Simon stumbled back into the doorway just as MacGowan and Gordon appeared in the hall outside. Wiping blood from a long shallow cut across his brow, he bowed to Robert, a derisive smile twisting his features. ‘Until tomorrow then, dear brother. Seven sharp if you’ll pardon the pun. I look forward to the opportunity to skewer you with my sword.’
‘See that my brother leaves, gentlemen. Take his keys then lock and bolt all the doors,’ ordered Robert. MacGowan and Gordon, both white-faced and grim, nodded their assent and escorted Simon away.
Robert turned his attention to Jessie who had remained as he’d found her, her fingers still clutching the pitcher handle. She stared at the floor, trembling.
He approached her slowly, carefully. ‘Jessie lass,’ he murmured gently.
She raised her ashen face to his. Tears misted her eyes. ‘He broke the pearl necklace, Robert,’ she whispered. She took a great shuddering breath and seemed to realise that she was still holding the pitcher handle. She looked at it, then tossed it on the floor with the other shards. She stepped toward him.
Robert’s arms came up around her, cradling her as she buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking as she gave herself up to tears. Running his hand down her slender back he noticed the fabric of her bodice had been torn. Even though he murmured soothing words into her hair, anger shook him to his very bones. He’d already noticed bruises about her neck; he dreaded to think what other injuries had been inflicted. Oh yes, Simon would pay dearly for this outrage.
When Jessie at last raised her head, he gently brushed away the remaining tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘Jessie, mo ghaoil, it doesn’t matter about the necklace,’ he whispered, holding her gaze, mentally preparing himself for the worst with his next question. ‘What I need to know is—as difficult as it may be for you to tell me—how much did Simon hurt you?’
Jessie’s eyes grew wide for a moment when she realised what he was asking her and cold dread froze his blood. But then, thank the Lord, she smiled shakily. ‘Aside from a few bruises, I’m all right, Robert. Unlike yer brother, I’m verra pleased to say. It’s true tha’ I bit his hand an’ hit him with the pitcher though. It was the only way I could get him off me.’
‘Thank God, Jessie.’ Robert drew her into his arms again and kissed her hair. ‘You fought bravely, my love.’
Inwardly he vowed—and I promise you that come tomorrow, you will never have to worry about that cur again.
As if hearing Robert’s thoughts the hall clock portentously began to herald the hour of midnight. As the last of the chimes ceased, Gordon appeared in the doorway again, a wide-eyed Janet and grim-faced Mrs Duncan trailing him. Mrs Duncan was bearing a tray of tea and scones.
‘Forgive my presumption, milord,’ Gordon began, his gaze fixed discreetly on a point somewhere on the other side of the room. ‘I thought per’aps tha’ Miss Munroe would like some … assistance.’
Robert reluctantly released Jessie from his embrace; however, he continued to hold her close, his arm about her waist. ‘You are quite right, Gordon.’ He turned to the female servants and addressed them in turn. ‘Janet, please find some suitable night attire for Miss Munroe and take it to my suite, along with a basin of warm water and some linen bandages. Mrs Duncan, you may take the tray to my sitting room.’ He didn’t much care what the servants thought about the fact Jessie would be installed in his rooms. The whole evening had ended in disaster. The servants’ sensibilities were the least of his concerns.
He returned his attention to the butler. ‘How fares the rest of the household, Gordon?’ No doubt others—including his father—had heard Jessie’s scream and the ensuing commotion.
Gordon was succinct in his appraisal. ‘All is secure downstairs, milord. MacGowan has explained the situation to his lordship. Lord Strathburn kindly requests tha’ you speak to him when ye have the opportunity. Her ladyship hasna stirred from her rooms. The other servants havena been told anything, other than to mind their own business for the moment.’
‘Well done, Gordon. Perhaps I could also ask you to summon your most reliable footman. I’ll need him to deliver a message to my ship at Leith Docks.’ Robert wanted to warn Drummond ahead of time that he was going to need a second for the duel. ‘I will ring for him shortly, after I see Miss Munroe settled.’
‘Verra well, milord.’
Once Gordon had departed, Robert drew Jessie closer and gently tilted her chin upwards so he could gain her attention. During his exchange with the servants, she had remained mute and strangely still. She was clearly in shock.
