To Tempt A Rogue

by Adrienne Basso

  The older woman turned her head, squinted, then blinked. “Is my mind playing tricks on me or is that weak sunshine I see creeping through the windows?”

  “It is sunshine,” Harriet replied with a laugh.

  “’Tis difficult to believe we are still in Scotland, heh, Kate?”

  The maid smiled and nodded. Harriet plucked at the blanket and adjusted the pillows once again. Her attention was fully focused on her patient, allowing Nathaniel to observe her at his leisure. She wore a dark green gown buttoned up to the neck, but it was fitted in such a way as to display her trim waist and amply curving breasts.

  Even though she had had too little sleep and too much worry in the past few days, she looked pretty. Tendrils of her rich, dark hair tumbled about her shoulders and brushed her cheek. Her lips held a hint of rosy color, no doubt from the kisses they had just shared.

  Though he regretted the horrible ordeal she had been forced to endure, he was glad that Harriet had not departed as planned, was pleased that she had remained under his roof and in his company for a few more days. Now that Kate was recovering, Harriet would soon leave. But not for several days, or perhaps even a week.

  The distinct sound of a stomach growling rose above the women’s conversation. “Hunger is a good sign,” Nathaniel commented. “Kate is clearly improving if she is ready to eat again.”

  Harriet cleared her throat. “Kate has fallen back to sleep. That was my stomach rumbling.”

  Though he suspected she was more than a little embarrassed; after all, ladies did not acknowledge or draw attention to bodily functions when in the presence of a gentleman, Harriet refused to blush or avert her eyes from his.

  “I’ll go down to the kitchen,” he volunteered.

  “There is no need to bother. I see that my dinner tray from yesterday remains untouched. That will suffice.”

  Harriet drew back the curtains before taking her seat at the small table. Sunlight rayed into the room, relieving some of the gloom and illuminating the dust motes that swirled in the air. Only when Nathaniel saw her eat nearly every morsel did he realize she must be famished, for the majority of Mrs. Mullins’s dishes were barely tolerable, even when eaten fresh.

  “Would you like more?” Nathaniel asked. “If you can manage to wait a few minutes, I’ll have some hot food prepared.”

  Harriet shook her head. “I’ve already eaten more than I should. Hot food would have been nice, though the pasties were filled mostly with potatoes and cabbage and tasted no worse after sitting about through the night.”

  Nathaniel wrinkled his nose. “Lord, if I ate more than one potato and cabbage pastie it would sink to my stomach like a stone.”

  Harriet set her folded napkin beside her plate and rose from the table. “You are not supposed to notice how much I eat, Mr. Wainwright. Instead, you should be making flattering comments about how my dainty appetite resembles a bird’s.”

  “And so it does.” Nathaniel also stood. “However, the bird in this instance is a vulture.”

  She reacted to the telltale laughter in his voice as he had hoped. Yet, their shared, intimate smile distracted Nathaniel for a moment.

  There was so much contradiction and complexity to this woman! The primness, the rigidity, the grave dignity were all there in abundance, yet she also possessed a wicked sense of humor, especially about herself. He had known far too many eminently respectable ladies, and while initially Harriet appeared the very embodiment of respectibility, Nathaniel had discovered she was, indeed, very different from the self-proclaimed paragons of virtue.

  She had selflessly nursed a servant through a life-threatening illness at the risk of her own health. She was cool in nature and composure, but far from frigid. She possessed a stubborn streak, a trait always deemed unacceptable in a true lady, yet in Harriet’s case it was tempered with the intelligence needed to properly manage it.

  On the surface, she was not the type of woman who immediately inspired soaring passions. If they had met in society, as equals, he would have immediately judged her to be a dull, sour, prim woman and dismissed her from his thoughts and attention.

  That reaction was as much a reflection of his own expectations as it was an insensitive response to her inability to fulfill some artificial requirements of society regarding beauty, demeanor, and age. Nathaniel was not proud to admit this, yet perhaps this knowledge would prevent him from making a similar misjudgment in the future.

