All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  It was wrong, all so wrong. Abby was a friend. Her brother, a friend as well. But despite his admonitions to himself, upon finding her alone on the terrace that he treat her like one, Richard had known within moments of hearing her speak that he wouldn’t be able to do so. She was no longer Abby, the brat who had followed him about as a child, but rather Abby, the temptress who might lead him about with ease should she ever learn of the power she suddenly had over him.

  He wanted her in a way that felt so right. Her lips parted beneath his with a sigh and he groaned in return. Bloody hell, what was he thinking? She was no seductress, his logical mind argued. She was an innocent young lass. A debutante.

  “Abby, angel,” he moaned against her lips. “My God, what are we doing?”

  Rough hands yanked him away from Abby then and Richard turned to find a pair of angry golden eyes glaring down at him.

  “Well, ye better not be doing what I think ye’re doing, Richard MacKintosh, or ye’ll find yerself wi’ my boot up yer arse!”

  Chapter 13

  It is one of the blessings of old friends

  that you can afford to be stupid with them.

  ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

  “Merrill, old chap,” Richard returned calmly, straightening his jacket. Jack Merrill was a lifelong friend. He had been school chum and mate. They drank together, fought together, and laughed together. Of course, Richard had never kissed Jack’s sister before, either.

  “Don’t ye ‘old chap’ me, MacKintosh,” Abby’s older brother glowered at him. “What do ye think ye were doing wi’ my sister?”

  Richard looked back at Abby. God, but she looked delicious…and curious as well. She raised a brow at him, and he couldn’t help but ask with a roguish grin, “What was I doing?”

  She choked on a snort of laughter that recalled the lass he’d known years before. As if sharing a joke with him, she shrugged at her brother nonchalantly, offering, “Saying ‘hullo’?”

  “Is that how you’re making your greetings these days, ye brat?” Jack growled, not appreciating his sister’s humor.

  “Only to long-lost friends.” Richard could almost see her feathers ruffling. One thing about Abby, she’d never enjoyed being on the receiving end of a lecture. “For a long-lost brother, who hasn’t even bothered to greet me properly yet, I will just do this.”

  She walked into her brother’s arms and wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly before scolding. “Where have you been?”

  “Paris. Rome.” Jack shrugged but hugged Abby fiercely in return. “It seems I returned at the perfect time.”

  Her brows snapped together as she drew back to glare at her brother. “I haven’t seen you in three years and you think this is the perfect time? I haven’t even had a letter from you since Father decided to drag me down here, and this is the perfect time?”

  “Aye, just in time to save you from yourself.” Jack crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I don’t need you to save me from myself. Nor from Richard, just in case that’s what you’re about to say next.” Abby’s hands were already on her hips as she chastised her brother with a ferocity that brought Richard no little enjoyment. Here was the lass he remembered. She’d always been a bossy wee thing. “What I needed you to save me from was this Season. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? I have no one here. I was counting on you and you’ve been off to Paris and Rome? Were you sipping champagne from some lady’s slipper while Father planned to marry all of us off?”

  That got Richard’s attention, reminding him that he still wasn’t certain whose engagement ball this was. Surely, if Abby were about to become betrothed to that Aylesbury fellow, she wouldn’t have been alone out on the terrace teasing him.

  Kissing him.

  Bloody hell, he still couldn’t believe that he’d been bussing Abby Merrill in a dark corner. What might he have done if Jack hadn’t shown up so conveniently?

  “Bah, there’s not a man on earth who would wed you, lass,” Jack bit out in a way that only squabbling siblings might.

  Richard leaned back in amusement, waiting for Abby to cut him up in equal fashion. Instead, her stern expression fell and Jack’s instantly followed suit. His voice went from taunting to plaintive. A tone Richard had never heard from him.

  “Here now, lass. That’s not what I meant.”

