Inside the bedchamber, Jake tripped the latch that opened the passageway door. Then he paused and did the most amazing thing. He grinned at her, his eyes alight with mischief. "I love my mother dearly, but her meddling has worn me to the bone. Maybe it's time it backfires on her. What do you think? Are you with me?"
She was far from certain what he asked, but she found that did not matter. This Jake Delaney was a rogue, a pirate, and a highwayman all wrapped up in one. An irresistible combination. "Aye, I am with you."
At that, he did what any good pirate would do. He yanked her toward him, pressed a hard, quick, bone-tingling kiss upon her lips, then disappeared inside the castle's secret halls.
* * *
As Gillian greeted her guests, Jake spied upon the proceedings from a peephole in a portrait hung high on a wall above the entry hall. He had to listen a minute or so before his ears got used to the echo, but once it did he was able to pick up the conversation just fine.
"Ah, Mrs. Dunbar," the earl was saying. "How pleasant to see you again."
"Welcome to Rowanclere, my lord. I must confess I am not Mrs. Dunbar, but her twin, Gillian Ross. My sister and her husband were recently blessed with twin sons, so I shall be your hostess during your visit to Rowanclere."
The Englishman's brows winged up. "Felicitations upon the happy news, in that case, and may I say it is uncanny how much the two of you resemble. Tell me, my dear, are you married?"
"Nae, my lord. I am not."
Harrington beamed a smile at Gillian. "Excellent. I shall be certain to introduce you to my son. For now, allow me to present my companion, Mrs. Delaney."
Jake scowled as his mother and Gillian exchanged pleasantries. Introduce her to his son. Looks like Mother is running with her own kind.
Gillian laughed at something his mother said, then added, "I am pleased to meet you both. I hope your stay here at Rowanclere will be a pleasant one."
"I am certain we'll have a lovely time." Jake's mother slipped her arm through the earl's and spoke in a teasing tone. "Miss Ross, I feel obligated to warn you it is well-known throughout London that Harrington is searching for a bride for his son."
"As if you're not about the same sneaky business, Elizabeth," observed the earl. Turning to Gillian, he added, "We are engaged in quite a competition to gain the best bride for our boys."
"It's true," Elizabeth confirmed. "It is my fondest wish to see my son happily wed. I confess he's grown quite weary of my efforts to assist him in finding a bride. Has he perchance mentioned that to you?"
Jake's stomach took a dip. The woman never gave up, and now she was going public, to boot. And what was all this touching between her and Harrington about? It was bad enough she'd traveled alone with the man. This sort of behavior bordered on... well... scandalous.
"Your son, Mrs. Delaney?" Gillian asked innocently. "Do I know him?"
"I believe he has been a guest of yours in recent weeks. Mr. Jake Delaney."
"Oh, the writer. Yes, he visited with us for a short time. I do not recall him saying much about his family,"
Behind the wall, Jake gave her a thumbs up. His Gilly was quick.
"A short time?" his mother responded. "My son isn't still here?"
"No." Gillian glanced up toward the portrait. Jake had enough experience with women that the light in her eyes made him wince. He braced himself as she said, "He told us he'd learned all he needed to know about Rowanclere and was returning to his grandfather's home in England. Although, he did plan to visit Inverness, first. The kilt-maker there is the best in the land. Mr. Delaney fell in love with the Highland style of dress during his visit, and he intended to order a whole new wardrobe. First, though, he shall need to make up his mind about his choice of tartan. I've never seen a man dither so much over shades of green and which proved most flattering."
Jake's jaw dropped simultaneously with his mother's. Why that ornery little scamp.
"Jake in a kilt?" his mother asked, a bewildered note to her voice "I cannot imagine. Maybe we are talking about two different Jake Delaneys. Did this Jake have a dog with him?"
Gillian nodded. "Scooter, the puir wee beastie." As the Texan's mother turned a baffled look toward the earl, Gillian continued, "Would you care to take a brief tour of the castle before I show you to your rooms?"
"Certainly!" Harrington replied, obviously enthused by the prospect.