  “Since it appears that Kate will no longer require round-the-clock attention, we should move your belongings into a different bedchamber,” Nathaniel suggested. “As you may recall, I had one prepared for you yesterday, but you were disinclined to use it.”

  “You prepared a chamber for me?”

  “Well, naturally I did not do the actual work.”

  “Naturally.”

  Nathaniel didn’t know whether to smile or frown. “I’m sure it isn’t up to your exacting standards, but the maids were able to brush down the cobwebs, get rid of the dust and put clean linens on the bed.”

  “It sounds like a vast improvement over my original quarters,” Harriet commented.

  Nathaniel struggled to keep his face impassive as guilt knifed through him. Though, at the time, his actions seemed valid, Nathaniel now felt that deliberately allowing Harriet to be placed in such inappropriate conditions had been rather heavy-handed.

  “Would you like to inspect the room first?” he asked, not wanting her to question his sincerity.

  “That is hardly necessary. If you would kindly carry my portmanteau to the new chamber I will unpack after Mr. MacLeod has seen Kate. I expect him within the hour.”

  “Excellent. I shall want a full report when the physician is finished. Meet me downstairs in the library after he leaves. And bring your cloak and bonnet.”

  She nodded and he reached for her portmanteau. It was heavier than it looked, but his masculine pride would not allow him to notice the burden.

  In less than an hour, Harriet appeared before him, holding her cloak and bonnet, as he had requested. Smiling with delight, Nathaniel took the cloak from her hand and settled it around her shoulders. He waited patiently while she tied the ribbons of her bonnet, then offered his arm.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To the garden, to enjoy some fresh air.” Nathaniel guided her through a large door into a sheltered courtyard. Even though spring had scarcely arrived in the Highlands, there were spears of green leaves pushing through the soil, alongside untamed beds of rose bushes. Even in its dormant state it was obvious that the garden, like everything else at the castle, had been long neglected.

  It was overgrown and wild, with rambling patches of heather and lavender over-running the north side of the property, yet the promise of colorful blooms and vibrant beauty remained. With some care and attention, this could once again be a place of fragrant splendor.

  The main gravel path was still intact and they followed it to the end. At the edge of the garden there was a surprise—a steep drop down a rocky hill, barren except for a few hardy shrubs stubbornly clinging to its side.

  “Ah, so there is the village!” Harriet exclaimed as she leaned forward.

  Stretching for miles below was a river valley, the sound of flowing water reaching the garden courtyard set so high upon the craggy hills. Wild, rugged and beautiful, the valley was surrounded on all sides by rising cliffs, towering majestically over the treasure it held within its circle.

  There was little green in the patchwork of rolling farmland below, but clearly some of the fields had recently been plowed. Clusters of farm buildings and small cottages sprang up sporadically, and grazing sheep dotted the pastoral landscape.

  “I feel as though we have taken a step back in time,” Nathaniel remarked. “It seems so quaint and untouched.”

  She gave him a quizzical stare. “It very much resembles an English village, though it is untamed and rugged, and lacks the neat hedgerows English farmers take such great pride in mai
ntaining.”

  “I’ve lived most of my life in London, with only brief visits to rural areas,” he replied, without thinking. “This all looks, and smells, the same as England to me.”

  Nathaniel nearly cursed out loud the moment the words left his lips. Idiot! he muttered fiercely to himself. Somehow the delight of Harriet’s company and the awe-inspiring beauty of nature was enough to loosen his tongue and reveal personal history that could compromise his secret.

  He waited for her reaction, but if she felt any curiosity at his words she gave no sign, nor made any comment. They gazed at the valley for several minutes. Harriet seemed enthralled by the splendor of nature’s beauty but the joy of the moment had lessened considerably for Nathaniel.

  When the lurching flash of panic subsided, Nathaniel took a deep breath and lifted his eyes skyward. A thick band of clouds drifted across the sky, eventually obscuring the sun.

  “Without the sun, the bite of the wind really chills the flesh,” Harriet said.

  “Shall we return to the house?”

