by Amanda Scott
She started to get out of the bed, thinking that she might feel more able to cope with him while standing.
In a strained voice, he said, “Stay where you are.”
“Now, really, sir, I suppose I may do as I please in my own chamber. Pray tell me what you wish to discuss.”
“At least stay where you are, lass. I am truly no saint, nor am I accustomed to resisting temptation when it flaunts itself at me.”
“But you must not let yourself be tempted! You are betrothed to my cousin.”
“That is exactly what I want to discuss,” he said. “I am not persuaded that I did the right thing today by interfering in her wedding. The more I see of young Fiona, the more I think that someone like Eustace is just what she needs. He is older, clearly admires her, and would be bound to treat her kindly. Faith, but he must feel like her father.”
“You can know nothing about your uncle if you think his behavior toward any female is the tiniest bit fatherly,” Anne said tartly.
“I know that is what you have told me, and I know it is what you believe of him, but although he has not seen fit yet to acknowledge me, I have seen nothing in his actions to indicate a predatory attitude toward your cousin. And she—”
“You have scarcely seen him at all,” she pointed out. “He left with Toby an hour after you arrived, and they have not yet returned.”
“Oh, they’ve returned,” he said. “I heard them coming in and left the hall in a hurry, which is most likely why I took the wrong stairway. They sounded as if they had been drinking heavily, and they had others with them. It sounded like a party.”
Anne grimaced. “Then they will be carousing until all hours,” she said. “I just hope your uncle does not come wandering up here. He’s done that before, too.”
“Has he? He’d better not try it whilst I am here.”
A bubble of laughter gurgled out before she could stop it. “I wish I may see that,” she said. “Do you mean to say that if you were to hear him at Fiona’s door, you’d storm out of here to tell him he has no business to be there.”
“From what you have told me, he is as likely to be at this door as Fiona’s,” he said, but he was smiling at the picture she had painted for him.
“I see nothing amusing in the thought of Sir Eustace at my door,” she said, trying to sound stern but failing. “Faith, but I would like to see his face,” she admitted, “even at the risk of my own ruin.”
Kit sobered. “That mustn’t happen,” he said, stepping forward and catching her by the shoulders.
Anne’s breath caught in her throat. She could no more have protested than she could have flown. Instead, she looked up at him, wondering if he would dare to kiss her again. Every cell in her body cried out for him to do so, stirring impulses she scarcely recognized as her own.
He seemed to have stopped breathing, too, for he said no more but stood looking down at her, his hands still gripping her shoulders.
She wanted to touch his face, but she kept her hands at her sides, knowing that if she so much as reached up to touch one of the hands on her shoulders, she would be asking for trouble.
His right hand moved to her cheek, as if he were reading her thoughts and echoing them with his actions. His fingertips were rough as he drew two of them down her left cheek to the corner of her mouth and then across her lower lip. The impulse to kiss his fingers nearly overwhelmed her. Her nipples tingled and other parts of her body did as well. Sensations she had never felt before coursed through her, and when he fisted his hand and rubbed the backs of his knuckles across her chin and up to her cheek again, her lips parted invitingly.
His right hand slid to the back of her neck, and with a near growl from deep in his throat, he pulled her toward him, and his mouth came down hard on hers.
Anne leaned into him, all resistance melting at the first touch of his lips on hers. With a moan of pleasure, she pushed proprieties aside and kissed him back.
His hands moved over her body, exploring her, but she scarcely paid them heed, because his kisses continued and became more passionate. His tongue traced her lower lip and then thrust possessively inside her mouth, and as he pressed her tightly against him, she felt his lower body stir against hers, sending a flood of new sensations through her.
His right hand moved to cup one breast, but as it did, he paused and raised his head. She felt his body stiffen.
“What?” she murmured.
“Hush, listen,” he whispered.
She heard then what he had heard, a footstep just outside her door.
“Fergus, what are ye doing?” Catriona exclaimed. “How did he get there?”
Giving her a stern look, Fergus said, “I canna allow me lass tae put herself in jeopardy, say what ye will. I did nowt tae stop Sir Christopher afore now, thinking she’d be outraged and send him away, but he’s confusing her now wi’ his stroking and kissing. I ken what she wants, though, and that be for him tae marry Mistress Fiona. And dinna ye look so fierce, lass. I ken fine who must ha’ steered him tae the wrong stairway. Ye’re a fine one tae scold me for interfering.”
“I did no such thing, but ye brought that mincing—!”
“Who’s been interfering?” Maggie Malloch demanded from behind them. “Ye both ken the rules, and so far we ha’ been gey careful.”
“But now Fergus has interfered, and I do not know why,” Catriona complained. “He must fix matters quickly, before he brings all to ruin.”
“Leave your mortals tae deal wi’ the new difficulty,” Maggie ordered. “What happens will happen.”
Catriona gave her a look that told her clearly she wanted to say more, perhaps even to suggest that Maggie was treading a thin line when she scolded others for interference, but when Maggie met the look with a straight one of her own, Catriona looked away.
