Highland Heat

by Jennifer Haymore

  “Maybe,” Lady Campbell admitted. “But still, I do not think she’d be heartbroken if she lost a few of our more snobbish friends.”

  Duncan nodded. He could see that. Grace didn’t seem one too keen on superficial relationships. Those kinds of people didn’t deserve her affections anyhow.

  A budding hope began to grow in him. Maybe he’d been wrong all along. Lady Campbell was talking about him being with Grace, and the major wasn’t holding a dagger to his neck. At least…not yet.

  “My biggest concern, however,” Lady Campbell continued, “is that you shall never gain my father’s approval.”

  Duncan’s gut clenched, even though he’d already known this.

  “But,” she added softly, “you have my approval. And I think you can gain my husband’s.”

  His gaze flicked to the major. Could it be true? He looked back and forth between husband and wife. “Are ye certain? If I married Grace, I would be marrying the earl’s daughter against his will.”

  “Do you wish to marry her, then?” Lady Campbell asked.

  Duncan closed his eyes. “More than I wish to take my next breath.”

  When he didn’t hear any movement, he opened his eyes. Both the major and Lady Campbell were gazing at him. The major wasn’t pointing a pistol at him—in fact, he seemed unsurprised by Duncan’s revelation.

  “The earl might never forgive Grace for such a betrayal,” Duncan said. “Would that no’ be, by extension, a betrayal of you as well?”

  “Not at all.” Lady Campbell leaned forward in her seat, all business now. “Listen, my father is old-fashioned. He will be hurt, he will be furious, and I daresay he’ll do everything in his power to stop the two of you from being together.”

  Duncan groaned.

  “But”—Lady Campbell cast a fond glance at her husband—“I know what love is like. And I know that Grace is happier than I’ve ever seen her when she’s with you. I cannot begrudge her that happiness, even if my father disapproves.”

  “I dinna wish to put Grace in danger—”

  Claire’s lips twitched in a grin. “Oh, she won’t be in danger, Duncan. You will. And my father is a formidable opponent. You’ll need to be careful. He will come after you—and he will consider this his personal responsibility, so he won’t enlist anyone else to help him. But trust me when I say that you and Grace won’t be able to leave London openly. You’ll have to sneak away in secret, and under the cover of night.”

  Duncan nodded. None of that surprised him.

  “But if you decide to run away with my sister, you have a few advantages over my father.”

  “What are those?”

  “The first is that he is rarely at home at night—he’s usually at his club. Which means he comes home in the early hours of the morning and sleeps late. I daresay you’ll have several hours of a head start before he runs after you.”

  “I see,” Duncan said.

  “He dislikes carriages and can only tolerate riding for a few hours at a time. Rest assured, he won’t ride day and night in pursuit of you. He’ll stop when necessary.”

  “Why?” Duncan asked.

  “He has a frightfully bad back, and the jolting motion over country roads makes it unbearable for him. I imagine he’ll suffer a great deal to pursue Grace and try to stop you, but eventually he will have to rest out of sheer necessity.”

  Duncan nodded again.

  “Finally, he’ll do nothing to jeopardize Grace’s well-being. He won’t chase you down and risk an accident. He won’t point a weapon at you if Grace might be injured.” She flashed him a grin. “As long as you stay by her side, your safety is guaranteed.”

  That would be easy—Duncan had no plans to stray far from her side ever again.

  A door was opening in front of Duncan, a door he himself had locked. He’d been so stupid. This time, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity go.

  He turned his focus to the major, whose expression was resigned. “I wilna prevent you from doing what ye must do, Mackenzie.”

  Duncan sat back, stunned. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Dinna call me sir,” the major chastised. “Ye ken better than that.”

  “Aye, I do.” Duncan smiled.

  “Well, then.” Lady Campbell clapped her hands. “It’s settled.”

  Duncan turned his gaze to her.

  “You must leave straightaway,” she said. “To London. You must go to my sister and beg her forgiveness for rejecting her.”