  “I would like to stay outside for a little longer.” She arranged her skirt and drew her cloak tighter around her waist. “But please don’t let me keep you out in the cold. I can easily find my way back.”

  Nathaniel surveyed the garden. He spied a rustic bench positioned near the stone outer wall of the castle. Deciding it could provide an adequate buffer from the wind, Nathaniel led Harriet there and waited for her to sit down.

  He considered taking his place beside her, sitting as close as he dared, with their thighs touching. That would certainly warm her, and him, considerably. Instead, he set one booted foot on the hard seat and rested his arm upon the raised leg. When he leaned forward, his face was only inches from hers.

  She raised her brow at him, but did not move away.

  “What was Mr. MacLeod’s verdict after examining Kate? Was he pleased with her condition?” Nathaniel asked.

  “He claims she will make a full recovery, we hope within the week.”

  Nathaniel’s lip quirked. “How much stock should we place in Mr. MacLeod’s opinion? Illness of this sort can be unpredictable. It is possible for a sudden relapse to occur, especially for someone of Kate’s years.”

  Harriet’s smile was philosophical. “Despite his less than stellar first impression, Mr. MacLeod has proven his worth. I cannot judge him too harshly, even if he only nearly graduated from Edinburgh College of Surgeons.”

  They both laughed.

  “Besides,” Harriet continued, “you must remember that if you ever become ill, Mr. MacLeod will be the one summoned to tend to you. I suggest you remain on good terms with him.”

  Nathaniel felt himself shudder. He had never considered that he might actually need Mr. MacLeod’s services for himself. Or Heaven forbid, the children. What if one of the children had suddenly gotten sick? He glanced at the sky and tried to halt the thunderbolt of fear that seized him.

  How could he possibly cope, on his own, with a sick child? A seriously ill child? The servants had refused to help Kate, fearing they too would fall ill. Would they refuse to help a suffering child? Then what would he do?

  The very idea of anything dire happening to Robert’s innocent offspring sent a chill of fear straight to Nathaniel’s heart. As he had been doing far too often these past few days, he questioned the soundness of his judgment in forwarding the plan to obtain guardianship. In order for it to succeed, the children must remain hidden until he reached an agreement with his uncle. And Hillsdale Castle was the perfect place to hide.

  Yet its very isolation engendered an entirely different set of challenges to overcome, as Kate’s sudden illness had so starkly proved. Still, the alternative for the children was a joyless, shallow life with his uncle. Would that be any better?

  “Your advice concerning Mr. MacLeod is sound,” Nathaniel admitted. “I will take it to heart, and do my best to remain on friendly terms with the doctor.”

  “I think I can safely report that Kate is also trying to be friendly toward him. Though their acquaintance has been brief, it is my opinion that she is quite smitten.”

  “With Mr. MacLeod? You must be joking!”

  Harriet lifted her shoulders in a quick shrug. “When he left the room to fetch additional herbs and medicines from his carriage, Kate insisted that I help her change into a fresh nightgown before he returned and brush out her hair so it wouldn’t look so flat and messy.”

  “Truly?”

  “Oh, yes. She was very clear and powerful in her request, which gave me further proof that she is recovering nicely.” Speculation flared in Harriet’s eyes. “But what was even more telling was Mr. MacLeod’s puffed-out chest and exceedingly solicitous manner when he returned and witnessed her transformation. I think he might return her interest.”

  “At their age?”

  Harriet studied his eyes and then smiled. “My nurse was very fond of Irish sayings. Among her favorites was the expression, for every sock there’s an old shoe. I believe this situation certainly proves that truth.”

  And what of our situation? Are we too an old sock and shoe? Nathaniel blinked, not knowing where those thoughts had sprung from nor why they both distressed and intrigued him. He was not the man for Harriet Sainthill, though there had been persistent glimmers of feelings over these past few days that she might be the woman for him.

  Yet what chance did he have to woo her? He was lying to her about nearly everything, including his identity. She was a woman who had suffered deceit at the hands of her fiancé. Her reaction, if she ever learned the truth, would be extreme, and he could not fault her. Even if there were a chance, she would never be able to forgive him for his deception.

