by Cara Elliott
“NO!” cried the little girl. “Please don’t. I’ll be in terrible trouble if I’m discovered. I’m not supposed to be here.”
Caro repressed a wry laugh. That had a very familiar ring, she thought, recalling all the times she had trailed after her older sisters, determined to share their adventures.
“I could climb down myself, but the back of my dress is snagged on a bit of stone.” The face disappeared, muffling the rest of her words. “And. I. Can’t. Reach. It!”
“Sit still,” ordered Caro as she eyed the intricate carvings. There were plenty of juts and crevices—climbing up would be easy, despite the smooth, slippery surface. But there was no getting around the fact that the shower of cascading water would leave her wet to the bone.
Ah, well. I shall think of some excuse—
“Perhaps I can be of help to the damsel in distress.
Caro whirled around at the sound of Alec’s drawl.
“My clothing will suffer far less from a soaking than yours will,” he pointed out.
“But what of your dignity, sir?” she countered.
“You think me so stiff-rumped?” He was already removing his boots and stockings.
“I think that I can easily make up some fanciful excuse for why I fell into the fountain, while you…” Caro’s voice faltered as she watched him peel off his coat and cravat. The light shone through the light linen of his shirt, silhouetting the slabbed contours of his shoulders.
“While I have no sense of whimsy?”
Don’t stare at his muscles. Don’t stare at the intriguing glint of golden curls peeking out from his open collar.
“Th-that’s not exactly what I meant.” She made herself look away, knowing it was foolish beyond words to still harbor a tendre for him. “I know you have an impish side, sir, but you seem so very loath to show it.”
“I do?” He arched a brow. “Perhaps you are only imagining it.”
Was he teasing her? A small smile seemed to be playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Me?” she muttered, trying not to think of how much she would miss their verbal sparring. “Surely not. You know very well that a young lady is not supposed to have any imagination.”
The smile gave way to a chuckle as Alec stepped up onto the bench. “Well then, we had better keep this little interlude a secret.” He glanced upward. “To ensure that all three of our reputations don’t suffer irreparable damage.”
A silvery spray misted his red-gold hair, and with the late afternoon sun setting behind his head, he looked like some glorious ancient sea god rising to life out of the polished stone.
“Hold this,” he said, breaking the spell by thrusting his coat into her hands. “I’ll just be a moment.”
With that, he grabbed hold of a mermaid’s curled fin and started to climb. The cascading water quickly soaked his shirt and trousers, causing the fabric to cling to his body.
A proper lady ought to look away, thought Caro.
Thank God I have no pretensions to being a proper lady. The view was really too delicious to miss.
Alec hauled himself up to the crowning clamshell and peered inside. “Halloo, what have we here?”
Caro heard a burble of laughter echo within the carved marble.
“Hmmm. Let us see how we are going to extract you from your shell.” Alec’s head and shoulders ducked through the opening.
He reappeared a moment later with the very wet and very beaming little girl in his arms. “Look what a lovely little pearl I found inside the oyster,” he called down to Caro.
“It’s not an oyster, silly—it’s a clam!” trilled the child.
Alec gave a look of mock surprise. “By Jove, you’re right. But if you’re not a pearl, shall I put you back?”
She shook her head, spraying his face with a fresh shower of drops. “No, I wish to go down.” Her arms wound tighter around his neck, “Now, if you please, sir.”
“Very well.” He picked his way carefully down through the frolicking sea creatures and dropped lightly onto the bench, his bare feet making a watery slap on the stone.
“Thank you,” said the little girl.
“You are most welcome, Pearl.”
She giggled. “My name is Catherine.”
“Which is a very pretty name.” He bowed. “Mine is Alec.”
Watching Alec’s unguarded expression as he bantered with the little girl, Caro knew her intuition was correct—beneath the shell of steely reserve, he was a very different man. Hard, yet soft. Strong, yet sensitive.
Her heart gave a little lurch as he curled a smile and winked at the little girl.
Catherine responded with a ladylike curtsey.
“Now, where does the Pearl live, if not in the clamshell?” he asked.
The little girl pointed to the manor house.
“A much more comfortable dwelling,” he murmured. “Shells can be cold and wet.”
“Yes, but I shall be in very hot water when I return to my room,” replied Catherine. She bit her lip, her gaze turning wistful as she darted a look behind her. “I am forbidden to play in the fountain, but it looked so pretty in the sunlight, and the fish and their friends seemed to be having such fun.”
“So they do,” agreed Alec. “But as you have learned, it can be dangerous to play alone around water and such towering heights.”
“Accidents can happen, no matter how careful you are,” added Caro.
For an instant she shut her eyes, recalling a long ago day when she, too, had disobeyed the rules and run off on an irresistible adventure. To this day, she was still terrified of…
She quickly shook off the grim memory. Thankfully, Catherine had suffered no more than a tiny tear to her dress, which was easily mended. A small price to pay for a valuable lesson.
Lifting her lashes, Caro found Alec eyeing her quizzically. He then crouched down and put his hands on Catherine’s slim shoulders. “Miss Caro is quite right. So please promise me you won’t do it again.”
