To Wed an Heiress

by Karen Ranney

  He didn’t say anything for such a long time that she decided she had insulted him. How did she make reparations for that?

  “I didn’t know Connor hadn’t returned,” she said. “Or that Irene wasn’t here.”

  What was she going to do now?

  Lennox stood, picked up the bowl, and went to dump out the water. When he returned, he held out his hand to her.

  She stood, still holding his hand.

  “At least I have a dry shirt for you,” he said. “And a towel or two. We can dry your dress before the fire. If you insist on returning to Macrory House, you can do it at dawn. The storm will surely be finished by then and the causeway passable.”

  He bent and placed his lips on hers. She hadn’t expected his kiss, but she didn’t pull back.

  When his arms went around her, she stepped into his embrace. Any thought of her reputation was lost when he deepened the kiss. Everything narrowed to become simply sensation. It felt as though lightning traveled through her body, racing back again to where their lips were joined.

  Her mouth opened beneath his. She wrapped her arms around his neck as colors sparkled behind her closed eyelids. She’d never considered that a kiss could be magical. Or that she would want it to continue for much longer than it did.

  When Lennox stepped back and looked down at her, she had the impression that he was going to apologize. She pressed two fingers against his lips.

  “No,” she said. “Don’t say a word.”

  “I was going to say that I needed to show you to your room before I did something else foolish.”

  She could feel her cheeks warm at his words. Foolish? Was it truly foolish to feel so alive? So excited and curious? She wanted to know what came after. What would happen next? She wanted to be in his arms, and that thought was most definitely scandalous. Her body was heated, her thoughts racing from one shocking proposition to another. She wanted to see him with his shirt off again, touch his magnificent chest, stroke her fingers across his impressive back.

  What would it feel like to have him touch her?

  She wanted to tell him all the questions she had, all the thoughts that were cascading through her mind. He wouldn’t criticize her or condemn her, but she wasn’t certain exactly what he would say.

  How very odd that she had to come halfway around the world to find someone like Lennox, a man whom she admired. He was not simply kind and attractive, but she felt like she could tell Lennox anything and he would understand. She’d already divulged more to him than she had anyone, including Ruthie.

  It wasn’t just being in Scotland that was changing her. Knowing Lennox brought out the best in her, made her want to be more daring and less of a coward, especially now. She wanted to ask for another kiss, but she stepped back as well.

  A proper woman would certainly apologize for being so forward. If nothing else, she should attempt to find an excuse for her lamentable behavior. The truth was that she would do the same thing if offered another chance. She would stand within the shelter of his arms and become lost in his kiss.

  She didn’t miss the world when she was with Lennox.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  This was not a good situation. Mercy being alone with him in the castle would be enough to cause comment in the village and Macrory House for months, if not longer. Lennox wasn’t under any delusion that they would be able to keep the circumstances of this night secret. The gossips always knew, somehow, some way.

  Although the castle was large, built to house members of the clan, the space wouldn’t protect them from rumor or innuendo. People would think what they would, and most of what they would think would be detrimental to Mercy.

  The only thing that would save her from condemnation would be to leave Scotland. He doubted if the long trail of gossip could reach across the Atlantic Ocean.

  The causeway that connected the island on which Duddingston Castle was built often flooded in a storm. By now it was impassable, which meant neither of them could go anywhere. Nor could anyone reach them.

  They were just going to have to get through the night. Once dawn came and, hopefully, the storm ceased, Irene would arrive. She would serve as chaperone until he could find some way to get Mercy to Inverness.

  She sat in front of the fire now, holding her hands closer to the flames.

  Once back in New York, what made her think Gregory would leave her alone? Or that she could escape a marriage her parents obviously wanted?

  The questions put him in a foul mood. The realization that he didn’t want her to leave made him even more irritated. She’d been in Scotland only a few weeks and had already managed to disrupt his life.

  Connor and Irene—those were the only people he’d needed for the past five years. Somehow, however, Mercy had inserted herself into his thoughts and even his dreams. When he wasn’t looking, she’d somehow become important.

  When had that happened? How had it happened?

  “Do you have anything in your case other than money?” he asked. “Like dry clothes?”

  She shook her head.

  “For an heiress, you travel light.”

  Her smile was quick and amused.

  “I was more concerned with leaving Macrory House than what I was going to wear.” She looked down at herself. “I should have planned better.”

  “My shirt won’t be the height of fashion, but at least it’s dry.”

  “You’re very kind, Lennox. Thank you.”

  He didn’t feel kind right at the moment. He was annoyed, out of sorts, and half wishing she’d never come to Scotland. She was going to hurt him, a realization that struck him like a blow.

  “Was he the reason you ran away?”

  “No, not the whole reason.”

  “What was so terrible about your life that you felt like you had to escape it?”

