by Cara Elliott
A small voice in her head—the one she rarely listened to—warned her to stop. She was, however, feeling a little reckless.
After all, I’ve probably just made the biggest mistake in my life already by falling in love with a man who won’t ever, ever let his heart feel light and laughter again.
“But you can’t let mistakes squeeze the life out of you,” she went on. “That makes for a pretty bleak existence.”
“Caro,” he began.
“So you, you big lummox, ought not let a past mistake make you keep your feelings, and your marvelous penchant for poetry bottled up inside you.”
A lummox. Alec watched Caro stalk away, a wry smile pinching at the corners of his mouth. Skirts swirling, hips swaying, her glorious curls dancing in the breeze—she was always in motion, a fierce energy crackling from without and within.
Poetry in motion.
She wasn’t afraid to take a risk. She wasn’t afraid to dare to reach out and grab for her dreams.
Perhaps he was a lummox—a hulking, ham-witted brute, afraid of his own shadow and the dark little demons who lived in that blackness.
“Damnation,” he muttered, more in bemusement than anger. Sunlight flickered over the weathered stone, dipping and darting over the cracks and crevices carved by the centuries of wind and rain. A bleak existence, letting a small part of yourself be worn away each day by the hostile elements.
Caro returned in a few minutes, a reticule swinging from the strings looped around her wrist.
“Ready?” she asked.
He stepped aside with exaggerated politeness. “Lead the way.”
Swoosh, swoosh—she picked her way swiftly and surely over the fallen blocks of limestone, choosing to head for the jumbled remains of the small chapel attached to the rear of the ruins. Once through the low archway, she slipped through a small opening in the broken wall and started to climb the ancient circular stairs.
“Halfway up, there’s a spot where we can shimmy down into an alcove that’s impossible to see when you’re strolling the grounds. I imagine we’ll find some excellent hiding places there.”
Alec found himself smiling at her spirit. “You are enjoying making an adventure of this, aren’t you?” he murmured as he joined her on the stone perch. Staring down at the steep drop, he added, “Are you perchance, plotting out a scene for your sister’s next novel?”
“Life should be an adventure,” she replied, hitching up her skirts. “Pulse-pounding excitement shouldn’t exist only in books.”
“Let me go first,” he said.
“No need—”
Stripping off his coat, Alec lowered himself over the side. “If you slip, landing on a big lummox will be a trifle more comfortable than landing on a pile of rocks.”
The gusting breeze tugged at the vines, so he wasn’t quite sure if the ruffled whisper was an answering laugh.
His boots hit the ground with a thud. Steadying his stance, he looked up. “Have a care. The handholds are sharp, and there’s a cluster of—”
Caro had already started her descent.
“Ouch,” he murmured softly, seeing her fingers grab a patch of thorns.
“OUCH!” Her yelp, coming a split second later, was a good deal louder. For a moment, she hung suspended, balanced on one foot wedged in a crevice, but then…
He raised his arms just in time to catch her.
Whomp.
The force of her tumble staggered him, and he lost his footing on the slippery stones. Twisting hard, Alec managed to angle his body to take the brunt of the fall.
“Ouch,” she repeated, slowly raising her head from his chest. “Are you hurt?”
“Not mortally,” he rasped, trying to shake off the loud ringing in his ears. It couldn’t be the church bells, for they had been gone for centuries.
“Don’t move,” she ordered. Untangling her hands from the folds of his shirt she threaded her fingers through his hair. “I had better check for bumps.”
“OUCH!”
“Or blood.”
“Wishful thinking?” he asked.
“If I wanted to do you bodily injury, I’d take matters into my own hands, not leave it to chance.”
In truth, her fingertips felt rather soothing as they caressed lightly over his temples.
A chuckle rumbled in his throat. “I don’t doubt it.”
“That’s because you, of all people, know what an incorrigible hellion I am.”
“You are…” Unique. Intoxicating. Her scent, a beguiling mix of verbena and some unnamable spice, was teasing at his nostrils. “You are that, and more,” he finished.
