by Robyn DeHart
She quickly went about dressing herself for the evening’s festivities. As she yanked her simple gown into place, she glared at her reflection in the mirror. Yes, yes, she was quite different from Violet. Her younger sister might have fooled herself with fancies of love and romance, but Vanessa would not be so naïve. Now was not the time to reevaluate her theories. She still firmly believed that love was fleeting, and she wanted no part of it, but right now she had to finish getting ready for the wedding reception.
Vanessa sat at the dressing table putting the last hairpin into place. She wasn’t completely unaccustomed to doing her own hair, because she’d stopped using her chambermaid for everyday life years ago. She simply hadn’t seen the need. Her mother had still required Vanessa to have a proper toilette before attending any soirees or balls, but Vanessa had grown used to dressing herself.
She glanced at her reflection, noting how very different this wedding reception would be compared to the one she would have had with Jeremy. There she would have been wearing that ridiculous ruffled dress her mother had loved so dearly. Tonight she’d donned a simple but pretty green velvet gown. It was far too formal for anything she would have thought to pack for her research expedition, but her trunk had been partially packed with her trousseau when she’d escaped. So the emerald confection, with its cap sleeves and seductive neckline, had come along.
She was thankful the gown had come with matching elbow-length gloves, considering the chilled winter air. As she rolled the satin gloves up her arms, she wondered what her family was doing tonight. Graeme had notified them of their marriage, but she hadn’t yet had the fortitude to send them a letter herself.
What would she say? She knew she had been impetuous and somewhat reckless fleeing the way she had, but she’d been ill-prepared to face Jeremy and Violet. Not to mention the flood of tears her mother, no doubt, cried. Once she and Graeme returned to London, they would face her family together.
They might not be a love match, but he was her husband and she knew that he would stand by her. Perhaps with him at her side, she’d be able to face her family and gracefully accept their apology. But tonight she didn’t have to think about unfaithful fiancés or betraying sisters. Tonight she was a bride.
• • •
Graeme led Vanessa out through the back garden, where the path to the barn was lit by several hanging lanterns. His mother and Old Mazie had decorated the barn itself with more candles than he’d ever seen in one place.
The barn had been cleared of any livestock. All that lingered was the earthy scent of dry hay and well-oiled leather tackle. The large doors were left open to allow guests to come and go freely and enjoy the outside air if the temperatures stayed this pleasant. While it was certainly not warm, the wind had died down considerably.
“Looks like a garden in springtime full of fireflies,” Vanessa said. “It’s lovely.”
Out here in the candlelight, her smile seemed impossibly bright. “You’re lovely,” he said before he’d thought better of it.
She looked at him, surprise lining her features. She didn’t wear her spectacles tonight, and he could see her beautiful eyes. Her copper-colored curls were swept up from her face and hung in a cascade down her back. Her simple green gown looked perfect on her, molding to every curve and accentuating her best features.
“Thank you,” she said. And if he didn’t know better, he would have sworn he’d seen her blush. What kind of woman blushed like a girl at so simple a compliment? One would think that she’d never had a serious suitor before. Graeme was starting to think that Jeremy was a complete idiot.
“You’re welcome.”
He took a moment to wrap her cloak around her shoulders. Perhaps it wasn’t fashionable, but Scottish nights this time of year were very cold. Still, tradition brought everyone outside, and the dancing and the ale kept them warm.
They walked silently for a moment. Not many guests had arrived yet, and they were able to find some privacy beneath a large oak tree. She turned to him, looked up and met his gaze, and said, “I’ve been considering the matter, and I’ve decided that we shouldn’t have relations anymore.”
“What?” he asked, unsure he’d heard her correctly.
“Yes, it seems to me that it is far too distracting for me.” She crossed her arms over her body. “It takes my focus off my research, the entire reason I came here to begin with, not to mention assisting you with the work you’re doing.” Her arms uncrossed, and she clasped her hands in front of her.