  What was this, Richard wondered. He’d never seen Jack look so mournful and Abby appeared to be on the verge of tears. Jack reached out to stroke her shoulder, but Abby jerked away, wrapping her arms about her waist as if she were in pain.

  What was going on?

  “Abs.”

  “I better be getting back inside,” she said quietly. “I’m sure the announcement will be made soon. Oona will expect me to be there with a smile on my face.”

  “Abs,” Jack implored, but Abby just shrugged him off. “Bloody hell, lass. Fine then, but I will see ye in the morning. Maybe by then ye’ll hae realized I meant no harm.”

  The Abby Richard had seen last night was once again firmly in place. Coolly composed, in a world apart from the rest of them. To his surprise, she turned away and headed for the door without any further word to either of them. Richard stepped forward, stopping her with a hand on her arm. He’d be damned if she was just going to walk away without explanation.

  “Abby, might I escort you back in?”

  She looked back at him, then into the brightly lit ballroom through the terrace doors. She seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking her head. “No thank you. I…uh, I think not.”

  “A dance then?”

  “No, thank you.

  “Abby…”

  “No, Richard.” She looked back at Jack, a wealth of meaning in her gaze that Richard couldn’t decipher before she shook head turning back to him. “It-it was lovely to see you again. It truly was.”

  He watched her sweep serenely away, wondering at her parting words. She made it sound as if she never expected to see him again. He didn’t understand her at all. He was certain he hadn’t offended her in any way. The initiation of their kiss had been hers. It had been much too enjoyable to regret. Of that, he was certain.

  Snorting, Richard realized that there was one thing he hadn’t missed about women these past several years. They were a confusing lot to be sure.

  “What was all that?”

  “Merely an indication that I’m a bigger bastard than I thought,” Jack replied with a shrug.

  “I’ve always known that. Glad to know you’ve finally accepted it as well.”

  “Aren’t ye a chuckle?” The two men moved toward the door and stepped just inside. “Yer lucky I don’t give you a good anointing for what I just saw there.”

  “You needn’t worry about it.”

  Abby was across the ballroom now. Gone was the harridan who had laid so fiercely into Jack just moments ago. Beautiful as she was, this Abby didn’t boil his blood as easily as the sultry siren he’d kissed to on the terrace.

  “I bloody well am worried about it.”

  “It was a momentary lapse,” Richard argued. “I was just so surprised to see her…” He trailed off waving a hand at Abby.

  “Looking like that?” Jack sighed, as if Richard’s mystification was no mystery to him.

  “Aye, looking like that.”

  “She’s always had the face of an angel. There’s nothing new there.”

  “There is much new, but as I said you needn’t worry. She is too young to flirt with.”

  Surprise lit his friend’s expression. “How old do you think my sister is?”

  “I’m not certain exactly. Seventeen? Eighteen?”

  With a bark of laughter, Jack slapped Richard on the back. “I’m not saying you should rethink your position on flirting with my sister, but I do think ye might need to check your math on her age.” His friend took a step away only to turn back with a frown. “So we’re clear, if ye touch her, I’ll kill you.”

  “Point taken, but just so we�
�re absolutely clear, I am only in London to get the help I need to search out Vin and Jace. Nothing more. Your sister is safe with me.”

  Jack coughed out a harsh laugh. “That’s what they all say. I’d have to say…”

  “Bloody fookin’ hell.”

  Chapter 14

  The most I can do for my friend

  is simply to be his friend.

  ~ Henry David Thoreau

  It wasn’t so much the words themselves that caused both men to turn, but rather, the harsh, angry brogue that spoke them. Richard could feel his friend stiffen next to him, but when Jack spoke, his voice was lazily sardonic as he offered a bow.

  “Good evening to you as well, Father.”

  “What the fook are ye doing here?” The Earl of Haddington raged as soon as he within earshot. “Yer not welcome here. Get out.”

  “I’m very welcome here, thank you very much. I’ve a personal invitation from our hostess herself,” Jack drawled. “Imagine my surprise upon meeting Lady Boughton in the park this morning that my sister was having an engagement ball this very night. It seems my invitation was lost in the post.”

