Reaching the far wall and turning back, Iain discovered his uncle once more watching his every step. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, he decided to broach the subject that they had so studiously avoided for hours.
‘I intend to apologise to Miss Fairchild and leave as soon as we conclude our business, sir. I understand how…’ His words drifted off, because the wrong ones kept coming to mind.
Lovely.
Desirable.
Delicious.
All ways he would describe the kiss and the young woman, but none appropriate when trying to mitigate one’s behaviour.
‘I know you two spent much time together when she visited Broch Dubh as a child, but I thought it was nothing more than a childhood fancy.’
Iain could not lie to this man. ‘As did I. Aunt Clarinda and the Countess passed on a few letters from Julia during my convalescence, but I did not read them and have not spoken to her for five years.’ He walked closer and smiled. ‘Until I saw the bewitching young woman across the room last evening I had no idea of the beauty she’d grown to be these last years.’
‘Iain,’ Robert said as he stood and approached his side. ‘The Earl and Countess have expectations…’ Robert stuttered then, as though his words were jumbled in his brain. ‘Several of the young men included in this Christmas gathering…’
Taking pity on his uncle, who was clearly as uncomfortable discussing the situation as he, Iain shook his head. ‘Sir, I understand the situation fully. I only wish I could explain why I did it,’ he glanced over at the secluded corner and back to his uncle.
‘Heh?’ His uncle laughed then. ‘Any fool with eyes could tell you why you did it, Iain. Even an old married man like me cannot miss the appeal of such a one as Miss Julia.’ Putting a hand on his shoulder, his uncle continued, ‘But appreciating such a young woman and acting on it are two different things.’
Instead of bringing comfort, the hand felt heavy, weighing down Iain’s heart in a way he could not explain. ‘I understand, sir. Truly.’ He turned now and faced the Laird. ‘I do not aim for something I cannot attain.’
Walking back to the desk, he stumbled on the last step. His mind was already rebelling against the possibility of never seeing her again.
His uncle’s strong hand on his arm steadied his stance. ‘I would expect nothing less from you, Iain. But I know that your aunt knows what happened between you and Julia, even if she saw nothing. I will have to answer her questions when next we meet. I simply wish to remind you of your duties and of the lady’s honour.’
Iain nodded his head and picked up the remaining folders on the desk, stuffing them somewhat haphazardly into his satchel. ‘Would you like to continue after dinner, then?’
‘From the look on your face, I think we have done enough for this day. Give yourself a rest tonight and we can finish in the morning. Another day or so and you can continue on to London.’
Not certain if that was a dismissal or a reprieve, Iain picked up his satchel, grasped his walking stick in his hand, and offered a slight bow to his uncle on leaving.
In that moment he wished more than he ever had in the years since the accident that he could run. His chest burned with unreleased pain and he wanted nothing more than to drop his satchel and his stick and run: down the hall, out of the Earl’s country house and away. Far enough away to avoid the truth he now knew—he had much stronger feelings for Julia than he could have dreamed possible.
Robert MacLerie, Marquess of Douran, watched his nephew’s confusion as he gathered up his belongings and left. The pain he spied on Iain’s face was not all physical, and not all caused by the terrible damage the overturning carriage had caused. Running his hands through his hair, he worried on what else he had witnessed in the Earl’s library this morning.
Not just the kiss exchanged by Iain and Julia.
Oh, aye, that kiss was enough to worry over, but Robert had seen something in Iain that he’d thought the pain and suffering had obliterated—a young man’s longing for a lovely young woman. Something he had never dared hoped to see after the physicians’ dire predictions.
That, along with Iain’s obvious interest in Julia, told Robert that trouble was on the way.
Of course after watching his nephew struggle away from death’s door and his intense and anguishing recuperation, he was thrilled at this very normal reaction in Iain. And part of him—the part of his heart that loved Iain as a son—cheered on this milestone in his recovery.
Instead of the grimace of pain that never quite left his nephew’s face, always shadowing his gaze, a healthy flush of colour filled it even now. Instead of the living ghost of the young man he was meant to be, an Iain he had only prayed to see had shown himself. But now, instead of hope and expectation between two young persons for their future together, he saw defeat take hold once more, just before Iain turned from him.
Robert looked around the library for something to drink. He needed something to fortify him—nay, more to wash away the bitter taste his words of warning had left behind. He’d like nothing more than to encourage Iain on his path back to normality, but a future with Julia was not to be part of that. Still, the signs that Iain could be interested, could pursue something in this personal nature of things, gave him a renewed sense of hope for the boy.
Knowing that Trey kept a potent bottle of his own personal favourite whisky stored in a cabinet here somewhere, Robert searched until he found it and helped himself to a generous portion of the uisgh beathe—he would need it before facing his wife and the Countess to discuss this morning’s incident.
Sitting behind the Earl’s desk, and savouring both the taste of the brew and the strength of purpose it seemed to give, Robert spotted the bundle of green and red hanging from the ceiling over the secluded corner and groaned.
