Lucinda had always been attracted to men of great wealth, which was why Jack had been rather flattered by her attentions. Wealth he might have, but he also possessed other qualities that made him stand out in her crowd of admirers. Qualities he’d used to good advantage with Fiona that very evening. Jack smiled a bit. His skills had left his bride panting and flushed with pleasure.
The thought instantly stirred him. Never before had he felt such a blaze of pure passion. With all of his experience, he had never experienced such mindless—
Jack forced himself back to the present. He was there to regain his balance, not to obsess over the very satisfactory flames between himself and Fiona.
“Ah, Jack! There you are.” Lucinda almost purred as she came forward, a flutter of pale blue silk and white lace, the cloying scent of rose lifting from her white skin.
She smiled up at him and slipped her arms through one of his, pressing her breasts against him. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
“My dear Lucinda, I was in your bed but four days ago. Surely you remember. The night your husband returned home and you bade me leave through the window?”
Her smile dimmed a moment, her eyes searching his face to see how displeased he might be. Seeing nothing in his expression to help her, she managed a false laugh and said, “Poor Featherington! He was here only one day before he was called to Dover for a meeting with Lord Burleson.” She gave him an arch smile. “Had I known he would be gone so quickly, I would have asked you to stay at the inn in the village, so you could return immediately.”
Jack looked down at Lucinda’s generous breasts and waited for a flicker of attraction, an answering heat of some sort. But nothing happened.
Had this been Fiona standing beside him, her breasts barely covered by thin silk and pressed against his arm, he’d have picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and taken her back to the carriage so he could slake the growing passion. He shook his head, trying to stop his errant thoughts.
“Jack?” Lucinda’s voice sounded uncertain. “What is it? You…you are looking at me in the oddest way.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry. I was thinking of something else.”
Her expression tightened, an unpleasant glitter rising in her eyes. “What are you thinking about? Or should I ask whom?”
The proprietary note in her voice gave him pause. He eyed her a moment, then removed her hand from his arm. “My thoughts are my own. I will share them with whomever I wish.”
For a moment, her eyes flashed, and he thought she would retaliate. But something in his expression caused her to swallow a retort. She gave a brittle laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you owed me anything.”
He bowed, saying nothing.
She flushed a little at the silent rebuke, fixing her large blue eyes on his face, a faint pleading note in her soft voice. “Jack, I was merely funning. It’s the heat and the lateness of the hour.” She managed a charming smile, peeping up at him through her lashes. “I am famished, you know, and breakfast is not for two more hours.”
He smiled a little. “You are spoiled.”
“Perhaps.” She pressed against him once more, her full breasts rubbing the sleeve of his coat. “Most men want me to notice when they are not present.”
“I am not most men.” Fiona would be the first one to point that out, though not in a complimentary way.
Lucinda ran a hand along Jack’s arm, then glanced up at him through her lashes. “Perhaps we should leave. Featherington won’t be home for a few more days. We could take your carriage and—”
“No. We cannot take my carriage.”
Lucinda blinked at his vehemence.
Jack’s jaw tightened. “It’s not working correctly. It—it has developed a leak.”
“But…it’s not raining.”
“It was storming when I came in.”
“How odd. I arrived only an hour ago, and it was beautiful.”
Yes, but that was before he’d made Fiona angry. Suddenly, Jack felt an overwhelming need to remove himself from Lucinda’s cloying presence. He’d been wrong to come here. There would be no other women for him, not until he’d resolved his issues with Fiona. Besides, Lucinda’s charms had palled.
“Jack, is something wrong?”
“No. I am just not in the mood for conversation right now.” Once again, he extricated himself from her grasp. “I believe I’ll find an open table and play some cards.”
Her cheeks flushed unbecomingly, her mouth thinning. “Have a care what you are about, Jack. I shall feel ignored, and I do not like that.” Her voice quivered with outrage.
