by Amy Jarecki
Oh, what a mind-bogglingly, wonderfully, delightfully solid male.
Nor could she admit how much her body craved more, but when they’d been discovered by the countess, she’d felt dirty and ashamed, as if the raw passion she’d shared with Aiden had been lewd.
How could such powerful and heavenly sensations be wrong?
Maddie hissed and shook her head. For pity’s sake, the entire evening had been a disaster.
“Come, child.” Agnes led her to the settee. “Tell me what’s worrying you.”
She pushed the heels of her hands into her temples and shook her head. “My entire life is a calamity.”
“Oh dear.” Agnes sank down beside her. “That doesn’t sound good at all.”
Maddie dropped her hands and looked to the ceiling. “As soon as I was introduced, the Earl of Mar announced to everyone that I am Da’s illegitimate daughter.” She again buried her face in her palms. “I could have died right then and there.”
Agnes smoothed a consoling hand up and down Maddie’s back. “Where was Lord Aiden when this was going on?”
“The doorman suggested we should be announced separately. Lord Aiden went in first, and then Prince George invited him to the high table. When the doorman escorted me to the dais, it was a complete and utter disaaaaaaster!” Maddie hated crying, but the humiliation that had persisted throughout the evening had her insides wound so tight, she could hold in her sobs no longer. With her next breath, tears poured down her face. “I hate London. I hate court and all the pompous, snooty people who think they’re superior to everyone else.”
Agnes produced a linen handkerchief. “There, there. I kent it was a bad idea to come here. Blast Lady Mary for forcing you into this situation.”
If only Maddie were able to talk about Lady Saxonhurst and how the woman had shamelessly flirted with Aiden during the entire meal… and worse, how the countess had seemed sadistically amused when she’d caught Maddie in Aiden’s arms.
Oh God, I’ll never be able to show my face in the Banqueting House again.
A knock came at the door. “Lady Magdalen, is all well?” Of all the untimeliness—Lord Aiden’s deep bass resounded from the passageway.
If only Maddie could melt into the settee and hide for the rest of her days.
What must Lord Aiden think of her? She’d completely forgotten herself in his arms—behaved like an utter tart pressing against him and allowing him to trap her against the wall.
“I’m well,” she said, her voice far too high-pitched as she tried to mask the trembling.
“May I come in?”
Maddie shot a panicked look to Agnes and shook her head, mouthing, “No.”
The lady’s maid sprang to her feet and opened the door a crack. “I’m ever so sorry, Lord Aiden, my lady is not feeling up to having callers at the moment.”
Aiden peered at her through the wee opening. “I understand. Please tell Her Ladyship how much I regret taking liberties. It shan’t happen again.”
“Liberties, Your Lordship?” Agnes threw an alarmed glare over her shoulder.
He cleared his throat. “I’ll not embarrass her further by trying to explain. I only wish to add that her performance this evening moved me. I cannot recall ever hearing music played with such heart and reverence, and I do hope Lady Magdalen will see fit to play again very soon.”
“Thank you, m’lord.” After closing the door, Agnes turned and crossed her arms. “Liberties, m’lady?”
Maddie had known that was coming. She wiped her eyes with the kerchief. “He kissed me.”
“And you allowed it?” Agnes strode back to the settee and plopped down beside her.
Holy crosses, why on earth had Lord Aiden mentioned liberties? And in front of Agnes. “It all happened so fast, I-I was swept away.”
“Is that why you were so flummoxed when you dashed in here, or was it truly because of being named the illegitimate daughter of the Earl Marischal?”
Maddie heaved a sigh. “I suppose it was a bit of both.”
“And you played the harp?”
“Aye, the queen requested it.”
“The queen?” Agnes beamed as if Maddie’s catastrophe had somehow become something to gloat about. “I imagine you captured the heart of every person in the Banqueting House.”
She shrugged. “Some, perhaps.”
“And how do you feel about Lord Aiden?”
“He’s very nice. He has been most accommodating.”
“And he’s handsome. You cannot deny.”
“Aye, then there’s that.” Maddie tried her best not to show any emotion whatsoever.
