It really was most inconsiderate of him to not elucidate to her and to ignore her like a ratty cat he’d dragged home.
Why, even Prince—truly the homeliest, but sweetest dog she’d ever laid eyes upon—received more attention than she did. The bedraggled beast was constantly at his side, and several times she’d caught him passing Prince a tasty morsel or stopping to pet his shaggy, mottled head.
Sighing, she bit the inside of her cheek in self-reproach and pretended to pick a speck of lint off the light green silk gown she wore.
“Och, I’m sure it grieves ye greatly to think about yer aunt.” Kendra cast her a sidelong, sympathetic glance. “Liam mentioned that ye intend to return to Edinburgh to set her affairs in order.”
“Aye, but I’m no’ sure when that will happen.” He’d warned Emeline he couldn’t leave straightaway, but worry and edginess bared their tiny sharp claws and regularly dug them into shoulders and spine, shredding her patience.
Skye, her eyes as clear and bright blue as the September sky above, smiled gently. “I cannot imagine how lost you must feel, Emeline. I’ve only been away from my parents for a mite over a week. I think of them constantly and miss them dreadfully.” She exchanged a serious glance with Kendra. “I’m an only child, and Liam is my guardian if something should happen to them.”
“Nothin’ is goin’ to happen to Aunt Martha or Uncle Charles, Skye.” Kendra’s no-nonsense tone brooked no argument. “Yer father will make a full recovery. He’s too stubborn to do otherwise. Just ye wait and see.”
“I pray so, and I’m so thankful I have you, Kendra, and Aunt Louisa and Liam.” Skye’s bravado faltered, and tears swam in her eyes. She produced a brave, if somewhat tremulous smile. “Was your aunt your only remaining relation?”
“I have distant relatives in France, but I’ve never met them,” Emeline said. “Honestly, I have nae desire to.”
“What will ye do?” Kendra’s dove-gray eyes shone with concern. Who’d have thought this spirited woman would be so considerate and generous to a stranger?
I think…” Emeline stared across the tidy, manicured gardens, contemplating the decision she’d arrived at early this morning. Musings of a certain brawny Highlander kept her thoughts tumbling pell-mell around in her head and also had kept sleep at bay. “I think I shall sell my aunt’s modiste shop.” She hitched a shoulder. “I have neither the skill nor the desire to operate such an establishment.”
She’d sell if she was the beneficiary of her aunt’s will. If not…
“Emeline?”
Arms linked, the three women turned as one as Liam skirted a rose-smothered arbor.
He strode across the terrace, approaching with sinuous grace, that made her insides tumble and her knees unhinge. Why must he have this effect on her? His hopelessly long legs covered the distance between them in short order, and he bowed his head in greeting. “Emeline, may I have a few moments of yer time, please?”
Emeline’s heart leaped with excitement and pleasure. “Of course. Please excuse me, Kendra, Skye.”
The cousins linked arms and continued on their way, their heads bent near.
Liam reached Emeline, and she offered a tentative smile. “Have ye learned somethin’?”
“I prefer we spoke in the privacy of my study.” Taking her elbow, he glanced over her head, and she turned to look in the direction he peered.
Kendra and Skye had given up any pretense of subtlety and stared boldly at them, their expressions speculative.
“Och, dear. Do ye suppose…?” Heat suffused her that couldn’t be blamed on the mild day. She jutted her chin in his sister’s direction. “Ye dinna suppose they think there’s somethin’ between us?”
“I havena a clue what occurs in the heads of young women. Particularly that of my sister and cousin. Neither do I want to ken. The notion fairly terrifies me.” He steered her toward the house, his manner brusque and businesslike, once more.
Where had the caring, concerned man in the cottage gone? This man was a stranger.
“Thank God, ye’re a woman with a sensible head upon her shoulders,” he muttered.
Aye, sensible. Practical. Ordinary.
A few minutes later and unexpectedly nervous, she sat in a comfortable green and gold brocade armchair in front of his impressive mahogany desk. She hadn’t been in the study before, and the chamber bore Liam’s presence like a mantle.
