Traitor Or Temptress

by Helen Dickson

  ‘Yes, Lorne, you are imagining it and read too much into it. They are dancing together—just like all the other couples are doing. That is all.’

  Just then Iain shifted his gaze momentarily and met her eyes across the room, and Lorne flushed to have been caught watching him. She looked away and focused her gaze on the other dancers, but she was unable to distract her thoughts from her husband and Maria Fraser.

  The dance ended and Lorne watched Iain lift his partner’s hand to his lips and kiss it, lingering longer than was seemly, she thought. She felt ill. ‘I want to leave, Agnes. I can’t bear it.’

  ‘Yes, you can. Come, Lorne, this isn’t like you. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You can’t leave just because your husband is dancing with another woman. Why, you’ve danced with half a dozen gentlemen and he hasn’t complained.’

  ‘Maria Fraser is not just any woman.’

  ‘Maybe not, but Iain married you, didn’t he? And you can’t leave,’ Agnes whispered, pleading with her. ‘Look around you. Can’t you see what everyone is thinking? If you leave now, it will cause a scene and provide the malicious gossips with enough fodder to feed on for weeks.’

  ‘Agnes is right,’ Hugh told her softly. ‘For the love of God, Lorne, Maria Fraser means nothing to Iain. If it’s any consolation, he hasn’t been able to tear his eyes off you all night, and he looked fit to annihilate every one of those fops you were dancing with. He was ready to pounce should any one of them try to monopolise you. Don’t forget that you wore that gown to deliberately provoke him, and you have succeeded. I can’t ever remember seeing him so furious.’

  A moment later, having returned his partner to her escort, Iain wended his way through the crowd, moving towards the three of them. Silently he regretted asking Maria to dance. He should not have done it, he realised that now, not with a room full of bystanders looking on, watching them together, including his wife. He was not oblivious to the portent of what they were seeing and thinking. Lorne must have known who she was, even though her name had never been uttered between them.

  Iain looked at Hugh. ‘At the risk of intruding on what appears to be a serious discussion the three of you are having,’ he drawled, ‘would you mind if I took my wife away? I think we should mingle.’

  Iain slowly transferred his gaze to his wife’s face, a half-smile on his mouth. He dipped his gaze to her bodice with a kind of insolence and then slowly returned to her face. One eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly. That was the moment Lorne thought she was going to die. Never had she felt so exposed, so naked, and she bitterly regretted her decision to wear this particular gown, displaying herself so disgracefully for every man to look at, when all she had wanted was Iain’s attention, and he hadn’t even the courtesy to dance with her.

  ‘Have you exhausted all you partners?’ he inquired sardonically.

  On the verge of crying with humiliation and hurt pride, with an effort Lorne looked at him and managed to keep her expression neutral. ‘Quite the contrary,’ she answered, proud that her voice scarcely trembled. The memory of Maria Fraser was still harsh in her mind. ‘I am the one who is exhausted.’

  ‘Then a little respite will do you good. Come. There are a few people here that I would like to introduce you to.’ Politely offering her his arm, she placed her ungloved, trembling hand on it. ‘And smile, my love. Try to look congenial, even if it kills you,’ he said in an underbreath as they moved away, an artificial smile pinned to his lips. Arching an eyebrow, he looked sideways at her. ‘Is something amiss?’

  ‘No. Why do you ask?’

  He shrugged. ‘No reason.’

  His muscles taut, his expression wary, Iain waited for his wife’s reaction to him partnering Maria. She wouldn’t look at him, he noted with chagrin, though he glimpsed that wounded look in her eyes. But if he expected her to take him to task, he was mistaken. Somehow her indifference stung him more than her anger would have. Finally he drew her aside.

  ‘Come, let us stroll by ourselves where it’s quiet.’

  ‘But I thought you wanted to mingle.’

  ‘We just have,’ he replied drily.

  As they left the throng, to the vast disappointment of anyone who was interested, it was clear that for the remainder of the ball the Earl of Norwood would decline to seek any other company except that of his wife.

