My Highland Lord (Highland Lords)

by Scott, Tarah

  Jane gasped.

  “I wonder, Lady Halsey, if Lord Ashlund had offered for you—”

  “I would never entertain such an offer,” she interrupted with a lift of her chin.

  “Indeed not,” Phoebe agreed, “when you have such illustrious offers as Lord Phillips. How old is he, sixty-two?”

  “It does not signify,” Jane hissed. “His family ties are impeccable.”

  “What happened to that fellow, what’s his name, ah, yes, Andrew Paxton. Young fellow, about thirty-three or thirty-four, if I recall.

  “He wasn't suitable,” Jane fired back.

  “I should say not,” Phoebe replied. “He is just the sort to demand his husbandly rights.”

  “When your Scottish bastard of a husband beats you, don't turn to me for help,” Jane whispered in a voice shaking with anger.

  Phoebe blinked in genuine surprise, then grinned. “You err in thinking he is a bastard. The Ashlund line is also impeccable. As for my coming to you for help should my husband entertain the numskull notion to beat me, that isn't possible, as I shall likely end up in Newgate for murder.”

  Phoebe felt the presence of someone behind her even as Lady Halsey stiffened. When Jane’s eyes widened, Phoebe cursed silently, for she knew exactly who stood behind her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kiernan kept a straight face when Phoebe faced him, despite the expression on her face that said I may yet end up in Newgate for murder.

  "Lord Ashlund," she said, "what kept you?"

  Kiernan sauntered to her side. The flick of her attention to his leg, then the gleam in her eyes told him she noticed his slight limp. That was the price he paid for cutting his convalescence short. The ride to London hadn't helped and, if he'd had his way, he would have rested instead of attending this party. But his discomfort was worth the element of surprise. And Phoebe was definitely surprised.

  “Will we dance tonight, my lord?” she asked sweetly.

  But she'd taken back the edge—fast.

  He lifted her hand and caught a whiff of the violet soap she used to bathe as he brushed his lips against her skin. “I insist upon the first dance.” She shot him a look that said that first dance would be taxing on more than just his sore leg.

  He released her, then addressed Lady Halsey. “Jane.”

  She curtsied, gripping her skirts with such ferocity it was obvious she meant to keep from offering him a hand. Kiernan grasped her hand and pulled her up. He fixed his gaze on hers and brought her fingers to his mouth.

  Her face reddened and she snatched her hand back. “I-I have guests,” she stammered.

  “But of course.” He stepped aside.

  She hurried across the balcony toward the ballroom.

  “Strange girl,” he said as she cast a backwards glance at them before blending into the crowded ballroom. “One would think she didn’t like me.” He faced Phoebe.

  Her narrowed eyes didn’t quite hide her amusement. “How long were you eavesdropping?”

  “Long enough," he replied. "You look especially lovely tonight. The bodice of that dress is particularly fetching.”

  She glanced at the tightly fitted beaded bodice of her olive green damask gown. "For a man, you have an unusual interest in women's dresses, my lord."

  “I have an interest in how you look in them. I like your hair up.”

  "Lord Ashlund, if you think you can charm me with sweet words you are quite mistaken—and that devilish smile will not aid you either."

  "Indeed?"

  A blush crept up her cheeks.

  "Lovely," he murmured.

  Her mouth parted in surprise. Good.

  "I suppose we would return to the party," Kiernan said. “My father is looking forward to seeing you. We'll have to greet Lady Halsey first. We weren't officially invited. I'm sure she'll understand that we couldn't bear to remain parted.” He winked.

  "Ashlund, I'll murder you with my own hands."

  “Missed me that much, did you?" He grinned. "We'll take care of that later. Your uncle is anxious to see you as well."

  She paled.

  “Phoebe, love, it’s not as bad as all that.” He smiled gently. “Is it?”

  “I can imagine what my uncle thinks,” she cast a glance toward the ballroom, “considering the rubbish you must have told him.”

  “Actually, it was the rubbish my father told him that saved my head.”

  “My uncle wouldn't waste time with a scoundrel like you.”

