regarded her through his lashes.

  “I dinnae mean for that to happen,” she blurted.

  “Neither did I,” Nik admitted. She’d surprised him. He’d expected the kiss to be pleasant, perhaps even sensual, but nothing had prepared him for the searing passion that kiss had ignited. There is more to this little mouse than I expected. Much, much more.

  Nik wasn’t quite sure what he was to do with that information; he only knew it was now a fact—she was a blindingly passionate woman, and under other circumstances, he’d have enjoyed tasting more of her.

  She nervously wet her lips, and his body warmed yet again as she said in a breathless voice, “I dinnae know what came over me. That was . . . I should nae have—”

  “Please. Kisses are never to be regretted.”

  Ailsa could only nod. She hoped he was now feeling even more superior than he had, as if he’d already won the day. As if she’d given him the upper hand without a fight. Which was exactly what she wanted.

  Still, she couldn’t stop looking at his mouth which had just covered hers. At his strong jaw, or the thickness of his lashes over his green, green eyes. Like it or not, the prince was a handsome man. More than handsome. One could even say he was perfect, at least the parts of him that she could see.

  Which had the unfortunate effect of making her wonder about the parts she couldn’t see. And therein lay the danger: the parts of him—both physical and otherwise—that were hidden from view.

  Ailsa took a deep breath, pulling cold air into her lungs and trying to calm her scattered thoughts. She’d been so focused on trying to best this man that she hadn’t been prepared for her own reactions, and they’d almost escaped her control. Almost, she told herself with a deep thankfulness. This man was an impossible temptation for any woman, especially one who’d just taken two gulps of an unnamed burning liquor and puffed on a cigar that was much stronger than any she’d ever tried.

  The prince’s gaze flickered over her face, his expression thoughtful. “Lady Ailsa, I owe you an apology . . . and my thanks. I came onto your property without notifying you, and then pretended to be someone I’m not. For that, I am sorry.”

  “I accept your apology. You were worried aboot your grandmother. That’s understandable.” She raised her brows. “But th
e thanks?” Maybe he was going to thank her for the kiss, her impulsive, attempt-to-disarm-him kiss that had left her with such weak knees she could only hope she could walk on her own power back into the castle.

  A glint warmed his gaze. “Thank you for the cigar, rasivya.” He placed the cigar between his lips.

  “You are welcome,” she said in a dry tone. “I will sleep more soundly knowing you and your cigar were reunited.”

  He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

  She watched him from under her lashes, wishing her heartbeat would slow. His lips now rested on the cigar where hers just had. It was a small thing, nothing really, and yet it was becoming increasingly difficult to swallow.

  She drew her cloak more tightly about her and rubbed her hands together as if cold. “’Tis frigid oot, and it’s getting dark, too. May we continue this conversation first thing in the morning? I’ve guests to see to, and there’s much we must discuss, you and I.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “I’ll nae reveal your presence to anyone in the castle, of course.” Except Gregor. He, I will tell. I could use another opinion in this matter, and he’s the only one I trust.

  “Thank you.” Nik removed the cigar from his mouth, and though a smile touched his lips, his eyes were cool, assessing her. “I would not have you freeze, my lady. My men and I will wait until morning when you will share your information as to the location of these abductors, but no more. I cannot be gone long from Holyrood or people will realize I’m not there.”

  “Aye.” She hesitated. “Aboot that. How is it that you’ve slipped away withoot notice?”

  “It is as Lord Apraksin told you earlier: His Royal Highness Nikolai of Oxenburg is sick in his bed and was most sad he could not make this strenuous trip.”

  So that was how they were keeping his absence a secret. “And Lord Apraksin and Mr. Rurik? I take it they are nae secret visitors here.”

  “They, with a nameless groom, have come to Castle Leod to deliver letters to the duchess.”

  “Who has been abducted and is nae here.”

  “Also something not known outside of this small area.”

  “Ah. So that’s a secret, as well.”

  He inclined his head. “For now.”

  She nodded, fighting the desire to ask more questions. He was obviously only telling her the barest minimum. He hides his reasons for his actions, and yet he expects me to openly share all of mine.

  But it was more than that. That blasted kiss seemed to hang between them, coloring everything he said and did. For her, it was as if every gesture, every intonation held some sort of sensual meaning.

  Worse, she hoped. And with that hope, she yearned.

  No wonder the man was filled with his own sense of worth—women must have drowned him with attention from the time he was born. Why, he was probably used to being kissed unexpectedly. Which would mean I am one of dozens—no, hundreds—who have done so.

  The thought cooled her blood instantly, and she realized it was dangerous, being out here alone with this man. Alone and uncertain of her own reactions and thoughts. “We are settled, then. We will meet in the morning. Shall we say eight? Is that too early?”

  “Nyet. Eight will do.”

  She stepped away, turning on her heel. “Until tomorrow.” She spoke over her shoulder, noting that her voice seemed breathy, as if she couldn’t find enough air.

  She marched on to the castle, hurrying until she was almost running, aware of his eyes on her even now.

  Chapter 7

  Gregor held up the lantern, the light spilling over the snow-covered path that curved behind Castle Leod. The ancient path was a remnant of the castle’s past, and led to the old stables, which had long ago been abandoned and were now only used for hay storage.