Damn the Countess’s mistletoe!
Chapter Five
Julia did not see Iain for the next two days. She looked for him in the mornings, but he did not join the rest of the group for their early meal, nor the noon one either. Nor the evening one.
He did not join in the entertainments, nor in outings to the neighbouring estate to make the Earl’s annual visit. And he certainly did not attend the evening balls and dances arranged for the guests’ pleasure…and for her sister’s purposes.
Now, peering out through the red salon’s windows and watching the fat snowflakes drift down from the sky on their journey to the ground, she wondered if she would ever see him again. The only good thing about this downturn in the weather was that it assured his travelling on to Town did not occur.
Julia shook her head at that reference. She was, she feared, becoming more English every day. Thinking of London as ‘Town’ was only one more proof of it. Not that she didn’t enjoy the pleasures it had to offer, both in culture and society, and in the more intellectual pursuits as well, but the fact that she thought of it in that way just pointed out how much of her Scottish upbringing was eroding.
Lady Sutcliffe’s complaints over the snow invaded her private thoughts. The older woman was decidedly against the thought of venturing out into the cold day, which only convinced Julia more of the rightness of the plan. Though she’d renewed her efforts to be the perfect lady after her ‘lapse in judgment’, as Clarinda referred to it, she already grew bored of it.
She wanted nothing more than to throw off the raiments of society and frolic in the newly fallen coating of snow. Glancing back at the boring company in the salon, Julia longed for nothing else.
Well, that was not totally true. She longed for another kiss from Iain. She longed to test the attraction she felt for him now that he’d demonstrated he was not immune to her. Folly, surely? But how else could she know the truth and depth of her feelings? Feelings that threatened everything her sister was so carefully guiding her towards even now.
She did not think ill of Anna’s efforts to find her an amiable husband—one who would provide for her and who would hopefully develop soft feelings for her. If she wa
s being a sensible, pragmatic young woman, as was her customary behaviour, Julia would admit that she stood to make a brilliant match because of her position as the ward of the Earl of Treybourne.
But ever since that kiss…
She could think of no one else but Iain. And though the thought of sharing another intimate moment with him made her heart race and her skin tingle in some new and strangely enjoyable way, the thought of doing that and more with someone else was equally distasteful to her.
That kiss…She sighed, leaning her face closer to the window and hoping that the chilled pane of glass would help cool her heated cheeks.
Clarinda had warned her not to say anything to Anna that day when they’d reached her rooms, and though she had doubted it was the right course of action initially, the sight of her sister’s pale and ill face had convinced Julia to accept Clarinda’s advice. She did not need to add to Anna’s distress. And she did not need a lecture. Julia quite clearly understood that she should not have kissed Iain.
But she had, and, oh, that kiss!
Touching her fingers to her lips now, she wondered what would have happened if they’d not been interrupted at that moment. The kisses he’d placed along the skin of her cheek and jaw had sent shivers through her as much as the touch of his lips on hers. Perhaps even more? And he’d touched—nay, licked the soft, sensitive spot below her ear. The one that tingled now. What would he have done next? she wondered, even while trying to divert herself from such invigorating thoughts.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, Julia watched as Iain walked up the path outside the house towards the door. He took each step with care, placing the tip of his walking stick judiciously along the snow-covered lane. He never once looked up from his task, and she sensed that a lack of concentration would result in danger for him as he made his way back. Tempted though she was to knock on the window and gain his attention, she contented herself to watch him as he passed below her. Her heated breath began to fog the frosty panes, making it difficult to see him without wiping the condensation away.
Knowing he would pass by this room in order to reach his, she adjusted her shawl around her shoulders and left her place near the window, walking slowly and as though without a particular destination. Circling the room, she listened for the sound of his walking stick on the hard wooden floors in the hall. She’d just reached the doors when she heard his approach. Nodding to one of the footmen, Julia waited for the right moment before leaving the room and encountering him—by accident.
‘Mr MacLerie,’ she said brightly. ‘Have you just returned from the out-of-doors?’ Of course he had—but she needed to find some way to converse with him. The entire group of women in the salon behind her could hear her words, and they must seem polite and not planned.
‘I have, Miss Fairchild,’ he replied, after a short delay that included a bow to her.
‘And how did you find the weather? Is it terribly cold now that the snow has begun?’ Stupid, witless questions, she knew. But at least it gave her an opportunity to speak to him, to watch his face as he answered. To watch his lips move and to remember how they felt against hers.
‘No, not too cold. Not the biting cold you might remember from your visits to Broch Dubh. Comfortable enough if you are warmly dressed.’
‘I should not keep you from your plans, Mr MacLerie, especially since you’ve just returned from the cold. Will we see you at dinner this evening?’
A look of distress flitted over his face for a brief moment, and then was gone before he answered, ‘I fear not. But thank you for asking.’
‘The evening’s entertainment, then? Lord Treybourne is arranging a card tournament of sorts for the gentlemen,’ she offered. Somehow making certain he was included was important to her. ‘If I remember correctly you have some amount of skill at whist, or was it commerce?’