  He itched to jump up off the sofa, saddle a horse, and ride to London this instant. But it was midnight, and logic told him it’d be wiser to wait until morning. London was a long two days’ ride from Manchester. There was no speeding it up—unless he managed to get passage on a mail coach. Maybe that was best—the mail coaches drove through the night, and the journey would take just over twenty-four hours. Then he and Grace could hire a post chaise to take them north.

  “What day is it?” he asked abruptly.

  The major glanced at the clock. “It’s after midnight, so Wednesday now. Wednesday morning.”

  The mail left tonight—on Wednesday mornings, at two a.m. That gave him less than two hours to get himself ready and to the coaching inn in Manchester.

  He stood. “I must go. Now.”

  Giving him a soft smile, Lady Campbell rose, hugged him, and kissed his cheek. “Promise you’ll make my sister happy, Duncan,” she murmured into his ear.

  He closed his eyes. “I vow I will do everything in my power to do so.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and released him.

  He glanced over at the major, whose expression was hard as steel. Duncan gave him a short nod, and he nodded back. The major’s look wasn’t hard to interpret. He was giving Duncan a great responsibility, entrusting him with his sister-in-law, when a month ago he would have considered their match an impossibility.

  Duncan would not fail him. More important, he would not fail Grace. Not this time.

  Chapter 21

  Duncan arrived in London at six o’clock on Thursday morning. It was too late to sneak into the Earl of Norsey’s house—the staff would already be up preparing the morning meal. In any case, the mail coach had been filled to the brim with mail and passengers, and he stank of sweat.

  He took a hackney to the Highland Knights’ house in Westminster, where he was greeted at the door by Bailey, who looked completely unsurprised to see him. He took one look at Duncan and said in a dry voice, “I shall have a bath drawn for you, sir.”

  Duncan thanked him profusely before going into the kitchen, where the cook whipped him up some kippers and eggs. By the time he finished, the bath was ready, and he stripped off his clothes and sank gratefully into the warm water. He scrubbed himself until his skin shone, then he fell into his bed and slept until one o’clock in the afternoon.

  When he woke, he dressed in his clean kilt and shirt, and chose his better jacket and sporran. Then he caught a hackney to Mayfair.

  He arrived at the Earl of Norsey’s house as a formal caller. The butler answered and made him wait at the door while he went to see if Grace was “at home.”

  Duncan waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot, until the butler returned and said, “Right this way, sir.”

  He led Duncan to the drawing room, which was empty, and left him there, closing the door behind him.

  Duncan tried to sit. Then he paced the floor, anxious. He looked out the window, trying to distract himself with a pair of hummingbirds that were drinking nectar from the flowering foxglove plants outside.

  That didn’t work for long. He resumed pacing until he heard a door open behind him. He spun around to see Grace, looking lovely, as always. She wore a simple white muslin day dress with a pink sash around her waist and matching pink slippers. Her hair was up, and curled blond strands framed her face.

  Duncan’s heart rate sped up. Christ, she was a bonny woman.

  But her expression was dark. He stared at her for a long moment, and she stared ba
ck at him. Finally, she closed the door with a snap and turned back to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Manchester.”

  He took a deep breath. “I’m here to apologize.”

  She raised a brow.

  “I was wrong, Grace. Forgive me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Wrong about what?”

  “I was wrong to leave you as I did. My reasons for doing so were wrong.”

  “No. You were right. My father would probably kill us both. If the major didn’t do so first.” She glanced back at the door. “My father is at home today. I expect him to come in here at any moment and ask what you’re doing here.”

  “I’m here for you,” he said quietly.

  “Well. Here I am.”

  Her voice was aloof and cold, not at all what he’d expected. But what had he expected? Her to leap into his arms so he could carry her off into the sunset?

  He moved closer to her. She backed up against the door. He approached until he was an arm’s length from her and reached over to caress her cheek. “I missed you.”

  She blinked hard. “Yes, well. I haven’t missed you.”

