by Judith James
“You feel it too?”
“Yes… I feel it too.”
“Why won’t you kiss me, then? You did in the alley. It’s alright, Jamie. I want you to.”
“It’s not alright. If I kiss you now it won’t be as you imagine. It won’t stop there. I’ll want other things, and then where will we be? Our bargain ruined, your plans in tatters. In the morning you’d be most dreadfully annoyed.”
She sat up, held out her hand imperiously, and snapped her fingers. “Give me back my brandy! You’re back to being amused and I’m already annoyed. You’ve no comfort to give and I need something to help me sleep.” She grabbed the bottle and took a healthy swig, her stomach roiling. It was intolerable going on like this. She didn’t know which was worse, being quiet and letting him think her some delicate virgin, or telling him the truth and having him think her a liar. She took another swig to rally her courage, protesting when he reached to take it away.
“You won’t think that was a good idea in the morning, either.”
“Who would have expected that behind his mask, Jamie Sinclair was a prudish country parson? If you’re so afraid a single kiss will leave you trembling and unable to control your lust—”
“I assure you I can leave you purring and pleased, hellcat, and still virgo intacto,” he said with a glint in his eye, relieving her of her f lask.
“Well…” she took a deep breath, and let it out in a pronounced and elongated sigh. “I’ve been meaning to tell you… I fear there’s a bit of a problem with that in any case.”
“How so, love?” he asked, easing her back onto the pillows and holding her there, his fingers brushing her shoulder in a soft caress.
“I…” she hesitated, and then plunged ahead. “I’m afraid I’m no longer virgo intacto, Sinclair… you see.”
His fingers stilled, and then withdrew. He was sharply disappointed, though he could find no reason for it. “No?” he asked idly. “Your Irish fiancé? Some wild and brawny two-legged Highland bull?”
“No! A vexing, degenerate, British ne’re-do-well and wastrel.”
“Do you mean me?” he asked, blinking in surprise.
“Hah! At least you know yourself.”
“I hate to disagree with a woman I’m in bed with, but I must adamantly deny my guilt. I’m certain I would remember such a… well… such a sensitive moment. I feel certain the earth would have shaken, the angels would have wept with joy. I feel certain I would have remembered.”
Stung by his mockery, she hit him with a pillow, but he clutched it and pulled it from her, propping it behind his back.
“I… you’d been fed whiskey and poppy juice and you were delirious, out of your mind. It was after I’d set your shoulder.”
“In the cave? Damn it, woman, I thought I’d dreamt that!”
“You remember?”
“Bits and pieces. Christ, Catherine, I’m sorry! Did I harm you?”
“No, no!” she hastened to assure him. “You were gentle and weak as a kitten. It was just… well… you were so insistent, you see. You wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t make you settle down. I would have had to hurt you and after all that work setting your shoulder… I…” her voice trailed off and her face burned bright scarlet. “I… well, in any case, it was my fault not yours, and I take full responsibility for it.”
“Are you saying you ravaged me, hellcat, while I was helpless as a kitten?”
“No! It wasn’t that way at all,” she protested hotly. “I… you… damn you, Sinclair! Stop laughing. It isn’t funny! I’ve been so worried. At first I was afraid I’d be with child and we’d be stuck with each other forever, and then I thought you’d be angry I hadn’t told you, and then I realized… I… well… how will we ever manage a divorce now?”
Could the man take nothing seriously? Not even this? She’d been propositioned by a madam, set upon by thugs, and now she’d revealed one of her darkest secrets. One that had been preying on her mind for weeks. Tears of frustration were threatening to spill over and she wiped at her eyes. “Damnation Sinclair! Won’t you stop? I’ve been so worried. This is all a game to you!”
“No game, love,” he said. He brushed a stray tear from her cheek with his finger, and gave her hair a gentle tug.
She f lung back her arm and pushed him away. “Well, you don’t seem terribly upset!”