Jack had never seen this side of her, and, frankly, he didn’t like it. “My dear, our relationship is far from exclusive. In fact, I believe you are also visiting Sir Melkinridge?” Jack looked pointedly at the diamond necklace that hung at Lucinda’s white throat.
The color in her cheeks did not fade. She managed a shrug. “Only now and then. You know that.”
“You may have him with my blessing. Just do not pretend that you and I have more of an arrangement than we do. We have been mutually satisfying friends but no more.”
Lucinda almost gasped at the coolness of Jack’s tone. She’d come there tonight without the expectation of seeing him; he was unpredictable and it was impossible to say when and where he might show up. It was one of the many things she found fascinating about him. One of the reasons she was beginning to think she might be in love.
She had everything a woman could want: her own wealth, the admiration of a multitude of men, a fond but absent husband, several lovely homes. And yet something had been missing. Until she met Jack Kincaid, she hadn’t known what that was.
She stole a glance at the strong slash of his jaw, the deep auburn of his hair, the familiar slant of his lips. She shivered. None of her numerous lovers had touched her, shaken her, the way Jack Kincaid had. There was something about him, an air of inaccessibility, almost of indifference.
All her life, Lucinda had demanded and received the constant attention of those around her. Jack was different, which made life frightening and exciting. Oddly enough, the more he pulled away, the more she felt this demanding tug of attraction.
His attention was even now wandering to the card tables. Coldness seeped through her. Had she done something to lose him forever? He’d seemed upset when she’d asked him to leave through the window. Had she wounded his pride? “Jack, perhaps I should tell Featherington about us so we can—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Would you also tell him about Melkinridge and the others?”
She flushed. “No, of course not. I just think it’s horrid you had to leave in such a manner. It pains me to think of it.”
His eyes darkened, an unknown thought flickering across his face. “It was a bit painful.” A secretive smile touched his lips. “But only at first.”
What did he mean by that? She eyed him narrowly. There was something different about him. What was it? “Jack, did you—”
“Ah, Kincaid!” came a deep voice. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Lucinda stiffened as a tall, elegantly dressed man with black hair and blue eyes took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “And the lovely Lady Featherington. How nice to see you.”
Jack nodded, wondering why he found every acquaintance so irksome this evening. “Campbell.”
“Ah, Black Jack! I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Lucinda’s brows rose. “Ah, yes. Black Jack. I wonder how that name came to be?” Her chilled tone indicated that she thought she knew.
Campbell smiled, his gaze never leaving Jack’s. “It’s an old childhood name. One given to him by his own mother when he fought his stepfather down the steps of the stately Kincaid manor.”
“I don’t remember,” Jack said tersely.
Campbell shrugged. “That’s how I remember it, anyway. And the name has stuck over the years, which I find very telling.”
Long
ago, Alan Campbell had been a playmate of Jack’s. That had changed when Alan had reached his majority. Determined in his ambition to restore his family to greatness, Campbell became a less and less enjoyable companion. He spent his time gathering properties the way some men collected snuffboxes, stepping on quite a few people along the way.
Campbell bowed to Jack, but his gaze lingered on Lucinda. Jack ignored the look; every man present had a fondness for Lucinda. They could have her; he was discovering that he preferred women more spontaneous in nature.
“You look lovely,” Campbell was saying to her.
She withdrew her hand and placed it on Jack’s sleeve. “How are you this evening, Campbell? I trust you are having a good run of luck.”
The man’s mouth twisted. “Since when did the Campbells ever have any luck? Of course”—he slid a sly glance to Jack—“our luck is nothing compared to the MacLeans’. Jack, you know the MacLean family, don’t you?”
“I know them,” Jack said shortly.
“I thought you might.” Campbell’s gaze dropped to Lucinda’s hand on Jack’s arm. “By the way, Kincaid, I forgot to congratulate you.”
“Congratulate him?” Lucinda looked from Jack to Campbell. “What for?”
“On his marriage, of course.”