Taking care to remain hidden, Jake trailed the party through the castle for the next half-hour until Gillian showed them to their rooms. Then he watched from a tower window as she gathered with Angus and Robyn to see the Dunbar family off to Laichmoray, waving goodbye with tears flowing down her face. Jake watched the coach depart and realized the castle would feel a little empty with the babies gone.
He also felt a strong urge to hitch a ride away from here.
His matchmaking mother had come to Rowanclere. "It's enough to scare the boo out of this ghost," he grumbled.
When the Dunbar coach faded from sight he made his way to Gillian's bedchamber to await her arrival. Feeling edgy, he paced the room, his thoughts retracing the events of the day. As a result, by the time she entered her room, he'd worked himself into a lather. He waited until she shut the door behind her, then braced his hands on his lips and bellowed. "Kilts? Most complimentary shade of green?"
"I believe I said most flattering shade."
He continued to glare at her, and she stared right back. "You forced me to lie, Jake. I dinna like to lie."
"This from the woman who tied on a feather pouch and pretended to be pregnant?"
She shrugged. "It's different lying to your mother."
A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth until finally, he abandoned the struggle and freed his grin.
"You are the cutest little thing. Mama will really like you. She will—" He broke off abruptly. He shut his eyes, grimaced, shuddered, and said, "Gillian, I want you to stay as far away from her as possible."
"What? I don't understand."
"Let me put it this way. No matter how nice and friendly and helpful she appears, my mother will not have your best interests at heart. The woman always has an ulterior motive for everything she does."
Gillian folded her arms. "That's not a nice way to talk about your mother."
"It's the truth, though. I can't let down my guard one little bit."
"Afraid she'll succeed in her matchmaking?"
Damn, cut right to the nut of it, didn't she? "It got rather nasty before I left London. My mother on the hunt is the stuff of nightmares, princess. You should have seen some of the gems she hauled home for supper."
"You think she'll act the same way here?"
"Sure. It got to where anyone in skirts would do, and considering the mode of dress for men here in Scotland, that tends to worry me a bit."
Gillian visibly bristled. "Since I'm the only marriageable woman at Rowanclere at the moment, ye need not fash yersel'. Dinna worry, Texas. Yer no in the least bit of danger from me. I widna have ye if ye were the last man in Scotland. Why, I'd rather be matched with a grumpy auld—"
It was too much for Jake. "Oh, haud yer wheest, Gillian."
"—bodach than someone like—" she broke off abruptly. "What did you say?"
"Haud yer wheest. Robyn taught it to me. It basically means shut up. Since you have me wearing a dress now, I figured I should learn a bit of the language."
"Oh my." She sank onto a chair, closed her eyes, and rested the back of her hand against her brow. "What monster have I created?"
Jake strangled back a chuckle. When he spied her peeking through her lashes, her own mouth twitching with a smile, he let the laughter loose. "Aw shoot, princess." He sank onto his knees before her and took both her hands in his. "Thank you for that. I didn't know how much I needed that laugh. Gillian, I apologize for how I said what I said. I certainly didn't mean to be insulting. My mother simply brings out the worst in me upon occasion."
"And this is one of those occasions."
&
nbsp; "Most definitely. This desire of hers to see me wed gets my temper up, and when I'm in a temper, I don't think straight. I hope you'll forgive me, and that you'll still be my friend."
She sniffed. "I don't think it's temper, Jake. I think you're afraid of the woman. I think you're afraid she'll win."
"Damned straight I am. I wake up in a cold sweat sometimes from nightmares about it. She doesn't want me to go adventuring, you see, and she's wearing me down. I'm afraid that when it comes to my mama, I'm a cream puff."
"Cream puff? You?"
"It's humiliating, princess."
"I don't believe it, Texas. Not a cream puff." She paused and thumped a finger against pursed lips as she pondered for a moment. "You're more a marshmallow."
Damned if it didn't take all his strength not to take her in his arms right then and there. Not a marshmallow, princess. When your eyes get to sparkling like that, I'm a red hot jalapeno pepper.
She might have seen something of it in his eyes, because she cleared her throat nervously and said, "So, what happens next? Does your mother's presence require any changes to the haunting plan?"