“Why should I be? It changes very little. You’re making a great to-do about nothing. These things can be smoothed over if the right witnesses are bought. It’s nothing a fistful of gold won’t cure and you’ve plenty of that. Failing that… well… you can accuse me of unbearable cruelty and unnatural practices and surely the church will release you.”
“Given your reputation, it would be easily believed,” she agreed.
“Well… yes… but—”
“Thank you. You’ve taken a great weight off my mind.” A great to-do about nothing! Insufferable, selfish boor! I just told him he took my virginity and it means nothing to him at all! “Do you know, I’m so relieved I believe I shall be able to sleep after all. In fact, I can barely keep my eyes open. You must be exhausted as well. I’ve been terribly selfish. You needn’t stay any longer. I’ll be fine. Thank you for a lovely evening.” She rolled over, turning her back to him, and gave an exaggerated yawn.
“Catherine?” When she didn’t answer, he prodded her shoulder. “Catherine? Cat?” Damn the chit! She’d gone to sleep on him!
Jamie retreated to his room, fuming. The girl grew more unsettling by the day. In one breath she’d tearfully told him he’d def lowered her, in the next she’d gleefully agreed to paint him a monster so she could escape his clutches, and then she’d thanked him, dismissed him, and sent him on his way.
Bloody hell! A man with his experience, fumbling his woman’s initiation. Her first time ought to have been memorable, something she couldn’t wait to repeat. At least she didn’t seem averse to trying it again. My woman. He played with the words, enjoying them. They left him with a satisfied proprietary glow. Somewhere along the way, he’d come to think of her as his, and now it turned out she was. Wherever she went in the future, whatever she did, whomever she was with, he’d been the first, and he’d always have a claim on her.
And she on me. He brushed the thought aside.
Surely, he was no longer bound by their prior agreement. Perhaps it was time to create some memories both of them could share. The next time she begged for his kisses, he’d give them to her, and a good deal more besides. He’d make damn sure that when she remembered him her toes would curl. He grinned in anticipation and closed his eyes, imagining her hot and eager, squirming beneath him. Groaning, he used his hand to relieve himself. Christ! He’d really been too long without a woman.
Lying back spent and at least temporarily relieved, it didn’t take long for him to have second thoughts. A man warmed to a woman after he bedded her, and she’d caught him at a time when he was down on his luck and badly in need of a friend. There was no doubt he’d grown fond of her. She’d blurred the boundaries of friend, comrade, and partner, and she’d already burrowed too deep under his skin. He needed to place her somewhere she might stay and keep her there, not allow her this undefined space. It was far too big, far too central a place to allow anyone inside him. Besides, even if they were careful, to be lovers was to risk having a child. She was a business associate and should be treated as such, with courtesy, respect, and an eye to the profits. No more kissing, no more nights on the town, and no more late-night conversations lying beside her in her bed.
***
Just across the hall, Catherine lay sleepless, playing their conversation over in her head. She’d just shared her darkest secret, one that had been troubling her for months. She’d told him he’d taken her virginity, one of the greatest gifts a woman could give, a gift she only gave but once, and he’d laughed at her! He was cold-hearted and cruel, incapable of any real emotion, an unfeeling lout! She’d wanted him to hold her in his arms and kiss her. She’d wanted him
to care. She’d practically thrown herself at him, and he’d patted her on the head like a faithful hound. The tears she’d been keeping at bay threatened to overwhelm her. Damn! Damn! Damn! Thank God, he’d left the room. She’d feared he’d never go.
She sniffed a few times and took several hiccupping breaths, getting herself under control. James Sinclair might have ice water in his veins, but she was a Drummond, a countess, and a woman of affairs, and she didn’t need any man. She’d done fine without for all these years and she certainly didn’t need him. She took a cloth from the basin by her bed and washed her face, the cool water a welcome balm against her f lushed skin. No doubt the Englishman was right. She’d had far too much coffee and their adventure in the alley had affected her more than she’d realized. In the morning, she’d act as if she didn’t remember, and he’d never see her make a fool of herself like that again.