Lucinda’s hand convulsively tightened, her nails digging through his sleeve.
Jack sent a cold look at Campbell.
Shock and disbelief warred in Lucinda’s blue eyes. “You’ve married?”
“Yes,” Jack said, seeing her stricken look. Good God, she cares for me. Never would he have believed such a thing. “I am sorry.”
“So am I,” she snapped. She let go of his arm.
“I should have told you sooner, but—”
“Who is she?” Lucinda said in a tight voice.
For some reason, he felt Fiona’s name was not for this place, these people. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What’s wrong, Jack, my friend? Shy?” Campbell flashed a smile at Lucinda. “I believe I can answer your question.”
Jack sent the man a furious glare. The bastard had done enough as it was. Damn! He should have told Lucinda about his marriage the second he stepped through the door. But perhaps this was best—now she was furious with him, thus ending the relationship quickly. Though Campbell thought he was causing Jack problems, he might, in fact, be doing him a great favor.
“The lady’s name is Fiona MacLean,” Campbell said.
“I have never heard of her,” Lucinda said.
Campbell shrugged. “She has been a recluse of sorts.”
Jack eyed Campbell dispassionately. “I didn’t realize my marriage was common knowledge already.”
“I returned this evening from my holdings in Scotland. Since my valet is the brother of the upstairs maid in the MacLean house…” Campbell smiled. “Needless to say, your name was on everyone’s lips. I hear the lady’s brothers are not happy with the elopement.”
Jack sent a quick glance at Lucinda, who stood as if turned to stone, her eyes glitter-hard. Still, she managed to say with credible composure, “Jack, you really must tell us all about the wedding. I am sure it was quite spectacular.”
If she only knew. “It was not fancy.”
Campbell chuckled a bit. “Oh, do not hide your light, my friend! I hear it was quite romantic.” The man leaned toward Lucinda and said in a low voice, “He literally stole the lovely Fiona from beneath her brothers’ noses—quite a feat, indeed.” Campbell’s smile tightened. “Of course, with a woman as lovely as Fiona, who can blame him? I might fight a few dragons myself for someone like her.”
“She’s beautiful, is she?” Lucinda’s voice sounded flat.
Jack frowned at Campbell. “How do you know Fiona?”
Campbell shrugged. “I once worshipped at that altar, long ago. Her brothers offered to remove my head from my shoulders for daring to speak to her when they were not present, though they punished me enough. It rained for two weeks at my home after I left.”
“Rained?” Lucinda frowned.
“Oh, yes. The MacLean family is cursed. They can cause the weather to storm, rain to fall, lightning to strike. Yet they cannot direct it. I drew their ire, hence the rain.”
“I don’t believe in such things,” Lucinda scoffed.
Campbell eyed Jack with a smirk. “Now that I think on it, you look a bit damp yourself, my friend.”
Jaw clenched, Jack met Campbell’s gaze evenly. “I bathed before I came.”
Campbell pursed his lips. “I cannot help but think there is a fortune to be made, if one could discover how to control the curse.”
Jack quirked a brow. “Then it wouldn’t be a curse, and the power would cease to exist.”
“Do you think so? Of course, they all have to perform their deed.”
“What deed?” Lucinda asked.
“In order to break the curse, all members of a generation must perform a deed of great good. Personally, I cannot see that happening. The lady’s brothers are not the softhearted sort.”
“I find them all quite pleasant,” Jack said with a smile, though he felt like planting his fist in Campbell’s face. “I suppose that’s why I am now a member of the family and not you.”
Campbell stiffened. “Had I known the lady could have been persuaded to ride to the anvil, I might have been more insistent.”
The thought burned through Jack, though he knew better than to show his anger. “I will tell my lovely wife you said so. I am certain it will amuse her no end.”
Campbell took a step forward, then caught himself, forcing out a laugh. “I am certain she will. Of course, she has not had time yet to realize what a prize she has gained in her husband, has she? She will learn soon enough.” Campbell’s gaze narrowed. “Has she met the lovely Lucinda? Or are you saving that surprise for a later date?”
