by Mara
Hugh stumbled over a boot, then coughed into his fist. “That so?” he said, flushing for some reason.
Forty-nine
As Hugh neared London after a day of rail and riding, he fought a sense of urgency so strong it knotted his gut. After struggling against his feelings for so long, to give them free rein now was nigh overpowering.
And the crushing presence of the curse was…gone. Hugh finally believed he could have a future with Jane. He had seen Annalía, and he trusted his brother’s judgment. On the subject of the Leabhar , Hugh trusted his mother’s as well—and Court had said she believed as he did. At last, Hugh could reconcile that sense of rightness, of inevitability when he’d been with Jane.
A storm was whipping up to match his turbulent mood, but he didn’t care—he’d still reach her on this very night. All he had to do was get to her and win her back.
One mile down, another mile closer. He leaned into the wind, frowning to realize that the only thing that stood in the way of his keeping Jane was how well he could persuade her.
Hugh had rarely had need of that skill. He usually got his way by intimidation or force.
He’d have to convince her that he would make an effort with her family, and that he could fit into her life. If he took it slowly, instead of a sudden immersion like he’d endured at Vinelands, he could get used to them.
He’d bloody figure it out.
Though she’d promised not to take him back, right now, anything felt possible to him. In fact, he hadn’t even told Court about Ethan because, for some reason, Hugh had a strong sense that his older brother still lived. He would continue to search for Ethan, unleash runners to investigate, then make a determination one way or another before he heaped more apprehension onto Court’s plate.
Court was already dreading the upcoming birth—Hugh had seen him eyeing Annalía’s belly guiltily, even as she was unmistakably delighted.
Hugh had never thought about worrying for a wife in labor before—he’d never believed he was meant to have a wife or children—but now the idea of Jane going through that made him shudder.
Even as he reassured Court that women had bairns all the time, Hugh was promising himself he’d be talking to Robert, the laughing quack, and asking him exactly what the best way was “to wait” to have bairns—if she wasn’t already pregnant.
By the time Hugh reached London, the rain had let up, but he hadn’t. His horse’s hooves clattered as they raced down the wet streets of London. A life with Jane, free of this constant dread, depended on his skills of persuasion. He swallowed.
Hell, Weyland might not even let him in the house.
Hugh owed the man yet another huge debt. Weyland was the only bloody one who’d seen so clearly that Hugh and Jane needed to be together that he’d taken steps to see it done. He’d forced Hugh to confront his feelings—and, Christ, he’d prevented Jane from becoming engaged to another man.
Hugh had repaid him by sending his daughter packing.
As more guests continued to arrive, Jane smoothed the silk of her new emerald green gown and pasted on a fake smile. She was preoccupied, restless, and bored at this party her father had manipulated her into hosting—her and Claudia’s own going-away celebration.
Though she and her cousin had decided weeks ago to take a trip to Italy, her father had stalled them at every opportunity. Finally, they were departing by steamer in the morning.
Though her father was furious with Hugh, she knew he still had hope for them, believing Hugh would return for her. Yet without receiving a word from him for weeks, Jane knew better.
When Freddie and Candace arrived, Jane’s smile turned genuine. Not only was she happy for the laughing and obviously adoring couple, she also experienced a renewed sense of relief that she hadn’t wed him. Once she’d greeted them and they’d moved on to speak with someone else, she breathed a sigh.
“Why the serious look, Janey?” Claudia asked, handing her a glass of champagne. “You always liked elegant parties.”
“I know.” She loved the scent of the rose arrangements all over the house, the glitter of their chandelier fully ablaze, and the tinkling of crystal flutes kissing champagne bottles.
“Has anyone said anything about your marriage?”
She shook her head and took a sip. “No. Everyone’s been tiptoeing around it.” Most everyone here—a crowd of family and good friends—had heard rumors of Jane’s hasty marriage, and just as hasty separation, but no one except her London cousins had dared to ask her about it.
“Well, then, cheer up! Tomorrow begins the adventure. We’re actually going to leave this sodding little island.”
“Claudie, won’t you be sad to leave your groom behind for months?”
“His eyes watered today,” she admitted, glancing away. “And I had a moment when I thought about backing out. But we’re not getting any younger, Jane.”
Jane exhaled. “That’s too true.”
When Belinda and Sam joined them, Claudia resumed taunting them. “Admit it, you old matrons, you’re jealous of our trip. We leave tomorrow , sailing toward sun, cuisine, and virility….”
From across the room, Jane caught her father’s glance, and he gave her a quizzical look. She smiled at him in answer—she’d made an effort of late to be cheerful again, to get on with her life, but he’d been keeping a close eye on her tonight. He was continually worried, had been since she returned, and it showed. He’d barely agreed to let her go to Italy, until she’d reminded him that she didn’t need his consent.