  Directly in her path Lorne could see Maria Fraser in conversation with a group of ladies. She froze, her control slipping as the floor began to rock and tremble beneath her feet. The mere thought of coming face to face with this woman was too much to be borne. Surely Iain didn’t intend introducing them? Surely he would not be so cruel as to do that to her?

  Sensing his wife’s distress, Iain took her hand and linked it through his arm, steering her in another direction. He realised the subject of Maria could no longer be ignored.

  ‘You have heard of Mistress Fraser?’

  Lorne looked straight ahead. ‘How could I not? She was the woman you would have married were it not for me.’ It was said in a low, calm voice that made the directness of her conjecture all the more startling.

  ‘We have known each other for a long time. Nothing was decided between us,’ Iain told her, echoing Hugh’s words in an eminently reasonable tone.

  ‘She is very beautiful,’ Lorne observed, not allowing him to escape so easily.

  ‘I agree, she is that,’ Iain replied. ‘She is also kind and has a gentle nature. You would like her.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure I would.’

  At Lorne’s wry reply, Iain shot her a hard look, suddenly angry at having to defend himself. ‘Whatever thoughts are occupying that head of yours, I will tell you that any connection between us was severed when I married you.’

  Lorne was conscious of a nasty tug somewhere in the region of her heart. She did not like to hear her husband speak of another woman’s beauty. A born fighter, there followed a natural urge to cross swords with him. ‘I’m glad to hear it. And would you have ruined her life, as you have mine?’ she accused bitterly.

  Iain stiffened at the intended insult. ‘If I am indeed guilty of doing so, I am sorry. But if you are miserable, then most of it is due to your own making.’

  ‘And that is just the kind of arrogant reply I would expect from you,’ Lorne snapped. ‘You must have had strong feelings for her if you were considering asking her to be your wife.’

  ‘I was—fond of her.’

  ‘Do you still want her?’

  Iain hadn’t expected that question, but he answered it honestly. ‘No.’

  Lorne experience a surge of relief, but her expression remained fixed as they walked slowly along a gallery, where others seeking respite from the heat of the ballroom were sauntering.

  Iain would not do Maria the dishonour of speaking ill of her, not even to Lorne. But secretly he confessed she was not entirely to his taste. Her passivity rendered her uninteresting. She was too refined, too rigid, her curves too modest—compared to his wife, who, in the fourth month of her pregnancy, positively bloomed in her gorgeous, emerald-green gown. Looking down at her, Iain found her lovely eyes regarding him steadily. She had such beautiful eyes, he thought, as she gave him a smile.

  ‘You are behaving just like a jealous wife, my love,’ he told her on a softer note.

  Lorne looked at him with just the right degree of amused scorn. ‘No more jealous than you were, when you were watching me dance—fit to annihilate every one of my partners, I recall Hugh saying.’

  ‘Hugh says too much,’ Iain retorted with a scowl. ‘He would do well to concentrate on his own affair with Agnes than interfere in mine—lest your dear Aunt Pauline finds another suitor for her daughter and arranges a marriage not to her liking.’

  ‘Aunt Pauline wouldn’t do that. Despite what you say, it seemed to me and everyone present that you are still enamoured of Mistress Fraser. You certainly looked your fill and had plenty to laugh and talk about,’ Lorne retorted crossly.

  ‘You are hardly in
a position to lecture me, when you have danced with half the gentlemen present.’

  ‘Six, to be precise,’ Lorne informed him with cold sarcasm, lifting her chin a notch. ‘And there is one slight difference. I did not try to seduce any of the gentlemen I danced with.’

  Her outburst stunned Iain. He felt like laughing out loud and shaking her. At the same time he was struck by the realisation that she was jealous and that there were tears in her eyes. Tired of sniping and bickering, his temper mollified and a smile of admiration broke across his features.

  ‘What a little spitfire you are when you’re angry,’ he chuckled softly. ‘Are you disappointed that I did not dance with you instead?’

  Lorne looked at him incredulously, relieved to see his black scowl had disappeared and his face had relaxed into pleasanter lines. ‘Dance with me! I could cheerfully murder you.’

