by Paula Quinn
“Ye’re no’ still angry with me fer kissin’ ye, then?” he asked softly.
Her mind immediately went to their kiss. It was ecstasy, passion, and oblivion. Her body craved it. Her heart desired it. Her mind fought a valiant battle.
“No.” She shook her head. “Not for kissing me.”
“Then what?”
How could she tell him without sounding like a jealous fool? Which was exactly what she was. “You sat with Lady Newton.”
“And her brother the viscount, who is a Whig, by the way.” He shifted his shoulders in his coat, and Sina thought he might have shivered. “And disturbingly preoccupied with his sister.”
Sina covered her smile with her fingers, and then remembered what her father had told her. “You’re doing this for him.”
“Fer ye and the clan,” he corrected.
Sina wanted to resist and deny him. It was safest if he went back to Camlochlin and they forgot each other. Her father would forget him, and the MacGregors and their lives would remain unchanged.
But she didn’t want to resist him. “I’m sorry for slapping you.”
“Good,” he said on a husky growl as he stepped closer, close enough to smell sweet wine on his breath. “Because I’m goin’ to kiss ye again.”
He took her face in his palms and tilted her mouth to his. She didn’t stop him. She wondered if he could feel her heart thrashing in her chest. He took her mouth with slow, sensuous seduction. His full, succulent lips caressed her, molded her to him. His tongue swept inside her mouth as he closed his arms around her and drew her in.
She coiled her arms around his neck, careless and reckless with desire, and held on while he laid waste to her senses.
She knew she wanted to live and die in his arms. But she didn’t want him to die in hers.
So, with great reluctance, she moved away and broke their kiss.
“Good night, Adam.” She smiled, probably brighter than she meant to, touched her fingers to her lips, and left him alone.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The sun peeked meekly through the clouds as the viscount’s carriage rolled across London’s cobblestone streets.
Sina peered out the window at the men and women hurrying from one shop to another before the sky opened up. This outing was William’s idea. He’d arrived at Kensington early in the morn but hadn’t sought her out until they were ready to leave—further proving to her that there was much missing from their relationship. Still, telling him wouldn’t be easy, which was why she hadn’t done it yet.
She’d also thought they’d be going alone, but when she saw that they were traveling in Viscount Nottingham’s carriage, with Catherine Newton sitting across from her, she’d almost backed out of accompanying them. But Adam was here…outside…somewhere on his horse, choosing his mount when Nottingham invited him to share his carriage with his sister, William, and herself.
A wise decision. She hoped it didn’t rain.
“My darling,” William said, sitting next to her. He entwined his fingers in hers and brought them to his lips. “You look as if you haven’t slept in days. You should rest when we get back to the palace.”
She didn’t want to rest, but perhaps staying locked inside her room for the remainder of the day was a good idea. She didn’t want to tell William how she felt and that her father was postponing the betrothal. But he needed to be told, and she had demanded to be the one who told him. She didn’t want to run into Adam and fling her arms around him like some hapless trollop, unable to control herself.
“You do look a bit pale, Sina.”
Sina turned her blazing gaze on Catherine Newton. Normally, she wouldn’t bother replying. She didn’t have a short temper, but her nerves were already frazzled, her heart out of sorts, so she retorted, albeit in a gentle tone, “I don’t think any of us looks our best today, Catherine.”
It didn’t take much more than that to bring Catherine’s hand to her hair, the other to her dark mantua. Her expression crumbled with worry until her brother assured her that she looked perfect.
“That was harsh, Sina,” William whispered close, giving her a disapproving look.
She wondered what he would call the look she was giving him now. “What was I thinking?” she muttered as droplets of rain started hitting the roof. If he was expecting her to apologize, they would all be waiting long.
She turned from him and looked out the window again. She saw a rider pass her carriage at a slow trot. Her eyes fixed on him. It was Adam, tall and strong in his saddle, his eyes shadowed beneath the rim of his tricorn. Goliath kept stride alongside Adam’s mount. For a moment, she wished she had the courage to call a halt to the carriage, jump out, and run to him.
She watched him slow his horse to a steady pace across the wide street, presenting her with the glory and masculinity of his profile while he kept his eyes on the road.
She didn’t mind if he pretended disinterest. She preferred it for William’s sake—even if he didn’t presently deserve it.
She looked away—to the only two things facing her—Nottingham and his sister. She closed her eyes.
“Sina, what are you doing?” William tugged on her sleeve. “I didn’t mean for you to rest now.”
“I am weary now,” she told him, angry but keeping her voice evenly pitched. “Do you care more about what they will think than you care for me?”
“No,” he said regretfully.
She offered him a stiff smile and turned toward the window again. This time, she caught Adam as he was turning away from watching her with rain splashing off his hat and shoulders.
She understood now the haste in seeing her wed to Davina’s son. The queen was protecting her family. A family she could never tell anyone about. Poor Anne. Sina wished she’d told her.
She closed her eyes and blocked out the voices and sounds around her. She may have been about to fall asleep, when a memory of Anne flashed into her thoughts.