Graeme thought if given the choice, he’d certainly choose to make love to his wife over having her assistance with his search.
“Up until now,” she continued, “I thought that the reason I’d been unable to complete any work, outside of my study, was because of my family. First my father refused to allow me to entertain thoughts of being a scientist. Once he died, I was finally able convince my mother, but she’d have a fit of the vapors if I went anywhere near caves or spoke of traveling to far-off lands for more exploration. She wanted me to be content with merely reading books.”
Graeme certainly knew what it was like to have your parents not understand aspects of your life. His own father had never understood, nor accepted, his desire to embrace his Scottish heritage.
“I merely need to know that I can do this, actually search and locate fossils.”
“Did you not already collect one?” he asked. She’d already shown him the small fern fossil that she’d removed from a rock.
“I did, and that was wonderful, but it is only the beginning. And I still need to locate that cave where Mr. McElroy found that bone.” She sighed heavily. “I do realize that as your wife, it is a required activity some of the time, and I will do what is necessary”—she held a finger up—“for procreation, but recreationally, I find it far too distracting.” She released a heavy breath. “So if it is all the same to you, I would prefer if you kept from touching me in any fashion.”
Graeme fought a smile. There was no need to embarrass her. “I see. And you’ve been thinking about this for a while?”
She nodded. “Ever since that first time.” Her forehead looked pinched as she frowned. “This afternoon confirmed my feelings on the matter. I admit that relations are far more pleasurable and entertaining than I would have guessed.” Her head tilted. “I suppose I fully understand poor Jeremy’s infatuation with my sister.”
Graeme’s stomach muscles tightened. “Are you saying that you’re infatuated with me?”
“Heavens no.” She brought a hand to her chest in relief. “But I believe I was on my way to being precisely that. Had I not had the mind to put a stop to the foolishness.”
“You believe sex is foolishness.” Now he couldn’t help himself; he smiled. She found their lovemaking distracting because she enjoyed it. Regardless, Graeme determined there was more research to be done in the area.
“I suppose it has the potential to become a vice. Just as gambling does if one isn’t careful, especially for people who have great passion.” She frowned and looked up at him. “That is how it is between us, intense passion. Correct?”
Graeme swallowed, thankful that the guests hadn’t yet started to approach them, but he could hear voices coming from the pathway. He nodded. “Yes.”
“But it is not always so explosive,” she said.
“No, it isn’t.”
She nodded. “As I suspected. I merely need to focus on my research, and we have this puzzle to figure out about your cousin. And we mustn’t forget your own search.” She exhaled slowly. “We have much to accomplish.”
Her logic was faulty, but her belief solid. It would take considerable persuading to sway her position. “And to do all of that means we cannot have relations?” he asked.
“Precisely. We’ll be so busy we probably won’t even notice.”
But Graeme was not so certain of that fact. Even now, he remembered how it had felt to plunge into her on that desk, to feel her shudder with release. Desire stirred through his
groin.
“Come and enjoy,” his mother called out as she walked toward them. “Guests have been arriving for a while now.” She clasped Vanessa’s hands. “This isn’t as grand a party as you would find in London. We’re simple people. But hopefully it will suffice.”
“It’s perfect. Better than any party I’ve been to,” Vanessa said, and though he didn’t know for certain, he would guess she was being completely sincere.
Moira glowed. “Thank you, dear.” She pulled Vanessa forward. “I have some people I’d like you to meet.” And then his mother took his bride away from his side.
He watched the two women walk through the crowd, stopping to greet people. Vanessa never faltered in shaking someone’s hand or offering them a warm smile. She seemed to shine beneath all the candlelight. Her skin was ivory and flawless. And the stars above seemed to agree, shining down upon her as if she were one of them, misplaced and walking the earth tonight.
Graeme spied his brother standing off to the side, leaning against a tree. He made his way over to him.
“Why the deep scowl, Dougal?” he asked. He playfully punched him in the arm.
