The Heart of Love

by Platt, Meara

  He nodded. “Aye, lass.”

  “How?”

  He shrugged. “Possibly stormed the church on Gallant, swept ye up into the saddle, and headed off to Scotland with ye.”

  Her eyes widened. “Robbie, that’s absurd.”

  “Well, ye asked me. Aye, it is absurd. Barbaric. Scandalous. Bound to have serious repercussions. My imprisonment, for certain.”

  Heather shot to her feet. “I’d never allow that to happen. No, Robbie. No matter what happens between now and the wedding, you cannot steal me away or do anything that will lead to your imprisonment. All the more reason why Edgeware and I must be the ones to—”

  “No! Ye’re a stubborn lass. Tilbury’s already using ye as a hostage, and ye dinna even realize it. He’s been dangling ye in front of Lady Melinda and her father all this time. Why do ye think Stoke was suddenly our best friend on the night of Tilbury’s ball? It is because he knows his daughter and Tilbury love each other, and now he is running out of time to match them properly.”

  Holly frowned. “Tilbury’s the one who put them in this mess by offering to marry Heather. Why hasn’t he broken it off with my sister yet?”

  “Because he still needs his hostage. Likely Lady Melinda has no’ accepted him yet.”

  Joshua regarded him with some surprise. “The bloody blackguard! Is it possible he’s proposed to Melinda while still betrothed and about to marry Heather?”

  Robbie ran a hand through his hair. “Aye. Possible. Probable. And he’s purposely keeping the pressure on Melinda by not breaking off his betrothal to Heather. This is his leverage in the negotiation.”

  “Stoke must be livid,” Joshua said. “Do you think you can get him on your side?”

  Robbie nodded. “I hope so. Our interests are united in this. Neither of us wants to see the wedding take place.” He turned to Heather. “Lass, ye must keep away from yer betrothed. Stay out of his sight, and let me handle him.”

  Joshua and Ronan finally relented and backed him up.

  Heather felt bloodied and wounded. “How can you agree with Robbie?”

  “Because he’s right,” Ronan said gently.

  She had already crossed the parlor to fetch her bonnet and gloves but set them back down and reluctantly nodded. “Robbie, will you promise me not to punch him?”

  Robbie smiled at her. “I can promise ye I’ll not be the one to throw the first punch. But if he strikes me, I’ll be defending myself. He won’t hit me, though. This is not Tilbury’s way. As I said, he’s a negotiator. But so am I, and I’m better at it than he is. He’s boxed himself into a corner with all his wily schemes. I’m going to help him out of that corner, give him an opening he can take.”

  Heather cast him a stubborn look. “My wedding is the day after tomorrow.”

  “Och, lass. I’m aware of every minute that passes.” He studied her face, aching because she was beautiful even when she was obstinate. But when her expression softened, and he saw her vulnerability, he did not think there was a more beautiful woman alive.

  “I’m so sorry for creating this mess, Robbie.”

  “Dinna shoulder the blame, lass. Had I opened my eyes, had I listened to my heart, I could have fought for ye, courted ye, and avoided all this. But I dinna, so here we are now, trying our best to climb out of the hole we’ve dug for ourselves.”

  His words did little to soothe her. He felt the misery still pouring out of her.

  “You are being kind to me. I am solely to blame. I’m the one who shut my eyes and closed off my heart. You tried to warn me. I wouldn’t listen.”

  “Pixie, no. I allowed ye to ignore me. I rode away for months because it was easier to give ye over to someone else than deal with the problems we’d have to face if we were to marry. I’m still worried about them. I fully appreciate all ye’d be giving up if we were to wed. Love alone is no’ enough to sustain us. Ye’d need to trust me as well, and that would be a leap of faith on yer part. How can ye believe in me when I’ve spent my life behaving like an arse and earning my wicked reputation?”

  “None of it will matter if I am doomed to marry Tilbury. Let’s deal with him first. What is the adage? Be careful what you wish for? Well, I got my wished-for marquess, and now I must face the possibility that the wish I’ve carried in my heart since I was five years old may come true.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Robbie said with a steely resolve, for Tilbury would have to kill him before that ever happened. Such talk would only overset Heather, so he said nothing. Anyway, he doubted matters would get physical. Tilbury was not the sort to get his hands dirty. It was not the man’s style.

