Daring

by Jillian Hunter

  “Really, sir! Not a stitch of clothing. I canna believe my eyes.”

  “Close your damn eyes, Mrs. Urquhart, or at least have the decency to turn around. You had no business barging into my room uninvited in the middle of the night.”

  Mrs. Urquhart raised her tone to a warbling soprano. “I was under the impression that you wanted to be tucked in for the night.”

  “Do I look like a child, Mrs. Urquhart?”

  “Common decency forbids that I come close enough to give you an answer, sir.”

  “Miss Saunders is going to pay for this.” His voice crackled like a thunderbolt through the house. “I hope she can hear me.”

  Maggie grinned, whispering in the darkness, “She certainly can.”

  “The considerate young woman was only following your orders, sir,” the housekeeper retorted. “Your very peculiar orders.”

  “The hell she was. She wanted to embarrass me.”

  “Excuse me, sir, but you are embarrassing yourself, summoning female servants into your room in that disgraceful state of undress.”

  Connor sounded as if he were choking on his words. “Nobody was invited anywhere, you thickheaded woman.”

  “Now you’re stooping to insults. I knew that would come next. But did you or did you not request that you be tucked in for the night, sir?”

  Connor could be heard stomping across the room like an ogre and wrenching open his wardrobe door. “Stop using that ridiculous term. And who the devil moved all my clothes? What are these damn dresses doing here?”

  “Kindly answer the question, sir.”

  Maggie winced as she heard the wardrobe doors slam, followed by Mrs. Urquhart’s gasp of unadulterated horror. Surely he wasn’t parading around nude in front of the poor woman?

  “We are not in a court of law, Mrs. Urquhart,” Connor said. “This is my house, in case you have forgotten. You are a servant in my employ, and I am not a criminal on trial. I do not have to answer your stupid questions. Hell’s bells, where are my trousers?”

  “Lady Marguerite took them to the laundry, sir.”

  “She did what?”

  Mrs. Urquhart began retreating into the hall. Realizing the danger of being caught eavesdropping, Maggie turned to tiptoe back to her room. Too late. Connor stood cloaked in the darkness of his doorway, glowering at her with one hand on his hip, the other covering his naked torso with a huge leather shield that was emblazoned, appropriately enough, with the Buchanan lion rampant.

  “Did you enjoy that, Miss Saunders?”

  Maggie tried not to stare at the family crest that barely reached his massive chest. “Did I enjoy what?”

  He slammed the door in her face. The reverberation echoed through the stillness of the house. It drew a cluster of curious servants in their nightclothes to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Why is Lord Buchanan wearing a shield?” a chambermaid asked curiously.

  “The lad has a fierce temper,” Dougie said proudly. “That door almost came unhinged when he slammed it.”

  Mrs. Urquhart clattered down the stairs, flustered and muttering under her breath. “The lad has more than a temper wrong with him.”

  “Did you tuck him in for the night?” Dougie demanded.

  “No, I did not!”

  Dougie looked puzzled. “Well, why not?”

  “Because he was stark naked, you old busybody, that’s why. The man was lying in his bed like a… a—”

  “A Greek statue.” Maggie walked to the top of the stairs, gazing down at the small gathering. It was clear someone in authority needed to take a stand to set things right in this household, or chaos would ensue. Connor had obviously let matters deteriorate during his absence. Fortunately, Maggie could summon the benefit of her experience as a duke’s daughter to help him.

  “Everyone back to their beds,” she said, lightly clapping her hands to get their attention. “His lordship’s style of dress is nobody’s business, and if he chooses to unhinge the doors in his own house, we shall not question him. Obviously he has changed his mind about being tucked in. That is also his right. Your jobs are the only matter that should concern you. Is that understood?”

  The male servants grumbled a bit at this explanation, resenting taking orders from the little sprite of a thing who had upset their master. The women, however, seemed almost relieved that order would be restored to the house.

