Undressed (Undone by Love)

by Kristina Cook

  Damnation. She was stunning. A siren, and how very fitting. Even with most of her face covered by a white feathered mask, he was entirely sure it was her. His gaze raked hungrily over her, admiring the way the soft, white folds of fabric clung to her body, concealing little. Even her feet, peeking out from the gown’s hem, were nearly bare, encased in nothing save thin silver straps. Her hair, littered with tiny white blossoms, tumbled down her back in soft, reddish-gold waves, brushing against silvery feathered wings, giving her an otherworldly appearance. She looked like an angel and a goddess all at once, and the vision nearly made his head spin.

  He took a deep breath, forcing himself to gain control of his lustful thoughts. As he watched, some cowhanded young dandy approached her with an exaggerated bow, then reached for her hand and led her amongst the waltzing couples.

  “Olé,” a feminine voice called out, followed by a tittering of giggles.

  With a groan, Colin turned toward the sound. The two debutantes who’d attempted to approach him moments ago now stood before him, smiling broadly.

  “A matador?” the first young lady inquired, quite boldly, really.

  “Si, senorita,” he answered, sweeping into a deep bow.

  “Very mysterious,” debutante number two said. “Might we know your name, sir?”

  He couldn’t help but look past the girl’s shoulder as Brenna twirled by with the dandy. When would this waltz end? He must somehow engage her for the next dance.

  His attention was reluctantly drawn back to the two young ladies before him. Where were the chits’ chaperones, anyway?

  “Your name, sir?” the second girl repeated, her pale brows drawn into a scowl above her small silk mask.

  “That would defeat the purpose of the mask, would it not? No name. Not tonight.” He did not risk giving them Nigel’s name. “If you’ll excuse me.” He bowed stiffly, just as two red-faced matrons descended upon the hapless pair, no doubt dragging them off to chastise them for such forward behavior. Deservedly so.

  With a sigh of relief, he moved away, distancing himself from the crowd. Searching. The waltz had ended, and Brenna was nowhere to be found.

  Suddenly the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He quickly turned and found himself staring into a familiar pair of round, aquamarine eyes. They widened in surprise, perhaps recognition. Her lips parted as if to speak.

  Quickly, he reached for her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles, inhaling her scent as he did so. Lavender and soap, so hauntingly familiar.

  “Do not speak my name aloud,” he said, his voice low.

  Something flashed in her eyes—anger, perhaps. Yet she nodded her assent and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor and pull her into his arms. Where she belonged, his foolish heart insisted. Would he never learn his lesson?

  Brenna’s heart swelled with emotion—surprise, anger, longing. For more than a full minute, she remained silent, keeping her gaze leveled on his shoulder. “Whatever are ye doing here?” she asked, finding her voice at last. “I didna expect to find ye here tonight.”

  “No, nor would my host. Perhaps we should adjourn to the rose garden for a brief stroll?”

  She shook her head. “I dinna think it wise.”

  “Nonsense. The paths are well-lit, and there are a fair number of couples out enjoying the night air. It’s perfectly within the means of propriety, I assure you.”

  “Still, I...” she faltered. She could broach the matter of Hampton’s lands now, in the garden, and be done with it. It was near enough impossible to discuss such a vital matter while twirling about a ballroom, after all. “Verra well, Mr. Rosemoor.”

  With near-perfect timing, the waltz ended. Colin bowed, and Brenna dipped a curtsy in reply before taking his proffered arm and following him across the marble floor and out one of several pairs of French doors that were thrown open to the night.

  Her anger mounted with each step. To think that he hadn’t seen fit to mention to her winning such a parcel of land, knowing her home was near Fort William, in the same immediate vicinity as Hampton’s estate. Such an omission immediately spoke to his guilt—he planned to clear the land. To pay off his debts. Hugh had said as much, and it seemed likely the truth. Hadn’t her father said he was nearly done up?

  They walked in silence, following a path lit by paper lanterns and perfumed with the heavy scent of roses. Colin had been correct; no less than a dozen couples joined them on the path, taking a turn in the cool night air.

