No man had ever offered her flowers, not even Leith, because she would not have taken them. Flowers were for females. It seemed she had more than a little to learn about the unfamiliar role. “Thank you, my lord.” She brought the blossom to her nose and detected a soft fragrant scent. An instant later she sneezed.
Alex plucked the flower from her hand.
“Alex! What are you doing?”
“That flower clearly did not agree with you.” He handed her another flower, a fragile white blossom. “Try this one, instead.”
Kitt stared at Alex. Why offer her another flower? If one blossom made her sneeze, chances were the second would do the same. She took it anyway and carefully raised it to her nose. It had a different, lighter scent. She laid the soft petals against her flesh. But she did not sneeze.
She glanced at the earl and saw why Alex had given her the flower. The young man was obviously vexed.
Kitt made a point of twirling the flower Alex had given her, then threw it over her shoulder and put her hand back on the earl’s arm. “A nice specimen, to be sure. What I would really love is a bouquet of heather. Shall we continue our walk, my lord?” she said, smiling up at the earl.
Carlisle looked mollified and led her away.
Kitt wished she could have kept the flower Alex had given her, but she had to remember her purpose in coming here was to bring the earl up to scratch. Once she got Alex away from here, she was going to remind him firmly of that fact.
Kitt suspected the rest of the earl’s conversation during their walk around the estate was limited by the man shadowing their every step, but she was perfectly willing to talk with Carlisle about farming. The subject was important under the circumstances. To her surprise, Carlisle was not only knowledgeable, he had a great many new ideas he had learned from books.
“If I had enough land, I would put into practice some of the things I have read,” he said. “I’ve been negotiating to buy back all the Carlisle land my brother gave away to Blackthorne, but—”
“Gave away?” Alex interjected.
Kitt had almost forgotten Alex was there, and his interruption struck a nerve with her, as it obviously did with the earl. She shot him a reproving look, but she doubted he saw it because his gaze was focused on the earl, who was glaring back at him.
“Blackthorne as good as stole the land from my brother,” the earl said. “He paid so little for it.”
“Are you saying the duke acted unscrupulously?” she asked Carlisle.
“I am. Which is why I have—” Carlisle cut himself off. “I did not realize so much time had passed,” he said, eyeing the lowering sun over the green hills. “We should turn back to the house.”
His touch was warm and firm, but there were no calluses on his hands. He had done a great deal of studying about farming, it seemed, without ever doing much actual work. She wondered if any of the ideas he had discussed with her would actually increase the production of crops.
“Would you care to go riding with me on Thursday afternoon?” Carlisle asked. “We can take a picnic with us.”
Her clansmen were meeting at her home on Thursday morning to plan Patrick Simpson’s rescue and might not be gone before the earl arrived. “I canna go Thursday.”
“The day after, then,” he suggested.
“I had to sell my horse,” she admitted.
“I have a mount you might like.”
“And one for me, I trust,” Alex said.
Kitt could feel the tension radiating between the two men and realized suddenly that the earl had hoped to get her alone by taking her riding. It was equally clear Alex was having no part of that. “Do you ride, Alex?” she asked.
“I’m sure I can manage,” he replied, pinning the earl with a baleful stare.
“Very well,” Carlisle said, his mouth tight with displeasure. “I will bring two mounts. Shall we walk back to the house?”
Kitt looked around and realized it would be a shorter walk home if they cut across the field, rather than returning to the house. And she didn’t relish another confrontation at the stone wall. “Alex and I can go on from here,” she said.
“Very well, my lady.” In open defiance of her bodyguard, the earl raised her gloved hand to his lips. At the last instant, he turned her hand over and touched his lips—and Lord have mercy, his tongue—to her wrist above her glove in a way that caused her insides to clench.
“Au revoir, Lady Katherine.”
Kitt was rattled. She had not realized that, on top of his good looks and his charm, the earl could be such a persuasive lover. She had been willing to marry him for the sake of her clan, an arranged marriage to benefit both parties and to fulfill her promise to her father to win back the land. But she had not expected to feel anything, not for one of the enemy.
“Good day, my lord,” she said. “I will look forward to our ride.”
She was aware of Alex at her side as they began the walk home. He didn’t remain silent for long.
“Did you ever stop to wonder why an impoverished earl would wish to marry an impoverished Scotswoman?”
“What?”
“I want to know if you have considered what motive the earl might have for marriage to you,” Alex said, taking such large, angry strides that she had to hop-skip to keep up with him.
“His motive can be no worse than mine,” she said.
“The man is obviously no farmer.”
“He can learn. Or be taught.”
“If he doesna gamble away the land first.”
She was frightened by the fury in his voice. This was no lapdog, growling at a stranger. This was a feral wolf. Yet she refused to be cowed. “What does it matter to you, Alex? This is my problem, and I will solve it my way.”
He put his face so close she could feel his hot breath on her cheek and said, “By seducing the boy? He’s barely old enough to be out of leading strings!”
“He wants to court me. You heard him say so.”
He grabbed her arms and gave her a shake. “But why, Kitt? Why? It makes no sense!”