  Maggie nodded in satisfaction, then turned from the stairs only to cringe at the sound of Connor banging about behind closed doors like a wild creature in a cave. Clearly no one had taught him the value of setting a good example. Well, at least she had taken a stand on the side of authority. Tomorrow she would tackle taming the beast himself.

  Chapter

  26

  The note from Sheena arrived the following morning, Connor sat down on the steep wooden staircase to read it in grim silence. His uncle had forwarded it from Edinburgh by private messenger. The scribbled missive was short, but by no means sweet. He sighed with relief as he immediately recognized the handwriting.

  Connor,

  By now you are probably aware that I have been kidnapped. I am alive. My kidnapper is treating me well. As a matter of fact, he’s nicer to me than you ever were.

  Your long-suffering sister,

  Sheena

  PS. I hope you feel guilty for ruining my life.

  “Perhaps it’s from another impostor,” Maggie said over his shoulder, taking the liberty of reading it when she saw how dejected he looked.

  “It’s Sheena.” His voice was flat. He leaned his left arm against the railing, staring into space. He didn’t bother to hide the note from Maggie, or to pretend he’d enjoyed a perfect relationship with his little sister. His personal life was a mess, and Maggie had become part of it. But Sheena wasn’t dead, thank God at least for that.

  “Well, at least she’s alive,” she said awkwardly.

  “Yes.”

  She laid her hand on his back. “Don’t worry. Everything will turn out well in the end.”

  “I hope to God you’re right. She didn’t sound very frightened, did she?”

  Maggie looked at him in concern. “I know you’re hurt by her note, and probably wishing she weren’t your responsibility, but in my opinion you’re very fortunate.”

  “Fortunate? With a family like mine?”

  She paused. “I wish I had a family to upset me.”

  He studied her for a long unguarded moment. “Isn’t it enough that you’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever met? Do you have to be so damn understanding too?”

  “You look tired,” Maggie said gently. “You must not have slept well.”

  He narrowed his eyes. He’d been awake again all night, reviewing the names of every criminal with a grudge against him, waiting for some instinct to point him to the kidnapper.

  Waiting for Maggie to slip back into his room and give him another chance to talk her into staying. Waiting for her to make him laugh when he wanted to cry, for her to make him feel strong when he was helpless. He could be so persuasive when he put his mind to it. Why did his power of speech fail him in her presence?

  “Did you expect me to sleep after being humiliated in front of the entire household?” he said grumpily.

  “Ah.” She bent to untie her ballet shoes. “The tucking-in incident still bothers you.”

  Connor frowned, staring in frustration at the curve of her rump. He’d been working in his office when the messenger arrived. Maggie had been practicing ballet in the gallery directly outside his door, using the banister as a barre. He hadn’t been able to get a thing done.

  Her black hair was still carelessly gathered back in a pink ribbon, a few curls falling around her face. Her flowing muslin costume emphasized every sculptured curve of her body, from her rounded breasts to her delightfully proportioned derriere. It was scandalous and erotic. Just looking at her made his mouth dry.

  “I’m going for a walk in the woods,” he said. “I can’t work now. Tell M
rs. Urquhart I won’t be back until dark.”

  She straightened, her eyes distressed. “A walk alone in the woods? What if someone follows you?”

  “I will be perfectly fine by myself.”

  Maggie stepped down beside him. “You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”

  “A time like what?”

  “I’m going to walk with you in the woods,” Maggie said firmly.

  Alone with her in the woods. He felt temptation tug at his soul. “You can’t come with me. The woods are too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Wild animals.” He gazed longingly at the slope of her shoulder. He could almost taste her. “Beasts,” he added. “Poachers and lunatic women with guns. But it’s the beasts I’d worry about. They hide behind trees and boulders just waiting to devour innocent young women.”

  Maggie raised her face to his, calmly accepting the challenge. “I’m not afraid of wild animals. However, I am worried about Claude. He should have reached the house long before now. What if he and that drunken driver are wandering about lost? Besides, you and I can protect each other, can’t we? Wait here while I change.”