‘Jessie lass,’ he said softly and was relieved to note that she met his gaze when he spoke. ‘I’m going to carry you upstairs to my sitting room.’ He’d noticed that she was only wearing silk stockings when she had stepped toward him, and he didn’t want her cutting her feet on all the shards of broken china.
Without question, she reached for him and he swung her up into his arms. He kissed her temple, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat. Her complete trust in him meant so much.
His rooms lay on the second floor, occupying the north-eastern corner of the house. As Robert carried her into his sitting room, he was pleased to see a fire burning brightly in the grate, and that Mrs Duncan had laid out the tea and scones on a low table on the hearthrug. Robert gently eased Jessie into a leather chair by the fire, then ignoring the pot of tea, went to a sideboard and poured a tumbler of whisky. Returning to the fireside, he pulled up a low footstool and sat in front of her, offering her the glass. ‘This will ease the trembling, my love.’
Jessie dutifully took a few sips of the strong malt, coughing a little, but it seemed to revive her. Almost straightaway she seemed less disconnected from her surroundings—and from him. She gave him a small smile, a glimmer of golden warmth returning to her brown eyes. ‘This is no’ how I envisaged our evening would end.’
Relieved to see her spirit returning, Robert’s lips curved slightly into a smile. ‘No. It certainly hasn’t progressed the way I had anticipated either.’ He reached out slowly, and tenderly pushed a tangled lock of hair away from her face. ‘Jessie, would you mind if I let the rest of your hair down?’ he asked, praying she wouldn’t reject his touch. But if she did, he would understand. ‘I must confess I have been dying to do just that, all evening.’
‘Of course,’ she said softly, then blushed as she put a hand to the collapsed arrangement of curls. ‘I know I must look a fright.’
‘Never. You could never look anything but beautiful to me.’ He leaned forward so he could more easily loosen the remaining pins and in no time, her red-gold curls were cascading about her shoulders. He sat back again on the stool and forced his hands to stillness; his fingers were itching to ease the ruined dress from her shoulders, but he would not push her for further intimacies after what she’d been through.
Besides, he had other matters to take care of.
He smiled ruefully. ‘As much as I would like to stay with you a while longer, unfortunately, I am going to have to leave you. I need to tell my father about what has happened … and I need to make some arrangements for tomorrow.’
* * *
Jessie frowned in confusion, then with a sense of mounting horror, she suddenly recalled Robert’s exchange with Simon before he’d been forcibly ousted from her room. The memory returned to her in full force—it was as if a veil had suddenly been ripped away from her eyes.
Her heart seizing, she reached forward and gripped Robert’s hands. ‘You’re making arrangements for the duel,’ she breathed. ‘Please do no’ do this, Robert. I know what Simon did was … wrong, unforgiveable. But dinna risk yer life or yer freedom, defending my honour. After all you’ve been through, I do no’ want you to throw it all away … because of me.’
Although it was customary for gentleman of substance to resolve disputes of honour in this way, Jessie also knew that officially, duelling was strictly proscribed by law. If Robert was caught engaging in such an act whilst on probation,
there was no doubt in her mind that the consequences for him would be dire. There would be no escaping the executioner’s axe this time.
Robert raised her hands to his lips and gently kissed her fingertips. His blue eyes were dark with emotion. ‘You are worth immeasurably more to me than my own life, mo chridhe. And defending your honour is definitely worth the risk. Besides,’ the expression in his eyes suddenly changed—grew bleak—and he ran a hand down his face, ‘I feel partly responsible for what Simon has done.’
Jessie’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. ‘Wha’ever do you mean? You know Simon has been looking for an opportunity to … to have me, ever since I met him. You canna blame yerself for wha’ that monster tried to do tonight.’
Robert stood abruptly and paced to the sideboard. He poured himself a whisky and took a swig before he turned back to face her. The pull of his skin across his cheekbones and the rigid lines bracketing his mouth clearly marked his anguish. ‘Earlier this afternoon, I paid Simon a visit at his lodgings, and made it clear that he would not be able to continue to leach off the family’s fortune. I also warned him not to go anywhere near you again. I think I goaded him into taking rash action. If I had known that he would go so far … to hurt you to get back at me—’
He broke off and ran a hand through his dark hair; a stark look of self-recrimination clouded his eyes.