“Perhaps he admires me.”
“He doesna know you. How can he admire you?”
“You dinna know me, either,” she said. “Yet I have seen you look at me as though you would eat me alive. What are your motives, Alex? Why do you want me?”
“ ’Tis lust, plain and simple,” he snarled at her.
She had not expected him to say he loved her, but his response was a slap in the face. The blood flowed hotly to her cheeks as though he had actually struck her. She looked at him from eyes she hoped did not reveal the extent of the wound he had dealt her.
“I will marry whomever I must to get back the lands and the castle for my people—the Earl of Carlisle or the devil himself. I swore to my father I would do it. And I will!”
He let her go suddenly, as though he had been having some sort of fit and had come to his senses.
She rubbed her arms where he had been holding her, wondering why she did not send him away right now. “I dinna think this will work, Alex. I dinna think I can keep you as my gille-coise.”
“You need me now more than ever,” he replied.
“I plan to let the earl court me, Alex. I plan to marry him, if he will have me.”
“ ’Tis a dangerous game you’re playing.”
“ ’Tis no game, Alex,” she said. “I only want back what belongs to my family—Castle MacKinnon and the land that surrounds it.”
“At any price?”
“At whatever price I must pay!”
“I dinna trust Carlisle.”
“What makes you think the earl wants anything more from me than a wife to manage his home and provide him an heir?”
“You want something more from him than a husband,” Alex pointed out.
“What is it you think he expects to get from me?” she demanded.
“The land.”
“Blackthorne’s land? ’Tisna mine to give him. I’ve only made claim to it in the courts.�
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“A claim that, with his help, might very well succeed. If you were married, he would own the land free and clear without having to buy it on credit—and could sell it for profit.”
Kitt stared at Alex, suddenly seeing the truth in his suggestion, suddenly seeing the hidden danger of marrying the earl, thereby confirming his claim on the land, and perhaps putting it entirely in his control without any debt that might require him to keep it.
“I think if you do win the land, Carlisle will take it from you and lose it gambling or mismanage it so badly that things will become even worse for your clansmen than they are now.”
Kitt’s stomach knotted. “Surely not!”
“His brother had a history of gambling.”
“But Carlisle has never gambled more than he had.”
“Just everything he had,” Alex retorted.
“Perhaps,” Kitt conceded. “But he seemed to know a great deal about farming.”
“Ideas from books. I doubt Carlisle has worked a day in his life. What makes you think he will turn over a new leaf?”
“I can manage him,” Kitt said.
“How?”
“There are ways a woman can control a man,” she said, meeting his gaze suggestively.
“A man has the same weapons,” he replied, slipping his hand around her nape.
Her heart thumped an extra beat when his thumb brushed the skin beneath her ear. “What is your point, Alex?” she said breathlessly.
“I suspect the earl knows more about such arts than you do, my lady. He will likely have the advantage in any such encounter.”
“Perhaps,” she said, reaching out to splay her hand across Alex’s chest, her forefinger catching in the hollow of his throat. She felt his heart begin to pound beneath her hand. “And perhaps not.”
His eyes focused on hers, his lids half-lowered, his gaze filled with wanting.
“Don’t worry,” she said, releasing him before he managed to seduce her entirely. “I’ll be safe from the earl’s entreaties.”
“How can you be sure?”
She shot him a gamine smile. “You will be there to protect me.”
Chapter 11
Alex was frightened by the continuing void where his memory should be, but he had no inclination to share his fear—or seek comfort for it. He lay curled up to sleep on a pile of straw in Kitt’s barn, mindful of the cow chewing her cud and the cat rustling the straw as she hunted down rats, and the animal smells—not all of them pleasant.
He wished he knew where he belonged.
He was no closer to knowing his name now than he had been when he woke up at the edge of the sea two weeks ago. But he had a great deal more insight into who he was. A proud man. One who liked children. A passionate man. And a jealous one.
He could cheerfully have strangled the Earl of Carlisle when Kitt smiled up at him … when she laughed for him … when she accepted a wildflower from his hand. He had felt an unaccountable rage—completely out of proportion to the earl’s behavior—that made him wonder if he’d been in a similar situation in the past.
And yet, while he could not agree with Kitt’s methods, he understood the madness that drove her to contemplate marriage to a stranger. The hollow eyes and distended stomachs of starving children provided a goad he felt himself. If only he were a man of some consequence, a man with a valet and monogrammed handkerchiefs, a man who was used to good wine and a comfortable bed, he could offer her another solution to her dilemma than marriage to Carlisle.
He wished there had been time to open that door on the second floor of Blackthorne Hall and see if there really was a nursery behind it. Surely he had been to Blackthorne Hall before, as a child, perhaps. How else could he have known there would be a ledge outside Mr. Ambleside’s window and a place to jump down?
Who am I? The question echoed inside his head. But there was no answer.
Perhaps he should go to Blackthorne Hall and introduce himself to Mr. Ambleside, as he had originally intended, and take advantage of the man’s hospitality. Perhaps he was a person of some note, maybe even the duke himself!