Standing and stepping away from her, Jake blew out a breath and forced his mind back to the matter at hand. "I don't see why it would. Although, I'm having a hard time deciding which trick to use at the midday meal—your moving breadbasket or my swinging chandelier."
"I'd say the basket. It's a nice, simple start."
"You're probably right. Except, it might not be enough for a member of the College of Psychic Studies. I allowed my mother to distract me during the castle tour, I'm afraid. If I had paid Harrington closer attention, I might have picked up a clue as to what would work best for the first haunt."
"You have both wiles set to work, correct?" Jake nodded, and Gillian continued. "We have half an hour before luncheon is served. Watch him in his bedchamber for a bit. That might give you your clues."
"I think I'll do that. This first trick will set the mood for the entire week."
A few minutes later with Gillian at his side, Jake flicked back the peephole cover and peered inside Lord Harrington's bedchamber. Immediately, everything inside him froze. Oh, my God!
A strangled sound emerged from his throat as he jerked back and slammed the peephole shut.
"What's wrong, Jake?"
His hand trembled as he brought it up and raked it through his hair. "Dammit, Gillian, she's in his room. That sonofabitch Lord Harrington is kissing my mother!"
* * *
Gillian all but tackled him to keep him from bursting into Lord Harrington's suite. "Hush. They'll hear you ranting."
"Won't matter. Harrington will just think I'm a ghost, except he's too busy using his mouth to use his ears."
He grumbled continuously while she pushed, pulled, and dragged him through the passageway back to his bedchamber. There he stalked around the room like a caged tiger. He fussed. He fumed. He ranted. He raved.
He made a fist and punched the wall, declaring, "Some English Lothario has sunk his claws into my vulnerable, widowed mother!"
Gillian winced as she imagined the pain radiating up his arm. She felt a combination of amusement and dismay as he flexed his aching fingers and gave his hand a shake.
"Jake, I think you are overreacting."
"Overreacting? Excuse me. I just saw my mother swapping spit with a stranger in his bedroom. I think my reactions are right on the mark."
"Jake, be reasonable. She lost your father some time ago, correct? Do you want her to be alone and lonely the rest of her life? Is that the act of a loving son?"
He scowled at her, all but growled at her. "I love my mother very much. She knows it. Chrissy knows it. Everyone does. I've proved it time and again, have I not? I'm here, aren't I? In Scotland where a man can never get warm instead of in Bora Bora where women run bare-breasted on the beaches."
"Well!" Gillian snapped.
Jake waved his arm in a land of silent, half-hearted apology. "You are right. My father is gone. My mother is too young and nice and yes, I'll admit, too pretty to be alone the rest of her life."
"So what is the problem?"
"I don't know, all right? It's just... I wish... no son should see... Damn." He threw out his arms. "I didn't have to come to Rowanclere after all. She could have sweet-talked the Declaration away from Angus. I could be sailing for Tahiti right this minute. But no, I'm stuck in Scotland learning to wear a dress!"
"Take care, Texas. Ye have crossed the line to insulting."
He blew out a sigh. "Look, I don't mean any of this against you, Gillian. I want you to know that if I have to be in Scotland, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you. And as far as my mother goes, I don't want her to be lonely. I don't mind her developing a... a... friendship... with someone now that my father is gone. Hell, if she's involved in her own romantic life, maybe she'll leave mine the hell alone!"
Gillian didn't know whether to hint him or hug him. She settled for saying, "Your language is running toward the gutter, sir."
"Well it's that kind of night. I had a shock."
"That is one of the risks of spying on people."
Jake sank onto a settee and buried his head in his hands. "My mother is having a love affair. This is information no son should ever learn. It's almost as unsettling as the time I figured out my parents had sex twice."
"Twice?"
"Once for me and once for Chrissy. I think I was seven."
Gillian couldn't hold back the laugh. "Oh, Jake."
Chagrin and sheepishness twisted the grin he offered her.
"Ye sappie-headed fouter." She sat beside him and rested a hand upon his knee. "This was not the way to meet the new man in your mother's life, but perhaps once you've spoken to him you will find it easier to accept."
