A Question for the Ages (Questions for a Highlander Book 7)

by Angeline Fortin

  “How could you leave me there?” she yelled. “Just pass me off as if you don’t have a care?”

  “I did what was best in the moment, lass,” he told her. “To ensure yer safety.”

  Her jaw clenched and hands shifted as if preparing to launch the stirrup at him. “Despite the measures I’ve taken to ensure my own safety, Mr. MacKintosh, that have rendered me unworthy in your eyes,” she bit out, “I am not a helpless female. I have more courage and…what was it? Pluck, than you give me credit for!”

  Through her spit and anger, he could see the tension in her, the tight lines of her mouth and the redness in her eyes. With a temperamental sister such as his, he was well versed in the signs of worry translated to fury.

  “Aye, lass,” he agreed, “I ken ye do. That and more. Ye’re as braw a lass as I’ve ever seen.”

  Dropping the stirrup, he opened his arms wide and she ran to him. Aye, he knew how to diffuse the anger, too. This time it was different, however. It wasn’t a sister in his arms, it was a woman. A woman who’d already proven her ability to shake him to the core.

  As apprehension had not long ago.

  “Ye mad, idiotic lass,” he whispered into her tangled hair, this time giving in to the urge to hold her tight. To offer comfort and take succor for himself. Who knew what might have happened if he hadn’t second-guessed his initial inclination to wait to confront her when she reappeared? Blast it, he was the one in need of comfort and confirmation that she was unscathed and secure. “What were ye thinking going into the village like that?”

  “It’s never presented a problem before,” she murmured into his neck. “I’ve been to town a dozen times like that and never had reason to fear.”

  Och, but she’d have reason to fear if she knew how the soft press of her breasts affected him. As his worries leeched away, Connor became all too aware of her. Long and lean, a perfect fit along the length of him. Arousal stirred despite his efforts to tamp it down.

  She tilted her head back to peer at him. Her eyes fell and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing on it. “You don’t think that perhaps he was after Jane for some other reason, do you?”

  There was a hint of hope in the question that he hated to douse. “I was able to determine his true reason in coming to Aylesbury.”

  “Me.”

  “Aye.”

  “I feared as much when he demanded an introduction.”

  * * *

  Forlorn sorrow settled in her heart and Piper sighed, wishing she possessed the power to undo all the wrongs of the day. “I cannot have Jane harmed by any of this, Mr. MacKintosh. She has been a dear friend to me.”

  Jane had been quite shaken by the incident, and Piper couldn’t blame her. Without Connor’s continued comfort, she’d spent the past hour reliving the encounter and wondering over the gunman’s objective. Her friend felt that a return to the civility of London would resolve the issue on her part.

  Although, if Jane were under any continued threat, Piper needed to know about it. She couldn’t have Rutledge or her mother confronting her friend as Harry had, threatening her anew.

  “You don’t think anyone could be desperate enough to find me that they would condone violence upon the innocent, do you?”

  “I will send a letter to Mr. Langston tomorrow and ensure additional precautions are taken to keep her safe.”

  His response was no answer, though his calm assurance warmed her. Jane, too, had said something along the same lines, insisting she could come up with a story to imply a potential hazard to herself without exposing Piper in the process.

  Piper hated that sacrifice and all the reasons behind it. Why couldn’t the duke let her go? She didn’t understand.

  To have any sort of harassment heaped upon her friend would be poor recompense for Jane’s years of confidence.

  “They leave for London in the morning,” she told him and hesitated. “And I beg you, be discreet. Jane’s parents are unaware of our…friendship. I should hate for her to be berated for that as well.”

  “I will do my best to leave ye out of the tale,” he conceded after a long, considering moment. “I’ll question Mr. Granger—aye, that is his name, Ernest Granger—further in the morning.”

  Any sort of interrogation could expose the truth of who pursued her. Not a mere merchant but someone far more powerful and ruthless. If it were indeed the duke who had sent the man. It could be her mother. Or…

  No. It wouldn’t have been.