  ‘I would come back to haunt you, my sweet,’ he threatened, a slow, roguish grin dawning across his handsome features, his silver gaze locking on hers. ‘I swear I will be a thousand times more formidable when my body has been reduced to dust. You will see me everywhere. My ghost and my memory will give you no rest.’

  Having lost the battle to remain aloof, Lorne was unable to repress her answering smile, and she could feel laughter bubble up in her chest. ‘That’s absolute rubbish. I don’t believe in ghosts.’

  ‘Then since you are clearly reluctant to let me haunt you, I shall just have to make sure that I remain alive to harass you in the flesh,’ he teased.

  Lorne bit back a teary smile at his quip, happy to let her anger melt because she loved him. ‘Really, Iain, you confound me. First you castigate me for wearing a dress you don’t like,’ she berated him, taking away the sting with a smile, ‘then you refuse to dance with me, and then I see you becoming reacquainted with my predecessor in the most touching manner, and after all that you want to haunt me when you are dead. Have you no mercy?’

  The remnants of mirth gleaming in his eyes slowly dissolved as he laid his hand tenderly against her cheek. ‘None,’ he replied obligingly, ‘and I happen to love that dress you’re wearing. It becomes you more than I cared to admit when I first saw it.’ He cast a glance of approval at her thrusting breasts. ‘Unfortunately it displays more of you for other gentlemen to gawp at than I approve of, and makes you the very essence of temptation.’ After studying her face for a moment with a heavy-lidded gaze, he finally said, ‘Let’s go home.’

  ‘What! No more introductions? No more dancing?’

  ‘I have a different kind of dance in mind—with its own steps and its own rhythm. I’m sure you’ll like it.’

  His voice was seductive and ever so persuasive, and his eyes gleamed. ‘I think I will,’ she smiled.

  Lorne accepted Iain’s help into the coach and they sat in silence as it rumbled and lurched over the cobblestones, with link boys carrying flares to light their way. The streets were silent, save for the trundle of carriages and the occasional drunk wending his way home.

  In the dim light Iain looked across at his wife. Her pale features and deceptive hint of fragility held such powerful allure that it made him want to reach out and drag her into his arms. But he must control his moonstruck urges until they reached the house.

  ‘I have decided that we shall leave London within the week,’ he told her suddenly.

  His words came quite out of the blue. Lorne froze and stared across at him. She could not believe it.

  ‘Did you think we were to remain in London indefinitely? You know we have to go to Scotland sometime.’

  ‘Yes—but—not yet—not so soon. Besides, it would be suicidal to embark on such a long journey at this particular time—with winter upon us. The roads will be a quagmire.’

  ‘Which is why we will sail to Scotland. No doubt we will hit the winter gales and the sea will be a trifle rough, but we’ll risk it.’ He noted the worried frown that puckered her brow. ‘Do you really wish to remain in London?’

  ‘Not really. But the prospect of returning to Norwood—a house where I will find no welcome—terrifies me. I know what everyone’s feelings will be about our marriage—about me—not least John Ferguson.’

  ‘I agree he stands in need of being charmed, but he’ll come round.’

  ‘Still, I’m afraid of what awaits me there. I am not ignorant to the fact that, if I were not your wife, there would be few of your neighbours who would consent to meet me. There will be those who will despise me and speak ill of me behind my back because of who I am, but not speak openly of it because of their loyalty to you. In this respect, as you will have learned from your own past experiences, it is a failing common to both Highlanders and Lowlanders, being a matter of instinct, the distrust of one enemy for the other. I cannot see how it can be overcome. You must have thought of this.’

  ‘I will not pretend that things will be easy at first, and that there must be tolerance on both sides, but you will have my support. In time you will earn their friendship and acceptance—and respect.’

  ‘Yours is the only respect I care about,’ she said quietly, meeting his gaze. ‘Do I have that?’

  Iain was unable to escape the soft bewitchment of those lovely, imploring eyes. ‘Of course you do.’

  ‘Still, all things considered, it’s a pity you can’t divorce me.’