The little girl sighed, then gave a solemn nod. “Very well.” A pause. “I was a little frightened when I couldn’t get down,” she admitted.
“No harm done.” He smoothed a scraggly curl from her brow. “As for being in hot water, I am sure that Miss Caro and I can come up with a plan to keep you out of trouble.”
“You can?”
“Oh, indeed.” Alec shot her an amused look. “Miss Caro has a very clever imagination. And she’s very experienced at creating stories.”
“We need not get too imaginative,” murmured Caro. “We’ll simply say I asked you to show me the fountain, and you were kind enough agree. I was too curious and stood on the bench for a closer look and slipped. You tried to help me, but I knocked you into the pool.”
“And then of course, I happened along,” interjected Alec. “And rescued both of you.”
Catherine stared at them in open-mouthed admiration. “That’s a corking good bouncer! You think it will work?”
“Not that we are encouraging you to tell Banbury tales,” said Caro hastily. “But as this is a special day of festivities, we shall make an exception.”
Alec covered a chuckle with a cough. “So yes, Pearl, I daresay it will work.” Swinging the little girl into his arms, he set off for the back of the house. Caro gathered up his coat and boots, then hurried to catch up.
A quick explanation to one of the maids who answered the knock on the kitchen doors resulted in a flurry of activity. The nanny was called, Catherine was much fussed over, and effusive thanks were offered to Alec, along with a vigorous toweling of his boots and an insistence that he stand by the stove until his trousers were dry.
As Catherine was carried away to be given a warm bath and a posset of honeyed milk, the little girl managed a last little wave. And a wink.
“You are very good with children,” observed Caro, once she and Alec had made their way back to the gravel walkway.
“I like bantlings,” he replied. “My cousins have a great brood of the
m, so I often have them underfoot at my estate in Scotland.”
“And obviously children like you. They have an unerring knack for knowing when someone is insincere in their attentions.”
“They are not yet tainted by the sly subterfuges and false flatteries of the adult world.”
The hard-edged Alec was suddenly back, she noted with a pang of longing, the impish smile shuttered behind a sarcastic scowl.
They walked on, the crunch, crunch of the small stones the only sounds between them.
Caro slanted a furtive look at his profile, watching the slanting shadows sharpen his features. Only the fringe of his lashes, which caught a few flickering sparks of light, softened the somber shades.
“You are looking at me rather strangely,” said Alec abruptly. “Have I done something wrong, or—” He cut off with a wry grimace. “No, allow me to rephrase that. I know that you hold me in low regard, but have I done something recently to increase your displeasure?”
Caro looked away, embarrassed that he had caught her staring. “I—I can’t imagine that my opinion concerning your behavior, low or otherwise, matters to you, sir.”
“On the contrary, Miss Caro,” he responded gruffly. The breeze ruffled through his damp hair as he came to a halt and turned to face her. “It does matter to me.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but as the flutter of his open shirtfront accentuated the “V” of sun-bronzed flesh, her mind was suddenly blank. All she could muster was a faint “Oh.”
“Speaking of which…” His boots stirred another scrap of stone as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I have reason to believe that certain recent revelations made to you by Mr. Thayer have lowered that opinion considerably,” he went on haltingly.
That Alec was as ill at ease as she was made Caro feel a trifle less awkward.
“No doubt you are wondering why I never mentioned the fact that I was”—he paused, as if needing an extra breath of air to expel the next word—“married.”
“It did seem a subject that should have come up,” she replied softly. “Given the fact that we are supposedly friends.”
“I don’t find it easy to speak of personal things with anyone, Miss Caro,” said Alec slowly. “A character flaw, no doubt. Of which I have many.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, he stared out at some point in the distant trees for a long moment before speaking again. “Be that as it may, I should like to make one thing clear. I have heard of the version that Thayer tells of my marriage, and suffice it to say, he has twisted the truth.”
It didn’t suffice at all, thought Caro. Indeed, there were myriad questions she wished to ask. But on seeing Alec’s stony expression, she guessed that even with a chisel and hammer she wouldn’t have much luck in prying any answers out of him.
Still, she decided to venture a try. “Thayer said your cruelty drove your wife to flee.”
A mirthless laugh. “And most people believe him.”
“I don’t,” said Caro. “But I should like to hear from your lips that it is a lie.”
“It is a lie,” he replied in a near whisper. “A damnable one.”
The vise-like force squeezing around her chest relaxed ever so slightly. Breathing was all at once a little easier. “Thank you.”
Their eyes met, but he looked away too quickly for her to discern what was causing the rippling beneath the storm-blue surface.
“The accident—” she began,
“No, I ask that you don’t press me for the details,” he interrupted brusquely.
Had he loved his wife so much that it still caused him great pain to think about the accident?
“I do not intend to talk about them,” continued Alec. “Or of any specifics concerning the relationship. All I will say is that Thayer’s account of my actions is not accurate, and I wished for you to know that.”
Once again, he was retreating, holding her at arm’s length.
For a fleeting moment she wondered whether it was hopeless to think they might ever be close.
“I—I am very sorry for your loss,” Caro said after several heartbeats had thumped against her ribcage. “You must feel her absence very deeply.”