  She raised one hand, suppressing a sneeze. The feathers on her mask tickled her nose most uncomfortably. Would it be improper for her to remove it? She hoped not, for it was beginning to chafe her, even if it did lend a comfortable feeling of anonymity. Without further thought, she lowered it. Perhaps it would serve her well if word reached Lord Thomas that she had been seen out strolling the gardens in the company of a mysterious matador.

  “Since I’m not to speak your name, whose company shall I tell my parents I shared, here in the gardens, if they ask?”

  “Sir Nigel Portman. A friend of mine. He was generous enough to allow me use of his invitation. And his ring as well.” He held up one hand, a gold signet ring on his last finger glinting in the moonlight. “Besides, everyone knows of his great love of all things Spanish. His mother was a Spaniard, the daughter of a famed bullfighter. Thus, the costume.”

  “Certainly an interesting choice,” Brenna muttered, more closely examining the tight-fitting satin knee breeches and oddly styled coat adorned with rosettes. A wide-brimmed felt hat completed the look, along with a scarlet cloak fastened about his neck and tossed over one shoulder. He should look entirely ridiculous, and yet somehow he did not. Instead he appeared more muscular, more virile than she’d remembered. She shook her head, refusing to allow her thoughts to stray that route. “Ye never answered my question. Why are ye here? It’s clear ye were not invited.”

  “Because I must speak with you. I realize that our last meeting did not...ahem.” He stopped, turning to face her, and pulled down his own mask, allowing it to hang against his knotted stock. “Our last meeting did not end on the best of terms. I must apologize for my behavior that day at the Mandevilles.”

  A flush stole up her neck, warming her cheeks. She did not want to discuss his kiss, or his motivations. It was best forgotten. “There is something I must speak to ye about as well,” she said. “Something far more serious than your boorish behavior.”

  He rubbed one palm against his cheek. “Pray tell, Lady Brenna.”

  “There is the matter of Lord Hampton’s Highland estate.”

  “What?”

  “The Marquess of Hampton. Surely ye know the man. I’m told ye won a parcel of land from him at cards. The night ye were expelled from White’s,” she added.

  “And what if I did? I never expected the man to honor the vowel.”

  “I dinna understand. Hugh said that—”

  “Hugh?” Colin spat out the name. “What did Hugh Ballard say, the bastard? What new way did he find to impugn my name?”

  “That you’d won the land and that ye planned to clear it. Hampton’s lands border Glenbroch’s, ye know.”

  “No, I didn’t know that. Tell me, if I thought myself the rightful owner of such a parcel of land, whatever reason could I possibly have for not telling you about it?”“As I said, because ye plan to clear the land. Ye know my thoughts on such matters.”

  Colin visibly blanched. A muscle in his jaw flexed before he spoke, his voice hard. “And this is what you think me capable of?”

  “I...I don’t know what I think.”

  “Let me assure you that if I had known this land bordered yours, I would have mentioned it to you. I assumed that Hampton would not honor the loss and therefore gave it very little thought.”

  Brenna’s determination wavered. Perhaps he spoke the truth. “According to Hugh, Hampton considers ye the rightful owner. He waits for ye to claim the deed and clear the land. He’s happy to be rid of the trouble, Hug
h says.”

  “Hugh is a lying bastard.”

  “Hugh says the same of ye.” Brenna tipped her chin in the air. “And so does my father.” Even in the moonlight, she could see the hard glint in his eyes.

  “Then why do you remain in my company?” he asked, his hands balled into fists by his sides. “Surely it’s beneath you to converse with me.”

  “Because I must. I implore ye not to clear the land. I beg of ye, do the honorable thing. Secure the deed. Ensure that the tenants keep their crofts.”

  A vein in his temple throbbed. “Why should I bother? Let Hampton deal with it.”

  “Because Hampton was never more than a disinterested landlord to begin with. It’s obvious he wants to rid himself of the land, and the next man who finds the deed in his pile of winnings may have no qualms about clearing it. Ye have the opportunity to secure it.”

  He crossed his arms over the broad expanse of his chest, eyeing her sharply. “I ask you once more, why should I bother?”