  “I’ve sent word to a friend of the family to help me handle him more fully.” She focused on him with an unspoken inquiry and he answered it. “We can’t have him getting word back to whoever hired him. More than likely, he’d be set free wi’in the week and we’ll be needing a bit more time than that to see ye settled somewhere safer.”

  Connor traced a finger along the sweeping line of her jaw and her spirits crested once more. “We?”

  “Aye. I’ll no’ let ye wander wi’out escort, lass. I can see ye’re naught but trouble when left unattended.” He winked and chucked her chin lightly.

  Her lips twisted in mock outrage and she tweaked his rumpled tie. “Better not leave me alone then, Mr. MacKintosh.”

  “I asked ye to call me Connor, did I no’?”

  “You did.” Piper resituated herself in his embrace, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Thank you for coming after me, Connor.”

  “Even though ye dinnae need my help?”

  She accepted his teasing for what it was and smiled. “It was appreciated, nevertheless.”

  “Ye’re welcome.”

  He hugged her shoulders, the gesture doubtless meant to be comforting. Despite that, she was acutely aware of their close proximity. The steady, solid beat of his heart fell into rhythm with her own. There was nothing more than the two of them melded together, body to body.

  Twilight closed around them, wrapping them in its solitude. A cocoon of intimacy she’d never known. As if she and Connor were completely alone in the world.

  She kneaded the thick muscles of his back. Heavy breaths brushed her temple and a sensual shift of his chest against her breasts marked each one. Piper let her hands roam up his back, leaning closer. His whiskers tickled her cheek.

  The rough texture had prickled her tongue, chafed her lips when she’d given in to the urge to taste him the previous night. He was every bit as delicious as she’d imagined. Salty, smelling of spice. Ginger and citrus.

  When she’d done that, he’d stared down at her with something in his eyes she’d never seen before. Darkness, danger. Hunger. It had roused an unexpected degree of excitement in her.

  She wanted to rekindle that moment.

  The coarseness pricked and aroused as she grazed her lips along the edge of his jaw. She reveled in the thrill until she reached his neck and kissed him there. The same rapid beat beneath her hand now thrummed against her lips.

  His hands were on her shoulders, ready to set her away from him as he had at the pub. As he had last night. She’d have none of it. There was nobility, then there was idiocy.

  Sliding her hands up his chest, she tangled them in the hair curling at his nape. With gentle insistence, she guided his mouth to hers. His breath hitched, heart beat accelerated, and something akin to a kitten’s purr rumbled within her.

  Connor stiffened and unhooked her arms from around his neck. “Bugger it, lass, I dinnae need yer gratitude.”

  Despite the distance he’d put between them, his lips were mere inches from her forehead. She wished he’d close the distance. Or better yet, draw her back into his embrace. His arms had offered such comfort moments ago, yet she sought something far removed from consolation now. She was madly aware of the other sensations they roused.

  “You think this is gratitude?” Piper leaned her head back, her eyes warm and soft. “No. That was expressed in my words moments ago.”

  * * *

  Connor cupped her face in his hands, his thumb touching the corner of her mouth. She was
satin beneath his caress, temptation he wasn’t certain he could resist. “Then what is this?”

  A shadow of a smile passed over her full lips. “This.” Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip and he felt a kick to the gut. “This is what I’ve been thinking about since last night.”

  “Only since then?”

  She shrugged. “A bit longer, perhaps.”

  “No’ that it’s a competition, but I’ve been wanting to kiss ye silly since the day we met,” he confessed huskily.

  “Then do it.”

  Her dare didn’t help his precarious restraint. Och, his bonny, innocent lass. Aye, for all her sinful curves and passionate kisses, she was an innocent. It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes into his ride into Aylesbury to set his imprudent suspicions of a lover from his mind and recall the virtue in Piper’s guileless kiss. He’d swear on his life, she didn’t have a lover. Now or ever.

  His groin clenched at the thought of being the first and only. To share those moments of discovery with her, to show her the power of passion. As she tutored him on that very subject now, rousing him fully with little more than a kiss.

