Justine felt very close to children, too. Pippa was certain of this now that she’d seen how Justine had instantly accepted Ella and Max and how she’d taken so active a part in getting them settled at the castle.
Viscount Hunsingore had looked completely horrified at Pippa’s suggestion that he say the children were his. She smiled to herself in the darkness. The viscount had thought her entirely ignorant of the manner in which children came into the world. How surprised he would be if he knew the truth about her education in such matters. That Ella and Max were, indeed, his children was beyond doubt. After all, why would he agree to champion them under any other circumstances? The mystery, given their evident lack of culture, was the identity of their mother and how Struan had come to be in sole possession of them.
Would Calum, Pippa wondered, understand how much she yearned for the company of children? Would he fail to find it strange that she worried about being forced to follow the prescribed rules among people of her class and put her babies into the care of nurses from the moment of their birth? Would he find it in his heart to sympathize with her belief that no small boy should be separated from his parents and sent far away to a school where he was supposed to learn, through the example of bullies, how to become a better man?
“All such a bother,” she murmured. But that was the way of it, and she would have a fight on her hands to change what was considered inalienable tradition.
“Fie,” she exclaimed suddenly and much more loudly than she’d intended. Her attention had wandered, and Calum no longer stood beside the statue in the opening in the tall hedges.
Pippa sped toward the gap and passed through. On the other side, the downward slope became steeper, and since clouds drifted like India-blue scarves across the moon, she had to divide her attention between searching for her quarry and watching where she set her feet.
She reached a place where white marble slabs formed a terrace around an oblong pool. The surface of the water, driven by a breeze, gleamed like crumpled black satin.
Pippa stopped and looked around. There was no sign of Calum now.
Papa would tell her she was making a poor choice in seeking out a man who could only cause her inconvenience. Yes, Papa would call it inconvenience. Not danger. No, Papa would not tell her that at this moment, she was trembling on the brink of throwing the careful order of her life into chaos, chaos that could leave her ruined.
She wanted this danger.
Pippa began walking along the edge of the water toward an elevated fountain that chattered like a sharp rainfall over marble statuary at the end of the pool. The only thing she could do was the only sensible thing to do—return to the castle and her bed. She’d have absolutely no notion of what to say to him if she did encounter him anyway.
“Oh, how surprising,” she said softly in the kind of coy voice she’d heard so many young ladies of the ton employ. “I happened to decide to take a walk in the dark and you happened to decide to do the same thing.” Widgeon.
Sighing, she turned around, stumbled on a crack—and walked into a very solid chest.
“How surprising,” Calum said, settling his hands loosely around her neck. “We both happened to decide to take a walk.”
Her face flamed and she blessed the darkness. “I thought you were ahead…I mean…”
“I know what you mean. I was ahead of you. Then you became distracted and gave me a chance to get behind you.”
Her heart beat so hard she was certain he could hear it. “How did you know where I was? How did you know I was outside?”
“Because you did exactly what I intended you to do,” he said. “I made certain you saw where I was going. Then I set off, hoping you’d follow. And you did.”
Pippa drew in a huge breath but still felt light-headed. “You were very sure of me.”
“No.” He settled his thumbs on the point of her chin and eased her face up. “I wasn’t completely sure.”
“I am not good at word games, Calum.”
“I believe you are good at whatever you decide worthy of the effort. You are not a coquette. Thank God.”
“It was a mistake for me to come after you.”
“Was it?” In the darkness, his teeth flashed white. “Do let me help you change your mind, sweet lady. If you had not come to find me, I should surely have come looking for you.”
Her stomach clenched. The subject must be changed. “What do you think of the castle?”
“I think the castle is magnificent with you in it.”
He was dangerous. “You will enjoy seeing more of the inside. It’s sumptuous. No expense was spared.”
“I shall enjoy exploring—with you.”
“Why do you pursue me?” Her lips remained parted. How could she have been so plainspoken? “I mean—”
“You mean exactly what you said, my lady. I am pursuing you. What I do not understand is your reason for asking me why.”
“I begged you not to come here.”
“You begged because you knew you wanted me to come more than you wanted anything else.”
“No.” She stepped away and he immediately dropped his hands. “I meant that you should not accept the duke’s invitation.”
He laughed and half-turned away from her. “What lies beyond this terrace?”
“Nothing really,” she told him promptly. “The outer walls are not far away. Below them lie a rocky beach and the sea.”
“Ah.” He sought around and gathered up a handful of stones. “The edge of the world. I find I very much enjoy the thought of standing on the edge of the world with you.”
There were no words with which she could answer. Beneath her skin, nerves quivered. She should not remain, yet she could not seem to make her feet move away from him.
Calum faced the sea and shied a rock high into the air. He cocked his head to listen and said, “Nothing,” after what felt like a very long time.