Suddenly, his face broke into a wide grin—which he immediately checked. His expression grew stern just as the crowd went silent.
She heard a commotion in the hallway—a banging, then arguing, then the booming: “I’m here for my wife.”
Loud, striding steps echoed down the hall behind her. No. It just wasn’t possible.
“My God,” Belinda murmured. “Janey, what did you do to your Scot?”
Jane turned slowly to find Hugh at the doorway, seeming to fill it. Her eyes went wide at his appearance. He was soaking wet, his boots covered with mud, and his neck was bleeding readily from shallow lines where a branch must have struck him as he rode. He’d lost weight and his wet hair whipped across his face—his unshaven face.
But his eyes were what held her attention—they were black as night and burned with intent. He caught sight of her and his body tensed, like he was about launch himself at her.
Everyone was silent or gasping. Hugh just continued to stare at her as if he couldn’t do anything else, his brows drawing together.
At length, when he finally dragged his gaze from her, he surveyed the crowded party in progress, swallowing because everyone here was dressed to the nines.
Except for him.
His expression turned grim, and his shoulders went back.
He’d just walked into a room full of people—normally punishing enough. But to look like hell washed over—and to be clearly embarrassing her? He swallowed again, wiping the rain from his face with his sleeve.
An older woman tittered. “That is Jane’s new husband?”
Jane swung her gaze on the woman and snapped, “Oh, shut up.”
So it’s to be another trial by fire?
Didn’t matter. Hugh was prepared to do anything. He strode toward Jane, past speechless guests, who stared at him so hard he could feel it.
He held out his hand for Jane. “Come, Sìne. I need to speak with you.”
Her cousins were glaring at him, urging Jane to demand that he leave, telling hernot to go with him. She didn’t appear to be in any danger of the latter.
“I am sure this can wait,” Jane said. Had her accent ever sounded so crisp? “Come back tomorrow . Afternoon.”
When some people nervously laughed at that, Hugh glanced around, brows drawn.
He met Weyland’s gaze, trying to read the man—who was clearly trying to read Hugh as well. “I just want tae speak with her, Weyland.” His brogue had never sounded s
o thick.
But then he spied Bidworth strolling into the room. Hugh gnashed his teeth, having never considered that Jane might take back up with her suitor. He’d also never imagined that Bidworth wouldn’t heed Hugh’s warnings to stay the hell away from Jane. The man caught sight of Hugh, blanched, and made a strangled sound.
If Bidworth had dared to touch Hugh’s wife…With his fists clenched, Hugh strode forward.
Bidworth backed up to a wall. “Bloody hell. He’s going to hit me again, isn’t he?”
Fifty
“This is not happening to me,” Jane muttered.
“Will he really harm Bidworth?” Belinda asked, eyes wide as Hugh stalked poor Freddie.
“Yes,” Jane hissed desperately, casting her father an entreating look. He wasn’t going to do anything! He only studied Hugh and her, back and forth, eyes watchful.
“Fine.” Jane glared at her father over her shoulder as she hurried toward Hugh. “I’ll handle this.” Once she’d reached Hugh, his hand shot out to clutch her elbow as if he feared she’d flee from him at any second. “If you’ll come with me to Papa’s study?” He hesitated, so obviously wanting to thrash Freddie. “Hugh, if you want to speak with me, I won’t do it here.” He finally allowed her to lead him from the room.
In the front hallway, Hugh slowed and grated, “Why in the hell is Bidworth here?” She saw him glance at her bare ring finger, and his tone went lower. “Have you…have you taken up with him again?”
“Not that it is any of your business, but he’s here with his new intended,” she answered calmly, letting him relax an instant before adding, “to wish me well on my travels.”
“Travels?”
“Yes, you just ruined the party my family threw for Claudia and me to see us off to Italy for the winter.”
“When are you supposed to sail?”
“On the morning’s tide—”
“No.”
She rubbed her temples. “I clearly misheard you. For a moment, I thought you had just dared to insert yourself into my life once more. You gave up any right you had to do that.”
“No, I dinna. I’m still your husband. We’re married, and we’re staying that way.”
She blinked at him.
“You heard me, lass.”
Perfect, Jane thought with a sigh. I can get this man to keep me, but first I have to wear away his will for weeks, and then he must be pistol-whipped, bludgeoned, and concussed. It’s a formula.
“What brought about this change of heart?” she asked.
“There’s been no change of heart.”
Behind Hugh, she saw her father ordering her cousins away, barring them from coming to her rescue. He probably thought he was buying Hugh time to apologize—when that notion hadn’t seemed to have occurred to Hugh at all.
There was no apology, no flowers, not even a preamble. In fact, he hadn’t bothered to take the time to shave before he’d barged into her party, threatening servants and frightening guests—after she’d thrown herself at him for weeks. “How dare you show up here like this!”