  “Piper,” he pleaded against her lips.

  They brushed his from side to side in an erotic caress as she shook her head in denial. “Connor.”

  “Bugger it, lass.” He tried to lift his head, nevertheless she held on like a prickly briar. She nipped on his lower lip and drew him closer. He held her tight, control slipping. Scare her he might, however, he couldn’t deny the need to savor her for one unbridled moment more.

  To hell with it.

  Connor grasped her around the waist and tossed her up onto a saddle slung over a nearby sawhorse. Nudging her legs apart, he clasped her bottom in his hands and slid between her thighs. Even through layers of petticoats and skirts, she enticed him. He pulled her to him hard and let her taste the full force of his desire.

  Her soft cry held no alarm but rather, the sweetest ring of rapture. Music to his ears. He repeated the motion with even more satisfying results. A shaft of unfettered lust tore through him. This was madness. Piper met him with passion to counter his every move, just as he’d expected and dreamed she might. She kissed him again, fervent and giving, each panting breath tantalizing bliss on his lips. Drowning in the exhilaration, he ground against her with a gasp that was equal parts pleasure and sexual frustration.

  Her low keening filled him and finally she tore her mouth away. “Connor, I…I…”

  “What, lass?” he whispered.

  “I…you make me ache.”

  A desperate ache of his own rose from the center of his chest, spiraling upward to emerge in a desperate groan. God he wanted her, wanted to possess her. Knowing she shared that desire—without knowing what it was she experienced—was too much to bear.

  “I’ll stop.”

  He would, even if it killed him. It might. With her hair mussed, cheeks flushed and lips swollen by his kisses, she was ripe for a good tumbling.

  Steeling himself, he stepped back. Piper caught his hand, holding him in place. Her gaze slid down, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Reaching out, she grazed her fingertips down the bulge of his trousers. Connor hissed and jumped at the touch.

  “You do, too,” the words were barely above a whisper.

  A harsh laugh tore through him and he wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders, brushing his lips across her temple to her ear. “Aye, lass.” He nipped her earlobe then swirled his tongue around it. “I ache wi’ wanting ye.”

  “Then do something about it.”

  A horse whinnied as if to second the motion and with a splintering thwack, the stable itself seemed to shake around them to emphasize the point. Not far from the tack room door, someone swore in pain.

  Connor began to hear it, all the sounds he’d blocked out. It was feeding time and nigh unto a dozen men worked feet away. This wasn’t the time or place for this.

  Not that any time would be. Piper was an innocent, he needed to remember that.

  Hands on her waist, he eased her away and stepped back to adjust the front of his trousers. “It’s getting late. I’ll make certain Albert sees ye safely home.”

  “Don’t you want to take me yourself?”

  Connor swallowed hard. Dazed with passion, her eyes heavy and words husky, she couldn’t know the invitation in her request or the depths of his desire to comply in so many ways.

  “No’ just now. I’ve some questions to consider before I speak wi’ Granger tomorrow,” he opted.

  She nodded. “I’d like to hear what you discover. Will you join me for tea tomorrow at my home?”

  His brows rose of their own accord. He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d suggested they take tea on the moon. Piper was offering him her complete trust. It humbled him.

  “Aye, lass. I’d enjoy that.”

  A smile lit her eyes, bright enough to vanquish the darkness around them. “Good. I’ll save dessert for you.”

  Whatever scandalous thoughts reflected on his face then he wasn’t certain, but crimson flooded her cheeks.

  “I’ve already had the tarts.”

  “I’ll have something even better.”

  With arousal still lacing her voice, the words offered more than pudding. She’d couldn’t know the innuendo that rekindled his arousal. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

  Alas, it couldn’t possibly be as delicious as she.

  * * *

  Archie awaited him at the stable door. The footman’s face beet red even in the dying light as if he knew what Connor had been about. “Begging your pardon, m’lor—er, sir, a gentleman called at the service door for you.”

  “Did he gi’ a name?”