Swiftly and without a word, just as Anne heard the click of the latch, Kit left her side and leaped behind the door. Just as swiftly, she moved to the fireplace and knelt, grabbing the poker as if to stir the fire.
As the door opened, she turned her head and stood up sharply, stiff with shock and rising fury, as Malcolm Vole stepped into the room.
Outrage that he would walk in without permission Vanquished any feeling of guilt she might have felt as she faced him, leaving only fury.
“How dare you enter my bedchamber!”
“I beg your pardon, my lady, but I thought I heard voices in here.”
“Even were that so, you have no right to enter my room, Malcolm, so be sure that Lady Carmichael will hear of this as soon as I see her in the morning. I do not know what you thought you could accomplish, even had you chanced to overhear me speaking to my maid, but as you see she is not here. Now, begone before I set up a screaming fit that will bring the house down around your ears.”
As she spoke, she stepped toward him, glaring at him, determined to keep his full attention on her lest he look behind the door and see Kit standing there.
Malcolm wrung his hands, and said, “Indeed, my lady, I had no intention of disturbing you, which is why I did not rap or call out your name. Sir Toby brought a number of questionable persons home with him. I tried to tell him they were being too noisy, but he refused to listen, and when I found two men in her ladyship’s bower, I feared others might have penetrated further into the house.”
“Faith, how many did he bring home?”
“I don’t know, for when I asked him, he told me to mind my place. Very high in the instep is Sir Toby when his ire is aroused.”
“Malcolm, you know you have no authority over him. He is right to snub you when you overstep.”
“I do not answer to you, however,” he said.
“You are impertinent,” Anne said, looking him in the eye and scarcely realizing that the poker in her hand twitched menacingly with each word. “You are not to address me in such a way unless you want me to relate the details of your disrespect to my aunt. And do not think for one moment that I cannot persuade her of your insolence.”
“What, then?” Anne said, feeling a smidgen of sympathy for him at last.
“A jester, my lady.”
“A jester?”
“Aye, or a minstrel, for he had a lute in hand, but mostly he narrates dreadful tales. I do not find them amusing, nor will her ladyship, but those ape-shot men laughed loud and long at them. Sir Toby says the jester must stay too. However, Sir Eustace said Sir Toby won him at dice and that he—Sir Eustace, that is—means to win him back before he returns to Hawks Rig. ’Twould amuse him, he said.”
“Sir Eustace is planning to return soon, then?” Anne said, knowing that Kit would want the information as much as she did.
“I believe he intends to go tomorrow afternoon or early Sunday, my lady.”
“I see now that you had cause to be concerned for my safety and for that of Mistress Fiona and Lady Carmichael, Malcolm, but henceforth you must knock before you enter any lady’s room. You may go now.”
With a bow but without comment, he did so, and Anne drew a long breath and let it out slowly as the door shut behind him.
“There, ye see,” Maggie said. “Lady Anne ha’ dealt easily wi’ him.”
Fergus gave her a sour look from under his thin brows. “She’ll be that sorry now if Catriona’s lad focuses his attention on her instead o’ the lass she means him tae marry. Just ye watch, Maggie. Ye’re the one wha’ interfered! Ye be siding wi’ Catriona, and she doesna care a whit if my Lady Anne be happy or no.”
“That’s not so,” Catriona snapped indignantly. “I’ll have you know—”
“Whisst, the pair o’ ye,” Maggie said. “I want tae see what happens, but ye’re tae come tae me parlor as soon as they be asleep, for I’ve summat tae tell ye, and ’tis plain now that I must tell ye both, but I canna do it whilst ye’re busy.”
As soon as Malcolm left, Kit put an ear to the door, and Anne said nothing until he straightened and turned to face her.
“Lord, what a little termagant you are,” he said, chuckling. “You must have ruled your father’s household with an iron rod. I almost felt sorry for the fellow.”
“Are you sure he is gone?” she asked.
“I am,” he said, “but that was too close. You should not take such chances.”
“I should not?”
“Well, I did tell you to stay in your bed and to put on your robe, did I not?”
“You did,” she admitted, realizing suddenly what they had done. “We are both at fault, sir, but I am not the one who is betrothed to another.” Even as she said those words, she realized they did not excuse her. “Faith, though, I am her cousin.”
One moment she felt hideously guilty, knowing he was bound to marry Fiona, but the next moment, her guilt vanished, and she felt calm again. It was as if a curtain had fallen inside her mind, making it impossible to dwell on her feelings. Nevertheless, she fought for the strength to do what she knew was right.
“Lass—”
“No, Sir Christopher—”
“I wish you would call me Kit,” he complained. “I dislike hearing formality in every breath you take.”
“Pray, sir, do not tempt me further. We cannot allow this to happen again. Between us, we stopped Fiona’s wedding because we knew it was wrong. But consequences do follow that action, and for a few moments I foolishly allowed myself to forget what they are.”
“The present situation is a farce,” he said, his tone sharp again.
