by Meara Platt
“They are a combustible pair, aren’t they?” Penelope laughed. “Anne’s greatest wish is that you find the girl who sets your heart afire like that.”
“Perhaps if I were young and foolish, I might act impulsively. But in my position, how can I risk it? Besides, these intense fires quickly die out. No, I’d much rather keep my eyes open and head clear. I know quality when I see it and you are that. Give me a chance to prove that you and I are a good fit.” He gave her another quick embrace before returning to the house.
Penelope continued to Gosling Hall, her mind in even more of a whirl. Lord Wycke’s comments made sense. Even The Book of Love spoke of the different stages of love. A mature love was one that would last. Once the burning desire died out, something deeper and more meaningful had to replace it or else the husband and wife were left with nothing but ashes.
Still, didn’t the couple have to start out with some interest to bind them together? If she refused Wycke’s suit, would his heart break?
She doubted it.
As she crossed the garden, she glanced back and looked up toward her bedchamber window, merely wondering what Thad was doing now. Her heart gave a little hitch. He was standing by the window, wearing no shirt as he looked down on her.
Her heart hitched again.
She tried to avert her gaze, but couldn’t.
Where was his shirt? Could that big, Scottish oaf not find one to wear? And why was he staring at her with his arms crossed and frowning? With his bad arm, didn’t that hurt?
Oh, dear!
Had he mistaken the reason for Wycke’s embrace?
How much had he seen?
And was it too much to ask for him to put on clothes if he was going to stand there and scowl at her?
More important, did he not trust her?
How could he claim to love her if he had no faith in her?
Chapter Twelve
“This is not at all proper,” Dr. Carmichael muttered when Penelope insisted on accompanying him to her bedchamber now occupied by Thad who, she hoped, had put on clothes by now.
Not that she would have minded seeing more of him, but not in the doctor’s presence.
“It is my bedchamber. You and my brother’s valet, Greville, will be present to vouch that nothing untoward happens. Please do not attempt to stop me, Doctor. I need to see the damage to his shoulder for myself because Captain MacLauren will lie to me and tell me he’s fine when I know he isn’t.”
“I could simply report my findings to you after I’ve examined him.”
“It won’t do.” She tipped her head up and cast him an indignant look. “You know he needs to be scolded into taking care of himself. I can do this better than anyone. Why do you think he calls me a Harpy? We must stop him from doing something foolish, which he’ll certainly do unless he’s made to rest. How else will he properly heal?”
The doctor ran a hand roughly across the nape of his neck. “I still don’t think it’s wise.”
What a bother. She’d forgotten Angus Carmichael was a stubborn Scot himself. Were they all hardheaded louts? “I’ve been duly warned and scolded. I’m still going in.”
She was also the sister of the present earl and knew the doctor was not going to challenge her authority in her own home. He frowned at her when they reached her bedchamber door, his obvious displeasure a final attempt to have her see reason and not barge in on Thad.
When he realized he couldn’t shake her determination, he sighed and knocked on the door. “Captain MacLauren, you have company. May we come in?”
Greville opened the door, his eyes bulging when Penelope strode in behind the doctor. “Lady Penelope! His lordship is undressed.”
Thad was seated on the bed, wearing nothing but a towel loosely tucked around his waist, his rock-hard muscles on display. “Bollocks, lass! Ye canno’ be in here.” He rose, no doubt intending to bodily push her out, and then realized he had nothing on under his towel, so he turned to look for something to put on.
That’s when she saw the extent of the damage to his back and shoulder. “Thad!”
He realized where she’d been looking and groaned. “Dinna make too much of it.”
Her hands fisted. “You deserve a good smack about the head, you big ox.”
“What did I do now?”
“Your entire back is black and blue. Your skin is torn where Monarch’s hooves fell on you.” She shot him an accusatory glower. “You should have remained in bed all day to heal. What possessed you to ride out? There were others able to collect your regiment and bring them to Sherbourne Manor. You’re fortunate you didn’t fall off your horse. How could you be so reckless? Knowing your injuries?”
She wanted to cry, for he had to be in agonizing pain. “Oh, Thad. Sit down and let the doctor tend to your wounds.” She turned to Dr. Carmichael. “What can I do to help?”
“Leave,” he and Thad said at once.
She ignored them. “Besides that.”
She turned to Thad again. In truth, she couldn’t stop looking at him. He was big and beautifully muscled, so magnificently sculpted against his warm skin. She made the mistake of touching him. Instantly, her heart began to flutter and her legs turned to butter.
She wanted to kiss her way up and down his body.
Taste him.
She shook out of the enticing notion, but did not remove her gaze from him. His shoulders were broad and his stomach was finely honed and lean. Everything about him exuded power and strength. His legs were long and nicely shaped from what she could see of them, for the towel covered them to his knees.
But the rest of him from the waist up was open to her view, and she was soaking all of him in.
Blessed Mother.
Who suddenly turned up the heat in here?
It felt like a thousand fires blazing.
But there wasn’t so much as a twig lit in the hearth.
She tore her gaze from his body and studied his face. His hair was wet from his recent bath and brushed off his brow. No doubt, he’d run his fingers casually through that thick mane of his to put some order to it.