  Connor released his breath, watching her provocative costume-clad figure dart up the stairs. Lord, she had a gorgeous body. No wonder her father had forbidden her to dance. “I’m warning you now,” he shouted. “I’m going to be bad company. I will be rude. I will be silent—I will totally ignore you.”

  It was impossible to ignore Marguerite Marie-Antoinette de Saint-Evremond when she did not want to be ignored. She chattered endlessly. She gave unsolicited advice on topics he didn’t give a damn about like handling servants and poachers and which mushrooms would kill you if you ate them. She hopped after him like a little bird in her blue cotton dress and limp-feathered hat. He kept walking in circles, plunging into thickets, hoping to tire her out, or at least quiet her down.

  “I love walking in the woods,” she said, breathless to keep pace with his restless strides.

  “So do I,” Connor said. “Alone.”

  “We played every day, rain or shine, in the woods around the chateau. Jeanette was always a princess, and Robert was the knight who had to save her.”

  “What were you?” Connor asked dourly.

  “The witch or dragon who’d taken her prisoner.”

  He glanced back in curiosity. “A dragon?”

  “I used to borrow Uncle Paul’s pipe and make smoke come out of my nose—oh, dear, watch out.”

  In his eagerness to teach her a lesson, he’d led them into an overgrown trail of old broom and bracken. Her warning saved him just before he would have tripped over a mass of mossy roots and landed at her feet. He caught his balance in time and stretched back to help her make the crossing into the woods.

  Maggie gave him a grateful smile. “You’re quite a nice man when you want to be.”

  “You are naive, Miss Saunders.”

  “I am not.”

  “Yes, you are. You believe there is good in even Edinburgh’s worst criminals. You risked your life and reputation to rescue a demented old man who can’t remember your name. Well, in reality nobody is nice to anyone unless they expect something in return. It’s a cardinal rule of life.”

  “You’re not the first person to tell me this,” Maggie said. “However, I’ve been quite happy as a jinglebrains for over twenty years, and I’m not about to change now. What is it you expect from me, by the way, or are you the exception to the rule?”

  “I expect you to help me find my sister.”

  Maggie stopped in her tracks. “Any decent human being would do that.”

  “I expect more than that, actually,” he said in a low voice. Maggie tilted her head back to study his face, the chiseled planes, and powerful jaw. He took her breath away. He was tugging her against him by the hand. Her heart fluttered in her chest, a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis. There was no mistaking the dark passion in his hazel eyes. There was no resisting it either.

  She lowered her gaze. “Are you asking permission to court me?”

  “I am courting you, lass,” he said in amusement.

  He brushed his mouth over hers, gripping her hard against him. Maggie sighed and snuggled in the wall of his chest, bliss tingling in her blood. He groaned and crushed her closer until her eyelids fluttered shut. She could have died happily in his arms.

  “I think you ought to know that the Chief won’t let any man touch me in an improper manner,” she murmured.

  “Neither will I.” He closed his eyes and ran his hands down her hips, shuddering at the feel of her. Then he deepened his kiss, eliciting a response from Maggie that tested the limits of human restraint. Instead of drawing away from him, she arched against him in invitation. In fact, Connor was afraid he would slip on the damn roots again and bring them both crashing to the ground in a frenzy of unthinking lust.

  “I’d feel terrible if the Chief hurt you for courting me,” she whispered.

  “So would I. God, you taste sweet.”

  He went to his knees, dragging her down onto the ground. Soft moss cushioned their bodies, redolent of earthy mould and moisture. He leaned over her, his heart pounding in his chest.

  “I can’t sleep at night for wanting you,” he said quietly. “I can’t work. I can’t even think straight.”

  Happiness glinted in her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Aye, you look it too, lass.”