‘You are too kind, Miss Fairchild. I fear I am out of practice with either game, and would only be a detriment to any partner assigned to me. But, again, I thank you for asking.’
If she had to be polite to him for another moment, she would lose control, and with that breach also lose every bit of pretence that she—they—managed to create after their scene together. But in spite of her efforts to draw him back into the company of the day, he made certain that he stayed out.
‘If you will excuse me now, Miss Fairchild? My uncle awaits my return, and I would not keep him waiting.’
He bowed politely and did not wait for her dismissal before walking away from her. Unwilling to let it end without some meaningful words between them, she followed him. He must have realised it, for he stopped several yards down the corridor and turned back to her.
‘You know this cannot be,’ he pleaded in a low voice, with no attempt to prevaricate. ‘Please, Julia, allow this to fade away between us.’
Inwardly thrilled by his acknowledgement that there was indeed something more between them than had been there before the kiss, she felt her heart hurt at the thought of it never being anything else…
‘Iain, I…’ She wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes told her of the futility of it. Worse, he seemed to accept it. Already an inescapable burden to her sister, she would not be one to this man who had borne too much in these last few years. ‘Very well, Iain. Forgive me,’ she said softly.
Julia was about to leave him when the women who’d been having tea and cakes in the salon now followed her path down the hall. She tried to think of some polite dispatch, some clever or pithy way in which to end their encounter, but the unhappy Lady Sutcliffe came to life.
‘Ah, my dear Miss Fairchild! See where you and Mr MacLerie have stopped!’ she called out, in a voice loud enough to draw more observers.
Julia looked to where she pointed and gasped. Another of her sister’s boughs of mistletoe hung above their heads. How many had Anna ordered to be placed? Iain did not move, but she could see the slight shake of his head.
What better way to say farewell than with a kiss? It could not be the one she wished they could have, but a kiss was a kiss. And she would take it and savour it in her memories as their last one.
‘Mr MacLerie, you do observe this custom in your lands, do you not?’ Lady Sutcliffe asked, referring to the Highlands as though they were a foreign country.
Although Julia wanted to question why Lady Sutcliffe would goad them into such behaviour, she also wanted to thank the intrusive woman for almost demanding it.
‘Of course, Lady Sutcliffe,’ Iain replied. ‘Ne’er let it be said that a Scotsman doesna ken the way of doing things.’
Julia smiled. He’d thrown in an extra measure of Scots’ accent to make her believe she was correct, but it was the smile that began to lift the corners of his mouth that intrigued her. She waited as he took the step towards her necessary to position them within kissing distance. Although she wanted to throw her arms around him and hold him as close as she had the first time, she understood that this would need to be different.
He held out his hand to her and she placed hers there. With only that polite touch between them, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers—a gentle touch only, without the passion she knew he held in check, as did she. Then he stepped back, dropped her hand, and bowed.
Their small audience clapped and smiled, but inside Julia wanted to cry. It had been nothing like their first kiss, and not the kiss she always wanted to remember. Before she could say anything, Iain bowed to the group and left. Julia leaned back and cursed the mistletoe above her.
It was the most difficult thing he’d done in his life. And the most painful as well. Far more difficult than fighting the constant pain in his leg and hip. His heart was more tender than the rest of his body, it would seem.
First inflicting that sham of a kiss on her, and then turning and walking away. But he knew that he must do what he could to protect Julia’s reputation and her honour and if he must do it in spite of her own folly, then so be it. How it felt to carry out such noble intentions was the unpredictabl
e thing, he discovered.
His uncle was indeed waiting for his return, so, after leaving his greatcoat with a footman, he made his way back to the Earl’s private library. The snow had made the roads worse, nearly impassable now, and would delay his journey onward. Instead of three days, his stay here at Wesley Hall would now extend to at least four more.
Putting him into Julia’s path frequently enough to be dangerous. Dangerous to his heart and dangerous to the plans her family had for her. But he must do his best to keep her from losing the opportunities that life held for her, even if he did not want to.
His chance to do that came much more quickly than he had expected, for a glance at a window as he walked down the hallway found the very woman, walking in a manner best described as skulking away from the house towards the stables. It brought a smile to his face, and memories of her attempts to follow him and his cousins on the adventures of their youth.
Memories of the way things had usually ended on those adventures—badly.
Catching the footman before his coat had been stored away, Iain shrugged back into it and followed her path out into the snow. The fluffy, slippery coating—now a few more inches, by the look of it—made his progress slow, and he was winded when he arrived at the stables, but he made it. Stepping inside the huge building filled with heat and smell of the Earl’s horses, he rested for a moment to catch his breath. Peering down the length of the single corridor, Iain could neither see nor hear Julia.
Admiring the stock for no more than a brief moment, he made his way to the back of the stables. He was nearly there when he heard a side door slam shut. It took him a few more minutes to find it, and when he looked out he could see only a stableboy running towards the lake with skates in his hand.
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