  “That's exactly what your uncle said about you.” Kiernan grinned. “Of course, that didn’t stop him from wanting to cut my heart out.”

  “Would have served you right,” she retorted.

  “That's what my father said. Nonetheless, he convinced your uncle to give me a chance. Though, I did have to agree to certain…terms.”

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed with suspicion. “What terms?”

  “That I take excellent care of you.”

  “Rubbish,” she muttered.

  “In fact, he was adamant on the point.”

  “How is a forced marriage taking excellent care of me?” she demanded.

  “I am saving you from yourself, Phoebe. If you"—a woman halted near the open doors and Kiernan cupped Phoebe's elbow and urged her to the far corner of the balcony. “If you care anything for your reputation, you'll marry me,” he said. “After what's happened—”

  “If you are referring to the fact you held me cap—”

  “I'm referring to the fact you will be seen as a loose woman.”

  She gave him a smug smile. “I have been seen as a loose woman for some time.”

  “Indeed?” He leaned his hip against the balcony wall.

  “It may interest you to know I eloped when I was young. As far as the polite world is concerned, my innocence ended then. If it is a virgin you have your heart set on…”

  Kiernan gave a soft snort. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Phoebe frowned. “What?”

  “If you expect me to be put off with that nonsense, you’ve miscalculated.”

  A dangerous gleam glinted in her eyes. “My uncle filled you in on the details, didn't he? Or perhaps it was your father.”

  “My father?" He should have known she would try and slip out of the marriage by telling her father about her elopement. "It was your uncle, as a matter of fact.”

  “Including the details concerning the period between the time Brandon and I left the magistrate and the time he and Lord Redgrave arrived?” she asked.

  Redgrave? Her uncle hadn't mentioned the earl. “He told me enough," Kiernan replied. "I can surmise the rest.”

  “Then you know you're getting no vestal virgin.”

  “I could hardly think that, considering the way you were throwing yourself at Lord Beasley that first night I saw you.”

  She gasped. “How dare you?”

  “I wish you would make up your mind,” he said. “You're insulted by the possibility I might consider you a virgin, yet angry when I point out the fact that you were flirting publicly with a man.”

  Phoebe opened her mouth, then her gaze shifted past him.

  “Lord Ashlund,” a female voice said.

  Kiernan grasped Phoebe's hand, tucked it into the crook of his arm, and turned to face Lord and Lady Dawney.

  He guided Phoebe forward and stopped a few feet from the pair. “Lady Dawney,” he said.

  Lady Dawney curtsied, then proffered her hand. Kiernan released Phoebe and bent over the older woman's hand, then straightened and looked at Lord Dawney.

  “Horace.”

  “Lord Ashlund,” the viscount replied with a stiff bow.

  Kiernan stepped back. “You both know my fiancé, Miss Wallington?”

  “Indeed.” Lady Dawney’s gaze fastened onto Phoebe. “The instant we spied you in this private spot, we knew you could be speaking with none other than Miss Wallington.” Lady Dawney gave her husband a knowing look. “Remember, Horace, what it was like being so you
ng and in love?”

  Lord Dawney cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Lady Dawney added unabashedly. She leaned forward and whispered in a confidential voice. “You needn’t concern yourselves that we misunderstand the time you two spent together in Scotland.”

  Phoebe gave a tiny gasp and Kiernan repressed a groan.

  Lady Dawney giggled. “We understand the magic of love on the young heart.” She gazed up lovingly at her husband. “Lord Dawney and I were involved in just such a scandal before we married.”

  “Lydia,” Lord Dawney admonished.

  “Quite all right,” Kiernan said. “May I ask what is the commérage?”

  “It is said you whisked Miss Wallington off to your father’s castle in Scotland.” Lady Dawney’s eyes turned dreamy. “Quite romantic.”

  Kiernan chuckled. “An interesting interpretation.” He grasped Phoebe’s hand.

  Lady Dawney’s gaze focused on the action.