Dougal’s frown only seemed to deepen. He shrugged.
“Why are you not out there asking the pretty girls to dance?” Graeme would have thought this was the perfect place for a seventeen-year-old boy. It seemed the entire village had turned out, and the barn was practically crawling with girls Dougal’s age.
“Not interested,” he said with a shrug. “We could go inside, though, and talk the way we used to. About all of your research and the men in your club.”
“Well, you know I can’t leave the party, boy. Mother hosted this for me and Vanessa. But we can talk later if you’d like.” He knew he’d been the only father Dougal had ever known, and he’d tried to do right by the boy, but his duties in London kept him away from Scotland longer than they used to. “Besides, you know how Mother can be when you do something that annoys her.”
Dougal eyed him, then nodded. He was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. “Do you love her?”
“Of course I do; she’s our mother,” Graeme said.
“No, your wife.” Dougal never took his eyes off of Vanessa, who currently was shaking hands with the neighbors.
“No, I don’t. But I only recently met her. It’s far too soon to love her.” He wasn’t even certain that he ever would. It didn’t seem that marital love was found in his family. If he were like his father, he probably wasn’t even capable of love.
“Why’d you marry her, then?” Dougal asked, meeting Graeme’s gaze.
That was far too complicated to answer honestly. The question wasn’t so much why he’d married her, but why had he stayed married to her. And his lustful reaction to Vanessa’s seduction was not something that he wanted to discuss with his younger brother. “A man needs a wife,” he said simply. Not completely untrue.
“Father and Mother never stayed together.”
“But they remained married.” As if that meant anything. He shook his head. “Our father was a bastard.”
Dougal’s expression pinched, and something akin to hatred lined his features. “I don’t believe you; he was a good man.”
“Well, you never met him, did you?” The lad knew nothing. Although their mother had always spoken kindly about their father where her boys were concerned, Graeme knew the truth. He saw no reason to paint a sweeter picture for Dougal. He was old enough now. “I lived with the man, and I know what I’m talking about.”
Dougal shook his head and stared straight ahead.
Graeme followed his brother’s gaze and found him once again staring at Vanessa. “She’s beautiful,” Graeme said.
“I guess.”
Perhaps Dougal hadn’t gotten to the age where he noticed much about women. Although that didn’t seem right: Graeme had been chasing skirts before his fourteenth birthday.
“Someday you’ll understand.”
“I’m not a child,” Dougal said, then stormed off.
Graeme sighed. Perhaps he’d forgotten how it was to be a boy. With a shake of his head, he made his way back over to Vanessa. The band was getting ready to start, and the makeshift dance floor sat empty. It was a far cry from a London ball, but there was laughter and good music and ale.
“Care to dance?” he asked.
Vanessa smiled, but looked up at him shyly from beneath her lashes, a move he wouldn’t have thought that she would know how to do. Evidently she knew how to flirt, or perhaps that sort of behavior came natural to all women. “The band hasn’t started yet,” she replied.
“They’ll know what to do.” He pulled her to him, then headed out to the dance floor. Four topiaries marked the corners on the square ground, creating the boundary. They were alone there, dancing beneath the stars and surrounded by the candlelight. He pulled her tight to his body, and the band followed their lead.
The Raven stood in the trees hidden by the darkness. Silently he watched the boy in front of him aim the pistol. The boy’s arm shook as he focused on his target. The Raven looked past Dougal to where Graeme and Vanessa stood talking to some guests. The party had been going on for hours now, and Dougal had left nearly two hours before. The boy had paced in the woods for a while, holding the gun at his side before he’d finally made his way to a grove of trees close enough to actually hit his target.
All the while, The Raven had hid in the darkness watching and waiting. It was not often that he misjudged people, so he fully expected Dougal to take action. Especially after their conversation earlier that day.
Dougal had sought him out at Niall’s house and had seemed relieved when he’d found The Raven alone. “I am grateful for your counsel, but there is nothing to be done about my brother’s wife,” the boy had said.