  “Nothing was terrible,” she said. “On the contrary. I was special. I was a princess. People came to our home to outfit me, provide me with jewelry, hats, gloves, anything that a young woman could want. I had my own carriage and two guards who were with me at all times. I was never out of sight of them. I was never allowed to make a friend. She might be a bad influence. Or she might get sick and pass it along to me. All of my books were approved. If I saw a play, it was only after it, too, had passed inspection. I was their one perfect specimen, the child who lived, the one on whose shoulders their future rested. I was a hothouse flower, a perfect rose.”

  She glanced at him again. “Gregory was only one part of my life. I was wrong not to realize that he was determined to marry me.” She turned and looked into the fire once more. “My parents were in favor of the marriage. My mother thought he was the perfect husband for their perfect child. I was told that all I was feeling was nerves, that I’d come to realize that marriage to Gregory was . . .” Her words stopped. “Maybe blessed? I think I was supposed to be overjoyed. I was left with the impression that it was for my own good, that they knew what was best for me.”

  “Why Scotland?”

  She nudged the valise with her foot. “Because of the money. My mother had tried to send it to my grandmother and aunt, but they’d already left North Carolina for Scotland. Mine wasn’t an altruistic gesture as much as a convenient one. Or a foolish one. My grandmother doesn’t want the money. She sees my father as a Yankee and an enemy. She called it blood money.”

  “What was the catalyst? What made you leave on that day?”

  “That day? It was the last straw, I think. Gregory was going to get rid of Ruthie,” she said. “He didn’t feel that Ruthie was a good enough companion. She giggles and she has all these superstitions and sayings. He announced that once we were married she would be gone.” She glanced at him, then away. “Ruthie’s been my only friend for years. I couldn’t let that happen, so I enlisted the help of my old governess. I was allowed to visit her, and I did, except that Ruthie and I slipped out the back, emerged in the alley behind her house, and hired a coach to take us to the Molly Brown, one of my
father’s ships. I’d booked passage through Miss Haversham.”

  “You took a number of chances in your bid for freedom, Mercy.”

  She nodded. “Not as many as you think. It was my father’s ship and I knew the captain would ensure my safety. I did, however, take the precaution of not identifying myself until we were well out to sea.”

  “Yet you’re taking Ruthie back with you.”

  “I’m taking her back to New York with me. It’s her home, after all. It’s where her family is.”

  “Unless Connor asks her to stay.”

  She turned to look at him. “Would he do that?”

  “I’m not going to speak for Connor, but it’s my opinion that he feels something for Ruthie.”

  She looked away again, staring into the fire.

  He wanted to know what she was thinking, one of the few times he’d ever been curious about another person’s thoughts. Mercy wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known. Perhaps that was the fascination she had for him. Or maybe it was simply because she was a beautiful woman and although he was a quasi-hermit, he was still a man.

  “Let’s get you to your room,” he said.

  He looked down at her shoes, now mere scraps of muddy leather. Going to her side, he grabbed the valise and put it on her lap. Before she could object, he scooped her up in his arms once again.

  “The floors are stone, Mercy, and cold. This way you won’t get a chill.”

  She looked as if she wanted to say something, then thought better of her words.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, finally giving in to his curiosity.

  “I’ve never been carried before, and now you’re doing it again.”

  “You’re not that much of a burden,” he said, “especially compared to one of my airships. I’ve hauled those up the side of Ben Uaine.”

  She laughed, the sound summoning his smile. He hadn’t heard her laugh before and now he wished he had something amusing to say that would make her laugh again.

  At the base of the stairs, she looked up at him. “I really can walk, Lennox. You can let me down now.”

  He didn’t want to release her, so he kept silent as he mounted the steps.

  “Really, Lennox.”

  “We’re almost there,” he said, and he was right. He entered the room where she’d changed before and deposited her on the edge of the mattress. “There, safe and sound and without frozen feet.”

  “I meant what I said earlier, about your being kind,” she said as he lit the lamp on the table beside the bed.

  “I’ll start a fire. If you move the chair in front of the fire and put your dress there it should be dry by morning.”

  She only nodded at him.

  Even with her wet hair she was beautiful, her eyes wide and deep as she watched him. He wanted to be as kind as she thought him, but he was having thoughts he had no business having.

  He opened the flue, grateful that he always inspected the chimneys in all the unoccupied rooms once a year. Bending, he started a fire, conscious of her eyes on him.

  “Marry me.”

  He slowly straightened, turning to look at her. She was still sitting on the edge of the mattress, clutching the valise to her chest.

  “I beg your pardon?” he said, playing for time.

  “Marry me. You can’t deny that it would be helpful to have an heiress for a wife. You could buy whatever you needed and never have to worry about money.”

  He’d never considered that a woman might propose to him. That’s why he was struck dumb.

  “I can spend my money the way I wish.”

  “So, if you want to buy yourself a husband you can, is that it?” He didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

  “It would certainly solve my situation,” she said, staring at the far wall instead of him.

  He should never have kissed her. He should never have given himself free rein to think about her. He should never have wondered at her thoughts or been pleased by the sound of her laughter.

  “Mercy . . .” he began.

  “You could finish the repairs on Duddingston Castle,” she interjected. “And have any amount of money you needed for your airships.”