His skin was a sun-kissed golden and he smelled like sandalwood soap.
Lord, lord, lord. Did a finer looking man exist?
“Och, lass. Will ye no’ go away?” Thad scowled at her when she sat beside him on the bed.
“No, I will not. I wish to hear what Dr. Carmichael tells you.” She turned to the doctor who appeared decidedly uncomfortable, as did Greville. Perhaps she should not have plunked herself down on the counterpane beside Thad, seeing as he was clutching the ends of his towel to make certain it did not slip off him. “I will not have you lie to me and tell me all is fine when I can see that it isn’t.”
“Go away, lass,” he repeated. “Yer betrothed will no’ be pleased to find ye here with me.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “I knew it. You were spying on me.”
He groaned lightly. “I was merely gazing out the window when I saw you run into Wycke’s arms.”
“That’s really why you’re scowling at me.” She shook her head and laughed. “Thaddius MacLauren, you are without a doubt the biggest fool who ever lived. I did not run into his arms and you know it. He pulled me into them. If you must know, he told me he was leaving tomorrow. He only embraced me to thank me for my hospitality and wish me well.”
Instead of replying, he yelped as Dr. Carmichael touched his shoulder to check on the damage.
Penelope cast him an accusatory look. “That hurt you, didn’t it?”
He frowned back. “No.”
“Fine, then you won’t mind if I press down on the same spot.”
He jumped up, his towel fortunately still secure about his waist, although it had fallen a little lower and was hanging on his hips, if one wanted to be precise about it. Would she burn in the eternal fires of Hell if she wished for that towel to slide off his powerfully built, warrior body? “Loopy, enough of this nonsense. Get out.”
She rose to stand
beside him, trying her best not to breathe in the scent of sandalwood and his male heat. “Not until we strike a bargain.”
Before Thad had a chance to accept or refuse, she turned to Greville. “Take all his clothes out of my bedchamber. He’s to remain in here for the rest of the day. Tomorrow if necessary, as well.”
“Move a muscle, Greville, and I will shoot ye. I will no’ be treated like a child. Set out my clothes, if ye wish to be of help, for I’ll be joining everyone for supper.” He arched an eyebrow, obviously daring Penelope to contradict his intentions. “Tomorrow, my regiment plans to march through Wellesford, and I intend to be among their ranks.”
She eyed him warily. “No one told me anything about this.”
“Because it isn’t any of yer business, lass. It’s a parade to thank the citizens of Wellesford for their assistance. There’ll be pipers and drummers, and we’ll all be dressed in our clan tartans.” He cast her a wicked grin. “Ye would no’ wish to deprive the female population of me in my kilt, would ye?”
She meant to be stern, but laughed instead. “Do as you wish, you stubborn Scot. You’ll do it anyway.”
He emitted a hearty chuckle. “Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black.” But he took her hand when she raised it in surrender and began to turn away. “I’ll strike a bargain with ye, lass. I’ll march in the parade, but I want ye to march beside me. I’ll need something soft to break my fall should I stumble.”
She could have shot back a smart retort, for he was obviously goading her. Yet he wanted her beside him, and this was his ridiculously backhanded way of asking her. She decided to be serious for a moment. “Thad, you know I’ll always look out for you.”
“Aye,” he said with a tender ache to his rumbling brogue, “ye always have.” He kept hold of her hand. “Did ye mean it when ye said Wycke was merely bidding ye farewell?”
“Yes.”
“So, he isn’t staying?”
“He and his family leave first thing in the morning.”
He glanced at Greville and the doctor, then just shook his head and sighed. “Did ye give him an answer to his marriage proposal?”
She shook her head. “No. He didn’t press me for one and we didn’t discuss it.” She glanced at the doctor and Greville who had to be listening intently even though they were turned away and trying to appear busy, the doctor by fumbling through his medical bag and Greville by fussing with Thad’s clothes. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow morning at the pond. We’re still meeting there, aren’t we?”
“Aye, lass. I haven’t forgotten.”
She slipped her hand out of his and left the room to go in search of Olivia and Poppy. They’d been friends for as long as she could remember, and she’d always discussed her innermost thoughts and fears with them.
Now, she needed them more than ever.
She wanted to accept Thad’s offer of marriage, but couldn’t bring herself to do it until she was certain of his motives for marrying her. Or was she setting an impossibly high standard for him to meet by holding out for utter, complete, and soul-searing love?
She and Thad knew each other too well for their fiery heat, assuming he had any burning feelings for her, to turn to mere ashes. Their connections ran deep.
But they also constantly goaded and prodded each other, often behaving like children. And yet, when it mattered, they looked out for each other. Did this not count for something?
She hoped her friends would help her find the answer she sought.
As she approached the regimental camp, she happened to see Poppy and Nathaniel sharing a quiet moment under one of the shade trees by the stream.
She saw the way Nathaniel was looking at Poppy, the love reflected in his eyes as he gazed at her, seeming to soak all of her in. He took her hands in his and held them gently. He shifted his body toward her, as though pulled closer by an irresistible force. Poppy had a similar glow in her eyes, a reflection of the love she held for him. She eased closer, drawn to him by this same force that had drawn him toward her. It was as though the world had fallen away and no one else existed for these two.