The Raven had contemplated a moment before speaking. “That’s not entirely true.” He selected each word before he spoke. “If she were injured, she would have to leave here. You don’t have the requisite medical attention to handle certain types of injuries.”
It wasn’t the plan The Raven had hoped for, but it was a start. And chances were it would get Graeme out of his way. No doubt the doting husband would follow his injured wife—go along with her to ensure her safety and healing.
Dougal said nothing, merely stood there silently considering The Raven’s suggestion.
“You should shoot her,” The Raven said. “Aim for her leg or somewhere else that wouldn’t threaten her life.”
The Raven merely hoped the boy was a wretched shot and mortally wounded the girl. That would get Graeme out of the picture long enough for The Raven and Niall to complete their work here.
“I will meet you in the woods and show you precisely how easy it is to hurt someone.” The Raven sipped his tea. “Don’t disappoint me, Dougal, or perhaps it will be that brother of yours who is injured.”
Now, here in the woods, the boy stood holding the gun, aiming it in the direction of the party. “Shoot her,” The Raven whispered, although he knew he was too far away for the boy to hear.
The Raven needed Graeme out of Scotland, and killing or wounding his wife seemed the easiest solution. Graeme would be far too distracted to continue nosing into his cousin’s practices. The Raven had seen such behavior with Fielding when the fool had been so worried and protective over Esme. The man had been unfocused, and he’d made mistakes. Men became weak when it came to women. The Raven had once been so foolish, but never again. He was certain the same thing would happen with Graeme as soon as his wife was in danger. He’d be consumed with concern and leave The Raven and Niall to finish their work in peace.
No more Graeme meant no more Solomon’s to prevent him from achieving his goal.
It was a perfect plan.
But only if the boy actually fired the shot. Every moment that ticked by decreased the odds of it happening. It was time to intervene, encourage the boy.
The Raven silently made his way to where the boy stood. “Problem?” he asked upo
n approach.
The boy started at The Raven’s voice. “I haven’t had a clean shot,” Dougal said.
“You have one now,” The Raven said. At the moment Graeme and Vanessa were standing alone beside a large tree.
Dougal’s arm shook. “She’s ruining everything,” he said. Then he cocked the gun. There was a sharp pop, and a moment later, The Raven watched as the girl fell to the ground.
Party guests screamed, and Graeme, instead of falling to his knees to tend to his dying wife, looked out into the trees. He would not see anything. The area where he stood amidst the candlelight was far too well lit, and the surrounding woods conversely dark as pitch. Still he looked out, and The Raven felt as if the large Scot stared directly at him.
The Raven took several steps backward. If Graeme were to see anyone there, pistol in hand, he’d only find his younger brother. A realization such as that should keep the man doubly occupied. With a dead wife and a murderer for a brother, Graeme would be far too busy to worry about what his cousin was up to.
Perfect for The Raven to complete his plan. The Kingmaker was almost his.
Graeme stared out into the woods, toward where the shot must have come, but he saw nothing. He wanted to run out there, but whoever had shot her would see him coming and have plenty of time to flee and hide. What Graeme needed to do now was tend to her wound. With one last look into the darkness, he cursed, then turned to face his wife.
“Move!” he shouted, trying to clear the crowd of people out of the way. He knelt and scooped her into his arms and carried her into the house. Without a word to anyone, he brought her all the way into his bedchamber and laid her on the bed. His hands moved all over her, checking for any sign of injury. Her body was limp, her skin cold to the touch, but he didn’t find much blood.
He didn’t wait to patiently unfasten her pretty gown. Instead he ripped the bodice until he’d revealed the wound. Her shift stuck to her side where the blood slowly seeped. He gently tugged the fabric away until her torso was mostly uncovered. The bullet had entered her side, and then exited in a similar place on her back. It was not a dangerous injury, as only the fleshy part at her waist had been pierced.