  Her face was bright pink, leading him to think that the words hadn’t been easy for her to say.

  “Have you never thought of marrying?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She tilted her head slightly, her look one of skepticism. “Really? Not even to ensure an heir? Wouldn’t that be important to an earl?”

  Her cheeks were even more flushed after that comment.

  “I don’t really care what happens to the title.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you,” she said. “You care about Duddingston Castle. Why wouldn’t you care about who became earl?”

  “The two aren’t connected.”

  She didn’t respond to that. The silence in the room was uncomfortable. He’d never thought to have this conversation with anyone, let alone Mercy.

  “What about love?” she asked.

  “Love?”

  “Don’t you believe in love, Lennox? Do you never see yourself falling in love? Does it cost a fortune? I thought it was allowable for everyone, even paupers.”

  “Life is much easier when you don’t have to worry about where your next meal is coming from. Or how to support a wife.”

  “That wouldn’t be a problem if you married me.”

  “I hadn’t considered marriage,” he finally said. “Not to any appreciable degree.”

  “Do I disgust you?” she asked.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Do I disgust you?” she repeated. She pushed her hair back with one hand, the other fluttering at her waist.

  “Are you daft?”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t think so. This is a very strange proposition, but it makes a great deal of sense, don’t you agree? I’m an heiress with a problem. You’re an earl needing money. I would think that it would be reasonable to give it some thought. Unless, of course, I disgust you.”

  Up until that moment he’d been awash in his own discomfort. With her question, he understood how awkward she was feeling.

  “I kissed you. I’m not in the habit of kissing women who disgust me. You interest me. You startle me. You intrigue me. But, no, you do not disgust me.”

  She stared down at her knees and nodded.

  He approached her until he stood only a foot or so away. Reaching out, he brushed her cheek with his knuckles.

  “There are those who would say that you were blessed at birth, Mercy. Not only are you an heiress, but you’re intelligent, witty, and beautiful.”

  “But you won’t marry me.”

  “I’ll just go get that shirt,” he said, turning toward the door.

  “Will you at least think about it, Lennox?”

  He honestly didn’t know what to say. He avoided answering her by leaving the room, hoping that by the time he returned she would have regained her sanity.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Mercy had shocked herself by proposing to Lennox, but the more she thought about it, the more appeal it had. After all, she had to marry one day. She wanted to be a wife. She wanted to bear children. Why not here in Scotland? The notion of living at Duddingston Castle was appealing. How lovely it would be to live somewhere with history all around her.

  Her money could accomplish any repairs that were needed to the castle as well as providing almost unlimited funds for Lennox to continue his inventions and his airships.

  Irene could have maids to aid her in cleaning the castle and someone to go with her to market. They could have a garden right outside the kitchen and keep chickens. Perhaps they could also hire a stablemaster who could double as Connor’s helper when he needed one.

  She’d never before considered how much good could come from her money but now it seemed a shame not to use it at Duddingston.

  She should have broached the subject with more delicacy. Hinted at it rather than
coming out and asking him, but the truth was that she’d surprised herself with the words. As if a hidden nature within her knew what she wanted before she acknowledged it.

  Sliding off the mattress, she grabbed the valise, and walked to the other side of the room where a screen was propped in the corner. After dropping the valise on the floor, she extended the screen, slipped behind it, and began to unbutton her bodice. She’d left her shawl somewhere, but it wouldn’t have provided any warmth, being as drenched as the rest of her garments.

  Thunder roared overhead as if to remind her how she’d gotten so wet.

  She wasn’t as cold as she had been earlier, but she wasn’t comfortable, not with sodden garments clinging to her.

  Why had she said anything to him? Lennox was unlike anyone she knew. He was brave, stubborn, independent, almost unbearably handsome as well as being kind and a dozen more attributes. He intrigued her, as well as interested her. Kissing him was almost magic. Perhaps she should have told him all that.

  If she’d been engaged to Lennox she wouldn’t have been looking to escape. On the contrary, she would have asked for the ceremony to be moved up. She could even see herself being Lennox’s wife when she could never visualize herself married to Gregory.

  She’d dreaded her wedding night with Gregory. She and Ruthie had discussed it and her education had expanded due to the other woman’s knowledge. Ruthie had eleven siblings and they’d lived in a small apartment. She knew where babies came from and she’d imparted that knowledge to Mercy.

  “I’m a good girl myself, Miss Mercy, but I know a few who aren’t. They do the deed sometimes for money, but mostly for the love of it.”

  She couldn’t imagine going to Gregory’s bed for the love of it, especially after today. Or was it yesterday? She had no idea of the time.

  But Lennox’s bed? Her cheeks burned. Yes, she could well imagine that. And, even more shockingly, wanted it.

  Was he going to return? Maybe he’d been so offended by her words that he intended to avoid her completely.

  After removing her dress, she hung it over the top of the screen. Her corset was almost as damp as it had been when she’d been swimming in the loch. Her petticoats still dripped and her shift clung wetly to her skin. She peeled it off and draped it over the washbasin table.