“More what?” Caro shifted. She was lying atop him and the sensation of her glorious body sliding over his set off a jolt of longing, a spark of need. “More trouble?”
Trouble. Yes, definitely trouble.
“That’s too easy a word,” he answered.
She propped her elbows on his chest, a pensive look rippling through her gaze.
Alec thought for a long moment. “You challenge me.”
“We should all feel challenged,” responded Caro, her voice not quite steady. “It’s not always comfortable, but it’s by questioning ourselves that we learn and grow.”
As she spoke, her mouth quirked into a rueful smile. He loved how expressive her face was—from the flash of her alluring eyes to the flush of her petal-soft skin, she was so exuberantly alive.
He tilted his head, angling his lips to within a hair’s breadth of hers.
And then caught himself.
“Speaking of comfortable…” Much as the feel of her body against his was setting off all sorts of exquisitely delightful sensations, Alec forced his thoughts back to practicalities. His sister and Andover would soon be growing tired of reading.
“The shards sticking in my spine are awfully sharp, and besides, we ought to finish with our mission before the others get too curious as to what we are doing and come looking for us.”
Caro scrambled to her feet and hastily tugged open her reticule. “Right,” she mumbled as she fished out the canvas-wrapped antiquity and held it out to him.
“You’re more experienced in this sort of adventure than I am,” said Alec. “I leave it to you to choose where to hide it.”
“We’ll do it together.” Edging closer to the wall, she began poking around in the gaps between the stones.
Moving over to join her, Alec helped push aside the thick stalks of prickly thistles growing up from the weeds. “There looks to be a deep crevice here,” he pointed out, after gingerly feeling around inside a slivered space half hidden by the greenery near the base of the stones.
“Yes, that should do.” Kneeling down beside him, she handed over the antiquity and watched as he carefully pushed it into the hole and let the thistles spring back into place. “Once we smooth the ground a bit, it will look as if it hasn’t been disturbed for centuries.”
“Perhaps we had better draw a treasure map, so we can be sure to find it again,” he jested, seeing she was clearly undaunted by the dangers. “Isn’t that how it’s done in the horrid novels?”
Caro grinned as she dusted her hands. “Come to think of it, Anna did have a map in one of her books.”
“And?” he prompted.
“It was stolen by the evil pasha’s monkey. Emmalina had to chase it through the souk, where it led her on a merry dance through the silk bazaar and the tents full of Bedouin weaponry…” She started to giggle. “It was actually very well written and madly exotic. I’m sure you can use your imagination to picture the scene.”
“I’m not sure my imagination can rival that of the Sloane sisters, but yes, I can see where it would be highly diverting.” He cleared his throat. “What happened?”
A teasing twinkle lit for a moment in her eyes. “Oh, you’ll have to read the book.”
She had the most mischievous sparkle to her eyes. He couldn’t imagine ever growing tired of seeing it spark.
Forcing his gaze away, Alec rose an
d offered her a hand up. “I shall—once the chapters of this little adventure of ours are finished.”
Caro’s expression immediately turned deadly serious. “I was just going to ask you about Thayer, and what plans you have to bring an end to his evil scheming.”
He frowned, but she ignored it.
“You’ve taken pains to keep your suspicions to yourself,” she continued. “But after all that has taken place—the attempted abduction of Isobel, the plan to have you arrested for theft—I would guess that this all has something to do with your involvement in the clandestine group that is seeking independence for Scotland.”
“Yes,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Thayer is the leader of the more violent faction, I assume, and seeks to take control of the group by discrediting you?”
“It is not that simple,” replied Alec. “But it’s not necessary for you to know the sordid details.” Hearing her inhale sharply, he held up a hand. “Don’t fly up in the boughs. They involve secrets I am not at liberty to share. Suffice it to say, there are those in our group who believe Thayer has betrayed all of our goals and principles.”