It had been over a year ago. They were enjoying an afternoon in the garden when the queen asked Sina a peculiar question.
“What do you think of a prince who does not want to be king? Is he a fool or is he wise?”
Sina had thought it over before she answered. She’d been raised among royalty and nobility. Her grandmother had been the direct heir to the throne after Anne lost her eleventh child. Sina’s father was next in line after that. George, whom she saw once a month when he visited her uncle, couldn’t wait to be king. He spoke of it all the time. When she went to live at the palace, she learned through Anne the weight such a title brought with it.
“I think he is both a fool for rejecting an opportunity of such great power and wise for the very same reason.”
“Hmmm.” The queen had nodded and slanted her gaze at her. “And were you married to such a prince, what would you advise him to do?”
Sina had laughed. “I would tell him to remain a prince.”
“Why?”
“He would have more time for me and our children. You said yourself that your dear, departed husband Prince George was very thoughtful and doting and kind. That is what I want in my husband.”
Anne was so pleased with her answer that Sina had sworn she heard the queen murmur, “Perfect.” They’d never spoken of it again.
Sina opened her eyes now and sat up with a start as the truth finally dawned on her.
He was the prince! Anne had been speaking of Adam MacGregor, her nephew. Having Sina marry him hadn’t been a hasty decision but a careful one, designed in the best interest of everyone, including the country. She had been happy that Sina didn’t want the prince to be king. A wife, in some instances, could have powerful control over her husband’s desires. Anne didn’t want Adam’s wife to convince him he should be king. A proscribed MacGregor on the throne would cause more than one war.
“Perhaps we should summon the physician,” she heard William say. She shook her head to clear it.
“No,” she insisted, “’twas just a fond memory of An
ne that came to mind. It felt as if she were right here.” She smiled at the idea of it, feeling better than she had in weeks. Her three companions stared at her as though she’d gone daft. She didn’t care. She’d thought Anne had betrayed and forgotten her, but she hadn’t.
Anne had known him. She had known what he was like, kind and raised in an environment of love and romance. Sina had been so angry with Anne for doing this to her she didn’t see that her friend had done it for her.
“She did it for me,” Sina whispered to herself, looking out the window again. The weight of anger and sorrow over being betrayed fell from her shoulders, and she smiled.
He was there. Her Highland prince with lightning streaking across his eyes, guarding her carriage. If only there was a way to keep Camlochlin safe and guard William’s heart from this.
Thank you, Anne, she said silently. Now tell me what to do.
If Sina thought the carriage ride home was torturous, dinner was excruciating. Adam was the perfect gentleman, sitting at the table, surrounded by a dozen ladies. He was polite and well-mannered, doing his best not to be charming…and failing. Even Catherine was brooding over all the attention he was getting.
Sina knew when she’d first laid eyes on him in Camlochlin’s chapel that he was the most strikingly beautiful man she’d ever seen. She wasn’t the only one who thought so, but the majority of the women in Camlochlin were his relatives. It was nothing like this, with every available lady in the palace vying for his attention.
“Lord Hamilton has become quite popular very quickly,” William remarked, sitting beside Sina at the table.
“It appears,” she replied, looking away from Adam and his admirers and sipping her wine.
“Didn’t he say he was recently wed?”
Sina closed her eyes and remembered to breathe. “He said…he’d lost her.”
“Ah, yes,” William said, casting Adam a pondering look. “I wonder if she left him for another, or if she died. Did he say?”
She looked at her plate. “No. William, there is something—”
“I understand he played chess with the king yesterday.”
They had played chess? She didn’t know how Adam had gotten an audience with the king, let alone played chess with him.
“I don’t know what Lord Hamilton does all day, William.”
“Oh?” he asked. “You weren’t aware of him practicing with the garrison yesterday and beating half of them on his own? The tale is on everyone’s lips.”
“I too heard about it,” she said and yawned.
“Let’s invite him to sit with us.”
“What?” She snapped to attention. “No. He’s perfectly fine where he is. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”
“Lord Hamilton!” William stood up and called out down the long table.
Sina looked around for a place to hide while William motioned for him to sit with them.
“William, I was hoping for a few moments with you.”
He glanced at her and smiled. “Darling, we have our entire lives together. Can’t it wait?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Ah, Lord Hamilton, join us for some wine.”
Sina wanted to throw her cup at William’s head. Adam had stayed away from her all day to avoid hurting him. How were they going to sit together without exposing to William what they truly felt? Blast it all, he was going to find out anyway.
To her dismay, Adam accepted and took a seat.
Was she being hopeful to think he appeared relieved to be away from his admirers? She wanted to smile at him. She smiled at Goliath instead.
“You already know my future wife,” William mercilessly continued, motioning to Sina, who had no choice but to look at Adam now.
He wasn’t smiling.
“Lord Hamilton,” she greeted softly.
He nodded, giving her the same amount of attention he gave the other women.
“I see you’re enjoying London so far,” William said, sneering at the dispersed crowd of women.