"And when do you think that will be?" Jake drawled. "Let me tell you something about my mama. If she is... friendly... with that man, she won't keep quiet about who is haunting Rowanclere. For all her scheming and conniving and womanly-wiling, she never once lied to my father. If she cares enough about that... earl... to kiss him in his bedroom, then she's not gonna keep quiet about me."
"Oh."
"Yes, oh. Princess, if you still want me for your ghost, my mother cannot know I'm here. You're gonna have to keep up the lie about my leaving, and I'm gonna have to stay hidden."
Gillian thought about that for a moment. "You don't mind? You'll wait to speak with her about her dealings with the Earl of Harrington?"
"Dealings? Well, I reckon that's one way of putting it." He paused for a moment, thinking about it. "I'll wait, Gillian. In fact, I'll be more than happy to wait because I have something else to occupy my time and interest."
"You do?"
"I do. Now that I think about it, I think I should make some changes to the haunting plan after all. My mother is quick. She's liable to catch on to my tricks pretty fast. I'd better make the best of every opportunity I get."
Gillian eyed him suspiciously. "And to think I was already nervous about tonight. Jake, what do you have in mind?"
His smile was total innocence. Gillian didn't believe it for a minute. "I'm just gonna give Lord Harrington what he's been asking for. He wants a ghost? Fine. I'm gonna give him a helluva scare."
* * *
At dinner that night, the chandelier shook for no apparent reason. Lord Harrington was intrigued.
When Gillian and her guests adjourned to the drawing room to partake of an after-dinner dram, a picture suddenly fell off the wall. The Englishman sat up straight, stared at the broken picture frame, and beamed.
After an unusual tiredness gripped both Harrington and Mrs. Delaney and they decided to seek their rest, unexplained footsteps seemed to follow them down the hall. Harrington bemoaned the unusual fact that he couldn't keep his eyes open. He wanted desperately to explore the peculiar occurrences. Instead, he kissed Elizabeth Delaney sweetly on the cheek, then adjourned to his own room, struggled into his nightclothes, and barely
made it to bed before collapsing into slumber.
Which was exactly what Jake had intended when he slipped the sleeping draught into the whisky.
So far, his recently revised plan was working perfectly. His mother was snoozing in her room out of the way, despite Gillian's objections.
Drugging her guests didn't sit well with the woman. She'd raked him over the drawing room coals about that when he added the sleeping draught to the whisky. What kind of man drugs his own mam? she'd demanded in a huff.
He hadn't answered at once. He'd been too distracted. Gillian Ross in a huff was a blamed beautiful sight.
Jake had admitted to feeling only a twinge of guilt over seeing his mother swallow the drug. He knew for a fact the stuff wouldn't hurt her because he'd tried it out himself when originally formulating his haunting plan. He'd slept like a baby the night he took the potion and awakened refreshed. A similar experience might do his mother a world of good.
Maybe she'd be rested enough to think straight and see how silly a romance with Lord Wanna-spook would be.
Besides, he refused to feel bad about doing the job she, herself, had sent him to Rowanclere to do. She was the one who stuck herself in the middle of things. Elizabeth Delaney owned up to being a meddling mother, and she'd be the first to admit it sometimes complicated her life. A good night's sleep wasn't too big a complication, not to Jake's way of thinking.
"Now, you," he said as he pulled the snoring lord into a seated position, then put a shoulder to his gut. Hoisting the man from his bed, Jake grunted at the weight. The fella was heavier than he looked. "With you," he repeated, "I don't feel a lick of guilt. You are getting exactly what you asked for, but with a nice Texas twist."
Bigger, in other words.
Jake couldn't wait.
He had chosen the muniment room for the site of the evening's entertainment. Through long, narrow slits of windows, moonlight pierced the old keep's thick walls like luminescent swords. Pockets of cold air clung to the corners, evading the ribbons of heat escaping from the fire Jake had burning in the pit of one wall. Firelight melded with moonlight to cast shadows throughout the room, some flickering, some simply looming.
Sizzle All Day, Bad Luck Wedding #4 (Bad Luck Abroad) Page 15