Attired in a tobacco-brown jacket, a plaid waistcoat, and breeches, rather than trews or a kilt, he presented a striking feature. His hair and beard had been trimmed, creating a rather dashing, swashbuckler’s mien. The man fairly left her breathless with a single glance, and she distracted herself by examining his male dominion.
Dark wood paneling covered the walls and matching shelves paralleled the green marble fireplace. Ancient Scottish weaponry, targes, and two full suits of armor adorned the masculine room. No fire crackled in the hearth, but thick, gold cords tied back the deep forest green draperies festooning the two tall windows. Sunlight spilled into the austere chamber, adding a degree of welcome and warmth he hadn’t offered.
“I wanted ye to see this straightaway.” He pushed a newssheet across the desk and pointed to an article.
The headline read: POPULAR FRENCH MODISTE FLASH FLOOD VICTIM
Emeline inhaled sharply and clasped her throat. She pulled the sheet closer, swiftly reading the first paragraph. “Och, they found Aunt Jeneva’s body.” Brows drawn together, she glanced up. “How did they ken who she was?”
“I dinna ken.”
Something in his voice raised an alarm, and trepidation skittered down her spine.
“Read the rest, lass,” he encouraged.
Heiress Emeline LeClaire is still missing and feared dead.
“There’s been a mistake.” She sagged back into the chair, and pointed at the newspaper. “I’m no’ an heiress. I’m illegitimate.”
Liam skirted his desk and sank into the chair beside her. He took her icy hand between his warm palms, and she wanted to crawl into his lap and beg him to help her make sense of this.
“Em, what if ye’re an heiress? Perhaps yer aunt didna ken. Perhaps she did. But if ye are, that would explain why someone targeted ye. And this…” He tapped the paper with his fingertip, “might well be a ruse to flush ye out.”
She gulped, fear burrowing into her stomach. Would a killer go to such an extreme?
He scowled, his handsome features transforming to a seasoned warrior’s fierceness. “There’s even a reward for news of ye. I’d say someone grows desperate or is runnin’ out of time.”
Time for what?
She shook her head, unable to comprehend what the newspaper claimed. Mouth pursed and jaw set, she lifted the newssheet and read the entire article. Three times.
“It says here, they continue to look for me. Just precisely who are they?” She met his concerned gaze, fear pulsing through her. “Liam, I need to ken the truth. I need to ken what this is all about. To find out who these people are.” She shoved the newssheet away. “Perhaps…” She glanced out the window panes to the terrace dotted with pots filled with greenery, feeling more alone than she ever had in her entire isolated life. “I’ll even need to travel to France.”
The notion terrified rather than excited her.
“I dinna want to mention it in front of Skye, but France isna a safe place to visit right now. There’s plague there,” he informed her gently.
God above. Plague? Poor Skye. If her father…
“Perchance, ye had kin that succumbed, and that’s why ye inherited,” he offered.
Could that be true?
Aunt Jeneva had been utterly ashamed of Emeline’s bastardry. But she had mentioned that distant cousin and hinted Emeline should consider marrying him. It had struck her as odd then, and even more so now.
Surely that meant her aunt had corresponded with family recently.
Mayhap she could hire a companion to accompany her on the journey.
Ho
w could she without sufficient funds?
The paltry amount in Aunt Jeneva’s purse wouldn’t begin to cover the expense. But her aunt had money hidden in Edinburgh. Straightening her spine and lifting her chin, she made a decision.
“Liam, I’m returnin’ to Edinburgh. The answers are there. I’m certain of it.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger. “My aunt hid money in her shop, and any important documents will be there as well. However, I believe it prudent to travel under an assumed name. I shall be Margaret Wilson.”
He scratched his forehead then ran his hands over his beard. His gorgeous gray eyes narrowing to shrewd slits, he gave a thoughtful nod. “I think ye’re right. We can leave in two days’ time.”
“Ye mean it?” Relief flooded her and grateful tears stung her eyes. “Ye’ll go with me?”