She couldn’t understand him. Something had changed in Hugh—yes, he wasn’t known to assail genteel soirées like a crazed Highlander—but this change was beneath the surface, a drastic shift in his whole personality. She sensed it. She…feared it. Maybe his head injury had been worse than he’d let on. Maybe it had altered him.
“I dinna mean to embarrass you like this, God knows I dinna, but what I have to say canna wait.”
“Yet you couldn’t tell me during all the time we were together?”
More titillated guests peered around the corner, and Hugh looked over his shoulder, seeming to snarl at them.
She gave the group a pained smile, and said in a confiding tone, “He’s just about to leave, you see—”
“No’ a chance of it,” Hugh interrupted, telling her softly, “No’ without you.”
Under her breath she said, “What could you possibly have to say to me now?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but saw her glance past him once more at the gathering crowd.
Hugh’s brows drew together. “This will no’ work.”
Her gaze snapped back to his face. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“You’re coming with me.”
“When hell freezes—Oh!”
Before she had any idea what he intended, he’d picked her up and easily lofted her over his shoulder. Her cousins gasped.
“Hugh!” She kicked futilely. “What in the devil are you thinking?” Jane felt her face flushing from humiliation—and probably from being upside down. She didn’t deserve this treatment, and she didn’t have to tolerate it. She was a woman who had bloody steamer trunks by her door!
Her father strode forward, and to him she snapped, “How many times are you going to let Hugh act this way with me?”
“I swear to you, this will be the last,” he said, his tone steely. “Is that correct, MacCarrick?”
“Aye, it is.”
“That’s good to hear, son. My carriage is outside—you can take her to Grosvenor Square in it.”
Hugh nodded, then strode straight out the front door. More guests were arriving as he descended the stairs with her. She closed her eyes tightly in mortification.
When Hugh placed her in the carriage, she was breathless, speechless, and dizzy. As soon as they were rolling forward, Hugh dragged her across his lap, his hands flying to her face, cradling her cheeks as he pressed his lips to hers.
She froze, stunned.
“Sìne,” he rasped. “Ah, God, lass, kiss me back.” He brought his mouth down over hers, kissing her in that desperate way, as if it was the last he’d ever take from her. And like a fool, she felt herself responding to his need, to the urgency of it. He groaned, deepening the kiss as he clenched her in his arms.
She was so close to getting swept up, missing him so badly, all but forgetting the pain he’d caused. No, no, no! She forced herself to break away, pushing at him. “You said you wanted to talk to me. And I didn’t even agree to that. You haven’t given me any explanation.”
After several moments, he released her, just as the carriage eased to a stop. When a footman opened her door, she hurried out, but paused when faced with the grand façade of the MacCarrick town house.
Her anger and hurt came back redoubled; a light mist began to fall, making her blink as she stared.
All those times she’d ridden by, praying to see him—and he’d been avoiding her all along. Had he seen her from the window and closed the drapes? She felt her bottom lip trembling to remember how badly she’d ached, how terribly she’d yearned to see him.
And that had only been the first time she’d lost him.
Fifty-one
“Jane?” he bit out in a strangled tone to see her eyes watering. His one chance to win her back…And all I’ve done is make her cry. Of all the reactions he’d anticipated, her crying was not one of them. He clasped her hand in his, pulling her inside out of the damp night. He could tell she wanted to resist, but she didn’t seem to have the energy.
He took her directly up into his room and sat her on his bed, curling his finger under her chin. She’d closed her eyes, but the tears were spilling out. He felt as if a knife was being plunged repeatedly into his chest with each tear. “My God, lass, did I hurt you? Was I too rough with you in the carriage?” His breath left his lungs in a rush. “Christ, I was.” He remembered little of that mind-boggling kiss—he’d probably squeezed her with all the strength in his body. “I’ve wanted this for so long, and to be so close…I could no’ control myself.”
When she said nothing, just continued to cry, he murmured, “This played out badly, I ken that, and I am sorry for it. Ach, Jane, this is killing me.”
“Then take—me—back,” she said, biting out the words.
“You doona want to go back like this with all those people there.”
She pummeled his chest. “Then take me to Claudia’s!”
“
I canna do that either, lass.”
How could he have bungled this so badly? He hadn’t been thinking clearly after everything that had happened and the mad journey here. But then to see her like a vision in the candlelight? The realization that this stunning, brave woman was his wife had hit him like a punch. He was the lucky bastard who got to dine with her each night and wake up beside her each morning. All he had to do was win her.
Then he’d seen Bidworth. And assumed the worst.
“I’ve much to tell you and could no’ wait any longer. I wanted to stay married to you. But you know why I believed I could no’.”