“Campbell!” Lucinda said, her color high. “That is quite enough.”
Jack was suddenly tired of it. He used to think innuendo and flirtation the spice of life; now it all seemed insipid and tiring.
He turned to Lucinda. “I believe I’ll join the faro table. There is an open seat.” He bowed to her, then nodded to Campbell. “Good evening.”
For the next few hours, he played without cease, tossing back glass after glass of brandy. Lucinda watched him from the other side of the room, but he didn’t care. They were finished.
Campbell was a more visible irritant. He joined the table next to Jack’s, talking behind his hand to the gentlemen on his right and left, glancing frequently at Jack.
The details of Jack’s marriage would be all over town tomorrow, damn it, along with the story of Fiona’s “abilities.” While no one would believe it, they would unconsciously be on the lookout for signs.
What a bloody mess. If he kept Fiona in seclusion, the rumors would only grow. The only answer was to present her to society quickly, and make her known. Which meant he would have to attend all the boring, bland affairs he studiously avoided.
Damn it all. He was just beginning to realize how much his life had changed.
The bright sunlight awakened Fiona, and she opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. Ah, yes. She was in London. With Jack.
But the bed was empty. She sat up uncertainly and looked at the clock. Nine o’clock. And no Jack.
Blast him. She threw aside the cover and scooted to the edge of the bed. The movement tickled her aching muscles, reminding her of how heavenly making love with him had been.
She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow to herself. Heavenly.
Now she had to face the other realities of her marriage, namely her absent husband.
“This will not do,” Fiona announced. “I did not come to London to sleep by myself.”
She slid from the bed, her bare feet sinking into the thick rug. Her clothes lay on the floor, a puddle of muslin and silks topped with her boots. She scrunched her nose; if she put her gown back on, it would be a wrinkled mess. Still
, she had little choice. She gathered her clothes and went to the washbasin on a stand in the corner. She washed as well as she could and dressed, then put up her hair.
She crossed to the door and flung it open, then stood, listening, trying to discern where she might find some breakfast.
She could hear the rumble of carriages outside, the shout of a coachman, dogs barking, vendors shouting their wares—all the normal street noises of a city. She also caught the faint murmur of voices inside and came out onto the landing, smoothing her gown as best she could.
She had just taken the first step down when a plump lady dressed in the neat gray and white of a housekeeper came into the foyer below. Fiona recognized her from the night before and said, “Good morning.”
The woman stopped dead in her tracks, her face instantly folding into disapproval.
Fiona paused. She had done nothing to merit such a look. It was almost as if the woman—
Realization dawned. Jack hadn’t introduced her to the servants when they’d arrived last night; he’d carried her into the house and straight upstairs to his room. They must all think she was a ladybird.
Fiona’s hands fisted at her sides. Blast Jack for leaving her alone! Well, she’d just have to deal with it herself.
Head held high, Fiona descended the stairs. She nodded pleasantly to the housekeeper. “I am looking for Lord Kincaid.”
The woman’s chin lifted. “If he didn’t tell you where he was going, then ’tis none of your concern.”
Fiona’s back stiffened. “I beg your pardon, but it is indeed my concern. He is my husband.”
The housekeeper gawked. “What?”
Fiona didn’t think she could have shocked the woman more if she’d announced she had just grown another head. “I am Lady Kincaid.”
A door at one side of the foyer opened, and a tall man emerged from a side room, a neat swath of linen folded over his arm. “Mrs. Tarlington, I believe this is—” He stopped when he caught sight of Fiona. “Oh, I am sorry. I did not see—forgive me, Miss—?”
“Lady Kincaid.”
The butler blinked, then bowed. “Good morning, my lady. I am Devonsgate, his lordship’s butler.”
How to Abduct a Highland Lord Page 8
