A Question of Lust (Questions For A Highlander Book 3)

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A Question of Lust (Questions For A Highlander Book 3) Page 10

by Angeline Fortin


  It never occurred to Vin, in returning to Society that he would be once more taking up the title of ‘eligible bachelor’. Plainly, given the number of women crowding in, bachelors were a limited commodity this year. It made sense then that James hadn’t seen fit to join them. For fifteen minutes, he was coyly smiled at, giggled at and, once, covertly propositioned. Mothers dragged their daughters to meet him. They bobbed their curtsies in their white dresses, looking entirely too young, innocent and sheltered to be thrown at a man with his demons.

  The crowd pressed him from all sides, jockeying for an introduction or to remind him of a name or past incident. The people, in themselves, did not bother him but after years of solitude, the presence of such a crowd around him made Vin feel enclosed and suffocated. The noise created by the culmination of voice over voice began to pound in his head.

  Just when Vin felt ready to burst, he looked up and saw Moira smiling at him. It was silly, he thought, but a single look from her seemed so very…encouraging. As if she had faith he would not let her down. Suddenly he didn’t want to. With renewed determination, he turned back to receiving more exclamations of surprise and felicitations.

  The lights flashed then and thankfully, the crowd began to disperse, heading to their seats for the performance to begin. Moira stepped away as well, leaving Vin feeling oddly bereft and more than a little irritated when she returned to Aylesbury’s side. Stifling his annoyance, Vin offered his arm to Fiona and followed the others as they made their way through the lobby to the sweeping red-carpeted staircase that led to the upper levels. Vin grimaced in dread, gathering his resolve not to falter.

  Within a half dozen steps, however, he was already gripping the handrail, surreptitiously supporting himself and using it to pull himself up. By the time he’d covered a dozen, he was lagging behind, and when he reached the first landing, felt dizzy and near a faint staring up at the light bouncing off the enormous crystal chandelier that hung over the landing. The lights flashing behind his eyes were almost as bright.

  “Oh, drat!” Moira cried out, stopping on the first landing. “I’ve left my fan in my cloak pocket! I simply cannot go on without it! You know how hot it gets in here even in the winter,” she added to Abby.

  “I’ll fetch it for you, my dear,” Aylesbury offered gallantly.

  “Oh no, Harry! I wouldn’t dream of it!” she declined, smiling up at the marquis. “I know you’ve been looking forward to seeing the play since you missed it in London. Please go on! I will catch up.”

  “We shouldn’t leave you unescorted,” Abby argued, eyeing Moira speculatively, clearly curious what was going on. Moira jerked her head at her friend subtly, urging her to play along.

  “Vin will stay with me,” Moira announced, casting him a pleading smile. “Won’t you, Vin?”

  “Of course.” Vin leaned against the rail thinking there was no chance he was going to walk all the way down to the lobby to fetch Moira’s fan, but was thankful for the break nonetheless.

  “There!” Moira waved her hand, announcing everything fixed.

  Getting the gist if not the reason of Moira’s game, Abby chimed in, “Aylesbury, would you escort Fiona the rest of the way so she won’t have to wait on Moira and Vin?”

  “Of course, my lady.” Aylesbury politely offered his arm to Fiona who took it with a blush of pleasure and the rest of the party turned down the hallway leading to the next flight of stairs leading to their third tier box.

  Moira watched Vin fiddling with his tie and tight collar while the others moved on. Her first thought when she’d seen him was that he looked devastatingly handsome in his evening attire. He was utter perfection! The traditional black formal wear fit him fairly well and the white satin waistcoat, shirtfront and tie all stood against it in sharp contrast. The customary white flower was tucked into his lapel. Though she preferred his shaggy locks loose and touchable, he’d pomaded his hair for the occasion. He’d even shaved again since that morning. Though she thought she like his shadowy whiskers and unkempt casualness better, his clean jaw displayed the long planes of his cheeks from his cheekbones to that ruggedly squared jaw.