  In truth, Tilbury probably thought they could talk it over like gentlemen.

  “Robbie, please be careful. I couldn’t bear it if my mistakes destroyed your life, too.”

  Robbie cupped her chin and gently tilted her face upward so she could look him in the eye. “Do ye love me, Heather?”

  She winced and squirmed and finally nodded. “Yes. I do.”

  “Then it is settled, lass. There will be no marriage to the marquess. Tilbury is no’ getting his hands on ye. If he refuses to budge, then dinna be surprised by what happens next.”

  Her pixie eyes rounded in alarm. “Robbie, please. I couldn’t live with myself if you were hurt.”

  “And I could not live with myself if ye were forced into a marriage ye dinna want. Too late to change my mind, lass. I’ll do whatever I must.” He frowned at his friends. “Dinna think to stop me. Gallant’s a warhorse. He’ll trample ye under his hooves. If ye want to help, then keep out of my way.”

  Heather gasped. “I forbid you—”

  “Save yer breath for my kisses, Heather. Ye love me, and that’s all I need to hear. He is no’ getting his hands on ye. I’m marrying ye first. I dinna care if they hang me later for stealing ye away.”

  “But I care! Don’t be a stubborn Scot.”

  He dipped his head and kissed her with every bit of stubborn Scottish pride in him. He also kissed her with every bit of love he felt for her.

  He tasted the sweetness of her lips, felt them give against the pressure of his own, and deepened the kiss. But he drew away soon after, for the sweetest, most potent kisses would have to wait until they were alone.

  “Robbie,” she whispered once he had released her, “promise me you won’t put yourself in danger for me.”

  “I canno’ do that, lass. Do ye no’ realize what ye mean to me?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Aye, it does. Pixie, you are my very heart. It does no’ beat without ye.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Captain Robert MacLauren,” said Tilbury’s formidable butler, announcing Robbie as he was led into the marquess’s study.

  Tilbury rose and greeted him with a wry smile. “Welcome, Captain MacLauren. I was wondering when you were going to come around to see me.”

  “I’m here now, and since we both know what this is about,” Robbie said, taking the offered seat in front of Tilbury’s desk and waiting for him to take the one behind the desk before proceeding, “what is it ye want in exchange for Heather’s release from the betrothal?”

  “It does not bear discussion. It isn’t going to happen.”

  Robbie arched an eyebrow, trying his best not to respond to Tilbury’s intractability by pounding his fist into the man’s face. “My lord, we both know yer heart belongs to Lady Melinda. So why the need to drag Heather into whatever game the two of ye are playing?”

  The marquess leaned back in his chair and briefly closed his eyes before opening them again. “Unfortunately, this is quite a serious matter. If I knew a way to have a happy outcome for us all, I would leap at it. But there isn’t. Lady Melinda will not have me.”

  “So ye will grab second best? Heather is no man’s second best. Ye’ll break her heart if ye marry her.”

  Tilbury cast him an impatient glance. “She’ll be a marchioness. I’ll be generous with her, and she will not want for anything. Once
I have my heirs, she can do as she wishes.”

  “Then ye only intend to use her as a breeder?”

  “MacLauren, don’t be crass. I’ll impose myself on her as little as possible. Of course, it will be necessary for the first few years. But afterward, no. She’ll have my name. We’ll be seen at all the important functions together. She won’t lack companionship since she has her sisters and a horde of cousins in town to keep her entertained. I know how to be discreet. All I’ll ask of her is to be discreet in her affairs as well.”

  Robbie clenched his jaw and silently counted to ten. “She is no’ the sort to ever stray from her wedding vows. She’ll be faithful to ye to her dying day, even if it means her living with a broken heart to the end of her days.”

  “Aren’t you being a bit theatrical? She’ll adapt to—”

  “The lass wants a husband who will be faithful to her and with whom she can make a life. She is no’ interested in a marriage in name only. She does no’ want yer wealth or title. She wants love.” He leaned forward. “So, I’ll repeat my question. What is it ye want in exchange for releasing Heather from the betrothal?”