“In truth,” Adam replied smoothly, “I don’t care fer it much. I prefer country living.”
“An uncommon sentiment in English courts,” William pointed out.
“What do I care about courtly sentiments when I live far from it?” Adam picked up the cup set before him and held it to his lips. His gaze fell to hers for the briefest of moments, soaking her in as if she were one of God’s most perfect designs.
He casually looked away and set down his cup without taking a sip. “A man wastes his life caring about such things.”
“Should a man not always strive to be better?” William countered.
“Aye,” Adam told him in his patient sorcerer’s voice. “Better than himself, not everyone else.”
Sina’s heart melted, warming the rest of her. She smiled. She loved him. She loved every part of him. He was a prince who chose to live as a commoner. But there was nothing common about Adam MacGregor. He shone like a brilliant star among the highest nobles.
“Of course,” William replied.
He said something else after that, but Sina didn’t hear. Her eyes were locked on Catherine Newton making her way to the empty chair beside Adam. She almost reached it, when Poppy appeared in a whoosh of linen, lace, and russet curls and slid into it.
“Just in time,” she said with a slight flush to her cheeks and a wink aimed at Sina.
Sina would hug her later.
“The king arrives,” Poppy said, looking over Sina’s shoulder.
Sina’s blood froze. She hadn’t told William about their betrothal yet. She didn’t want him to learn of it from the king, in public.
She bolted from her chair and begged William to follow her. After making apologies for her to Adam and Poppy, he did.
“Are you no better even after your rest?” he asked, catching up to her.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, and led him into an alcove lit by a single torch. “William, I wanted to tell you first.”
“Tell me what?”
“Oh, my dearest William, so much has changed.” She tried to sound soothing, but her voice was quaking. She was about to tear out her best friend’s heart. “You know how much I care about you. But—”
“But?” he demanded in a hushed tone.
There was no way to say it gently. Why had she put it off all day? Now she had to hurry lest her father look for her, which he was sure to do.
“Things have changed,” she cried and reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m…I’m not in love with you. I want to be your friend, not your wife.” She closed her eyes as if that would somehow block out the pain she caused him.
His silence was louder than a scream. She knew what she was doing to him. She wouldn’t blame Adam. She was glad her father was postponing the betrothal. But it needed to be broken. As mad as Adam was to think he could win her father’s favor, she knew she had to help him. She couldn’t let him go to Newgate, or to Camlochlin without her.
“Why does he take pleasure in torturing me?” William spat angrily. “He uses you to do it. You are his power over me.” His eyes gleamed in the torchlight as he reached out and swept his hands over her throat. “Who has he promised you to this time?” He pulled her closer by the neck. Tears spilled over his lids while he studied her.
“What are you doing?” She clawed at his hands, beginning to panic. “You’re hurting me, William.”
“All my life they had the power.” He squeezed his fingers tighter around her and closed his eyes. “But I’ve taken it back. Forgive me, my darling.”
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t fight. No. She couldn’t die this way! Instead of trying to get him off her, she touched his face and then watched his fury fade.
He loosened his grip suddenly. “No. No. I cannot cause you—”
Adam’s brawny body colliding into his cut off the remainder of his words. Before their bodies hit the ground, Adam hauled William to his feet, dragged him to the nearest wall, and
smashed his head into it, knocking him out.
Sina wept in Adam’s arms over her unconscious friend and everything he’d just destroyed, and then looked up to see her father and his guards.
Chapter Thirty-Three
He let me go,” Sina mildly defended.
Adam frowned at her. How long would she go on championing William? “After he left yer neck bruised,” he growled.
She didn’t argue.
“Miss de Arenburg—”
“Oh, stop it, Father. Lord Hamilton knows who you are to me. I told him.”
The king looked from one to the other, his expression frustratingly unreadable. “I see.”
“Yer Majesty,” Adam said, shifting in his chair. “I do not care who ye are as long as ye do not let Lord Standish anywhere near her again.”
Adam was thankful that, again, Sina made no objection.
“Lord Standish has been taken to Newgate prison, where he awaits word from me.”
“Let him go home to his father,” Sina implored. “Ban him from the palace, from London, but don’t bring such shame upon him by keeping him in prison. His heart is broken, Father. Because of me. Show him mercy.”
Adam wanted to interject. Mercy? He’d show him the tip of a blade if Standish returned.
“I’ve sent a letter to notify his father,” the king told her. “I will let you know what I decide. You may go, Sina. Let the physician see you. I wish to have a word with Lord Hamilton.”
She looked so defeated that Adam wanted to rush to her and hold her in his arms. He watched her leave, anxious to go with her. Couldn’t whatever the king wanted wait?
“Hamilton,” the king said, “pour us some wine. Face me while you do it.”
Adam breathed slowly. He wanted to leave, not drink. He did as the king asked, but poured only one glass and handed it to George.
“You’re not drinking?” the king asked, looking up at him from his chair.
“Sire, yer daughter is in pain. I want to go to her.”
“How do I know you won’t tell everyone who I am to her?”