Jessie rose from her seat and crossed the hearthrug to stand before him. ‘Do no’ dare blame yerself, Robert Grant,’ she chided gently. ‘The only ones to blame are yer brother … and Lady Strathburn.’
Robert raised an eyebrow. ‘Why do you think my stepmother is involved in tonight’s events?’ he asked. ‘I know I said earlier that she would possibly go to great lengths to maintain the upper hand in this family. But to orchestrate a direct attack upon you?’ He shook his head. ‘Surely she wouldn’t sink so low.’
Jessie frowned. ‘I dinna know exactly, it’s just a suspicion I have.’ She walked slowly over to the fireplace, her head bent, chin resting on her clasped hands as she comtemplated how best to put her thoughts into words. The fire crackled and a log fell, shooting sparks towards the torn hem of her gown, but she didn’t care. She turned back to look at Robert and began to explain. ‘Earlier this afternoon, Lady Strathburn made it abundantly clear to me tha’ she does no’ wish me to become her daughter-in-law. I have no proof, but I think in part, this attack was designed to get rid of me. Perhaps she thought if Simon ruined me, you would no’ wish to marry me.’
Robert put down his glass and strode over to her. He tilted her chin up, capturing her gaze. ‘That would never be the case,’ he said in a velvet-soft voice. ‘Nothing could stop me from marrying you.’ He trailed one long finger along her jaw before he tucked a loose curl behind her ear. ‘If that was my stepmother’s plan,’ he continued, his voice developing an edge of steel to it, ‘she has not planned well. All she has done is guaranteed that her son will be run through with my sword.’
Before she could even draw a breath to reply, Robert pulled her into his arms. With a shaky sigh, Jessie gave into the impulse to rest her head against Robert’s broad chest, to breathe in the now familiar scent of his soap and the heady essence of the man himself. She could hear his strong heartbeat thudding beneath her ear. Feel the rise and fall of him as he drew breath. What a wonderful, wonderful man he was.
She closed her eyes, wishing she could stay like this forever, but even though her body began to relax, her thoughts were still awhirl. There was something about this whole turn of events that made her very uneasy. This was not just about her. It was almost as if the attack on her tonight had been engineered to provoke Robert. She sensed treachery.
Yes. That was it. Icy fear curled down her spine.
She straightened and gripped Robert’s arm. She had to make him see that he was in danger. ‘I rather think all of this has more to do with getting rid of you, Robert, rather than me. The more I consider wha’ has happened, the more I am convinced tha’ you are being manipulated into doing something tha’ will bring about yer own downfall.’
Sharp interest sparked in Robert’s eyes. ‘I’m listening.’
Jessie took a deep breath and prayed Robert would believe her. ‘We know yer stepmother has always wished Simon to be the next Earl of Strathburn. I rather got the impression this afternoon tha’ she was counting on you being executed. But then you were released. I may be wrong, but I think she had a hand in arranging Simon’s attack, knowing tha’ you would undoubtedly challenge yer brother to a duel. She would know the conditions of your parole. If you violate those conditions—an’ are caught duelling—you could be arrested and imprisoned again. An’ I find it more than a wee bit passing strange that Simon seemed so ready to agree to a duel in the first place. I suspect tha’ half of the Scots Guard will be waiting for you in Holyrood Park come dawn. Although I have not the slightest bit of evidence, I think yer stepmother an’ brother have set a neat trap to get rid of at least one of us, if not both, in one fell swoop.’
* * *
Robert ran a hand down his face. Jessie was right. There was a ring of truth to what she had suggested. And the more he thought about it, he really couldn’t fault her logic. It was true that his stepmother had always wanted to supplant him in favour of Simon becoming the next earl. Caroline was more than capable of plotting tonight’s attack. And Simon would be more than willing to participate in a plan that involved ruining both Jessie and himself.
It also made perfect sense that Simon would only have agreed to the duel if he thought there was no real chance that he would get hurt—which would undoubtedly be the case if there were soldiers lying in wait.
Simon was a bully and a coward at heart; he was more likely to turn tail and run than face a swordfight he had no chance of winning. Yet Simon had been the one to suggest the time and place for the duel.