  Brenna swallowed hard, unable to look him in the eye. Dare she? She took a deep breath, then raised her unflinching gaze to meet his. “Because I’m asking ye to.” She held her breath, awaiting his response. Would he do it, for her? Could she offer him anything in exchange that would tempt him, that would ensure his cooperation?

  His smoldering gaze swept across her features, never leaving her face. Clearly a battle raged within him—a battle she desperately wanted to win. He was a gambling man, far more experienced at taking risks than she was. She knew she must lay all her cards on the table.

  “I’ll do whatever ye ask of me, Colin,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “Anything,” she added suggestively, “if you’ll do this for me.”

  She heard the sharp hiss of his breath and knew she had won.

  Chapter 10

  In two long, purposeful strides, Colin closed the distance that separated them. “Does it mean so much to you, Brenna?” he asked, stroking her burning cheek with his thumb as he spoke. “That these people stay on their land? So much so that you’d offer yourself up in return? Do I correctly understand your suggestion?”

  “Ye understand correctly, sir,” she bit out through clenched teeth. “The Clearances must not come so close to home. I canna sit idly by and let it happen. Ye must understand that.” She nearly choked on the humiliating words.

  He regarded her silently for several seconds before replying. “And I cannot take what you offer me. You must understand that.”

  The heat rose in her cheeks.

  “But I will do what you ask of me,” he added softly, trailing his fingertips across the curve of her shoulder.

  Brenna let out her breath in a rush. “I thank ye, Colin.”

  “But there is something I will ask of you in return. A favor. Nothing so demeaning as what you suggested. Still, it is a task you might find unpleasant.”

  “Tell me,” she urged. Whatever it was, this unpleasant task, she would do it.

  “A trusted source tells me that your brother, acting with Lord Thomas Sinclair, is responsible for my ruin. A card was planted in my pocket that night at White’s. Sinclair’s doing, no doubt. The two struck some sort of bargain. Do what you must—hide in the shadows if necessary—but try to learn the nature of their agreement. Help me expose them and restore my name.”

  Brenna shook her head in confusion. “I dinna believe it. Not Hugh. He might be somewhat...disagreeable, but set out to ruin a man he called his friend? Nay. I canna believe it. He’s not as bad as that.”

  “Are you so certain of that?”

  “Of course. I can believe anything of Lord Thomas, especially where ye are concerned. It is clear he dislikes ye intensely. But what would Hugh have to gain?”

  Colin reached down to pluck a crimson blossom from the greenery. “Perhaps you’ve heard the name Honoria Lyttle-Brown?”

  She gasped sharply as realization dawned on her at once. “Of course. Hugh’s betrothed. The woman you’d hoped to wed.”

  “Exactly.” He tucked the blossom into his lapel.

  “Ye think he did this to gain her favor? To keep her from marrying ye, so he could have her for himself?”

  “That is exactly what I have come to believe.”

  She wanted to deny that her brother was capable of something so dreadful, yet a nagging doubt kept her silent. Lord Thomas was certainly capable of such treachery; it only followed that his closest associates would be equally capable. She bit her lower lip, considering her options.

  Betray her brother’s trust and seek to discover the truth, unpleasant as it might be. Or do nothing, remain blindly loyal to a brother who likely set about to ruin a friend, simply to gain a woman’s favor. Nay, the latter was unfathomable. She did not owe Hugh fealty. She barely knew the man, and all he’d done in their brief acquaintance was sneer at the Maclachlans, deride the way in which they had raised her, and force her into the company of the unbearable Lord Thomas Sinclair. Hugh had done her no favors. She didn’t want to believe her own brother capable of something so dishonorable, so cruel and deceitful, yet she could not entirely discredit Colin’s theory.

  She nodded to herself, her mind made up. “Aye. Tell me precisely what I can do to aid you, Colin, and it will be done.”

  “Listen to their conversations when they think they are alone. Gain their confidence.”

  Brenna nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll speak with Lord Hampton and claim the deed. You have my word as a gentleman that the land will never be cleared.”

  “Verra well. I accept your word, and I shall do my part to help ye.”