  “No, m’lord,” the footman answered. “He’s dressed right proper, though, and has an air about him.”

  “Ah, good.” Excellent, in fact. He was in desperate need of a diversion. “Where is he now?”

  “In the gray drawing room, m’lord.”

  “Set someone to prepare a room in the bachelor quarters, if ye would.”

  The footman hastened away to carry out his order and Connor accelerated his step to follow. Entering the east court gate, he bypassed the doors leading to the service areas and kitchen and entered near the morning room.

  This trek through the massive building took him from there through the dining room and down the length of the east gallery.

  “Temple, my apologies for keeping ye waiting.” Connor greeted his visitor with a smile and an extended hand that the gentleman took with a firm shake. “’Tis a long walk to get from one room to another.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Thank ye for taking the time from yer schedule.”

  “Always glad to help a friend in need.”

  Lord Captain Anthony Temple was an affable fellow and longtime friend of his brothers Vin and Richard. He’d served with them in the Scots Guards First Battalion under the command of His Royal Highness, the Duke of Connaught during the Urabi rebellion in Egypt nearly a decade ago. They’d been captured together and kept as prisoners of war. Richard and Temple had managed to escape after a few months, though it had taken years more for Vin to be recovered. Temple had been like one of the MacKintosh clan ever since.

  Now retired, he worked at the Home Office in the clandestine consortium of espionage. More importantly, while tall and broad of build, Temple’s sandy hair, friendly brown eyes, and easy smile engendered instant trust in almost anyone he met. He could be anyone’s friend or confidante, or nothing more than a shadow.

  Connor had thought to have him poke about Aylesbury to unearth any potential threat to Piper. With that threat now exposed, he had other ideas.

  “Drink?” he offered first. The night was late, trains in and out of the area long suspended for the day, which meant Temple had either ridden all the way out here or came by carriage. Either way, the effort was deserving of refreshment before he requested favors.

  “Scotch, if there’s a pro
per one handy.”

  Arching an amused brow, Connor went to the sideboard. “Is that a preference or is the company of an overabundance of Scotsmen wearing off on ye?”

  Temple laughed and perched one hip on the desk, sorting through the books and papers as Piper had. “If it’s an acquired taste, I suppose I’ve acquired it. What’s all this?”

  “Research for the estate.”

  “Yours?”

  Returning with a pair of tumblers, Connor handed off one and held his up in silent toast. “Aye.”

  “I didn’t know any of the MacKintosh lads had taken up farming.” Temple chuckled as he took a sip.

  “Proudly.” At least now, after a certain lass had—subsequent to considerable teasing—deemed it a worthy occupation. “Ye dinnae ken? Yer skills maun be slipping.”

  “They may slip but they never slide.”

  Connor laughed with him as they toasted the sentiment. “Amen to that.”

  Temple cocked his head to the side, his expression sobering thoughtfully. “What is it I can help you with?”

  “I came across a wee, wily fellow in the village today harassing a pair of local ladies, Miss Jane Langston and Mrs. Milbourne,” he caught Temple up on the problem. “This man, Granger, was hired to question Miss Langston in an effort to discover Mrs. Milbourne’s whereabouts.”

  The agent shook his head as if already disgusted by Granger’s lack of perception, while Connor imagined Temple had promptly deduced a great deal more. He didn’t fail the assumption.

  “It didn’t occur to him that this Miss Langston’s companion was the woman he sought?”

  “No’ initially. We cannae all be as keen as ye.”

  Temple frowned, tapping his chin. “Langston. Langston. Where have I heard that name?”

  “The neighboring estate Meadowcroft is owned by a Mr. Reginald Langston,” Connor offered.

  The other man snapped his fingers. “Yes, that’s it. I was at Lady Onslow’s ball last Season. May, I think it was. While I was dancing with Fiona, there was something of a scuffle between Langston and the gentleman dancing with his daughter. Miss Langston. Jane, I believe?”

  A sneaking suspicion furrowed Connor’s brow. Another piece of a puzzle he knew he should be able to solve. “Who was she dancing with?”