Having no wish to disturb them in their private moment, Penelope turned away to seek out Olivia. She saw her friend standing with Beast beside one of the tents. But as she approached, she realized Olivia and Beast were also sharing a moment.
Suddenly, she felt like an intruder.
But watching Beast, this fearsome and powerful duke, caress Olivia’s cheek with an open and tender look of longing, seemed to help her find the answers she sought. Not that she actually had her answers, but she now understood what to look for.
Oh, she’d read The Book of Love, but hadn’t allowed herself to fully experience each sensation. Thad had kissed her, given her a first kiss she’d never forget. She’d called it a test and used him as her test frog, but she was through using him. It was time for her to trust him, to offer her heart to him. To finally be honest with herself and accept that as hard as it would be to leave her friends and family, it would be devastating never to see Thad again.
And who else would she marry, if not Thad?
She loved him to the depths of her soul and could not bring herself to allow any other man to touch her body. Not even Thomas Halford, Earl of Wycke, who was handsome and kind and would probably be a dutiful husband, but how could she ever share his bed when her thoughts would always be on that big Scot who’d saved her life?
Her heart was still lodged in her throat just thinking of Thad in that towel and how badly she’d wanted it to slip off him.
Goodness, she was depraved.
That evening, while dressing in Lavinia’s quarters, and although Emily had earlier fetched the sea-blue, silk gown and matching slippers, gloves and undergarments, she’d planned to wear for tonight’s supper, she realized Emily had neglected to choose a necklace to go along with her attire.
“I’ll be right back,” Penelope said once Emily had laced her into her gown. She’d waited for just the right moment to make her quick exit, knowing the girl was now occupied, attempting to clasp a pearl brooch onto Periwinkle’s collar.
Of course, Periwinkle’s brooch matched the one Lavinia intended to wear this evening.
Penelope adored her aunt, but her insistence on having Periwinkle’s collar match whichever necklace she happened to be wearing was a bit much, even for poor Periwinkle who did not look at all pleased.
He barked and darted away every time Emily tried to clip his collar on him. “Oh, you’re such a bad boy,” Emily muttered in frustration.
“Good boy,” Penelope whispered, encouraging him to misbehave.
With Lavinia and Emily distracted, she slipped out the door and made her way down the hall to her bedchamber. She wanted to simply walk in, but she hadn’t lost her mind completely, at least not yet.
She knocked instead. “Thad, are you decent? May I come in?”
No response.
She knocked again. “Thad?”
Perhaps he’d gone downstairs already, or so she convinced herself and opened the door since no one was lingering in the hallway to stop her. The shades in her bedchamber had not been drawn, allowing the last rays of sunlight to filter in and cast just enough light for her to make out the outline of Thad’s body in her bed.
He was turned away from her, his weight settled on his good shoulder as he slept. The counterpane was twisted around his bare torso, covering his midsection and curling downward like a vine around Thad’s long legs. His upper body was exposed, and her heart ached to see the massive spread of black and blue, not to mention the torn flesh, across his injured shoulder.
She forgot about retrieving her necklace, and instead, tiptoed to the other side of the bed for a glimpse of his face as he slept. Dr. Carmichael must have given him a hefty dose of laudanum to quell his pain, otherwise Thad would have been glaring at her and ordering her to go away.
And because he was a thickheaded Scot, had he not been rendered unconscious, he would likely have insisted
on dressing, determined to come down to supper even though he was in no shape to do it.
Thankfully, he was sleeping soundly.
She heard his soft breaths and saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
Unable to help herself, she reached out to gently brush back a stray lock that had curled on his damp brow.
“Are you developing a fever?” she whispered, frowning.
She hadn’t put on her gloves, not needing them to merely enter her chamber and select a necklace. So, she ran her hand lightly along his neck and down his body, her fingers tingling as she brushed them along the light spray of auburn hair on his chest.
Most Scots had pasty-white complexions and their skin burned easily in the sun. But Thad’s skin was lightly tanned. She ran her hand along his muscled arm and frowned. He was overly warm, and his skin was damp, not only his forehead, which was worrisome enough.
She rose and crossed to her bureau to retrieve one of her handkerchiefs. She always kept a basin and ewer of water on her bureau, so she poured a little of the water onto her handkerchief and wrung out just enough moisture so as not to soak Thad when she wiped it across his brow and along his neck to cool him down.
Sitting beside him once more, she leaned close to better dab his forehead. Then she wiped the wet handkerchief lightly along his neck. She leaned closer, for he still smelled clean from his earlier bath and the sandalwood scent drew her to him like a moth to a flame.
Thad shifted slightly and his eyes flickered open. “Lass, am I dreaming? Is it really you?”
“It’s me.”
He emitted a sexy growl and nudged her down beside him. Before she had the chance to protest, he rolled over her, propping on his good elbow to ease the weight of his big body off her. “I must be dreaming. Ye look beautiful. Ye always do. I’m going to kiss you.”