  At once the tension so evident in his countenance softened, and his mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Though I must say, your original offer remains tempting. Perhaps I should reconsider.”

  Time to change the subject. No use engaging in a flirtation—not now, not after she’d humiliated herself with such a scandalous proposition, one that he’d been mercifully quick to decline. “We should return inside. No doubt my escort will be searching for me by now.”

  “No doubt he will, and who could blame him?” Colin’s attention was suddenly drawn beyond her shoulder. His eyes narrowed, and then he swiftly returned his mask to its place.

  Brenna turned, expecting to see her brother, or worse still, Lord Thomas headed in their direction. Instead, a slight woman, her face hidden behind a peacock-feathered mask, bore down upon them.

  “Lucy?” Colin said, his voice laced with incredulity.

  “I should have known,” the woman called out, increasing her pace. “Jane was afraid you might try something like this. She came by your lodgings today and saw that ridiculous costume of yours. She managed to put two and two together.”

  “Lady Mandeville?” Brenna asked, peering at the woman more closely. Indeed, it was the marchioness. Lucy, as Colin so intimately called her.

  “You should not be here, Lucy.”

  Lady Mandeville removed her mask, her eyes flashing with anger. “Nor should you. At least I was invited.”

  “Where’s Mandeville?”

  “At his club. He had important parliamentary business to discuss with Lord Grey.”

  “Does he know you are here?”

  “Of course not,” she snapped. “Do you think he’d allow me out in Lord Thomas Sinclair’s company without him?” Lady Mandeville turned toward Brenna and favored her with a tight smile. “You must excuse me, Lady Brenna. It’s just that someone must keep Colin from mischief, and Jane was not feeling well enough to mind him tonight.”

  “Is Jane unwell?” Brenna asked. She had been sorely disappointed when Jane had not made an appearance at the ball.

  “It’s nothing that a night spent abed won’t cure.”

  “Dammit, Lucy, you look pale. You should be abed yourself.” Brows knit in obvious concern, Colin reached a hand up to Lady Mandeville’s cheek.

  Just as he’d touched her cheek earlier. Brenna felt like a fool for having thought t
he gesture a mark of his desire.

  “I must get you home at once,” he told Lady Mandeville, his brow knit with concern. “I won’t be responsible for you taking such risks to your health on my account.”

  Whatever was he talking about? Lady Mandeville looked perfectly well. If anything, she looked positively radiant.

  “Very well.” Lady Mandeville nodded. “I’d hoped you would escort me home. Lord knows I’ve had a difficult enough time as it is, darting this way and that to avoid Lord Thomas while I searched you out. I should have known to look in the garden.”

  “In the garden, with a lovely young lady,” he quipped. “Where else would I be?”

  “You must pardon me for dragging him off like this, Lady Brenna. I assure you it’s for his own good. I had specific instructions from Jane.”

  “Aye, of course,” Brenna muttered.

  Colin barely spared her another glance, so busy was he with securing Lady Mandeville’s wrap about her shoulders. A sharp pang of jealousy shot through Brenna, surprising her with its rancor. Would she never know what was going through Colin Rosemoor’s mind? It appeared the man would forever remain a riddle to her. Perhaps for the best.

  “If you’ll excuse us, Lady Brenna,” Colin said with a nod.

  “Aye. Our business here is done. I bid ye both a good night.”

  Lady Mandeville reached for her hand. “I hope you’ll come again to dine with us at Mandeville House, and bring some of your astronomical charts next time.”

  “I’d like that verra much, Lady Mandeville.” Brenna returned the woman’s warm smile, even as a million questioning thoughts raced through her mind.

  She watched as Colin led her away, back down the path, his fair head bent toward Lady Mandeville’s golden one in quiet conversation.

  When they’d gone perhaps twenty paces, Colin stopped. Brenna held her breath as he turned, back toward where she still stood. Even in the lantern-lit night she could see his eyes, locked with hers for a fleeting moment before he reached up and removed his hat. In a sweeping gesture, he brought the hat to his heart and bowed in her direction. She blinked hard, thinking she must have imagined the romantic gesture, for once she looked again, the pair had faded into the night’s shadows.