  Fighting back the giddy urge to sigh lustily in appreciation, Moira skipped down a few steps and stopped looking back expectantly at Vin. With a sigh, Vin took a single step back toward the head of the staircase and looked down the flight with dread. “You must at least come down this far so you’re out of their sight in case they look back,” Moira hissed impatiently and beckoned him to follow.

  “What?”

  “Come here!” Moira reached up and slipping her cool hand into his. Vin looked down at Moira as she smiled tenderly and took first one step and then another holding the rail until he was standing even with her. “There!” she announced and dropped down to sit on the stairs.

  Befuddled, Vin sat as well, crossing his arms over his knees. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight, Vin. I thought you might be too…” she trailed off with a shrug.

  “I was,” he shrugged as well, wondering what she was about. “Fiona was counting on it, I am told. I’ve caused her enough heartache in this life without letting her down now.”

  Moira smiled wryly. “I seriously doubt she thinks you’ve caused her heartache.”

  Vin shrugged again, unwilling to turn the topic to his regrets. “Aren’t we supposed to be retrieving your fan?”

  “Oh, no,” she shook her head and pulled open her reticule. “It’s right here.” She snapped it open and fanned him vigorously with a laugh before admonishing him. “What were you thinking trying to climb these?”

  Vin shook his head, finally realizing she had plotted this ruse to spare him the next flight of stairs without a break to catch his breath. It had taken him almost twenty minutes to climb the fifty-foot bank up from the leith that afternoon. Plus, they had taken a long rest in the garden as well before going back inside. She’d been patience personified then and now. Vin supposed he should be thankful she had seen through him again and planned this little interlude to allow him to catch his breath. But still… “I feel like a fool.”

  She arched a curious brow at him. “Why would you say that?”

  “This constant fatigue is utterly emasculating.” He didn’t add how he hated the thought of her looking down at him as if he were an invalid. He was used to Moira looking up at him with that same adoration she had bestowed upon him and Jason in years past.

  “It’ll get better in time.” Moira patted his knee before resting her hand there. He started with a jolt of surprise feeling the heat of her palm through his trousers. An answering heat spread up his thigh turning to instant arousal. It was worse than the moment on the leith path that afternoon when the impulse to kiss her had nearly carried him into uncharted territory. This was no reaction that could in anyway be deemed merely affectionate. Damn!

  Unaware of his deviant thoughts, Moira went on, “You’ve come so far already from what Francis has said. He says you’ve made amazing progress. You’ll get your strength back soon enough, I’m sure. What with Sung Li helping you…”

  Her words thankfully turned the dangerous path of his thoughts. “How did you know about that?”

  Moira pictured him as she had seen him the previous morning with his muscles moving and flexing in the morning sun and swallowed. “Eve told me. And Kitty, too, of course.”

  “A man has no privacy in that house,” Vin grumbled. “I appreciate your efforts to help me save face, lovey. I just wish I could save some in front of you as well!”

  “You don’t need to hide your faults from me, Vin. I know too many of the already from years and years of careful observation.” Her fingers squeezed his knee and Vin tensed.

  “Really? Like what?”

  “You have a weakness for strong Scots whiskey, faro and horses. If you had a fortune, you’d waste it all on horses. Betting on them, breeding them, racing them. I know those and even more. It would take all night to list them. Not to worry, though, I always thought you were pe
rfectly wonderful despite those foibles. You were my hero, Vin, and I still think you’re quite magnificent.” Flushing red from that unconscious admission, Moira patted his knee briskly and pushed herself back up. “Shall we move on then if you’ve caught your breath?”

  “If I recall correctly you have a bit of a weakness for horseflesh yourself,” Vin stood and climbed to the top of the landing once more where he held out his arm to Moira. “Nevertheless, you are quite magnificent yourself.” He bent and brushed a light kiss on her blushing cheek. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you, lovey, but I’m glad to have you.”