She hadn’t dared hoped, and pride prevented her from asking. He’d done so much already. Truthfully, she didn’t want to leave him, dreaded returning to Edinburgh and all the memories awaiting her there. Nevertheless, she must get to the bottom of whatever was going on. It was impossible to go on with her life until she did.
“Jo, I told ye I wouldna abandon ye.”
A tear dribbled from the corner of her eye.
“Dinna cry.” His voice grew rough, and he brushed her cheek with his finger. “I canna bear to see ye distressed.”
A frisson spiraled outward from his touch, and another coiled low in Emeline’s belly. She fought the urge to close her eyes and rub her face against his hand.
Why did he have this power over her?
Why must her heart yearn for a broken, wounded man, incapable of loving anymore?
No, not incapable—unwilling. His wife had ruined him. Such ire heated her blood at the injustice, she bit down hard on her lip.
He cleared his throat and dropped his hand to his knee. His expression became meditative again. “I’ll open up the house in Edinburgh. I think we should ask Kendra, Skye, Quinn, and Broden as well as Mother, too, come along. She can act as chaperone, and she’ll want to oversee the servants, in any event. It will be safer for ye there, and nae one will notice one more person if we arrive en masse. Ye can travel as one of the housemaids.”
Such a production would be sure to draw attention, wouldn’t it? Although, he had a valid point about her blending into the chaos. Or mayhap, he wanted all of those people around because he wanted to make sure they were never alone together.
That hurt. Far more than she could admit to herself.
Rife with reluctance, she bit her lower lip. “I’m loath to ask yer family and friends to inconvenience themselves in such a manner.” She was also horridly conflicted about him. As much as she wanted to spend time in his company—wanted so very much more—his presence was sweet torture.
In this vast house and even vaster rolling lawns and zealously attended gardens, she might admire him from afar. However, in a smaller house, keeping her powerful feelings masked would prove substantially more problematic.
At the moment, the modest, uncomplicated life of a humble seamstress held great appeal.
Liam released a sound, half-snort and half-laugh drawing her from her reveries. As always, her heart kicked up a notch when he laughed. He should do so more often.
She’d love to be the one who caused his happiness and make him enjoy life again. But how did one win the heart of a man determined to rebuff love? A man so wounded, he rejected and scoffed at the very principle of love?
“Kendra will be thrilled,” he said. “And I think Skye could use the distraction. Her father is gravely ill. Mother, on the other hand, hasna been to Edinburgh in years, so she may initially be a mite reluctant.”
“But yer friends? They dinna ken me. Why would they help?” Emeline asked.
“Quinn lives for intrigue, and he has connections that can be verra valuable for things like this. Broden is like a brother to me, and I trust him with my life. He kens I’d do the same for him if he asked. They’ve stayed on here at my behest, to help guard ye.”
Well, that answered that question.
“If ye’ve nae objection, I like to send word to Graeme and Camden Kennedy as well as Logan Rutherford and Coburn Wallace apprisin’ them of what’s occurred. I believe they could be of tremendous help as well.”
So many? Was that really necessary?
She searched his beloved face, reading the concern and determination there. She must trust him in this. If only he would trust her with his heart. “I’ve been meanin’ to write Berget and Arieen as well. I just wasna sure what exactly I should say since we dinna want them to ken about my aunt’s murder.”
He rubbed his nose, looking slightly abashed. “I already told my mother, Quinn, and Broden the truth about the murder and our stay at the cottage. I felt they needed to ken given we might have a need to protect ye. I didna think Kendra and Skye needed to ken. It would only upset them. Mother told me she made it clear they are no’ to discuss the flash flood with ye.”
A sparrow swooped in to perch on a stone bench situated against a dry rock wall outside the study. Nervous and curious, it peered through the window panes, cocking its tiny head.
Emeline envied the small creature its freedom and lack of worries.
“I’ll ask the others to meet us here the day after tomorrow. In the meanwhile, we need to formulate a plan.” He flicked the edge of the folded paper. “I believe this is significant. Emeline, and I suspect ye may verra well have a relative who dinna want ye to inherit.”