“But he kissed you?”
“Aye.” Will she please find something else to fixate upon?
“Hmm. You mustn’t forget yourself again, else your father will take the switch to my hide.” Agnes patted Maddie’s hand. “Well, my dear, after the excitement of this evening, I reckon you’ll sleep well.”
I reckon I’ll not sleep at all.
Too many thoughts swirled through Maddie’s head. Lord Aiden had clearly enjoyed the attentions of the countess throughout the meal. And the woman flirted shamelessly. Had she followed them? Did she delight in Maddie’s humiliation?
If only I could sail back to Stonehaven at dawn on the morrow.
Chapter Nine
Aiden awoke with a throbbing headache. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t quite sure he’d slept. After begging for Lady Magdalen’s forgiveness, he’d drowned his woes with a few good tots of whisky. The spirit had only served to make things worse. And this morning he was more confounded than he’d been when his head hit the pillow.
Yes, he liked the lass, but why couldn’t she have arrived in London a fortnight hence? Even if she’d shown up a sennight later, it would have been better. He definitely would have achieved his goal by then. Now it looked as if he was down by the head and sinking fast.
So many times while sleep had eluded him he’d closed his eyes and tried to think about Lady Saxonhurst’s bosom. With his every effort he managed only to see a pair of azure eyes gazing at him with complete trust, and Lady Saxonhurst seemed more like a dragon disguised in courtier’s clothing.
Damn, he felt like a heel.
But weren’t all naval officers supposed to be heels and philanderers? Crass, coarse rakes, debauchers, and downright expert lovers? “A woman in every port” was MacPherson’s motto. Hell, MacPherson swived with such abandon, the lieutenant couldn’t tell one wench from the next.
After slipping out of bed, Aiden poured water into the bowl and splashed his face. Dripping wet, he regarded himself in the looking glass.
A goddamned sailor with a conscience you are, you bastard.
His gaze slipped down to his cock, stiff as a board—too stiff to piss. Damnation, he’d thought abstinence was difficult aboard ship? Try staying at Whitehall with a bonny lass sleeping across the passageway. Every time he inhaled, he smelled lilacs and pure ambrosia of woman. Such temptation could drive a young man to madness.
A door opened and closed.
Aiden hastened to tuck his kilt around his hips while footsteps started. He threw open his chamber door. “Lady Magdalen.”
She stopped and turned, her gaze sliding from his face down to his abdomen. With a wee gasp, her lips parted.
Glancing down, he reconsidered his hastiness. Perhaps he should have pulled a shirt over his head? Well, at least the years aboard ship had toned his form. He had nothing to be embarrassed about.
He leaned his hip against the doorjamb. “Where are you off to, m’lady?”
“Lord Seaforth agreed to meet me at the Tower by ten o’clock.”
Aiden glanced inside his chamber to the mantel clock. “’Tis only half past eight.”
“Aye, but I want to ensure I arrive in plenty of time. I wouldn’t want to miss him.”
He didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “Are you planning to walk there?”
“I was.”
“Alone?”
“No, silly, Miss Agnes just went to fetch her cloak.”
“Miss Agnes needn’t stress herself. I shall escort you.”
The young lady blushed a shade of scarlet. “You mustn’t put yourself out on my account. You are on holiday, after all.”
“Which means I have nothing else I must do.” And there’s no way I’ll sit idle whilst Lady Magdalen meets with the Earl of Seaforth under my nose. “Please, I’ll be but a moment.”
Her gaze again raked down his torso as her tongue slipped to the corner of her mouth. “Very well. I’ll tell Miss Agnes she has earned a reprieve.”
With a fluttering in his belly, Aiden bowed and ducked back into his chamber, wishing he’d employed a valet for the fortnight. He’d thought the maid would be enough. But damn it all, he’d planned on doing more undressing than dressing. Nonetheless, he’d had plenty of practice attending himself aboard ship.
The apartment bell sounded. “I’ve a missive,” called a voice from the outer passageway.
Aiden pulled his shirt over his head.
What the devil? It had best not be a summons to the Royal Mary.