  A thunderous rage darkened the earl’s expression. “An invitation wasn’t posted to ye and ye know why.”

  “Why, Jack! Is that you?” came a sensual coo from the woman sidling up beside the earl. She hung on Haddington’s arm, flashing Jack a languid smile.

  Were it possible, Richard felt Jack’s body tense even more. “Still haven’t told the truth of it, Oona? Protecting anyone in particular?”

  Ah, Richard’s brows raised with recognition realizing that the woman was none other than Jack and Abby’s stepmother. Though he’d spent many a summer as a lad with the Merrill clan and knew most of the family well enough, he hadn’t been to Glen Sannox House since Abby’s mother’s funeral. However, he had heard enough about Oona Seton Merrill to recoil from an introduction.

  “Who’s your friend?” she asked, sliding Richard a sidelong glance.

  “Shut it, Oona,” Haddington bit out. “And ye, out!”

  Stubbornly, Jack crossed his arms over his broad chest and stood toe-to-toe with his father while Oona eyed Richard with open speculation right there in front of her husband. That long, hot appraisal turned Richard’s stomach. With her dark coloring and inviting eyes, she reminded him of Francis’ wife, Vanessa, and her attempts long ago to lure him or his brother, James, into her bed.

  “I should be finding my brother about now.”

  Jack shot him an unforgiving glare from narrowed eyes, but Richard shrugged. What could Jack expect? They were friends, and while he might have stood by Jack’s side through a confrontation with his sire, he considered bearing Oona’s somewhat infamous company to be a sacrifice that far exceeded friendship.

  “Surely you’re not leaving just yet. Our little announcement is about to be made. It is why we’re all here, isn’t it?” Oona’s voice was syrupy sweet as if she were completely oblivious to the tightly wound tension between father and son.

  Richard hesitated. Was it worth lingering in such unpleasant company to finally have an answer to the question that had kept him wondering all day? Given the position he was suddenly in, he wasn’t sure.

  “Isn’t that why you’re here, Jack?” Oona carried on, reaching out to stroke his sleeve. The earl’s face turned an even darker shade of red.

  “I’m here to support my sister. Something I haven’t been able to do in years, thanks to you,” Jack bit out, shaking off her hand.

  “Oh, come now,” his stepmother drawled, “you’re not still angry at me, are you? Haddington isn’t angry, are you, dear?”

  “Piss off, lad, before I’m forced to drag ye out of here,” Haddington growled under his breath.

  Richard could see that the earl was on the verge of violence and was restraining himself admirably, but some in the crowd had already turned to watch them. Doubtless, they were hoping for a scene to lighten their perpetual boredom.

  “All of this is a problem of yer own making.”

  “I’m sure you like to think so,” Jack threw back, “rather than pin the blame where it belongs. How is my brother, by the way?”

  “Cullen, poor lad, is in Edinburgh seeing to business,” Oona offered, drawing Jack’s black stare back to her.

  “I meant my other brother.”

  Haddington roared with anger and flung himself at his son, but Jack was ready for him, throwing his weight forward as the earl caught him around the waist. A lesser man would have been tackled to the floor, but though Haddington was a burly old Scot, Jack was taller, more muscular and stronger. Not to mention, angrier.

  It was a long, bitter battle that Richard had heard about via letters for years but had never witnessed in person. Oona was a rare slut of a wife to Jack’s father, according to his friend. Having wed a man more than thirty years her senior who—Richard firmly suspected—she’d anticipated passing on to his eternal reward shortly after the nuptials, Oona ended up being disappointed by almost every aspect of marriage. At his age, Haddington had been more interested in his hounds and his ale and had remarried primarily to find another woman to mother his young children and run his households.

