Rogue of the Isles

by Cynthia Breeding

  Jamie had not appeared at all. Mari moved to the window seat and slumped into it, looking at the empty courtyard below. There was no clinking of swords today nor any curt commands directing the inept footmen in how to use a weapon. How many hours had she sat here and watched Jamie instruct them? Watched his tall, muscular body move with its own rhythmic grace? Waited to see if he’d look up to her window?

  Jamie totally confused her. For certain, she did not like his ordering her about and expecting she obey him, but since her time in Scotland, she better understood part of it was the Highland way, and that all the MacLeods were bossy. Jillian didn’t seem to mind, and Ian demonstrated a tenderly protective side Mari would not have believed he had. Jamie had shown an equal protectiveness, risking his own life when she made her foolish foray into the snowstorm—and the warm, wonderful aftermath when they’d almost made love. Then Jamie had ignored her for the week their bedchambers adjoined each other. Yet, two days ago, he had fought for her honor because of that scandalous painting. And then he had walked away.

  Lud! If she kept thinking about Jamie, she would soon be a Bedlamite.

  Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. Aunt Agnes stuck her head in and then stepped inside, frowning as she saw the gown lying on the bed. “Mr. Algernon will be here any minute. Why are you not ready?”

  “I really do not feel terribly well.”

  “Nonsense. You have hidden yourself away since the horrible dueling episode.” Her aunt held the gown up for Mari. “Do you wish the ton to think you are ashamed to show your face? You know how easily gossip starts.”

  “The on-dits are already flying.” As if gossip could be stopped after everyone had seen the location of her birthmark. Mari had turned on Nicholas later, demanding to know why he’d said he had seen it, and he had begged her forgiveness saying he only meant to put Jamie in his place. Mari had not been happy with the explanation, but she had not seen Jamie to tell him what really happened.

  “All the more reason for you to be seen holding your head up high,” her aunt was saying. “Mr. Algernon may not have used the best judgment in painting you, but he is French, and they have a different sense of perspective about such things. What matters is he is making an effort to make things right by offering for you.”

  “What if…what if I do not wish to marry him?”

  Her aunt looked at her incredulously. “He is everything you said you wanted. The patronesses of Almack’s adore him, and you know how important it is to have their approval if you wish to be included in any of Society’s events.” She paused, scrutinizing Mari. “Is this reluctance because of Jamie MacLeod?”

  “Of course not.” To cover up what she was sure was a beet-red face, Mari got up, slipped on the gown and turned her back to allow her aunt to fasten it. “You know how much I dislike Jamie telling me what to do all the time. Besides, he does not care for London or any of our social events.”

  “You would do well to remember that, Marissa,” her aunt said and added, rather cryptically, “Mr. MacLeod has not offered for you either.”

  Those words stung. Mari wanted to tell her aunt about the hand-fasting, but what good would it do? The idea was Ian’s maneuvering, meant to smooth things over for everyone in Scotland. It was never meant to be implemented.

  Her aunt finished fastening the gown and turned Mari around. She swept a curl behind her ear and then put a hand on Mari’s shoulder. “A leopard cannot change his spots to tiger stripes, my dear.”

  Mari was still mulling over those words when she and Nicholas arrived at the recital hall an hour later. They were more than fashionably late, a fact that did not seem to bother Nicholas at all but drew frowns from several of the matrons, most of whom had daughters performing this evening. Jamie was already seated with Maddie’s family across the room from her. Mari met his gaze briefly and thought she saw a deepening flicker of gold in his eyes, but then it was gone, his face impassive.

  Mari arranged her skirts and pretended to study the programme. For a leopard not changing its spots, Jamie looked very elegant in proper English attire. Why had she never been able to convince him to wear it? Still, she knew her aunt was right. Jamie MacLeod was a Highlander. Scotland was in his blood. He would never be truly happy within the confines of any city, let alone London with its proper protocol and expectations for the gentry.

  “You are being very quiet this evening,” Nicholas said.

  “I have not been feeling well.”

  His glance slid over to where Jamie was engaged in conversation with Maddie. “It would not have something to do with MacLeod, would it?”