  “Well, I can’t say I’m displeased. After all, when we first…”

  Her voice trailed off on a sigh as he traced his long fingertips down her throat, then her breasts, deftly unbuttoning her jacket bodice. His face had changed, shadows obscuring his smile, angles pulled tighter across the strong bones. The playfulness had deepened into a darker emotion that Maggie intuitively recognized as passion.

  Then she felt his hand under her skirts and heard his harsh intake of breath. “You aren’t wearing any stockings,” he said in astonishment.

  “I never do when I walk in the woods,” she said, sitting up to face him. “I like to feel the earth under my toes. My dancing master used to claim it strengthens your muscles.”

  She reclined against the peeling birch trunk, closing her eyes with a beguiling smile. Connor wondered if she was deliberately trying to look seductive, or if it came naturally. Her mouth was as moist and tempting as a wild cherry. Her hair fell in untamed curls over her shoulders, drawing his gaze to the deep cleft of her breasts. He ached to bury himself inside her. He had to make her his.

  “You should try it yourself,” she murmured, digging her toes into the ground with childlike abandon.

  He rubbed his thumb against the underside of her kneecap. “Maggie, if my muscles were any stronger right now, I’d have to arrest myself for indecent exposure.”

  She opened her eyes to stare at his downbent head. His touch raised shivers over her skin. “What did you just say?” she whispered, spellbound by the sensations he evoked.

  “Nothing.” The yielding softness of her skin made him groan. Even the little sigh that she gave excited him. Her eyes had drifted shut again. Appalled, he wondered how she could fall asleep when he was this aroused. Was she going to start snoring halfway into his seduction? “There’s a bothy about a half mile from here,” he said. “We can be alone for as long as we like. Maggie, I can’t wait. You’re tormenting me.”

  The urgency in his voice broke her relaxed trance. She opened her eyes reluctantly. Although she considered herself unschooled in sexual matters, she knew exactly what he was asking. Yet before she could even consider giving him an answer, something stopped her. A prickle of apprehension crawled down her spine that had nothing to do with the ramifications of losing her virtue.

  The woods. The unguarded way she and Connor were sitting together. It reminded her of the tapestry, the lion and the princess so engrossed in each other that they didn’t sense the presence of an enemy.

  He drew a breath. “I’ll understand if you say no. It won�
��t stop me from having you, because there is always tonight, and—”

  “We are not alone,” she said quietly.

  He shifted, instantly in control. “Where?”

  Maggie stared over his shoulder, too afraid to say another word. It wasn’t her imagination. Someone was watching them. Why hadn’t she realized it before?

  A shadow fell across the copse. The shadow of a man.

  Maggie spotted him only seconds before Connor turned his head and saw the figure standing behind the trees, a sword glinting at his side.

  Chapter

  27

  It was only Claude.

  Later Connor would insist that he knew it all along, but Maggie noticed that he turned chalk-white and leaped up to shield her. At any rate, Claude’s untimely appearance had certainly spoiled Connor’s plans for a sylvan seduction. To her shame, she felt more disappointed than relieved. Her body still throbbed with those forbidden urges.

  “Who the hell would expect a butler to be wandering about the woods?” Connor said under his breath.

  Maggie pulled her bodice together and scrambled to her feet. “He’s probably lost,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything to hurt his feelings. He can’t help it.”

  “I am not lost, my lady,” Claude announced, pretending not to have noticed the provocative scenario he had interrupted. “I came looking for you to warn you.”

  “Warn her of what?” Connor demanded, breathing deeply.

  Maggie gasped as she took her first good look at the elderly man emerging from the trees. Always immaculate in appearance, Claude’s hair stood up in spikes from his head like a hedgehog, and his black broadcloth jacket was shredded from shoulder to hip.

  “What on earth happened to you?” Maggie cried.

  Connor was more concerned about the lethal weapon in the man’s hand. “Put that sword away, Claude. There are no dangers in these woods.”

  “Yes, there are,” Maggie said. “You told me yourself. Remember the beasts hiding behind the trees?”