***
They began the next day with remarkably similar intentions, aware that something had changed between them, and intent on putting things back the way they’d been.
Jamie had gone to bed firm in his decision. She might wheedle, nag, challenge, or plead, but there’d be no more clandestine adventures, no more breathless late-night talks, and definitely no more talk of kissing. It was time to find himself a new mistress or renew his acquaintance with an old one. His failure to keep one was already causing unwanted talk and speculation. Lady Beaton came to mind. She knew what she liked, knew what he liked, and was always a charming companion.
Nevertheless, when Catherine joined him for a breakfast of bread and chocolate, he couldn’t help but notice how her green silk nightgown set off her tousled curls and amber eyes to perfection. It was really quite stunning. And the way the jeweled clasps fastened her gown as if they were fingers, holding it tight around a thin chemise whose delicate lace trim seem to be almost… caressing… her décolletage. It was artfully done! She also looked fetching in breeches, of course. He wasn’t sure which he preferred. Those long legs incased in thigh-high boots would make any man weep, and that arse!
“Sinclair!”
“Eh? What?”
“I said I’ll be going to the exchange with Maire today. Is there anything I can get you?”
“Oh! No. Thank you. There’s nothing I need. Nothing at all. I’ve matters of a private nature to take care of today, Catherine. In fact, I expect to be rather busy for the next several days. I’ve instructed Sullivan to have the coach kept ready for your convenience. Now you’ve toured the city and are familiar with the court, I expect you’ll be able to muddle through without me constantly underfoot.”
“I shall endeavor to do my best,” was her frosty reply.
“Excellent! A woman who can navigate the Highlands should have no trouble in the wilds of London. I’ll be off then. I wish you a pleasant day.”
He gave her a sweeping bow, punctuated with a f lourish of his plumed hat, and left without saying a word about the last night’s adventures. She’d steeled herself to present an indifferent front, but he’d never given her the opportunity. He’d completely refrained from baiting or teasing, and he’d been accommodating, formal, and polite. She told herself firmly his unexpected discretion was a tremendous relief.
And so it continued. As winter turned to spring, they lived separate lives, nodding as they passed each other in the halls, and meeting occasionally at court functions and parties. When Buckingham, a man she’d thought was Jamie’s friend, died at his country home in April, it wasn’t he that told her. She learned of it at court. If they’d shared some special bond it seemed to have ended as quickly as it had begun, and if the sight of Jamie dancing, f lirting, and being pursued by other women was a bitter torture, no one knew it but her. They were a handsome pair, witty and urbane, unfailingly courteous to one another, with just the right air of amused tolerance, and they were considered a model couple in James’s court.
Catherine had her pursuers, too, though she paid them little heed. It surprised her at first. She’d never considered a man might pursue her for anything other than her fortune, but it seemed that they found her attractive, and many enjoyed her wit. The more she employed it to keep admirers at bay, the more insistent they became. Amusing at first, and a salve to her pride, it soon become a burden. King James had bowed to his pretty wife’s pressure, sending his mistress, Katherine Sedly, to the wilds of Ireland. Now he was looking for new game and his eye settled increasingly on her. The trade arrangement for her family’s whiskey had been concluded on the most favorable terms, and a rumor was f loating about that she’d soon be offered a position as maid of honor to the Queen.
She did her best to discourage without causing affront, as so many things hung in the balance: her family’s fortunes, Jamie’s future, and her own divorce. For now, at least, the royal satyr was enjoying the chase and in no great hurry to conclude it. She’d never enjoyed the social games that powered most European courts, and her heart ached for the Highlands. She missed Rory and Jerrod and crusty old Martha; she’d even be glad to see Donald. She’d never been so surrounded by people, or felt so alone.