His face tightened, the skin drawing so taut over his cheekbones that they looked sharp as knifeblades. Expelling a ragged breath, he muttered something under his breath.
An oath?
“Real life is rarely like a storybook romance,” he muttered.
“Despite what you seem to think, I’m not a silly schoolgirl,” she responded. “I know that love is complicated—”
“Love?” Alec shook his head. “Ye gods, there is so much you don’t understand.”
“Then tell me,” she challenged.
He said nothing in reply.
His silence seemed to freeze away all the warmth from their earlier laughter. Feeling hurt and confused, Caro stepped back. “I—I should return to the festivities before Andover and your sister begin to wonder what has happened to me.”
Alec nodded grimly. Pinching a wrinkle from his disheveled trousers, he glanced at the path leading off to the stables. “Given my appearance, I think it best if I avoid the crowd and take my leave from here.” He tugged on his coat. “Good evening.”
She watched him walk away.
You are right—there is much I don’t understand.
And perhaps she was merely beating her head against a wall of Highland granite in trying to make any sense of Alec McClellan.
But sense had nothing to do with love. There was no rhyme or reason to its teasing, taunting grip.
Caro stood still in the fading light, listening to the splashing sounds of the fountain and the rustle of leaves as the thump, thump of her own disappointment echoed in her ears.
Love. No wonder poets spoke so passionately about pain as well as pleasure.
Blinking back a tear, she finally turned away from her musings and set off to rejoin her friends.
“Damn. Damn. Damn.” The phaeton bounced dangerously over the rutted road as Alec urged his matched pair of bays to a faster pace. He was risking a broken wheel, but in his current frame of mind, the danger didn’t matter.
“Damnation,” he swore again. His tongue seemed to tie in knots when he tried to speak of personal feelings to Caro. Baring his heart was hellishly hard. The idea of standing naked…
Naked. A sudden vision of her lithe body lying on rumpled sheets sent a jolt through his body that had nothing to do with the careening phaeton.
It should be simple. Caro was nothing—nothing!—like his late wife. She was so fiercely honest in all her passions.
So what am I afraid of?
Alec wrestled with the question yet again. Physical dangers, cerebral challenges—fear had no hold on him.
Save for my heart.
Isobel had called him a coward for fearing to believe he could be happy again.
The echo of Caro’s laughter and Catherine’s giggles suddenly drowned out the rattle of rocks and metal.
Gripping the reins tighter, Alec straightened on the seat, recalling a line from one of Lord Byron’s poems…
Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.
Thayer was a skulking predator, and it was time to turn the bite of fear on him.
Chapter Twelve
Caro slipped the package of ribbons into her handbasket and then signaled to her maid that she was ready to leave the shop.
“I think we have purchased everything that Mama requested,” she said, after consulting the long list one last time. Though she was feeling a little blue-deviled this morning, she tried to muster a cheerful face. “Except for the jet buttons, but Mrs. Bertram promised that she will be receiving a shipment from London on Thursday.”
“Aye, Miss Caro,” replied Alice. “Now there are just the two new bonnets that your mother ordered to be picked up from Madame La Florette’s establishment.”
“We will soon have enough feathers in the house to fly to the moon,�
� sighed Caro. The baroness was very fond of ostrich plumes, and despite having brought a trunk full of bird-bedecked turbans, shakos, and chipstraw fripperies from London, she hadn’t been able to resist purchasing several more.
Alice stifled a giggle.
“These latest designs are particularly hideous,” added Caro. “I am tempted to nest them in the garden’s linden tree rather than Mama’s armoire. Perhaps a hawk will think them a tasty morsel and carry them away.”
The comment earned another choked laugh.
As they reached the street corner, Caro hesitated and came to a halt, even though the way was clear for crossing. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to fetch them and bring them home by yourself, Alice?”
Hitching in a breath, she went on in a rush. “I—I am accompanying Isobel and her aunt on a visit to friends from Scotland who are spending the summer on an estate near Bristol. The drive is a long one, and as we will be returning tonight, I don’t wish to delay them. But if I return to the house, there’s a good chance that Mama will ask my assistance on some other errand—and you know what a fuss she can make if she’s feeling fretful.”
It was a lie—an innocent one, but a lie nonetheless, and she felt a spasm of guilt as Alice gave a sympathetic huff and waved her away.
“Oh, but of course, Miss Caro! Your mother has been running you a bit ragged these last few days, so I’m happy to have you get a bit of a holiday for yourself. Never you worry—I shall see that Her Ladyship has no reason to complain.”
“Thank you.” Relief nudged aside any lingering remorse. Her emotions were still in a bit of a turmoil over the recent revelations concerning Alec and his marriage. And despite their encounter yesterday—or perhaps because of it—she was desperately in need of some peace and solitude in which to sort them out.
The dratted man was an enigma tied up in a riddle! Alec’s halting hints had implied that, contrary to Thayer’s nasty whispers, it had been his heart that had been badly bruised, not that of his wife.
Alec hurt by love? A part of her was angry that the lady had failed to treasure such a gift. A part of her felt hope flare. Perhaps with the right spark, the fire could be rekindled.