  “Since Kate will need more time to recuperate, I am afraid we will be forced to rely on your generosity for a few more days.” Harriet peered at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. “I hope that will not be inconvenient?”

  “I can think of few things that would bring me greater pleasure than your company.” It was a routine response, worthy of any self-respecting rake, yet Nathaniel realized he meant every word of it. To punctuate the point, he lifted his hand and ran the back of his finger down one side of her cheek to her chin. It felt like velvet. “The only greater pleasure, of course, would be to kiss you,” he whispered.

  “That would be most unwise,” she said primly.

  “We have already shared an inappropriate embrace and several kisses today.”

  “Is that the rule, then? One per day?”

  She looked like she wanted to smile, but instead she set her brow together in a taut line. “The rule, as you are very aware, is none per day.”

  Taking advantage of his upright position, he leaned in closer and dipped his head a little lower. “Alas, I have never been very good about following the rules.”

  This time she did laugh. “That comes as no surprise to me, I assure you. However, it is clear that one of us must keep a level head. If you won’t, then I must.”

  Nathaniel knew he could have pressed the matter. And won. Instead he abruptly lowered his foot to the ground and straightened his spine. Then he caught hold of her hand, raised it to his lips and placed a kiss in her palm. She curled her hand in his and he held her fist tightly for a moment longer before releasing his grip.

  “It will be as you wish, dear Harriet. For now.”

  Chapter Ten

  The door opened, closed, and the latch clicked into place. Duncan McTate, ensconced in the privacy of his study, lifted his gaze from the boring stack of correspondence he had been reading and paused to greet his uninvited guest. But no one was visible.

  A childish, high-pitched giggle, followed by a whispered hush filled the room.

  “I sure hope ’tis the kind fairies that have come to pay me a visit and bring me special sweets and not the old sea monster who haunts the loch that has come here in search of his dinner,” Duncan said loudly.

  “Monster?” a small voice squeaked.

  “Shhh
, he’s just trying to trick us. Be quiet.”

  “Ah, more noise, but I still canna see a thing,” Duncan said, in the same loud tone. “And I canna be sure if it is friend or foe or maybe even three devilish children who have invaded my lair. I must investigate.”

  Duncan pushed away from his desk and leaned back in his chair. He waited for the telltale sounds of scuffling feet to determine exactly where the children were hiding. Once he heard it, he moved.

  Crouching on all fours, he slowly circled the thick wooden base of his desk and headed toward the long damask draperies that covered the windows. And hid, no doubt, the children. Since his aim was not to frighten them, he made comical noises to alert them he was nearby.

  Duncan could feel the tension and excitement ripple though the air as the anticipation of discovery grew.

  Then suddenly the door swung open. Again. “Och, m’lord, ye’ve scared me silly.” The maid who walked into the room stopped abruptly, shot him a shocked look, then curtseyed several times. “Beggin’ yer pardon. I see I’ve disturbed ye.”

  Sighing, Duncan raised himself back on his haunches. “What do you want, Maggie?”

  “I . . . um . . . I . . . was told to fetch the wee ones. Have they come in here, by chance?”

  “No.”

  His answer was greeted with excited giggles from behind the curtains, followed by more exhortations to be quiet. Maggie’s eyes widened. She stepped forward, but Duncan held up a staying hand. He pointed towards the curtain and smiled, hoping the young maid would join in his merriment.

  But her eyes widened further in puzzlement. Fearing she would spoil the game, he gestured for her to leave. She took a deep swallow and obeyed his command, but not before casting several concerned looks over her shoulder as she left.

  Duncan was annoyed. Perhaps it was not the most dignified position for the laird to be found in, crouched on all fours in the center of his study, but when had he become so stern and unyielding that his servants would be amazed to find him engaging in a bit of lighthearted play? Was that really such a shocking discovery?

  Granted, he wasn’t a jovial, laughing sort of man. Nor was he the type who normally welcomed disorder or chaos of any kind. The household staff was very much aware of that fact, yet the unexpected arrival of the children had turned his well-run house into something of a circus.