Another white rock soared heavenward and fell without a sound. “We are a very long way above your rocky beach,” Calum said and commenced to hurl rocks, first with one arm and then with the other, with equal strength and accuracy. “Do you know if that rocky beach is the one on which Lady Justine suffered her childhood accident?”
“I believe so.”
“Hmm. She is delightful, isn’t she?”
“I already love her like a sister.”
“You have good taste.”
He puzzled her.
“Come, let us take a turn around the pool.”
There seemed nothing for it but to stroll at his side.
“What would you say if I took your hand?” he asked.
“You must not try to do so. A member of the staff could appear at any moment.”
“I doubt it,” he assured her, turning and walking backward, smiling at her, his black eyes catching moonlight. “Indeed, I doubt it very much. I think everyone thinks I have gone to my rooms because I am tired from my journey. What excuse did you give for leaving the table?”
“That I was tired.”
“There you have it. I am tired from my journey and already slumbering in my bed. You are tired and already slumbering in your bed. Gardeners do not work in the darkness, my sweet. We are quite alone.”
“Do not call me your sweet.” As petulant as she sounded, the attempt at establishing appropriate behavior was essential.
“We can stay here as long as we please—Pippa. Do you know why I think this is so?”
“No doubt you will enlighten me.” They had arrived at the fountain.
“Lady Justine likes me as much as I like her.”
“Conceit becomes no man.”
“I am not conceited, merely honest.” He offered her his hand. “Lady Justine has noted, correctly, that you and I are drawn to each other. If she should discover your absence, she will assume you are with me and say nothing. Take my hand.”
“My maid may well announce my absence.” Pippa pressed her hands into the folds of her skirts. “You should leave Franc
hot in the morning.”
“Not possible.” He continued to offer her his hand. “Your maid is a romantic. She sees us as a man and a woman intended to be lovers.”
“You must not say so,” Pippa said. “I was afraid you would make trouble. That is why I asked you to remain in London. The duke is not a man who will tolerate another’s attention to his future duchess.”
“You said I should not come, yet you look at me constantly.”
She blessed the darkness that hid her blush. “That is an outrageous, unchivalrous suggestion.”
“It is the truth. At dinner, your eyes rarely left my face.”
Mortification froze Pippa in place. For moment after moment she listened to the cascading water, then said, “I have looked at you this evening because I am afraid.”
Calum faced the fountain. At its base was a large bowl that filled with water before overflowing to the rocks below. “This is beautiful,” he told her. “Come and see how oddly serene the surface in the bowl is before it rushes away.”
Cautiously, she walked to look, making certain not to stand too close to him.
“Why are you afraid?” he asked softly.
She could not tell him.
Calum sank the fingers of his left hand into the water. “Strange, it’s almost warm. Feel.”
Slowly, Pippa dipped in her very fingertips.
Calum’s hand moved, just beneath the surface, until he barely touched her. “Water is sensual,” he murmured. “I have always loved water. Even as a small boy, I swam in Scottish lakes where others were afraid to go for fear of dying of the cold.”
“But it did you no harm?”
He chuckled. “It invigorated me. Sometimes I think the water was my mother. Just being close to it brings me utter peace. Do you feel the peace?”
What she felt, he could not possibly imagine. She was all turning and twisting—except for the skin that touched his skin beneath the shimmering surface of the bowl.
“I will ask you again,” Calum said. “Why are you afraid for me to be here?”
“Please do not press me.”
His fingers slipped between hers, lacing them together in the clean warmth of silken water. Slowly, he all but withdrew his touch, only to return it again and lock his grip upon her.
“Can you swim, Pippa?”
“I don’t know.”
“You mean you have never tried?”
“I was never allowed to try.”
“Then I shall teach you. The Channel is most pleasant at this time of year. We’ll locate a suitable spot and you will learn.”
She felt herself blush again. “I could not possibly allow any such thing. Calum, His Grace will be here very shortly and you must be gone before he arrives.”
“I shall not be gone,” he said, sounding entirely unperturbed. “And I am determined to teach you to swim. I cannot have you so close to the sea and unable to do so. I should not rest for a moment.”
She ducked her face and closed her eyes. He sounded as if he cared. So much confusion.
“Surely there is a hollow where children swim. You must have encountered such a place when you spent holidays here.”
“There is, but I shall not go there,” she said with finality. “And now it is time to return to the castle.”
“Not a bit of it.” He continued to clasp their hands together. “When I teach you to swim, you shall wear a chemise. It will be heaven to be with you, to hold you and watch you. Your hair will spread upon the surface and I shall kiss your wet lips until you turn into my arms and forget your maidenly modesty.”
Pippa tried to pull her hand away, a hopeless task.
“But that is for another day,” he said. “You are afraid because you watched me at dinner and thought about the last time we were together.”
“Stop, I beg you.”
“You remembered, darling Pippa. You remembered how it felt to be in my arms, to touch and be touched by me. You remembered how you confessed that you were certain you could not stop yourself from touching me again, intimately, if we were close.”