“I canna believe it. Why wouldna my aunt have said somethin’? Surely she must’ve kent.” Tears blurred her vision, and familiar grief crushed her chest.
It was an awful thing to be alone the world; not knowing who to trust and not having anyone to rely upon. Except for this man, out of the goodness of this nature, had stepped in to help her. And now on her behalf, he’d impose upon his family and friends as well.
She searched his impenetrable eyes, seeking any hint of the passionate man who’d held her in his arms and kissed her so ravenously in the cottage. The man she would have willingly given herself to had she not been certain remorse and regret would’ve assailed him afterward.
Once more, Liam had barricaded himself behind those walls of indifference, and though he was kind and well-meaning, she hadn’t caught a glimpse of that tender man again.
Deep in the most secret places of her heart, the tiniest spark glowed that, perhaps, she meant something to him. Because he’d been hurt and scared, he mightn’t recognize it himself, but what if she could fan the ember into flame?
What if she were daring enough to woo this Highland warrior and help him heal? To put the past behind him and look to the future? To learn to trust and love again?
Did she have the gumption? Could she take the chance, even if she failed?
Emeline inhaled on a silent sob. Scalding tears tracked down her cheeks for what he’d suffered, the loss of her aunt, and the base fear for her life that hadn’t subsided, leaving her tense and vulnerable.
He caressed her cheek with his thumbs and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Dinna cry, jo. I canna bear to see ye so wretched.”
“I regret inconveniencin’ ye again, Liam.” She quirked her mouth into a sad, wry smile. “I have nothin’ to offer in return.”
He lifted her hand and, after turning it over, kissed her wrist. A thrill jolted to her elbow and skated up to her shoulder. How she craved his touch.
Bending near, he skimmed his firm mouth across hers. He tasted of whisky and raspberries. “I dinna expect anythin’ in return. Let me do this for ye.”
“Why?” She detected a glimpse of warmth in his quicksilver eyes that he tried so hard to hide.
“Because, I quite like rescuin’ ye.” He gave her a boyish grin and dropped a kiss onto her nose.
The smile bending her mouth held hope. “And I quite like bein’ rescued by ye.”
She’d like much more, too. Much more. But she needed to proceed cautiously, else chance losing h
im forever.
His attention gravitated to her mouth, and he leaned close once more. The heat of his body beckoned, a powerful, irresistible summons.
Trembling with need, she closed her eyes, tilting her chin up in silent invitation. Just as he settled his wonderful mouth upon hers, and she twined her arms around his neck spreading her fingers through his pitch-black hair, a single sharp rap echoed at the door.
As if branded by a fire-heated sword, Liam jerked upright. His breathing rasped harsh and loud as he stood and swiftly went around to the other side of the desk.
Disoriented, Emeline struggled to bring her own arousal under control and don an appearance of equanimity.
“Emeline?” He observed her, waiting for her to compose herself.
Head tilted, she schooled her features into blandness. “I’m fine. Answer the knock.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line, he called, “Aye?”
The door opened and Simmons stepped inside. “Sir, Graeme Kennedy is here to see ye. He says ’tis most urgent, otherwise I wouldna have interrupted ye.”
His gaze slid to Emeline, and to her credit, she managed to return his curious regard with a benign expression. At least, she prayed to all the saints, that she looked unaffected and he wouldn’t notice her high color.
“He says it pertains to Miss LeClaire.”
Chapter Ten
Edinburgh
Five days later
Pulling the shade aside an inch, Liam leaned forward and examined the bustling shopping district from the carriage window. The tasteful businesses lining the crowded, cobbled wynd invited wealthy patrons to step within and explore.
He fixed his attention on a cobalt blue door belonging to a building on the corner. The white numbers twenty-four stood out in bold relief against the bright background of Jeneva LeClaire’s modest establishment. An elegant dark blue oval sign hanging from a slightly rusty black scrolled bracket read, La Chic Modiste, as it swung gently in the breeze.
To Woo a Highland Warrior Page 10