  He jerked back as if she’d struck him, and her expression instantly softened. “Oh, Duncan. I’ve been trying not to miss you, but I have. I’ve missed you so much. I can’t help it. I’ve been terribly angry with you, but I’ve missed you so very much.” Her eyes shone with emotion. “And I despise myself for missing you. I should hate you.”

  “You should hate me,” he agreed. “But I hope you will forgive me.”

  “No.” She shook her head rapidly. “I shouldn’t hate you. That’s far too strong a word. Because I understand your reasons for walking away from me…from us. I do. I just—” She broke off, gulping in a breath as if she was about to weep.

  “Oh, love,” he murmured, and took her into his arms. “I was wrong. So wrong. I hate that I hurt you. I wish never to hurt you again.”

  She buried her face against his shoulder, wrapped her arms around his neck, and held him tighter than she ever had.

  Just then, the door handle turned.

  They jumped apart and away from the door right as it opened. The earl took a step back when he saw them so close. Then he frowned. “Why are you weeping, child?” he asked Grace in a hard voice. He reached into his pocket, withdrew a handkerchief, and handed it to her.

  “Thank you,” she sniffed, taking it and dabbing at her damp eyes.

  The earl scowled at Duncan. “Have you brought us some bad news, boy?”

  “No, sir,” Duncan said.

  “Then why is my daughter weeping?”

  “I just…” Grace gulped in a breath and said, “I was so happy to hear that Claire and the major are well and happy together. They’d been struggling for so long, and I was worried that things might fall apart again when they went to Manchester.”

  Well done, Grace. He’d had no words, but she’d come to his rescue. Bonny, brave woman.

  “But”—she slid a glance at Duncan—“Mr. Mackenzie has come to bring us their greetings and to let us know they’re doing very well, indeed.”

  The earl gave Duncan a skeptical look.

  “Aye, it’s true. And…” Here he had to tread carefully, since they were forbidden from sharing details of their mission with anyone—earls included. “Our assignment in Manchester is going better than anticipated. The major plans to send Lady Campbell back to London soon, and we should be following in the next few weeks.”

  Grace gave a tremulous smile. “Oh, she can come with us to Norsey House when we go. It’ll be nice to have Claire home for the house party, won’t it, Papa?”

  “Indeed,” the man said stiffly, but Duncan questioned whether the earl had heard any of what Grace had said. Grace had assured Duncan that her father truly adored Grace and her sister—“He loves us in his way,” she’d told Duncan on one of their nights together—but it certainly was difficult to see beyond his rigid demeanor.

  Grace straightened, and Duncan watched as she donned the mask of hostess. “Can I offer you refreshment, Mr. Mackenzie? Shall I order tea?”

  Damn it. How was he going to tell Grace what he needed to with her father present? Duncan opened his mouth to answer, when the earl raised his hand.

  “No. I should like to have a moment to speak with Mr. Mackenzie alone. If you’ll excuse us, Grace?”

  It wasn’t a polite question—it was a command, if the man’s steely voice gave any indication.

  Grace flicked a glance at Duncan and then bowed her head demurely. “Yes, Papa.” And before Duncan could blink, she’d slipped out the door, leaving him alone with the earl.

  Damn.

  The older man strode to the other side of the room. “Brandy, Mackenzie? Oh, wait, you lot prefer whiskey, don’t you?”

  “Brandy’ll be fine, thank you.” It was two o’clock in the afternoon, and Duncan didn’t want a drink right now. He wanted a perfectly clear head. He’d come to London to accomplish a task, and he’d prefer not to drink until the task had been completed. But he didn’t want to be rude to the Earl of Norsey, either.

  The earl poured him a tumbler of brandy and brought it to him with an order. “Sit.”

  Duncan sat. The earl took the armchair across from him and sat in silence for a moment, his stare assessing as he turned his glass in his hands.

  Finally he said, “I’ve seen the way you look at my daughter, Mackenzie.”