  Oona did neither as smoothly as Judith Boughton had. Nor was she inclined to simply live a quiet life at Glen Sannox House as either of the former Countesses of Haddington had been. She wanted adventure and a young virile lover to replace the older one. Almost a decade ago, she had decided to favor Jack as that man.

  When he hadn’t obliged her, she moved on Jack’s older brother, Cullen. Richard knew Cullen, as eldest and heir, had always been the old earl’s favorite while Jack had been his mother’s devoted son. Oona had become pregnant, much to Haddington’s joy until that son, Alexander, had been born with dark golden eyes, quite unlike the earl’s or Cullen’s.

  But very much like Jack’s.

  The earl accused his son of seducing his wife. While Jack had honorably refused to volunteer the truth, waiting for Oona to do so. She never had, and Jack had been banished from Glen Sannox House and Haddington’s presence ever since. As a result, he saw his sisters only on occasion at Rose Lawn Coppice. Instead, in the years since, he’d been a frequent lodger with the MacKintosh clan, becoming more brother than friend.

  While a brother might have broken up a fight between father and son, as a friend, Richard didn’t try to interrupt the brawl he knew Jack had been longing for. There were years of anger and bitterness built up in his friend. Despite his display on the terrace, Jack wasn’t a man given to impulsive violence. Certainly, they had been in their fair share of scuffles over the years, but Jack usually saved his fights for when it counted. Protection or, in this case, redemption.

  The ghastly sound of flesh meeting flesh sounded again and again in the suddenly silent ballroom as guests crowded about to see what was happening.

  “Aren’t you going to stop them?” Oona screeched.

  “You caused this fight, why don’t you stop it?”

  Francis, too, after rushing into the fray and assessing the situation for what it was, stood firm at Richard’s side refusing to break it up. It was long past time for the truth to out.

  “What on earth is going on here?”

  Richard turned to see Abby’s grandmother pushing through the crowd and reached out to offer her his arm. Alice Boughton was a nice old bird who he knew well, having spent enough time at Rose Lawn in years past while visiting with Jack to be genuinely glad to see her. Joshua and Alice Boughton were in their middle sixties, he thought, but both still seemed as vital as his own grandmother.

  Unlike some he knew, Lady Boughton had also retained a sense of mischief through her years. She looked into the fray with a choking sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter to Richard’s ears. “I guess I should have expected that when I invited him, shouldn’t have I?”

  “Aye, ma’am,” Richard agreed with a wide smile, finding even more humor in the situation. Overall, the evening had managed to provide more
humor and distraction thus far than any single night he’d experienced in years.

  Just then a young, blond in debutante white—not in possession of such humor—pushed through the crowd and screamed in horror. “Papa! Jack? Is that you? What are you doing? Stop it! Stop it! You’re absolutely ruining my engagement ball!”

  Richard’s smile stretched even more broadly.

  At least he had the answer to that question now.

  Chapter 15

  Always do what you are afraid to do.

  ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

  After making her way through the ballroom, Abby raced up the stairs to the room her grandmother kept for her, wondering what had come over her. One minute she was boldly seducing Richard on the terrace, and the next she was berating her brother—who she hadn’t seen in years—like a fishwife, when all she really wanted to do was throw herself in his arms.

  The darkness was to blame, she decided. In the dark, she’d felt safe. Free to be who she really was on the inside, not the shadow she’d become. The annoying will o’ the wisp Eve had accused her of being after the accident. But for that flash of trepidation that had come at the thought of Richard seeing her in the light of the ballroom, she felt exhilarated.

  He'd kissed her!

  After years of dreaming, it had actually happened. Of course, she’d been the one to initiate it. It had shocked him, she’d felt him tense and known a moment of fear that he would pull away, confirming that his feelings were purely fraternal. But then, he had sunk into it, pulling her body against his with strong arms.

  The feel of him against her…

  Abby pressed a hand to her bosom, feeling her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She’d never felt anything like it. Her blood was hot, yet goose bumps broke out across her body as she recalled the flavor of him, the feel of him.