  Mari hoped she wasn’t blushing. “Of course not. Why would you ask?”

  Nicholas’s eyes glinted like icicles. “We are about to be betrothed. I will not allow the Highlander to trifle with you. If he does, I will call him out and first blood will not be the stopping point.”

  “You know I dislike violence.”

  “Then remember your place. You are mine.”

  Mari bristled. She was about to tell Nicholas no one owned her, but the first piano piece had begun. They were already receiving looks from nearby guests, so she fumed silently.

  Her mood did not improve after Maddie finished her piece and returned to her seat, only to have Jamie take her hand and sweep a kiss over her knuckles. When had Jamie become such a gentleman? Maddie giggled, looking radiant. Whether that was from the applause she had received or from Jamie’s attention, Mari wasn’t sure, although she suspected the latter. Whenever Mari had complained about Jamie’s behavior, Maddie had always championed him. She’d known her friend liked him.

  Mari sighed. She should not begrudge Maddie. Since their return to London, Nicholas had taken up most of Mari’s time, and Jamie—with the exception of the saber duel—had not indicated any interest in continuing his protective guardianship of her. If she were totally truthful with herself, she rather missed his hovering intrusion.

  Jamie had said she would have to choose whom she wanted. Watching him with Maddie, she wondered if she still had a choice. He was certainly being attentive to Maddie. Mari could hardly march over to where he sat and tell him she wanted him. Maddie’s mother was smiling benevolently at Jamie, while he looked quite at ease talking to the earl. Altogether, they looked like a happy, contented group.

  Mari paid scarce attention to the rest of the recital. When it was over, Nicholas steered her toward Countess Lieven and her Russian-ambassador husband. They proceeded to discuss European politics, none of which Mari had the slightest interest in, although she managed to nod her head and murmur appropriate acquiescence—or at least, she hoped she did.

  When she was finally able to look about the room, both Jamie and Maddie were gone.

  “I do hope you will sign my dance card Saturday night,” Maddie said to Jamie as they waited for her father’s carriage to be brought around after the recital.

  “Madeline!” her mother exclaimed. “It is the gentleman who asks for a dance, not the other way around.”

  “’Tis all right,” Jamie replied, “I dinnae mind a lass speaking her mind.” By the saints, he’d listened to Mari often enough—although truth be told, he’d egged her on much of the time. “I would be honored to have a dance with ye.”

  “With Parliament closing, we will all be able to retire to the country after Almack’s,” the baron said, changing the subject. “I am looking forward to a bit of quail hunting myself. Our estate is not far from Cantford and Newburn, so I hope you will join me some time.”

  “And we will have parties too,” Maddie added, looking like she wanted to say more, but her mother frowned at her.

  “Getting out to the country and hunting is verra appealing,” Jamie answered as the baron’s carriage approached and the footmen leapt down to open the door for the ladies. “I thank ye for the invitation.”

  Jamie watched as the coach pulled away. He’d like nothing better than to leave for Cantford right now. He could use some fresh air an
d the peacefulness of the country, but Mari was here and, fool that he was, he hoped she would change her mind about the damn Frenchman.

  Jamie went to the stable to get his horse, wondering how Mari had managed to captivate him so thoroughly. What had begun as an oath to her sister to protect Mari—albeit with a bit of wheedling to see her temper rise—had turned into something more. Mari was entangled in his every waking thought and, since the episode on that wintry morning in Scotland, in his nightly dreams as well. Not that he’d let the wee minx know. Mari already had more of a hold on him than any woman he’d ever bedded—and he hadn’t even gone that far with her.

  Did she really prefer the French dandy to him? Jamie contemplated as he rode toward the boarding house. Not that he was wont to boast, but he could honestly not remember a time when a lass rejected him, and he had no idea how to handle such.

  Jamie had hoped dueling for Mari’s honor would convince her he was the better man. He clenched his fist at the thought of the Frenchman painting the birthmark. What liberty had the bastard taken? And when had it happened? With the exception of Mari’s devious deception the day she’d gone to those blasted gardens with Algernon, Jamie couldn’t think of an instance where he had not known her whereabouts. He wouldn’t put it past the French blackguard to lie, but how had the man known about it?