  Duncan clenched his hands around the tumbler, saying nothing. The earl hadn’t asked him a question, so he had no intention of giving him a response.

  “I fear Grace is developing somewhat of an infatuation with you as well.” The edges of the earl’s lips turned down in disapproval. “She has been flighty and disorganized since you departed for Manchester. She may believe I don’t notice these things, but I do.”

  Duncan took a small sip of brandy, needing something to do other than sit there as still and rigid as a statue.

  “And this weeping…” The earl gestured in the direction his daughter had gone. “What was that truly about?”

  Duncan gazed evenly at the man. “That is between Lady Grace and me, sir. I wouldna break her confidence.”

  “Hmm,” the earl said. “I can’t say I like the sound of that.”

  Duncan tilted his head in response but kept his expression flat.

  The earl swallowed half of his brandy then set the glass down firmly on the small table beside him. Then he looked at Duncan, his expression forbidding. “I realize this might be rude. That you’re an associate of my son-in-law’s and therefore would traditionally be welcomed into my home.”

  Duncan tensed and waited for the but coming.

  “But,” the earl said calmly, “after today, I don’t want to see you within a mile of this house ever again.”

  Duncan took this in, then nodded. “Understood.”

  “Good. Because I would hate to have to take stronger measures to keep you away from my daughter. But rest assured, if it’s necessary, I will. She is well respected in London, in the ton, and in this house. I will not have her or her reputation compromised.”

  Duncan nearly winced, because he had already compromised Grace. He’d thoroughly debauched her. He managed to keep his expression flat, though. “I hope you will someday change your mind.”

  “When one of you is married, perhaps.”

  When both of them were married, perhaps? To each other? Duncan hoped so but looking at the earl now, at his expression of extreme distaste and his hard stare, he doubted it. Grace loved her father, and Duncan would hate to see their relationship destroyed. Grace would suffer if she had to lose her father. But the earl had put her in the position where she had to choose between them—Duncan hadn’t done that.

  She’d known this was a choice she had to make. And she’d chosen Duncan. He should have given her the respect of acknowledging that when she’d proposed to him.

  Duncan set his barely to
uched glass of brandy aside and stood. “Will that be all, sir?”

  The earl did not rise. “Yes, I believe so.”

  Duncan tilted his head in farewell, and left the room with the earl still seated on his chair. The butler was nowhere to be found, so Duncan let himself out of the house.

  The house he might never enter again…after tonight.

  —

  “What did you say to him?”

  With a weary sigh, Grace’s father looked up from the papers spread out over his desk.

  “Grace, I am very busy today—”

  “I know, but you are always busy. Or at your club. Please tell me what you said, Papa, then I vow I shall leave you alone.”

  Her father clasped his hands on his desk. “I told him he was no longer welcome in this house.”

  Her hand flew to her chest. “What? Why on earth would you do that?” Oh Lord. Did her father suspect…?

  “Because I am not a stupid man, daughter. The two of you seem to have developed a ridiculous infatuation. It must stop, immediately.”

  “Oh, Papa.” She sank into the armchair across the desk from him, feeling utterly defeated. How could she explain her feelings about Duncan to her father? He’d dismiss them as foolish and frivolous.

  He pointed a long finger at her. “You are an earl’s daughter, or have you forgotten? You’ve a place in society. A position.”

  Which she no longer cared about. But she had once, so she couldn’t deny her understanding of his point of view. “Some things are more important than position,” she murmured, looking down at her hands, which were fidgeting with the lace eyelets on her skirt.

  “No. There is nothing more important than our position. We have influence and power in our country. That is an obligation and honor we must take seriously.”

  “You are the earl. You’re the one with the influence and power, Papa. Not me. My second cousin is your heir and I hardly know him. When you’re gone, my position will mean nothing.”

  “You will always be my daughter. And you underestimate your influence, Grace—you always have. You have been a model of propriety your entire life. Other ladies look up to you. Now you wish to destroy it with a Scottish commoner.” He slapped his hand on the desk. “You’re better than that!”