  “When Miss Wallington came to my father’s home in Scotland, she wasn't alone.” Kiernan lifted her hand to his lips. Phoebe tensed and her expression darkened, but she didn't resist. “That was my misfortune.” Her look turned murderous. He gave her a small wink and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, then looked at Lady Dawney. “You know how these things get started, one grain of truth and a mountain of gossip.”

  “Indeed,” Lady Dawney agreed. “Things do get out of hand.”

  “The truth,” Kiernan said in a sorrowful voice, “is far less romantic.” He looked down at Phoebe. “Though, I am fortunate that my father facilitated the marriage arrangements for me.” Kiernan gave her a roguish wink. “Had he not done so, I would have been forced to take matters into my own hands.”

  “You have taken quite enough into your own hands,” said his father from the doorway.

  Phoebe started and Kiernan gave her hand a squeeze.

  “Father, you know Lord and Lady Dawney.”

  “Horace.” The duke nodded.

  “Your Grace.” Lord Dawney gave another of his stiff bows.

  “Lady Dawney,” the duke said.

  “Your Grace,” she said in a titter, and curtsied.

  “Kiernan,” he said, “you have had Phoebe to yourself long enough. Her uncle is anxious to see her.”

  “Kiernan looked down at Phoebe. “So I told her.”

  *****

  Phoebe didn't move when Kiernan grasped her elbow and started toward the ballroom.

  He looked down at her. “What's wrong?”

  “I…” She glanced at the duke. How was she to face him?

  “Father,” Kiernan said, “Phoebe and I need a moment.”

  Annoyance flickered in the duke’s eyes and Phoebe feared he would deny the request, then he turned to Lord and Lady Dawney.

  “Shall we?” He held out an arm for Lady Dawney.

  “Oh, well,” she fluttered, then slipped her plump hand into the crook of his arm. “You're too kind, Your Grace.”

  “Don't be long,” he called as he led the pair back into the ballroom.

  They disappeared into the ballroom and Phoebe whirled on Kiernan. “Lord Ashlund—”

  “Shhh.” With a sideways glance at the ballroom, he grasped her hand and guided her across the balcony and down the stairs to the gardens.

  The light from the ballroom receded. She glanced back at the open door. “Lord Ashlund, perhaps we ought to stop here.”

  He ignored her and continued across the lawn.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  They passed the bushes and, a moment later, entered the darker shadows of the arboretum.

  “By heavens, slow down or I’m liable to—" The toe of her slipper hit a small branch and she stumbled.

  Kiernan pulled her upright, then swung her around to face him. “How long are you going to be pigheaded?”

  Phoebe felt her eyes widen, and she fell silent for an embarrassingly long moment before saying, “I don’t know.”

  He released her. “Well, that’s a start.”

  Anger lanced through her. “Don't blame me for balking at the idea of marrying a stranger. Or do you think I should count my blessings that the groom is a marquess?”

  “Damnation, Phoebe, I never said that.”

  “Have you considered what this is like for me?” she demanded.

  He hesitated. “I thought I had.” He stared at her, though she couldn't discern his expression in the shadows. “How is it for you?”

  Phoebe stilled, completely unprepared for this response. “Damn you,” she muttered.

  “What’s that you say?”

  “You would have to ask me straight out,” she said.

  “Phoebe,” he began with obvious frustration.

  “I have no wish to marry anyone,” she blurted. “Yet I'm being forced to marry a complete stranger.”

  “Not a complete stranger,” he said softly. “We know one another better than many who marry.”

  “I want freedom, sir, not marriage.” By heavens, if Redgrave could hear her, he would paddle her, then dismiss her from Her Majesty's service.

  “You act as if marriage is a prison,” Kiernan said.

  “Easy for you to talk. You won't have to change your life one iota.”

  “Your opinion of me is gratifying,” he said in a dry tone. “What sort of freedom do you want?”

  Another question she was unprepared to answer. Alistair's words came back to her. "If he is an honorable man, you could do worse." If her spying turned up no incriminating evidence against Kiernan, she would still be able to call off the wedding.

  “The kind that doesn't put me at the beck and call of a husband,” she muttered.