It was more than passing strange as Jessie had suggested.
But Simon must face the consequences of his actions. Of that there was no doubt.
Robert let out a long sigh. ‘Jessie, I think you may be right. But I can’t let this go, despite the danger. After what Simon has done, he needs to be taught a lesson.’
Jessie shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. ‘Please do no’ do this. I couldna forgive myself if something happened …’ Her lovely bottom lip trembled and as tears welled, Robert knew without a shadow of a doubt Jessie cared for him. Perhaps even loved him. And while his heart clenched to see her so desperate with worry, his blood sang.
‘I will be all right, my love,’ he whispered, brushing her tears away with his fingers. ‘Trust me.’
‘But—’
She got no further. Why use words when he could show Jessie how much he cared for her too? Capturing her beautiful face in his hands he kissed her with tender reverence, his mouth gently claiming her, loving her. She sank into him, immediately pressing her soft curves against his body, reaching up to clasp her hands around his neck to draw him yet closer. His lips firmed against hers, his tongue teasing the full curve of her lower lip, seeking access to the velvet sweetness within. She parted her mouth on a sigh, surrendering completely as the kiss slowly deepened, tangled her tongue with his in her own thorough exploration.
God in heaven, his Jessie was as ardent as she was fearless—her encounter with Simon obviously hadn’t reduced her enjoyment of kissing. As for her enjoyment of anything else of a physical nature, when the time came, Robert vowed he would be patience itself. She would dictate the pace of their loving—he would follow her lead. But now was not the right moment. He had a matter of honour to attend to.
With a groan of frustration, he broke the kiss, reluctantly dragging his mouth away. He looked down at her, watching her eyes flutter open before refocusing on him; a slight smile curved her lips. ‘Will you wait up for me?’ he asked, relieved that perhaps some of her calm had been restored.
‘Of course,’ she breathed. ‘I would do anything for you.’
His mouth slanted into a
smile. ‘I won’t be long. I’ll ring for Janet to assist you while I’m gone.’ As he took his leave, he consoled himself with the thought that the sooner he made the necessary arrangements for dealing with Simon, the sooner he would be back to show Jessie exactly how much she meant to him.
How much he loved her.
Chapter Eighteen
Janet arrived soon after Robert departed. Jessie was thankful that the young girl was all business when it came to helping her change out of her ruined gown. There were no curious questions or comments about Simon’s attack or the various bruises that had appeared on her arms and neck. Nor were there any censorious looks about the fact that she would be installed in Lord Lochrose’s rooms for the night. Jessie was grateful for the girl’s discretion and matter of fact attitude. She rather thought Janet would make an excellent lady’s maid.
Jessie gasped and blushed however when Janet produced her new night apparel—an exquisite nightrail of saffron silk and lace with a matching robe a la francais and slippers; they were obviously additional purchases that Robert had made that afternoon. The fine, almost transparent fabric whispered over Jessie’s skin as she donned the garments. They were certainly not the plain flannel or cambric nightrails she was used to wearing to bed. She wondered what Janet would make of the daring, even scandalous attire, but thankfully the girl continued to be the epitome of discretion.
The ormolu clock on the mantel was close to striking the half hour after midnight when Janet finally departed. Jessie was curiously wide awake despite the late hour. She poured a cup of tea but she was too agitated to drink it. Her emotions leapt wildly from anger at Simon’s assault to trepidation about the potential danger Robert was in, to nervous anticipation of what would happen when Robert returned.
Unable to sit still, she eventually discarded her cup and explored Robert’s suite of rooms—she trusted he wouldn’t mind. The sitting room was richly furnished; a pair of leather wingchairs and a striped damask settee were arranged around a richly patterned Oriental hearthrug by the fireside. A sideboard, desk and bookcase in heavy oak stood at intervals between windows hung with curtains of burgundy velvet. Above the sideboard, she noticed a framed portrait of a distinguished and very handsome couple; the earl at a much younger age, perhaps in his thirties, posed beside a very beautiful young woman with an abundance of light brown curls and large solemn, blue eyes—she was presumably the late Countess of Strathburn, Robert’s mother. Jessie imagined that Robert must feel her absence terribly, just as she missed her own mother.
The Master Of Strathburn Page 27