Doggedly, she went on. “You are betrothed to her, legally, and therefore you must marry her, for I am sure that is the right and proper thing to do. Indeed, had you failed to speak up during the ceremony as you did and allowed her to marry your uncle before you came forward to claim your estates and titles, her marriage to him surely would have been annulled. Betrothals are often deemed more binding than weddings, are they not?”
“They are no less so, certainly,” he said with a sigh. “Many of the same rules apply to both, I believe. I think there are also degrees of strength in betrothals, however, depending on what the actual vows are and whether the parties are of age, nearly of age, or are still children. Nevertheless, I do see your point, lass, and I’ll admit that I did not think either. I’ll go now, and I will leave when Eustace does.”
“So you will not teach me to shoot a gun, after all,” she said, her disappointment evident although she had not meant to express it aloud.
He grinned. “I’ll gladly teach you, if only so you can defend yourself against such men as my lecherous uncle and his equally dangerous nephew. But perhaps you should decide first if you mean to avoid me or let yourself be seen with me.”
She knew what she ought to do, but the opportunity to have him teach her to shoot was too tempting. At least, she hoped it was just the opportunity to shoot. “Surely, if my maid accompanies me—”
“I’ll teach her, too,” he said. “We’ll have a lesson after breakfast if you like, but I must leave when Eustace does. This situation is fraught with peril, and although I mean to search every cranny of the law to see what may be done about it, I agree that until I know where I stand, it will be best for us to keep apart.”
“But you cannot mean to overset your betrothal to Fiona,” Anne exclaimed. “Only a scoundrel could do such a thing! If you cry off, everyone will assume she must have done something dreadful. She would be ruined!”
“It cannot be as bad as that,” he said, eyeing her with irritation.
“It would be, and you know it. Oh, I wish it were not, but people always blame the woman when things go wrong before a wedding.”
“She is an heiress,” he said. “She will draw suitors like flies to a honey pot.”
“I will not be a party to that,” she said, anger stirring again. “You do not realize how fragile she is. This business today has upset her dreadfully, despite not wanting to marry Eustace. To have another betrothal set aside so soon afterward, or ever—particularly since your uncle means to fight for her—” She broke off as a worse thought occurred to her. “Merciful heaven, don’t you see what will happen if you discard her? That horrid man will demand that she honor her betrothal to him, and my aunt will make her marry him, if only to avoid more scandal!”
“No, she won’t,” he said. “You forget what Parson Allardice said about the degrees of consanguinity. Since I was betrothed to her, my uncle cannot marry her.”
Anne shook her head. “You cannot have it both ways, sir. If your betrothal was legal, it stands, and you must marry her. If it was not legal or your being declared dead rendered it moot, then it won’t prevent his marrying her. In any event, you heard his response to Parson Allardice. He can get a special license.”
“They are not so easy to get, and they are ruinously expensive,” he said.
“Your uncle did not see any obstacle. Perhaps you do not realize how many powerful friends he has, on both sides of the line.”
Kit frowned. “I see that we should not discuss this further tonight,” he said. “If you can tell me how to get back to my bedchamber without encountering more members of the household, I’ll go now.”
“Use the service stairs at the left end of the gallery, and go up one flight,” she said. “There is a corridor there that connects the two sides of the house. You’ll find another service stair at the end that leads to the gallery where your room is. Only the servants use that route, and most of them have gone to bed by now.”
“Not all of them, however. I’d as lief not run into your aunt’s steward again. What a pompous fellow he is, to be sure.”
“Oh, yes,” Anne agreed. “He behaves as if he owns the house, and my aunt does little
to curb him. I did seem to make an impression tonight, though.”
He grinned again. “You are too small to take such a high hand, my lass. Take care that you do not attempt it again with the wrong man.”
Certain that he meant himself, she raised her chin and said, “It is not I who takes the high hand, Sir Christopher. You would do well to mind your manners.”
He chuckled again and stepped close to her—too close. Looking down into her eyes, he said, “If you are going to insist that I mind all the rules, lass, I’m going to claim that forfeit I demanded earlier before I go.”
“You already claimed it,” she reminded him.
“Did I?” He leaned closer, his face only inches from hers. “Art sure, lassie?”
“Don’t you remember?” she retorted, but her voice was weak.
He put a hand to the back of her head and touched his lips lightly to hers. “Ah, yes,” he said as he released her and straightened, “now I remember.” And with that, he turned about and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Anne stood for several moments, staring at the door, while thoughts and emotions tumbled over one another and she tried to decide what she felt. Her body ached for him to return, but she reminded herself firmly that despite any feelings she might have for him, it was her duty to see that Fiona married him.
It was not, she told herself firmly, that she wanted to marry him herself. She reminded herself that marriage to such an unpredictable man—and one who clearly thought rules were for others and never for himself—would be most uncomfortable. She believed in rules, and in obedience, too—at least, when it was sensible—but she also had her opinions, and he, like most men, never seemed to listen to them.
Like most men, he went his own road and expected her to obey him. When she had done no more than remind Malcolm of his place, Kit had called her a termagant. Fiona would make him a much more satisfactory wife, because Fiona would agree with everything he said and would obey his every command.