“I’ll fetch it,” Miss Agnes said as she approached, with footsteps clattering. “You shouldn’t be answering doors to gentlemen’s apartments, my dear,” she added with a rather sharp tone for a servant, though she was right. Lady Magdalen could ill afford for her reputation to be sullied by her opening the door to the Duke of Atholl’s apartments, especially when the duke’s son was in residence… alone.
Aiden’s gut clenched for the millionth time.
If only there were truly a scandal for the gossips to prattle about, I mightn’t wake with an erection the size of Mount Olympus.
He made quick work of donning his hose, shoes, waistcoat, doublet, dirk, and sword, and a sgian-dubh in each of his flashes. He then found Lady Magdalen with Miss Agnes in the drawing room.
“Are you expecting to be attacked by highwaymen along the Thames, m’lord?” asked Miss Agnes.
Aiden draped his cloak over one shoulder. “Not at all, ’tis simply attire expected of a naval officer.”
“Well, I think you look dashing,” said Magdalen, blessing him with a radiant smile.
Aiden’s heart skipped a beat. “My thanks.” He bowed. “And where is the missive that just arrived?”
Lady Magdalen patted the pocket attached to her belt. “’Twas from the queen. She invited me to play the harp whilst she attends the card tables this afternoon.”
He arched his eyebrows. “You must have made quite an impression on her.”
“I trust that is a good thing.” Maddie stood. “Unless she wants to flaunt a bastard’s talents and make a spectacle… ‘Ooo, look at the wee ill-born Scottish lassie. At least she has a talent to fall back upon. She’ll be able to join a band of tinkers when she returns to Scotland.’”
“Magdalen!” Miss Agnes chided.
Aiden gave the woman a sharp glare, but held his tongue. Goodness, the serving maid must have been a beauty in her day, but the coif she continually wore atop her head made her appear frumpy.
“I see the queen’s attention as a good sign. It will give her time to come to know you,” Aiden said, offering his arm. “Shall we?”
Once they were outside, the wind off the Thames blew a chilly gale. “Would you prefer to take a coach?”
Magdalen clutched her cloak taut at the neck. “I like to walk.”
“’Tis nice to find a lass who isn’t afraid of the weather.”
She chuckled. “I imagine you’ve met many a squall at sea.”
“Aye, if there’s one thing you can expect aboard ship, ’tis a strong wind. Besides, on the off day when the wind isn’t blowing, the frigate drifts to nowhere.”
“Do you like being in the navy?”
“I suppose.”
“Why did you join?”
“I could have stayed home and supported my father, but a second son must blaze his own path. My brother John, the Marquis of Tullibardine, lurks in Da’s shadow. He’s a good man and will make a far better duke than I.”
“I think you’d be a dashing duke—or marquis for that matter.”
Aiden shrugged. “Well, at least we do not have to worry about that.”
They walked for a time while he pondered his reasons for joining the navy. True, he had left home to elude the label of lesser son. It had been difficult growing up in a stately palace like Blair Castle ever aware that such a life was not for him. And honestly, he wanted to make his way—seek his fortune, be a man of substance, self-made, answering to no one.
“Have you given much thought to what you’ll do once you retire from the navy?” Maddie asked.
“I’ve thought of making a life at sea. Before the Act of Union, I’d set my sights on becoming a navy captain.”
“The merger with the English navy changed your mind?”
“Aye, the English senior officers look down on Scottish-bred officers. Do everything in their power to ensure only Englishmen are promoted as captains.”
“Even if you’ve proven yourself?”
“Even then.”
The lass gave an empathic nod. “That’s kind of like being a bastard. Everyone thinks you’re inferior because of your birth, and no matter how hard you work, you can’t hide from your heritage.”
He chuckled. “I’d never thought of it like that, but you’re right. I suppose bastards have to make their way in this world just like second sons.”
She glanced at him while her teeth grazed her lip. “Do you remember when we strolled atop the wall-walk at Dunnottar?”
“How could I forget?”
“Did you ever think fondly upon our… our… wee tryst?”