  Perhaps Jamie didn’t know Mari as well as he thought he did. The expression on her face—as well as the look on Maddie’s—when Algernon reminded Mari that she’d agreed to his exclusive courtship in front of witnesses, made Jamie realize it was true. His hand tightened on the reins, causing his horse to toss its head. Immediately, he relaxed his hold and stroked the gelding’s neck, soothing him with soft words.

  If only he could let go of his anger as easily. A new emotion akin to despair swept through Jamie as he reached the boarding house and dismounted. Was the reason Mari never tried opening the door between their bedchambers the last week in Scotland because she already considered herself to be unofficially betrothed to Algernon?

  A wave of betrayal washed over Jamie. What other secrets did Mari keep?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Oooh, your gown has arrived,” Maddie said to Mari as Effie brought in the box from Madame Dubois the courier had just delivered. “Let’s take it upstairs. I cannot wait for you to try it on.”

  “I suppose I had better make sure it fits,” Mari replied.

  Effie gave her a sharp look and then preceded the girls to Mari’s chamber where she laid the box on the bed and lifted the silk gown from its nest of tissue. The sun streaming through the window caught the shimmering, iridescent shades of silver and pale blue as she shook it out.

  “It is beautiful,” Maddie said breathlessly. “You will be the envy of every girl there. I dare say Mr. Algernon may have to fend off a number of gentlemen as well.”

  Mari doubted Jamie MacLeod would be one of them. Almack’s’s ball was this evening, and he had not dropped by the townhouse nor had he sent a note. “I am sure Violetta and Amelia will upstage us all,” she said.

  “They border on risqué,” Maddie replied. “You will be beautiful.”

  “So will you. The buttercup color of your gown will bring out the red in your hair,” Mari answered. “You will probably have a line of gentlemen waiting to sign your dance card.”

  “Mr. MacLeod has promised me a dance already,” Maddie said, a dreamy expression sweeping over her face. “I hope Mama allows him to have two.”

  “I sure she will,” Mari said automatically, but her face felt tight. She would not be dancing with Jamie. Nicholas was escorting her tonight, and she would be expected to stay by his side.

  “Mama and Papa do like Mr. MacLeod,” Maddie prattled on, unaware of the sudden tenseness in her friend. Mari did not answer, removing her day dress instead. She slipped the delicate material of the ball gown over her head, allowing the soft lines to fall naturally along her hips, swaying gently when she turned to have Effie do the buttons. The neckline swooped slightly low, exposing only a hint of cleavage, but Mari tugged it up, not wanting any part of her birthmark to show. The fact she had nattered on about it to Nicholas had already created a scandal. For certain, she wanted no one to even get a glimpse of it.

  Why had Nicholas painted her like that? With all the shocked expressions when the portrait had been unveiled, the only one Mari remembered was Jamie’s—a little muscle had twitched when he set his jaw in a hard line, but it was his eyes, darkened to brandy-color when he looked at her, that haunted her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so angry, but there was also disbelief and puzzlement in his gaze—and she had not had a chance to explain how Nicholas knew about the birthmark.

  “I should be going,” Maddie said. “Mama wants to make sure my hair is done perfectly for tonight.” She giggled as she turned to the door. “Would it not be absolutely wicked if the dance with Mr. MacLeod was a waltz?”

  Mari managed a smile. “Perhaps it will be.”

  Effie was unusually quiet as she undid the buttons and helped Mari remove the gown after Maddie had gone. Mari was grateful since she did not feel up to casual chatter at the moment. She had absolutely no right to be upset with Maddie who, after all, thought Mari was blissfully happy with the upcoming betrothal announcement. Nor did she have any reason to be jealous that Jamie had promised a dance to Maddie. Still.

  Watching her best friend dance—or maybe even waltz—with Jamie was not something she wanted to endure.

  “You are going to lose that man,” Effie said abruptly.

  Mari swallowed hard. “Whom?”

  “Do not play coy with me, miss. You know whom.”

