Highland Bachelor 02 - This Laird of Mine

by Gerri Russell

  He wasn’t looking at her, he was staring at his hand in her hair, as if he were committing the texture and feel of it to memory. Then, his gaze returned to her face so fast it actually made her gasp. “Then my solicitor shows up and offers you marriage to me?”

  She shrugged. When he put it that way, what she had done sounded desperate and conniving. “I grew weary of being alone.” It was partially the truth. She had been alone for so long that she had never expected anything else. Her thoughts about Kildare Manor suddenly came back to her. She, Jules, and the house were all alone and a little desolate.

  If only things were different. If they had met under different circumstances, perhaps . . . but that could never be. She came to Kildare Manor for one reason and one reason only—to save the girls.

  Despite the reminder of her purpose, her heart hammered at his closeness. She could smell his warm, clean skin as he tugged her slightly closer with the end of her hair. There was no pain, only an incredible tension as she shifted forward.

  He fixed his startling blue eyes on her. The raw hunger there made her cheeks warm, and a shiver slid down her spine. He leaned forward, his face just to the side of hers. His warm breath brushed her cheek in a seductive flutter.

  Her breasts tightened.

  Slowly, his fingers left her hair to tilt her chin up. His gaze held hers, enthralled, as he searched her face for something. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said, as though the words were the answer to any question he might ask.

  A half smile hovered on his lips as he brought them down to hers.

  Claire moaned at the contact. This kiss was different than the last one. This one was gentle. Tender.

  And it made her long for more of the same.

  He left her lips to trail a blazing path down her jaw to her neck. “You are so very tempting,” he whispered, as he traced the curve of her ear with his tongue. “But you are better off without me.”

  He pulled back and stepped away. That was when she saw Jane and Nicholas in the distance behind him.

  Had he known they were there? Was that the only reason he had kissed her? Her body on fire, she watched as he left her alone once more.

  Her heart lurched. She was a fool to think someone with his place in society could ever care about a common woman with no family like her.

  She stared after Jules as she pushed a nonexistent lock of hair from her forehead. She tried to keep breathing as he walked away. He was all that stood between her and total devastation.

  She would not fail.

  Jules joined Nicholas and Jane as he fought the raging need inside him. It was raw and vicious and made him ache for all he had experienced in that one sweet kiss, but knew he could never really have, because the woman was a fraud, and he had already given the tattered remains of his heart away. That was exactly as it had to remain.

  “Is Claire coming?” Nicholas asked, his gaze shifting between Jules and Claire.

  She remained exactly where he had left her, a look of indecision on her face as to whether she would rather approach him, or turn back toward the snake. She was better off with the snake.

  Jules had to put her out of his thoughts. “Claire will join us when she is ready.”

  “Perhaps I should go talk with her,” Jane said.

  Jules stalled her with a hand on her arm. “Leave her be.”

  Jane frowned, but did as he asked.

  “We’ve found some cards and thought you might like to join us in a game of faro.”

  “What are the stakes?” Jules asked distractedly.

  “We found some seeds to use as checks. No one need lose any money over the game.” Jane paled as though she suddenly realized the cut of her words. “Oh, Jules, I did not mean—”

  “Sounds well enough. Let us have at it,” he interrupted, not wanting to hear her apology. He knew he had no funds. Obviously they all knew he had no funds. Why pretend otherwise?

  Cards. It was the distraction he needed. As Nicholas and Jane turned back toward the manor, Jules allowed himself one last look at Claire. Their gazes met. He thought he saw a tear on her cheek, but he couldn’t be certain because she turned and headed back toward the loch.

  He frowned. Why was she crying? Surely not for him.

  He watched until the sight of her bright copper head disappeared from view, and once again the loneliness of his life settled about him. The thought that he had contributed to her sadness twisted his insides into a tight, throbbing knot. He spun away and strode back to the house.

  He had a wife.

  He wanted to ignore her. He wanted to make her go away. But whether she stayed or left, he suddenly realized, nothing would be the same ever again.

  Nothing.

  The next morning, Claire snuggled deeper into the covers. Sleep had eluded her during the night no matter how hard she had tried to gather it to her. As a result, her head felt like a leaden weight on the pillow as she stared into the dusky gray of dawn.

  She had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening away from Jules and his friends. No one had come to find her, to offer her a meal, or to even see if she had returned from the loch. Her throat tightened for a heartbeat before she shoved her sadness away. Jules and his friends had ignored her yesterday. And she had made it easy for them to do so.

  Today, she would not be a passive miss. No, today she had plans. She would start her day by tackling the house. She had learned how to keep a house over the years. She would apply that knowledge here, and turn around what she could in the manor. Then she would see about winning over his friends. If they started to trust her, perhaps Jules would as well. And then, finally, she would play up to her husband. She had to find some way to win his heart.

  Her eyes opened into the twilight. What was she willing to do to win his affection? Would she willingly give herself to him if it helped achieve her goal? Was she that kind of woman?