She held a breath, then let it out slowly. “Yes,” she said simply. “Yes, I was remembering. I’m remembering now.”
“And you would like to repeat what we have shared.”
Although he still held her hand, she turned away from him. “I came after you tonight because I could not stay away.”
She expected him to make a flippant retort. Instead he said, “And I’m here because I cannot stay away.”
Pippa closed her eyes. She had begun to throb in all the places that had surely not even existed before Calum Innes came into her life.
“The difference between us is that you fear what you feel for me. I embrace what I feel for you, sweet Pippa.” He cleared his throat. “If you had truly wanted me not to come here, you wouldn’t have been so hasty to find a place for…for the children.”
“Children are dear to me.” Any caution about what she said seemed to have fled. “I told you as much once before. For a moment—after the viscount spoke of his dilemma—I forgot that I was being rash. I thought only of the plight of his dear children.”
The odd noise Calum made could have been a cough or a laugh. “You are too kind, my lady.”
“Children are the best of what we ever are,” she told him, turning back to look seriously into his face. “They are laughter and light. They are promise. They are clean slates upon which to write great things, or simply good and kind things. We must guard our children well, for they are our future.”
His face was clear in the moonlight. Pippa saw his slanting brows draw together, and an unfathomable expression in his eyes.
“You disagree?” she asked, aware that his answer meant much more than it should.
“You take my breath away,” he told her and, as if to make sure she believed him, brought her dripping hand to his chest and clasped it against him. “Where did you come from, magical one? And where have you been for so long?”
“I have been…I have been,” was the only response she could make.
“You have been.” He nodded. “Yes. And I have been, but when I think that I might never have known you, I am afraid.”
“Ella and Max are Struan’s children, aren’t they?”
He frowned. “No.”
Pippa smiled. “Of course they are. Why else would he go to such lengths for them? Was he married?”
“No.”
“Their mother died.”
“Very probably.
“So the viscount is a widower?”
“No.”
“Fie!” He was vexing her with his mystery. “Tell me the truth of it, then.”
He jutted his face closer to hers and, before she could try to evade, kissed the tip of her nose. “You, my dear, are very persistent. Listen carefully. I shall tell this once and you may accept or not. That is your choice. But I shall not make any other excuse. Do you agree to those conditions?”
She considered before saying, “I agree.”
“Very well. Ella and Max were in very serious trouble in London, through no fault of their own. Struan made a hasty decision. He saw that if they were not rescued from their unsuitable condition, their lives would be ruined. He rescued them. That is all.”
It was Pippa’s turn to frown. “I…I do believe you. But now I want you to agree to something for me. Justine believes they are the viscount’s children by some…unusual union, and she is perfectly at peace with that deduction. I suggest you do not trouble her with stories that would upset her. She is not a happy woman, and I would not willingly cause her more unhappiness.”
“Very well,” he said, almost too quickly. “We shall leave that as it is for now. What makes Lady Justine unhappy?”
It was not her place to discuss her future sister-in-law’s unhappy life. Pippa shrugged. “She should have married and had children of her own. Like me, she was born to be a comfort to a husband and a loving guide to little ones, yet her lot appears to be that of a sp
inster. Please, I should prefer not to discuss this further.”
He was quiet for a long time.
“You will not mention what I have said?” Pippa asked at last.
“I will not,” he said. The stillness that was so much a part of him had descended once more. Thoughtfully, he raised her damp hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle with slow deliberateness.
She could not have stopped him—even if she completely remembered that she should. His touch was drugging. Pippa felt her lips part and could not close them. She rose to her toes and could not make her heels seek the ground again.
Keeping her hands against his mouth, he bowed his head until she could not see his face,
Pippa wanted to stroke his hair.
She wanted to caress his face, his strong neck, his wide shoulders.
His back had felt so good when she’d rested her cheek there.
Pippa needed to press her cheek to his back again—his naked back!
She gasped aloud.
Calum didn’t raise his face.
He was distant now, and…angry?
“You are angry?” It was as much a statement as a question.
Once, twice, he brought his brow down upon her fists; then he released her. He released her and put her, very deliberately, from him. “I am not angry, Pippa.”
He sounded angry. “You would like me to leave now,” she said, backing away.
“Do not leave me.”
The still fury in his voice took her breath away. “What is it, Calum? What is all this? What is happening to us?” She took a step toward him, but he retreated. “Please, tell me how I may comfort you.”
“No one can comfort me,” he told her. There was ice in his voice now.
“But you are in pain.”
“What would you know of pain?” His harsh laugh hurt her. “You have never known confusion. You have never known a moment of doubt. Not about who you are or what your life is bound to become.”
“No,” she said slowly. “That is true.”
“Well, I…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and she saw muscles flicker in his jaw. “I have been deeply troubled about a friend of mine. I have known him a long time, and of late, he has changed. That causes me grave concern.”
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