  “I’ll always be your friend,” Moira answered but inside was aflutter from the feel of his warm lips on her cheek and his loving admission. She wanted to turn and meet his lips but settled for hugging his arm as they made their way down the lush hallway with its red draped walls and crystal sconces dotting the length to the next flight of stairs.

  Vin took a deep breath as they began climbing slowly, Moira supporting one arm while he gripped the rail with his hand. “This is ridiculous!” he grouched. “I don’t have this much trouble climbing the stairs at home.”

  “It’s my fault for having you climb five steep flights just a couple hours ago,” Moira assured him. “If your muscles feel like jelly now, it’s simply because you overworked them earlier.”

  “Now you sound like Sung Li,” Vin dabbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “Thank you!” she teased playfully.

  “What are we seeing anyway?” Vin asked as they wandered slowly down the hall to Glenrothes’ box.

  “I cannot believe you came and don’t even know what you’re here to see!” Moira chuckled. “It’s a new play by Oscar Wilde called A Woman of No Importance. It opened last month at the Haymarket Theater in London. No one here has seen it yet so you’re not alone in that today.”

  “That’s good to know.” Vin’s brow creased thoughtfully. “Uh, Moira? Who is Oscar Wilde?”

  By the first intermission, Vin realized he wasn’t going to getting much from the play. The reason for that was the lovely distraction who was seated in his line of sight, between him and the stage. The play was just beginning when they entered the box, so Vin helped Moira quietly to a seat in the first row before taking his own in the second row with Richard and Aylesbury.

  It had started well enough. Vin studied the long length of the back of Moira’s neck and the wisps of curling hair at her nape while he analyzed his reaction to her touch on the stairs. Soon watching her pushed any other thoughts from his mind. Though he couldn’t see her face, the tilt of Moira’s head and the way her shoulders would tense or relax as the actors’ lines were delivered was more entertaining than the play itself.

  Clearly, it held her in thrall more than it did him. Occasionally she would lean over to Abby, whispering behind her fan and her breasts would thrust against the bodice of her gown swelling over the neckline, her jewels brushing against her skin as she did so.

  He could almost feel Jason’s ghost frowning down on him when his eyes traveled to her exposed flesh. More certainly, he could feel Aylesbury’s gaze reminding him once again how wrong it was to feel this desire for Moira; his friend, Jason’s sister and another man’s wife.

  When the lights came up for the break, dozens of theatergoers came to make their greetings and meet Vin or renew old acquaintances. Vin did his best but couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Moira as she sipped champagne, smiling and laughing with that Aylesbury fellow. Scolding himself for his inappropriate thoughts, Vin still couldn’t help but clench his teeth when Aylesbury leaned over and whispered something to Moira that sent her into peals of laughter. It wasn’t her or her amusement grating on his nerves. In fact, she looked so free-spirited in doing it Vin felt the urge to smile as well. He hadn’t actually been able to summon the expression to his lips, but the feeling of a smile answering hers was there nonetheless.

  No, it was the marquis who riled Vin’s temper. What was it about that man that he found so irritating? Vin wondered. It was irrational, this instant dislike. Perhaps, he was a bit too polished for Vin’s taste. More likely, it was the man’s way of looking at him with thinly veiled amusement as if he knew all Vin’s secrets. Secrets Vin didn’t even know.

  It made for a long evening. One he thought couldn’t be over quickly enough.

  Chapter 13

  Something he knew he had missed: the flower of life.

  But he thought of it now as a thing so unattainable and improbable that to have repined would have been like despairing because one had not drawn the first prize in a lottery.

  Edith Wharton – The Age of Innocence

  The next morning, Vin practiced the T’ai Chi Chuan longer than usual. As Moira remarked, he believed the practice was beneficial to his body, he felt stronger each day. However, it wasn’t the body he needed to strengthen this morning. He needed to calm his troubled mind. Whether it had been the unaccustomed amount of social interaction, the noise or a combination of both, when Vin finally found sleep the night before, he had been plagued by some of the worst nightmares he’d experienced so far. Perhaps those had been due to renewed thought about Jason MacKenzie and all he had suffered for his friend had been graphically depicted in these latest terrors.