“Indeed, I lay awake in my bunk many a night remembering…” Your scent, the softness of your lips… all the things I wanted to do… had there been more time.
“Me as well,” she whispered.
Aiden walked a little taller. In fact, he wasn’t certain his feet were touching the footpath. The tingling of his skin, the lightness of his heart made him feel as if he were soaring. Until Lord Seaforth met them outside the Tower of London’s gates.
The young man had an intensity about him—able-bodied, with a narrow-eyed stare that warned against crossing him. Oddly, he opted not to wear a periwig. Rather his wavy blond hair hung well past his shoulders—he descended from Viking stock for certain.
But Aiden was taller, older, probably smarter, and furthermore, Lady Magdalen was staying in his apartments.
Seaforth held out his hand. “Murray, I’m surprised to see you this morn.”
Aiden gripped the earl’s hand and bowed his head respectfully. “I couldn’t allow Lady Magdalen to walk all the way from Whitehall without an escort.”
“Do you trust him?” asked Seaforth, splaying his fingers.
“Absolutely.” Maddie nodded with a smile. “Lord Aiden has been of great assistance to me.”
Seaforth arched a brow. “Truly?”
“Why are you involving yourself, m’lord?” asked Aiden. “Do you have a plan?”
“I wish it were that easy,” said Seaforth, motioning to the guard to lead on. “I want to meet with the Earl Marischal first.”
Aiden followed, his jaw sore from his clenching his teeth. True, Seaforth wasn’t as tall—mightn’t be as fit, either—but he had the look of a rogue and shoulders as broad as the hindquarters of a stallion. Worse, he was an earl, a bloody firstborn son.
When Lady Maddie placed her palm in Seaforth’s proffered elbow, Aiden hastened to her other side, his finger lightly brushing the back of her hand.
“It must be ever so disconcerting to see your father treated with such disdain,” said the earl.
She drew her hand away from Seaforth’s elbow, thank God. “It is.”
Once they’d surrendered their weapons and had been admitted and taken through the labyrinth of cells, the Earl Marischal rose from his seat and shook hands with Seaforth. “Reid MacKenzie,
what on earth has brought you to London? Has a session of Parliament been called?”
“Not as yet. As a ward of the crown until I attain the age of one and twenty, the queen thinks she’s seeing to my education.”
Aiden looked the earl from head to toe. “How old are you now?”
“Nineteen.” Seaforth winked. “But not to worry, I ken who my da was, and Anne will not be changing political leanings ingrained in me since birth.”
The Marischal scrutinized Aiden as pointedly. “And you, Murray? Do your political leanings align with your father’s?”
Aiden held up his palms. It was common knowledge his father was no Jacobite. “I am my own man. Please do not allow my father’s politics to sway your opinion of me.”
“Ayyyyye?” asked Seaforth, his voice filled with uncertainty.
“If you haven’t heard, the Royal Mary prevented the English warships from opening fire on Prince James’s ships. That wasn’t an accident.” Aiden touched his finger to the tiny rose pin on his lapel—a secret Jacobite sign worn by the sailors aboard the Scottish naval ships. When anyone asked, the sailors would say ’twas in honor of Queen Mary. Little did the others know it was Mary, Queen of Scots, to whom they referred.
His eyes widening with recognition, Seaforth let out a long breath and clapped Aiden’s shoulder. “’Tis good to hear,” he whispered. “Perhaps we’ll see Atholl’s men at the next rising?”
“Many of my father’s men side with…” He looked to the door and cupped a hand over his mouth and whispered, “Scotland.”
Lady Maddie smiled. “I kent it all along.”
Seaforth relaxed his stance. “’Tis a relief to ken the cause has allies in the Royal Navy.”
“I assure you, Captain Polwarth is of like mind.” Aiden looked to the lady and winked.
“That is all very well and good, but it isn’t helping me gain a pardon,” said Marischal.
Magdalen bobbed her head in agreement. “Aye, we haven’t much time.”
Lord Seaforth stroked his chin. “I’ve discussed it with the northern lairds. We are all in agreement that it is best if we can prevent your case from going before a jury.”