  Ailsa stifled a yawn, her breath puffing white into the black night. It was still dark out, the snow crunching under their boots.

  Into the quietness, Gregor asked, “Ailsa, are you certain we should—”

  “Shhh!” She peered back at the castle, glad to note no lights had appeared in the windows. “Keep your voice down, and pray lower the lantern. Do you want everyone to know we’re leaving?”

  “It’s four in the morning and everyone is abed, as all men with common sense should be.”

  “We want them to stay abed, so hide that lantern.”

  “I will, I will.” He moved the lantern so that it was on the side farthest from the castle, the light reflecting off the snow as it fell around them. “I can’t believe the prince has come dressed as a groom.”

  “I explained why he’s done so.”

  “I know, but he’s taking a great chance with his safety.” Gregor grimaced. “Although if it had been our grandmother, I daresay we both would have been moved to do the same.”

  “More than likely.”

  He sent her a side-glance. “I still think we’re making a mistake, leaving the prince and his men behind. We don’t know who—or what—we’re facing. A few extra pairs of large, beefy fists might not be amiss.”

  “If you’d met the man, you’d know why that’s a horrible idea.” She swiped her glove over her face where the snow had melted as it hit her skin and left her damp and cold. “The prince has nae concern for anyone’s objectives but his own, which is to retrieve his grandmother withoot paying even a nod to the ransom. ’Tis a reckless, dangerous way to approach this situation.”

  “Who knew Oxenburg never paid ransoms?” Gregor said sourly. “I’d certainly never heard that tidbit of information before.”

  “It dinnae matter what they do in Oxenburg; we’re nae there. It will be easier and much safer for everyone concerned to pay the coin, collect the captives, and return home.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “Then we’ll do what must be done,” she said quietly.

  He nodded. “Do you still think Arran is behind this?”

  “I dinnae know,” she answered honestly, the clean smell of snow tickling her nose. “We’ll find oot when we face the abductors.”

  “So we will.” They were quiet a few minutes, trudging up the steep path, snow hissing as it hit the glass in the lamp.

  Gregor finally broke the silence, his breath frosting each word. “I hope the prince doesn’t follow us once he discovers we’ve left. From what you repeated of your conversation, he seems rather determined.”

  And arrogant and willful and focused on his own needs and nae one else’s. “Nothing will keep him from following. But with any luck, he will nae discover we’re missing until eight or perhaps even later. We’ll be long gone by then, and he’ll have nae idea which direction we took.”

  “He could track us.”

  “He’d have to know which direction to look. And the snow will cover our tracks well before he’s oop.” She hoped that was true. Right now, in the icy black cold of morning, she had to force herself not to question every step she’d made. It was such a complex situation, and she couldn’t shake the weight on her conscience of those who depended on her.

  She glanced uneasily back at the castle, where it loomed tall and forbidding in the icy darkness, and pulled the hood of her cloak farther over her head. It was frigid cold this morning, and she could only be thankful Gregor had lent her a pair of his breeches. “Thank you for sharing your clothing. It will be much easier to ride in the forest withoot worrying aboot my skirts catching on the branches.”

  “Our grandmother would be furious.”

  “It does nae take much.”

  He chuckled. “No, it doesn’t.” He stumbled a bit, and almost dropped the lantern. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “New boots. They’re not yet broken in. I told Golitzin to set out the old ones, but he didn’t listen.”

  “Golitzin? Who is that?”

  “My new valet. Well, he’s my valet until Valjean heals. I made the new man say his name a dozen times last night so I could learn it.”

  “You dinnae tell your valet we were leaving this morning?” she demanded.
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br />   “Of course not! As far as he knows, I won’t be dressing until eleven, as I usually do.”

  She frowned. “Guid. You dinnae know him well enough to share our plans.”

  Gregor tugged his muffler more closely about his neck. “Brrr. It’s cold.”

  “I know. Thank goodness I’m nae trying to keep warm in skirts. With all the undergarments I’m wearing, the breeches are much warmer. There’s nae a draft to be had.” That much was true; Gregor’s breeches were toasty warm, especially after she’d tugged them over two woolen chemises and a pair of long men’s pants Gregor had thoughtfully sent along with the breeches.

  The snow grew heavier as they climbed where the wind had piled it thicker on the ridge. “I told MacKean and Stewart you’d be coming, too. They are to have our horses ready.”

  Gregor made a face. “Did you tell them I had to beg you to allow me to go?”

  “Nae, but I’m willing to change my mind, if you keep reminding me of it.”

  “Lud, no! I’ll not say another word, I vow it.” He was silent a moment before adding tentatively, “Although I’d think you’d be glad for the company.”

  To be honest, she was glad for the company. More than she could say. She and Gregor used to ride the eastern edges of Castle Leod’s estate, a beautiful trail that spanned several lochs, scenic moors, and not a few dangerous bogs. Sometimes, if they planned to be gone all day, Gregor would sneak some of his clothes to her. They were always careful no one saw them, especially Lady Edana, who had no hesitation in reporting to Papa anything she thought unladylike.