  “I am sure I do not—”

  “Hmmph. It is as plain as the nose on your face that you love Jamie MacLeod.”

  “Do not be silly, Effie. I find Jamie bossy and—”

  “I was not blind in Scotland, Miss. I saw the way the two of you looked at each other. Just like Jillian and her husband.”

  “What are you talking about? Ian loves Jillian.”

  “Do you think Jamie would have risked his life in that blizzard going after you if he did not feel the same?”

  “He was just being gallant. Jillian said Jamie reminded her of Gawain from King Arthur’s knights.”

  “I do not read much, but it does not take book learning to see what is in front of me. Jamie MacLeod loves you. Or, at least, he did.” Effie hung the gown on a hanger in the wardrobe and went to the door. “If I were you, miss, I would swallow my pride and go to him before it is too late.”

  Mari sank onto the bed in her chemise after Effie left. Dear Lord. What was she going to do?

  The ballroom was hot, almost stifling, with the crush of bodies at Almack’s. Why had Mari never noticed how packed these affairs were? Peals of laughter from women’s voices and men’s low rumblings mixed with sounds of scraping chairs and the orchestra tuning their instruments to create a din of noise Mari had not noticed before either.

  Violetta and Amelia gushed up to greet her, although neither of them gave her more than a glance before batting fans and eyelashes at Nicholas. Mari had to admit he looked extremely dashing this evening. His blond hair was slicked back, and the green satin of his waistcoat beneath an exquisitely tied snowy cravat and frilled shirt matched his eyes. His boots were so highly polished Mari could almost see her reflection in them. He bowed elegantly to the girls, causing both of them to flutter their fans furiously.

  “If you ladies will excuse me, I will get us some punch,” Nicholas said, “or perhaps some ratafia?”

  “Oooh, yes,” Amelia squealed while Violetta managed a more demure “yes” while blinking her eyes to the point where Mari wondered if she’d gotten something in one of them. Both of them watched Nicholas walk off in pursuit of a waiter. On another occasion, Mari would have felt jealous, but tonight she was just annoyed.

  “Oh, look,” Violetta said to Amelia, ignoring Mari now that Nicholas was out of sight. “The bluestockings are her
e.”

  Mari glanced in the direction they were looking. Abigail and Olivia had taken chairs against the wall, close to where the chaperones sat. Mari bit her lip, wishing she’d had more time after her return to convince Abigail to order a gown in a more becoming color. She had beautiful auburn streaks in her hair, if she’d just wear it down. Olivia Ashley, seated next to her, looked like she wanted to blend into the wall, and she almost did—her gown being nearly the same mustard color as the wallpaper behind her.

  “You would think they would have given up the idea of snagging a husband at Almack’s,” Amelia said.

  “They are a little long in the tooth,” Violetta replied, and both girls giggled.

  Mari frowned. She didn’t know shy Olivia very well, but Abigail was a friend, and both girls had every right to be there. “They are only a few years older than we are.”

  Violetta and Amelia stared at her as though she had just uttered blasphemy, and then they returned to their conversation.

  “With as wealthy as the Earl of Sherrington is, I am surprised someone has not offered for Abigail,” Amelia said.

  Violetta sniffed. “Well, most men do not want a woman with scholarly opinions.”

  “I heard Olivia helps her father with the accounting at his firm,” Amelia said smugly.

  “No,” Violetta exclaimed. “How…how common.”

  Mari’s temper rose, but she was prevented from retorting by Nicholas’s return with a tray of drinks and by the musicians beginning the first tune. She had known the debutantes were snobbish, but she had not realized just how cruel they could be, although she remembered how scathing the cut-direct had felt at Lady Tindale’s soiree.

  And how Jamie had saved her from public humiliation by going to talk to Lady Jersey. Mari had only found that out much later when Maddie overheard her mother talking to a friend about what a gentleman Jamie MacLeod was.

  Why had she never noticed?

  As she accepted a glass of the sweet liquor from Nicholas, Mari searched the room for Jamie. She spotted him at the same time he looked at her, and she smiled. But his eyes had already cut to Nicholas standing beside her, and he looked away.