He paused, debating how much more to say, then decided she deserved as much of the truth as he could reveal. “The reason I journeyed to England was because I was asked to look into certain rumors about his activities. And it seems he has gotten wind of my purpose in being here.”
“Which explains the acts against you and your family,” she mused. “Have you found proof of his perfidy?”
“As to that, I received some interesting information this morning, but I need to make one more visit tomorrow before I am certain of the facts. If my surmise is correct, then I do have an idea on how to trap him.”
“How?” she demanded.
“I know that you are slated to accompany Isobel and Andover to the fireworks display in Sydney Gardens tomorrow evening. I shall explain it to you then.”
“But it’s a masked fête, it will be dark, and there will be a large crowd. You’ll never find me.”
He let his gaze slowly sweep from the tips of her half boots to the errant curls tumbling over her brow. “I would know you anywhere, in any disguise, Caro.”
Her eyes flared wider as a rush of red flooded her cheeks. “Lord Strathcona—”
“Alec,” he corrected softly.
“It would be… a mistake to use such intimacies, sir.” She turned away, the twisting tendrils of the climbing vines obscuring her face. “And it seems we’ve both made enough of them in the past without adding any new ones.”
“Alec? Alec?” It was his sister’s voice, rising above the sounds of approaching footsteps.
Caro looked up.
“Come, let me give you a hand,” he muttered. “We had better hurry.”
Before he made the colossal error of spinning her around and trying to kiss the quiver of hurt from her voice.
Setting his hands on her hips, he lifted her within reach of the sturdiest handhold.
As for his own grip on the way forward…
“Alec?” Isobel’s call was getting closer.
Damnation. There seemed no clear path through the tangled shadows and looming obstacles up ahead. He could either take the coward’s way out and retreat.
Or decide to forge ahead despite the dangers.
Chapter Eighteen
“Why is it,” muttered Caro, “that men are the most impossibly confusing creatures on Earth?”
After adding a grimacing grumble, she admitted it was a rhetorical question. No doubt her sisters, with their infinitely greater wisdom and experience in such matters, would assure her that there was no rational answer for the workings of the male mind.
And yet, she couldn’t help being terribly confused. Alec had seemed so… different yesterday.
Of course he’s different, whispered a tiny voice in her head. So are you—the two of you are lovers, which changes everything.
And nothing.
Caro blew out a sigh as she sat down at her dressing table to finish arranging her hair for the evening outing to Sydney Gardens. The fact was, against all reason, against all rhyme, she loved him.
She loved his chiseled integrity, his impressive intellect, his protective caring for his sister, his poetic soul and impish humor—though he so rarely allowed either to peek through his stony reserve.
Ye gods, she even loved that enigmatic Sphinx-like expression he wore so often, the one that hinted at a myriad of mysteries swirling beneath the stone-faced mask.
“But it doesn’t matter what I feel,” she whispered into the looking glass. Despite the recent glimmer of whimsy in his mood, Alec was not going to fall in love with an English hellion. He was an intelligent man, and intelligent men did not make the same mistake twice.
That word again—mistake.
And I will not be merely a mistake, she vowed to her reflection.
After fastening the last few hairpins to hold her topknot—she had dismissed her maid, wishing to be alone—Caro glanced at the clock on the bookshelf. She need not rush. There was still time to linger in solitary thought before she had to don her mask and descend to the parlor to await Andover and Isobel.
Giving thanks that her mother had decided to attend a card party at Lady Greeley’s home rather than endure the noise and jostling of the outdoor fete and fireworks, she rose and wandered to the window by her writing desk. Her nerves were already stretched taut enough by the prospect of seeing Alec, so it was a relief that she wouldn’t also have to deal with a litany of the baroness’s querulous complaints.
Staring out at the darkening sky and the first faint twinkling of stars, Caro found herself blinking back tears. Oh, it was times like these that she missed her sisters fiercely—their counsel, their camaraderie, but most of all their laughter. No matter how dire or daunting a problem seemed, humor always seemed to make it less frightening.