  She hoped not . . . and yet . . . he was her husband. Such things were allowed, even expected between a man and his wife. Even so, self-doubt crept past her determination. What if he’d left her alone last night because he didn’t find her in the least bit tempting?

  He had walked away from their kiss as though it had cost him nothing at all, while she had spent the better part of the night trying to forget the feel of his warm, seductive lips on her mouth.

  She sighed at the memory. If he had been so immune to her, then why save her from the snake? Why kiss her at all? She frowned. He had to find her at least somewhat appealing. She had left behind that gawkish, unrefined girl she had once been years ago. She could do nothing about the brightness of her hair, or the paleness of her skin, but she had learned proper manners and ways of holding herself that could at least accentuate her finer points. She had a small waist. And more than once men had commented on her upright posture. That was a good thing in a refined wife, was it not?

  Claire closed her eyes once more, still hanging on to hope that sleep might yet come. One night of her bridegroom ignoring her would not turn her from her plans. Too much was at stake with Penelope, Anna, and Eloise. They needed her to be strong.

  And as for his friends? She had seen the way Nicholas had appraised her yesterday. He, if not all of them, suspected all was not as she claimed between herself and Jules.

  Claire released a groan and turned her face into her pillow, shielding herself from the faint light of dawn and the challenges awaiting her with the coming of the new day.

  She had to make Jules fall in love with her. The memory of his arm curled around her waist brought heat to her cheeks. She drew in a breath, then recalled the soft scent of mint that had curled around her senses when he had drawn her close.

  She would do whatever it took to make certain her girls would have the future they deserved. As their guardian, she had to see her plans with Jules through. Despite her claims yesterday, she would do anything at all to make that happen. Anything at all. Her life and her reputation did not matter. It was the three young women whose livelihood
she controlled because they had no one else. That knowledge alone would steady her in her task.

  As soon as morning arrived, she would begin again, and do things right this time.

  The thought had barely formed when a loud explosion vibrated just outside her window. Caught between sleep and awareness, Claire twisted out of the tangle of sheets and sat up, staring into the predawn light.

  Her head ached dully, and she had the uneasy feeling something disturbing had happened. What could make that kind of noise so early in the morning? The sound came again. Two, three times. Whatever the sounds were, they were coming from beneath her tower window.

  “For heaven’s sake,” Claire cried, throwing off the covers and jumping out of bed with more energy than she truly felt after a night of little sleep. She hastened to the shutters and released the latch, then peered out into the faint light of dawn. Beneath her she could make out three dark shapes. Men.

  As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw not just any men, but Jules, David, and Nicholas. Another clatter of noise filled the peaceful morning as each man pointed a blunderbuss level with the grass and fired.

  The shutters opening must have made a sound because Jules turned toward her. A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Did we wake you?” he called from below.

  He was hunting. Beneath her window. Nothing suspicious about that. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Claire released a long sigh. He would not make her task an easy one. “How are the pheasant this morning?” she asked, ignoring his barb.

  “We’ve taken four already,” David called up to her.

  “Sounds like we will feast for supper tonight,” she said, smiling at her husband with as much friendly candor as she could muster so early in the morning.

  “That we will,” Jules said. His gaze lost its softness and his smile faded. “’Tis a meal you will be preparing for us all.”

  Claire tried to keep her smile. As his wife, she was the head of his household staff. She was not much of a cook herself, but she could certainly direct others in cooking the meal. “It will be my pleasure to assist the cook in the preparation of the meal.”

  “We have no cook, Claire darling.” The endearment was spoken so sweetly, yet the look in his eyes was anything but sincere. “I have had no time since my return to hire a proper staff. You will have to do it yourself.”

  Claire frowned darkly into the silvered light that surrounded her husband. She could not, absolutely would not, fold at the first challenge he threw out to her. She straightened. “Supper will be served at eight o’clock on the west terrace.”

  She turned her gaze toward the sky, to the pink fingers of light streaking through the morning haze. “It looks to be a warm day ahead; let us relax and enjoy ourselves and our company out in the evening breeze.”

  “The day has yet to begin and you are already forecasting its direction,” Jules replied with a hint of annoyance.

  “Oh, I can forecast a great many things, Jules MacIntyre. The weather is an easy one. The unhappy response of your female guests to your morning shooting is another, and that you will delight in the supper I prepare is yet a third.”

  “We will see about that,” he replied with a fierce challenge in his eyes.

  With a bright, artificial smile, Claire replied, “Indeed, we will.” Not waiting for a response, she closed the shutters and returned to her bed. She collapsed onto the linens and pulled the pillow up over her head. Claire closed her eyes and prayed for a moment that she could actually cook something edible for Jules and his guests.

  Wearily, she turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling once more. She could fret about the meal and her attempt to lure Jules to care for her, or she could get up and try to determine how to help herself.

  The thought was all the encouragement Claire needed. Her heart suddenly leaping with renewed purpose, she got out of bed, dressed carefully in a lavender gown she knew made her hair look more gold than red, and left her chamber.