  ‘Is it? And why do you say that?’

  ‘Because then it wouldn’t matter what anyone thought. And—I don’t want you to stay married to me if you don’t want me—if you want someone else. I—I meant what I said. I thought Maria Fraser was beautiful, and I can’t blame you for—for…’

  ‘For what, Lorne? Loving her?’

  She nodded, struggling to control the trembling that threatened to reduce her to tears. ‘Yes.’ Her answer was barely audible.

  ‘You little fool,’ Iain said, with a mixture of tender and touching desire. ‘I have already told you what my feelings are towards her. She would make any man a perfect wife, but she means nothing to me.’

  In the dim light Lorne looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘I’m glad,’ she whispered simply.

  ‘So am I. You care about that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I do care, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lorne. I should have told you about Maria and not let you find out from someone else.’ He was not flippant, but serious and troubled.

  ‘Yes, you should.’ She smiled faintly. ‘But if you don’t love her, then it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It’s no good dwelling on regrets,’ Iain went on quietly. ‘In the past we have wronged each other—but what is done is done and we’ll have to make the best of what we have. But we can’t pretend it didn’t happen. If we do there will be times when incidents occur that make us remember, reopening old wounds, and when it does it will affect us in different ways.’

  Lorne listened to him, her heart lurching with unexpected dread. Yes, they had wronged each other, and she knew all too well the pain he would feel if she attempted to open one particular wound—the one concerning his brother David. She knew if she were to raise the subject it would make him angry again, and she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to spoil this moment of reconciliation, even though she believed that bringing the matter into the open and talking about it was the only way for them to move forward and put the past behind them.

  ‘There is something I think I should tell you,’ he said, ‘something you should know. When I left you at Norwood to ride to Stirling, my conscience and I became embroiled in a battle royal. I had told myself that you and I could never belong together, but that one night changed everything.’

  ‘The night I behaved like a shameless wanton,’ she whispered.

  His relentless gaze locked with hers. ‘Shame? I felt no shame. We were lovers. I see no shame in that—and neither should you. Let us call it a gift from fate. We came together for the same reasons, and there was nothing sordid in what we did. We wanted each other—and I had no scruples to
ignore that impulse. It’s as simple as that.’

  His deep voice coming to her in the semi-darkness made all Lorne’s senses jolt almost as much as the steady way he was looking at her across the short distance that separated them. Her throat was thick, her mind stunned as she tried to believe that this was really happening. Wanting to hear the rest of what he had to say, she struggled desperately to ignore the sensual pull he was exerting on her.

  ‘Before I arrived back at Norwood I had already decided to ask you to remain with me. I also knew your brothers and Galbraith would make your life hell at Drumgow. I couldn’t let you weather that alone—nor could I bear the thought of you going to Galbraith and becoming his wife. The mere thought of him touching you almost drove me insane.’

  Lorne gaped at him in astonishment, a peculiar warmth beginning to seep throughout her body. ‘Iain, what are you saying—that you—you would have married me—a McBryde?’

  ‘Perhaps—yes. I think I would have—in time,’ he said honestly. ‘But that was before I reached Norwood and found you gone—and before I learned of the part you had played in your father’s escape. That was when my passion for you became doused by bitterness. I tried to hate you, telling myself you thoroughly deserved your fate. I did everything in my power to try to forget you.’ His lips twisted with irony. ‘Yes—I even contemplated marriage to someone else. But your grandmother and King William put paid to that.’

  Lorne swallowed down the hard lump that had risen in her throat. ‘How you must have despised me for placing you in that position.’

  ‘I told you I tried to hate you, but I failed miserably.’

  ‘But I know you didn’t want to marry me then. You were so hostile towards me.’

  ‘That’s only because my hand was forced, and I couldn’t see what a treasure I was getting. In five months’ time we will have a child, Lorne—our child. What kind of example do you think we will present if we are to be for ever at each other’s throats?’

  ‘So—you accept that the child is yours? You do want it?’ Renewed hope was beginning to stir in Lorne’s breast.