She looked down at her desk, where the latest letter from her middle sibling lay open on the blotter. Smoothing a hand over the travelworn paper, she couldn’t help but quirk a smile.
Anna would likely cheer her up by making a jest of the current dilemma, weaving it into a wildly romantic adventure of…
Her fingers stilled.
Alec might not welcome her amorous feelings, but he was in danger—and Isobel was, too. So like it or not, he could use some help in fighting an enemy who had shown himself to be diabolically cunning.
She lapsed into thought, trying very hard to recall the snippet of conversation she had overheard in the churchyard. Had it been Thayer? The voice had been too low for her to be sure, but it seemed more than likely. And the realization was like a sliver of ice sliding down her spine. Whoever had spoken possessed a cold-blooded ruthlessness. He was a man who wouldn’t bat an eye at committing violence.
Alec had said he was formulating his own plan to stop his nemesis. But having an alternative was always wise. He would use razor sharp logic, rather than emotion. So perhaps a more imaginative approach would be useful in stimulating ideas.
What would Anna’s heroine, Emmalina Smythe, do? Granted, it was more an exercise in fantasy, as her sister was so far away, but still, merely writing would lighten her spirits, and she had a half hour to kill…
Taking up her pen and a fresh sheet of paper, Caro began to compose a missive to Anna.
I have been musing over a possible idea for a novel, and was wondering how would you would devise a plot to thwart a dastardly cold-blooded villain who…
Ducking under a string of brightly colored glass lanterns, Alec entered Sydney Gardens and turned up the main walkway leading to the grounds overlooking the River Avon. Music from the outdoor orchestra drifted down through the trees, accompanied by the trilling laughter of the crowd. Flickering lights, diamond-bright flashes winking through the smoke-green leaves, punctuated the dusk. In another few minutes the last lingering colors of sunset would give way to the black velvet darkness of night.
He quickened his steps, not bother
ing to don the silly little mask that Isobel had insisted on putting in his pocket that morning. The scrap of silk was hardly a disguise—it was meant more as a merry diversion, as everyone would recognize their friends and acquaintances.
But even if it had been a hooded domino, designed to hide all features, he hadn’t been exaggerating when he had said he would recognize Caro in any disguise. Nothing could shroud her exuberant spirit, her willowy body, her lively grace—like a lyrical rhyming couplet, she always seemed to be in constant, playful motion.
Just watching the provocative sway of her hips was enough to unman a saint…
Uttering an inward oath, Alec forced aside such thoughts. Dealing with that challenge would have to wait until he could eliminate the enemy that threatened not only him but also the ones he loved.
Love.
The word had kept echoing in his head until he had finally admitted the truth.
Yes, he loved Caro.
And quite likely had from the very first moment at Dunbar Castle when she had fixed him with a defiant stare and dared to retort one of his cynical statements, despite the horrified hush-hush noises from her mother.
Spirit, courage, and beauty, complemented by a fierce loyalty and a kind heart.
She had been a wonderful friend to Isobel, who had no sisters, and he had no doubt that his sibling’s dramatic improvement in health had much to do with Caro’s cheerful camaraderie and encouragement.
That bond was easy to define. As for his current relationship with the young lady, that was far harder to articulate. He wasn’t usually so clumsy with language, but he had made a complete hash of his proposal. His ill-chosen words had wounded her when she had been at her most vulnerable.
Caro had been brave enough to offer him her heart. And what had he done but hand it back to her with a muttered mumble about a “mistake.”
She had misunderstood his meaning. How could she not, when he had been too proud to reveal the truth.
Could she—would she—ever forgive him?
As he threaded his way through the crowd gathered around the refreshment tables, Alec surveyed the laughing faces, trying to spot Caro. But there was no sign of her, nor could he see Andover and Isobel. Deciding that they must have chosen a spot closer to the river for viewing the fireworks, he shouldered his way to the nearest side path and headed off, his boots stirring a staccato crunch, crunch across the gravel.