Nineteen
Lonely, bored, and increasingly unhappy, Catherine decided there was no more need to suit her behavior to the dictates of others here than there had been at home. She found the life of an English courtier shallow, dull, and wearying, a mind-numbing, soul-destroying round of gambling, drinking, and gossip. If she was to survive it, she needed some kind of relief. Sinclair had given her the keys to another city, a vibrant, bustling, thriving world spilling over with ideas and adventure. He’d shown her the way, and given her the tools to continue her explorations with confidence. As he’d said himself, anyone who could navigate the Highlands should have no trouble in the wilds of London.
Pulling on her breeches, she felt a thrill of anticipation, and stepping into her boots she felt free. Sinclair had told her disguise could be liberating, but she wondered if he had any idea what that really meant, having never lived life as a woman. She began by visiting coffee houses, exploring as many as she could find, and as she did, her familiarity with the city grew. She was soon frequenting Will’s and the Graecian. Jamie had called them penny universities, and both places filled a thirst that had nothing to do with coffee. She’d had an excellent education and the best tutors her father could find, but it had been a solitary business, she and her books and various dry old men. She’d never had the opportunity to argue and persuade, or to join in boisterous debate, and she loved it.
Another favorite haunt was Lloyd’s, by the Tower Bridge, with its clientele of ships’ captains, merchants, and businessmen. Her father had left her ships, and shares in his business ventures, including the distillery, and what the conversation lacked in excitement it more than made up for in valuable information. She also loved its location on the bank of the Thames, and she spent many a spring afternoon sitting on the embankment, watching the crowded river, thick with ships waiting to unload.
This day she’d had the good fortune to arrive just as a battered-looking sea captain was launching into the tale of his harrowing escape from Algerian pirates. She’d forced a place at the table and was sitting shoulder to shoulder with the rest of his enthralled audience, shouting in astonishment and cheering him on. She turned around in annoyance when a heavy hand gripped her shoulder.
“Cousin Will? Can it really be you? I’d no idea you’d returned to London. Good heavens! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Good afternoon, my lord,” she answered coolly, introducing him to her friends. “I’d no wish to trouble you, cousin. One knows how busy you are now you’ve risen in the world. I would hardly expect so important a man to condescend to entertain me.”
The saucy chit! Jamie pulled up a chair and made a place beside her, heedless of the grumbles and protests from the men he was shoving out of the way. He threw an arm companionably about her shoulders and gave a tight squeeze. “But we’re family after all, eh lad? What say we take our reunion outside, so we don’t disturb
the others or interrupt the good captain’s tale?”
Outraged, fuming, and humming with excitement, she shrugged off his arm and stalked out the door.
He followed right behind. “What do you think you’re doing here, Catherine? How long has this been going on? When did you decide to sneak around behind my back? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wasn’t sneaking! If you were ever home you’d know I go out every day, and I’ve been doing so for weeks. I don’t need your permission. I don’t expect you to answer to me, Sinclair, so you’d best not expect me to answer to you!”
“I am a man, and you are a woman. It is not the same thing.”
“I’ve been hearing that all my life, and I paid it no more attention than I do now.”
“Do you realize how dangerous it is? What could happen to you? You could be robbed, raped, kidnapped, or killed! Well, it’s over as of now. I forbid any more of these adventures!”
“You forbid me? You? My bought and paid for husband who gambles and drinks with my money while he trolls through alleys and ballrooms in search of his next whore?”
“I’m warmed by your fine opinion of me.”
Her face reddened. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I apologize.” She sat down on a man-made stone outcrop overlooking the water, kicking her legs back and forth, shivering when he came to sit beside her. His anger surprised her. He seldom showed any strong emotion and he’d seemed all but indifferent to her comings and goings for the past several weeks. They watched in silence as the watermen ferried Londoners from landing to landing, heading toward Westminster.
“I really must bring you to see the ice skating next winter… if you’re still here.”
“What?” She turned and looked at him quizzically.