  She also knew she should head downstairs, to the kitchen, and see to preparing some sort of meal for their guests to break their fast, but instead the silence of the house beckoned. Jules was outside with his male guests. Jane and Margaret were still abed. Now was the perfect time to explore the dark secrets of Kildare Manor. Not that she expected to find anything. Jules was far too clever for that.

  But another question had burned through her thoughts in the silence of the night. Why was she here? Obviously someone was manipulating both her and Jules, but to what end?

  Even in Edinburgh the stories of Jules MacIntyre poisoning his stepmother had spread through the gossip mills. The crime had supposedly happened in this very house. But if Jules had been exonerated of the crime, then who had murdered the woman?

  That question filled her thoughts as Claire reached for the candlestick near the hearth and lit the wick with the last remaining coals from the fire. Perhaps she could learn more about her husband from his home. There had to be traces from his past life here that still remained, things she could use to understand him better.

  Claire walked silently down the curling staircase, past the other bedchambers, to the staircase at the opposite end of the hall. The servants’ staircase would provide the access she needed with a modicum of stealth as the stairwell shifted behind the wall and into a passage where only the servants usually tread.

  The candle cut a pale yellow-gold swath through the darkness as she ascended the stairs. The ancient wood creaked beneath her feet. Claire flinched at each sound, but continued steadily forward. Her progress up the stairs was like entering a foreign land, revealing only a hint at a time of what lay ahead.

  At the top of the stairs she came to a passage that led back to the hallway with three doors on the right and one on the left. It was the door on the left that caught her attention. Barring the entrance were several pieces of wood in a crisscross pattern. Claire reached through the wood and found the latch. She tried the handle and was surprised when the door opened easily, despite the wooden deterrent.

  Obviously, the wood had been placed there with the hope of keeping others out. Claire hesitated as she bit down on her lip. Even though she was fairly certain Jules would be upset if he discovered her there, Claire gripped one of the boards at waist height and pulled until first one side of the board then the other came free. Setting the wood on the floor near the door, she bent over and peeked through the opening she had made.

  Her candle illuminated only a few feet in front of her. She could see a finely tiled floor and what appeared to be a large, open chamber. If she wanted to discover more, she would have to go inside. The secrets she needed to uncover about her husband might very well be contained in this room.

  Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she set the candleholder on the floor just inside the door and set to work on removing two more of the boards. In no time, she had created a hole large enough for her body to slip through.

  Claire straightened and looked about her at the large, empty room, and at the layers of dust covering the floor. No one had been in this chamber for years. She held her candle before her as she stepped farther inside. Only then did she realize the room was not entirely empty.

  A small table sat off to the right with one chair tucked neatly beneath it. The other chair lay on the floor, overturned. On the table was a candleholder, containing only a wax stub. Regardless, Claire held her own candle to the wick and welcomed the second sputtering light that illuminated the eerie chamber. Near the candle on the table was a single overturned teacup laying mere inches from its matching saucer.

  Claire frowned into the silver-gray light. How odd that the cup and the chair remained as though something had happened in the chamber mere moments ago, when the dust proved otherwise. Dust and a teacup. Claire repressed a shudder. The gossip had said Jules’s stepmother had died after ingesting poisoned tea Jules himself had served her.

  Was this where his stepmother met her end?

  “You are no
t allowed up here,” said a biting voice from the doorway behind her.

  Claire swung around at the scathing tone of Jules’s voice. Her heart hammered in her chest. “I was exploring my new home.”

  “This is not your home.” Even in the half-light she could see his face was as hard and forbidding as a granite sculpture. He did not bother to come forward but remained where he was, his shoulder propped negligently against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest, watching her.

  By the cynical look in his blue eyes, she could see he was angry. “The boards across the door said, ‘please, do come in?’” he drawled sarcastically.

  “They piqued my curiosity.”

  “It was curiosity that brought you to my door, then?”

  Claire’s momentary shock at him discovering her trespassing gave way to her own anger. “It was your offer of marriage that brought me here,” she said tightly.

  “I’ve had enough of this charade, Claire. I did not offer you marriage, and you damn well know it.”

  She knew his reaction was appropriate for the situation. She had invaded his life and now this chamber, and yet she could not quell the spark of irritation that flared. She yanked the ring off her left hand. Moving toward him, she gripped his hand and placed the ring against his palm.

  “Explain that,” she demanded, backing a safe distance away and waiting. Her emotions veered crazily from humiliation to anger to mirth at the absurdity of this situation. She was in the wrong for violating his privacy, but how dare he challenge her honesty yet again. They were legally married. That much was true. Why they were married was her secret to keep.

  “Another ploy?” he drawled cynically as he plucked the ring from his palm with his opposite hand. He brought the slim gold band with three large sapphires up to inspect it. His face paled. “Where did you get this?”

  “From your solicitor as a token of your affection.” A wayward chuckle bubbled up inside her. “Ha. We both know that to be decidedly untrue.”