  “I don't plan on making a slave of you,” he said.

  The gentleness in his voice startled her. “Yes—well, I didn't mean to imply you meant to chain me up.”

  “Oh?” he murmured. “That idea has some appeal.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never mind. I'm a reasonable man. I promise not to ask too much of you.”

  “No heir, then?” she asked.

  “I had hoped, of course.”

  “Since I didn't plan on marrying, I didn't plan on children.”

  “A logical conclusion,” he agreed. “Now that you will marry, however…”

  “There we have it,” Phoebe said. “By the time I'm fat with your third child I will have no other choice but to follow your every command while you continue on as you always have.”

  “My dear,” she heard the smile in his voice, “only a moment ago you were defending my fidelity.”

  “You weren't guilty of Lady Halsey’s accusations.”

  “But I will commit future crimes.”

  “You aren't marrying me for love, Ashlund. Don't pretend you will be faithful to a wife for whom you feel no tenderness.”

  “I feel a great deal of tenderness for you, and to prove it, I will allow you all the freedom you desire.”

  “You won't question where I go at night?”

  A long silence drew out between them before he replied in a neutral tone, “If you are asking, if I will stop you from going where you please, the answer is no, as long as you have no secret assignation.”

  “If I wish to travel?”

  “What man would deny his wife the luxury of travel?”

  “What of my finances?” she asked.

  “Your inheritance is yours to do with as you please.”

  “I have no intention of changing how I dress, my friends, the parties I attend. I am often not home until sunrise.”

  “It will please me to watch the sunrise with you.” He grasped her shoulders. “Do we have a bargain?” He pulled her close.

  “I'll give it thought,” she said, though her mind had gone blank at the pressure of his thighs against hers.

  “Do my terms please you?”

  “I-I can't say.”

  Kiernan chuckled. “I can please you in many ways.”
>
  “I'm sure you will do your best, sir.” Her heart, she realized, was pounding.

  “Are you?” he asked. “It's only fair you understand exactly what you're getting. Perhaps, then, the sunrise will hold less attraction.”

  Kiernan’s arms slid around her as his mouth brushed hers. His teeth closed gently over her bottom lip. Phoebe froze, startled by the tender nips. He released her lip then ran his tongue along the edge of her mouth. She gripped his shoulders, intending to push him away, but when he prodded her mouth with his tongue, she forgot the impulse in favor of the surprise that parted her lips. He slid his tongue inside and suddenly she was aware of his heat and—heaven help her—the bulge that dug into her abdomen.

  A low groan rumbled from his chest and an answering heat pooled between her legs. He angled her head back and deepened the kiss, pressing her closer, though she wouldn’t have thought that possible. An unexpected ache throbbed in her nipples and she tightened her hold on his shoulders before realizing the action. His mouth slid from hers, down along her cheek and to her neck. Her flesh seemed to shiver where he touched her and the shiver traveled down her back and stomach to meet at the juncture between her legs.

  Kiernan broke off his kiss and buried his face in her hair. "I've wanted to do that since the last time I kissed you."

  Her legs felt like jelly.

  “I understand what you want,” he whispered. He ran his tongue along her ear. By heavens, her legs were going to buckle. “I'll court you as I should have in the beginning,” he said.

  “I won't marry before a year,” she managed.

  “A year?” He sucked gently on her earlobe.

  “A year.” Phoebe cursed the unsteadiness in her voice.

  “A year's engagement is proper." He nibbled on her jaw. “In that time, I will pursue you, court you, and, lastly, seduce you.” He hugged her tighter, pressed the hard length of himself closer. “Beware," he whispered, "this is but the courting. When the seduction begins, you will be unable to resist.”

  By heavens, had she just whimpered? “You're certain I will surrender?”

  His hand cupped her neck, and he pressed his lips against the hollow of her neck. “Quite willingly,” he said against her flesh.

  “Why?” she breathed.

  Kiernan leaned back. “Because our union will be no bondage, rather, I will please you.” He exhaled a slow breath. “Where else will you find a man willing to give you all you want?”