  There had been Jason dying over and over. His breaths gasping and Vin unable to do anything to relieve his pain. Jason’s anger for letting him die, for not finding a way to save them both. Jason’s anger at Vin for feeling lust for his sister.

  Or perhaps it had been the tirade he’d rained on Richard and the guilt he was left with for his thoughtless words. He owed his brother still more apologies, plus there were bound to be more stressful moments like those in the weeks to come. He was part of a family again with everything that came along. Peace was an unlikely bedfellow in the weeks to come.

  The worst of the night had been the lack of any real rest. No peaceful angel had descended in the night to deliver him from the trials that ravaged him. No moments of serenity. He had thought being home would continue to deliver its sweet tranquility but rather it seemed his luck had run out.

  Perhaps if he moved on to Glen Cairn, the family’s estate north of Edinburgh, he would find an even greater sense of calm. There he might also be able to find out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

  “Your mind is troubled,” Sung Li said quietly from his place beside Vin.

  Vin opened one eye to study the old Chinaman once more amazed the old man always knew when his mind wasn’t focused. “How do you do that?” he finally thought to ask.

  “I am no mind reader if that’s what you think,” Sung Li chuckled. “It’s much simpler than that. Your breathing changes from deep and slow to erratic.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s subtle but there,” the old man shrugged. “What bothers you so? Might be that I can help.”

  Feeling his shoulders drop out of their posture, Vin gave in and turned to the man who had become a friend as well as a mentor. “I was just thinking of my family. I was very harsh with Richard last night. With all of them, really. I often cannot think of anything to say to them. And I was wondering what to do with my life from here. I don’t think I can continue in the military after what has happened but what else is there for me? Where will I live? What will I do?”

  Laying a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, Sung Li told him in a confidential whisper, “I will tell you what’s wrong, Vin MacKintosh.”

  “What is it?”

  “You worry too much.” Sung Li cast him a smile that deepened the creases in the old man’s face until he looked like a shriveled mushroom.

  Both brows shot up in disbelief over Vin’s eyes. “That is your sage diagnosis? I worry too much?”

  “Yes, it is.” Sung Li returned to his former posture and closed his eyes. “You live too much of your life in your mind but forget to live the one right in front of you. You take away the worry for the past and life bef
ore you now will start looking pretty good, I think.”

  “Why does everyone seem to think that I’m unaware of things that are right in front of me lately? Francis said nearly that same thing last night.” Vin tried to return to the Qigong but couldn’t help but frown. “I see the world, you know. It just isn’t always a pleasant sight.”

  “You live in the past, but even there you did not see,” the old man went on softly. “Your life could be filled with pleasant sights every day if you only opened your eyes.”

  “Now you’re just being cryptic, old man,” grouched Vin. “If you’ve got something to say just come out and say it.”

  “No, sometimes the best way to learn a truth is to discover it yourself.”

  “If you’re trying to calm my mind, you should know it isn’t working,” he muttered, trying to refocus and leave the enigmatic statements behind. To his surprise, Sung Li dropped all pretense of meditation and turned to him giving him a penetrating stare.

  “Your discoveries are your own to make, my son,” said the old man as he stood, drawing his long robes about his shriveled and bent body. “But you must turn your thoughts away from the past. You dwell in your mind too much. You worry about insignificant things too much. You must open your mind to the now. No past. No future. Now. See it. Live it. The rest will come in time.”

  With that firm rebuke, Sung Li left, leaving Vin with even more questions in his mind than had been there before.

  An hour later, still turning Sung Li’s words over in his mind, Vin left his rooms to meet Francis for their appointment with the tailor. He couldn’t expect to borrow Francis’ clothes forever and they were much too big for him anyway. Another constant reminder of how much he had changed. Also, there would be many more events like last night to attend, to pave his way back into Society should he decide to take that path. Even if he chose to retire to Glen Cairn, a man simply needed his own clothes.

 

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