  Tilbury shook his head despairingly. “I want Lady Melinda. But I’ve just told you, she will not have me.”

  “Did she give ye a reason why she will no’ have ye? Because if ye ask me, she would no’ have been engaging in her own games concerning her mysterious marquess if she dinna care for ye.”

  He sighed. “Very well. What harm can there be in confessing all to you know? She will not have me because of the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard. I did not know her favorite flower, nor did I know her favorite color. What the hell is that about? Who refuses a proposal over something so trivial?”

  “My lord, with all due respect…ye’re a bloody idjit.”

  “What!”

  “Calm down and hear me out.” Robbie was astounded by the man’s utter lack of awareness. “It is no’ about colors or flowers. It’s that ye dinna bother to consider her likes or bother to learn what matters to her. I’m a big arse, and yet I know this. If I may be blunt, my lord?”

  “Blunter than you already have been? I could have you tossed out for calling me an idiot.”

  “But ye know ye have been behaving like one. If ye thought otherwise, I wouldn’t still be seated here.”

  Tilbury sighed and gave a curt nod. “Go ahead. We’re running out of time. I don’t want niceties. I want solutions.”

  “Lady Melinda needs to know ye love her. Have ye told her? Have ye kissed her? Have ye let her know she’s the most important thing to ye?”

  “Of course, I have.” But he began to fidget. “Perhaps not in so many words, but I offered to marry her. Doesn’t this say it all?”

  “Ye offered to marry Heather, too. And ye dinna love her. So why should Lady Melinda think ye’re behaving like a man in love and not merely a petulant, manipulative, sore loser?”

  “Now, see here, MacLauren! Do you want to work this out or just insult me?” He ran a hand through his hair. “What do I need to do?”

  Gad! Never in his wildest dreams did Robbie believe he’d be teaching the marquess all he’d learned from The Book of Love. Nor did he ever think the marquess could be so inept when it came to matters of the heart. But his parents were likely not a love match, for few among the Upper Crust considered it as important as consolidating wealth.

  He almost felt sorry for Tilbury. Although he had all the trappings and advantages of his rank, he’d probably never had a mother’s uncompromising love or a father’s guidance on matters other than the duties of a marquess and how to keep the Tilbury coffers stuffed. “Ye’re going to start by making lists.”

  “Lists? What sort of lists? And whatever for?”

  “The first list is going to be about the five senses. Sight, touch, taste, hearing, scent. Ye’ll take each sense and write down all the things ye like about Lady Melinda. For example, for sight…what did ye notice first about the look of her, what do ye like best about her? Rest assured, this list is between us only. Ye can be crass. If ye like her breasts, write it down.”

  “In detail?”

  Was he serious? “Aye,” Robbie said, deciding it was best not to censor him. “Size. Shape. Perkiness. Fullness. All of it.”

  He watched as Tilbury withdrew parchment and quill pen from his desk drawer. In truth, he was surprised by the man’s eagerness to follow his instructions. Perhaps it boded well for a good outcome, but Robbie was no’ going to hold his breath. “If ye like her face, list what ye like about it. The curve of her lips. The twinkle in her eyes.”

  Tilbury laughed. “Melinda’s eyes do not twinkle.”

  “Did they used to?”

  “Yes, when we were younger. But not for several years now.” He put his hands to his face and groaned. “Are you saying I’m the cause for her unhappiness?”

  “Likely one of the more important causes. Now we know this is one of the things ye need to do. Put the sparkle back in her eyes. By the way, what color are they?”

  “Her eyes? A bluish-gray. What of it?”

  Robbie shrugged. “Just making sure ye know at least that about her.”

  “I’m not completely blind, you know. She happens to have beautiful eyes. So how do I put the sparkle back in them?”

  “Easy.” Did this man know nothing about women? “Make yerself enough of an arse over her that she canno’ help the smile reaching into her eyes. But let’s get back to the lists. Before ye start writing down yer thoughts, I need ye to send a footman to fetch Dahlia Brayden and bring her here.”