Alex played with the idea for a moment. What a wonder that would be, to be the richest man in England and Scotland. To own the land and the castle and be able to act the white knight and rescue Kitt and all those starving children.
Alex sighed. If he were the duke, it meant he was the greedy landlord responsible for all that terrible starvation. He did not want to be that man. Though Kitt had said she would marry even such a man to save her people.
Alex curled his hands into angry fists, but winced when flesh touched flesh. Kitt had put salve on the blisters he’d earned cutting peat last week, but they were still tender. What kind of workingman had no calluses?
A thief. A brigand. A murderer.
More likely, if he showed up at Blackthorne Hall he’d be arrested for some offense he’d committed. Perhaps he’d had some part in the duke’s demise. No, he could not go to the Hall and show himself openly. But perhaps he could use Michael O’Malley to investigate further. He trusted the boy not to give him up to the law if he turned out to be an unsavory character.
Meanwhile, he would continue where he was. No telling what Katherine MacKinnon would do if left to her own devices. At least if he stayed with her he could control the situation, if not his own impulses toward the woman.
He had seen her in a great many situations over the past two weeks and had learned as much about Katherine MacKinnon as about himself. Her sense of responsibility toward her tenants, her willingness to personally visit each and every one to dispense food bought with the stolen guineas, even though it meant hobbling around on her sore knee, had earned his admiration and respect.
She could also be impulsive and unpredictable, as he had discovered one hot summer afternoon this past week. While passing a loch between visits to the tenants, she had stopped, set down her basket, and begun to unbutton her blouse. He had stared at her in shock for a moment before she laughed at him and said, “I thought I’d take a quick dip in the water to cool off. Do you want to join me?”
“I dinna know if I can swim,” he said. “I havna tried.” Since I lost my memory.
“I’ll keep you afloat while you find out,” she said. “Come and join me.”
He mopped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, glanced up at the hot sun, and said, “ ’Tis an invitation I canna refuse.”
She stepped behind a bush before her attire became indecent, but his mouth had long since gone dry. For a woman who had been embarrassed by having him tend her wounded knee, she was showing a surprising lack of modesty. “Promise you willna look before I’m in the water,” she called out to him.
Standing behind his own bush, he grinned but said, “Only if you’ll promise to close your eyes when I come in.”
She laughed, and he heard a splash. “I’m in. Your turn.”
“Are your eyes closed?” he said.
“What do you think?”
He walked out from behind his bush and found her staring at him, her eyes full of laughter. She was nearly covered by water, but it was apparent she had not taken everything off. He could see the straps of something white over her shoulders. He took his time getting into the water—which was frigidly cold—but to his surprise, she didn’t turn away.
“I dinna think I’ve ever seen a man so beautiful,” she said, once the water covered his hips.
“And have you seen a great many like this?” he asked, his lips tilted in amusement.
“Only Leith,” she admitted. “Come, let’s see if you can swim.”
She reached for his hands and he walked forward and gave them to her. She led him farther into the water so that only his toes were touching the silt and rocks at the bottom. “Let me know if you feel afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” he said, though his heart was thumping madly.
“Shall we go deeper?”
He nodded and she gave a tug and suddenly there was nothing beneath his fe
et. He felt a momentary panic but heard her say, “Kick your feet.”
He did and realized it was enough to keep him afloat. “I guess I can swim.”
“I’ll let go of your hands now. If you feel yourself sinking, paddle hard with your hands and your feet.”
Alex discovered he was an excellent swimmer, and because she was too, they enjoyed a good half hour of fun in the water. His hands slid across her flesh as often as hers slid across his. They might have been two innocent children playing. But they were not.
She called a halt to it when his hand accidentally grazed her breast and found her nipple taut with desire. “ ’Tis enough,” she said. “We have more errands to do.”
To his surprise, she did not ask him to look away as she left the water. So he did not. And was treated to the enticing sight of her slender back and buttocks through her wet muslin underthings.
She stopped and glanced back at him over her shoulder, her lips curved in a teasing smile, her eyes filled with mischief, and said, “You can come out now.”
If he had stood up, she would have seen a great deal more of him than she had seen when he entered the water. “If I come out now, you’ll shortly be as naked as I am.”
Her eyes had widened in alarm before she turned and ran for the bushes.
He had laughed. And groaned. Her impish sense of humor had nearly done him in—and had left him wanting more.
Alex shifted in his straw bed. He felt a sneeze coming on. He was probably getting a case of the influenza from staying in that damned frigid water too long. He held his breath and stayed very still to fight the sneeze, then gave in with a loud “Achoo!” He rubbed his itchy nose against his sleeve and focused his mind on his situation.
It was not at all a comfortable proposition to think of spending every day with Kitt, but being forbidden to touch her. His body ached for her, and it did not help matters to know she likely wanted him as well but had no intention of indulging either herself or him.
“Bloody hell!”
His body tightened at the thought of holding her, kissing her, putting himself inside her. He ached for her like a foolish boy who has not yet had his first woman. Could he remember his first woman? Alex realized he could not connect a particular face with the act, though he knew he had performed it many times. Enough to know it was one of life’s great pleasures.
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