  He frowned. “Why? You aren’t going to show her what I’m scribbling here, are you?”

  “No, my lord. I promised ye those lists are between us alone. Once we’ve discussed them, ye can burn them. We need Dahlia because, unlike ye, she knows Lady Melinda’s favorite color and her favorite flower. She’s been listening to the lass, whereas, ye’ve been deaf as a post.”

  “Stop insulting me.”

  “Has politeness helped ye get what ye want?”

  Tilbury grumbled. “No. But it still doesn’t mean you can insult me.” He remained grumbling as he rang for his butler and instructed him to send a footman and his carriage to pick up Dahlia.

  Robbie knew he was being impatient with Tilbury, who was not a terrible man. But he was doing a terrible thing and needed to be stopped. They had only one day left to rectify what had taken years to mess up. Perhaps it was too late to fix all that had passed between him and Lady Melinda. But one thing for certain, he was not going to stop trying until Heather was released from their betrothal. “My lord, I beg yer forgiveness in advance. I’m not purposely trying to insult ye. I like ye and have a deep respect for ye. Ye’ve always been fair in yer dealings with me, and for this I am grateful.”

  He grunted. “I happen to respect you, too. I would not have allowed you into my home otherwise. You’re an honest man, MacLauren. There aren’t too many of them around.”

  “I know. But let’s get back to this assignment. Ye have to let go of yer civilized feelings. We have only a day to convince Lady Melinda that ye love her. Politeness is no’ going to do it. Making a complete and utter donkey’s arse of yerself over her is yer only recourse now. And I speak from experience. When it comes to Heather, I seem to do this quite easily and quite often. But I would die for the lass, and she knows it.”

  Tilbury nodded. “And Melinda needs to know this is what I would do for her?”

  “Aye. Nothing less.” He stared at the parchment. “Start yer lists because there’s more I need to teach ye.”

  “Such as what?”

  “I’ll tell ye after ye’ve made yer lists.”

  “Very well.” Tilbury laughed mirthlessly and gazed at the bottles of brandy, bourbon, and wine on display in an ornate cabinet tucked in the corner of his study. Also on display were crystal decanters and glasses obviously of the finest quality. “Help yourself to my stock while we work, MacLauren. I expect this is thirsty business. Would
you mind pouring me a port wine? I think I’m going to need the fortification as I work.”

  “Verra well. To quench yer thirst. But ye canno’ get falling-down drunk.”

  Tilbury arched an eyebrow. “What are you, my nursemaid?”

  “Aye, if I have to be. But mostly, I’m the man who loves Heather enough to get on my knees and kiss yer hairy arse if it will get ye to end yer betrothal to her. And this is what Lady Melinda needs to feel ye’d do for her. Anything less, and we’ll have a problem.”

  “Forget the wine. Pour me a brandy. Make it a double.”

  “Start writing. I want to be done talking over these lists with ye before Dahlia arrives.”

  To Robbie’s relief, Tilbury eagerly dove into his assignment and finished rather quickly. Tilbury was clever in most things, but not in his dealings with women. Still, he hoped the speed with which he completed the assignment did not signify a lack of thought.

  Or worse, did it signify a lack in his ability to feel passion?

  This would be a problem.

  How was the man going to inspire rapture and desire in Melinda if he was a cold fish?

  He took a moment to peruse what Tilbury had written down, curious about what his lists would reveal. He tried not to laugh out loud as he reviewed them.

  Blessed saints.

  The marquess was a molten, roiling, volcanic mess over Melinda. How did he manage to keep his feelings so well hidden? He’d even revealed that he had plucked her cherry when the lass was seventeen. Not only plucked it but savored the juices, rolled it in his tongue. Inhaled her. Memorized the taste and touch of her.

  Gad! Too much information.

  Even he was blushing, and he’d seen and done just about everything there was to do, sometimes with more than one lusty, willing lass at a time.

  But he could not criticize the marquess for pouring his thoughts onto paper. The man was desperate for help. Also apparent was that he never intended the betrothal to Heather to get this far.

  And yet, he was determined to have her if he could not have Melinda.

  This was their biggest problem.