“My Lady, your bath is ready,” Amelia said from just behind her.
Placing the empty cup back on the tray, Victoria silently stood up and went to the screen and sufficiently hidden, disrobed, and went to bathe. While Amelia washed her hair and rinsed it, her mind went back to the fateful night when Hector had dismissed her claim that she counted Andrew her family.
She had really been distressed that night with Mr. Keating’s trying to ingratiate himself unto her. The hour the carriage driver had declared to fix the carriage wheel had turned to two, which stretched to three, and then finally to a tiring four. She had been forced to have dinner with him and then chat with him afterwards, each moment proving to be more torturous than the first.
Going to Hector, she had hoped to find some comfort from the pain and aggravation Mr. Keating had given her, but she was only gifted with more agony.
Drying herself, Victoria massaged oils into her skin and donned her underclothes. She sat quietly as Amelia dried and styled her hair before dressing in a pale green morning dress and then left for the library. On the way there, she met Ruth, who looked at her with a shrewd eye.
“My child, are you well?” Ruth asked with a small frown in the middle of her brows.
The young lady’s eyes fluttered. She should have expected that Ruth, who knew her more than she knew herself, would see any unease she had, but she dutifully replied, “I am.”
Miss Willow did not look comforted but she nodded anyway, “Please take care, child.”
Plucking a favorite book from a shelf, and taking a seat, Victoria delved in the pages of the poems, whispering the lyrical words of love and devotion written by sages. Every word that sung of the agony of unmet desire, she felt in her soul.
She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there. Helen came to tell her it was time to change into her afternoon dress. The pale blue muslin dress was put on, and her hair upswept and styled with ringlets to each side. Helen was adding the finishing touch of a hair clasp when Ruth appeared and told her Mr. Keating had arrived.
She sat still until Helen had finished the last ribbon. Putting her slippers on, she casually left the room to go to the stairs. Keating was at the foot of the stairs dressed in a dandier outfit than before; cream breeches, white stockings, dark red coat and wine-colored waistcoat. His eyes never left hers as she descended and when her feet met the flat floor he gave her a simpering smile that instantly irritated her.
“Lady Victoria,” Mr. Keating said, “Thank you, again, for admitting me.”
“How could I not,” Victoria returned civilly with a subtle mocking undertone, “You certainly made an impression on me yesterday.”
“As I aspired to,” Mr. Keating replied, while offering her his arm. “Where to, My Lady?”
“The drawing room, Mr. Keating,” Victoria replied, while guiding them to the room. “Do you play cards, specifically, Piquet?”
“It is a game of strategy and delight,” Mr. Keating answered as they entered the room. The card table was already opened to its green baize surface and Keating pulled out a chair for her. Victoria briefly glanced up to see Ruth take a chair near the doorway, unobtrusive but watchful.
“Delightful,” Victoria replied and took up the cards. “Care to make a bet, Mr. Keating?”
“I’m not in the habit, but I’ll indulge once,” he replied with a sly smile that told Victoria he was lying, but she made him none the wiser.
“Very well,” she said, while softly shuffling the piquet deck that held no numbers under seven, and dealt twelve cards to them both while setting the other eight in the middle as the Talon. “State your bet, Mr. Keating.”
“Hmm,” he said with a crafty smile. “If I win, I would love three more audiences. And you, My Lady?”
“I think I’ll keep my declarations until the end,” Victoria said while gesturing to him. “Go ahead, examine your hand.”
Mr. Keating did so, made five exchanges and smiled. Victoria gently examined hers and promptly declared, “Carte Blanche.”
Showing her hand that held no royalty cards, Victoria claimed her ten points, and the game moved on with the declaration.
“I have three hearts,” Mr. Keating declared proudly.
“No good.” Victoria declared. “Five diamonds.”
The tricks played vacillated with Mr. Keating winning some and Victoria others. They were nearing one hundred when Keating grinned and laid a knave on her ten but with a smug smile, Victoria laid her Queen on top of it. “A hundred, Mr. Keating.”
The man sagged in his seat, and he sighed, “Upon my word, you play much older than your years. My congratulations to you. But before I hear your bet, My Lady, I must say I ardently admire you.”
“And I do thank you, and I express a sense of gratitude for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they will be returned as I cannot bestow the same sentiments. I do believe any lady will find you charming and entreating, but I am not she. I find you have an eloquent pride and a mirage of humility which I cannot endure. I have no desire to offend or insult you, which is why I endeavor to treat you with civility. My father has the design of you marrying me but I have no such intentions, and I do apologize for the misconception,” Victoria stated simply. “My wager, which I have just gained, is for you to keep your civil distance from me with no declarations of marriage.”
Mr. Keating’s eyes were fixed on her face, his complexion coloring with every word she spoke. His hands tightened on the arms of the chair as his knuckles turned white. His face was struggling for composure until he gained it and with a deadly calmness, stood.
“Lady Victoria,” Mr. Keating replied. “With all the accomplishments and wisdom your father states you have, I find you a foolish girl.”
Victoria stood, held her poise, and clasped her hands before her, “Do you not accept my request, then?”
“No, I do not accept your request,” Mr. Keating said stiffly. “I will inquire on you on another day when you are not manic. Good day, My Lady.”
The heiress stood still, not moving, until Mr. Keating stormed out of the room, then she sighed to herself, “Well, that went well.”
“Pay him no mind, my child,” Ruth said, as she silently came to stand beside Victoria. “Whatever truths you told him will be disregarded in the hour.”
“Even if it was a harsh one, Ruth?” Victoria asked as they left and made the foyer just in time to see Mr. Keating’s carriage drive off with a horrid clatter of the wheels and incensed whinnying of the horses.
“Even so,” Ruth replied. “May I get you some tea, child? Such an encounter might call for a calming cup.”
“No,” Victoria said with a small shake of her head. “Please fetch me my cloak, I wish to take a walk.”
“As you wish,” Ruth replied and turned toward the stairs.
A solemn air descended on Victoria as she wondered if what she had done was right. Was Mr. Keating correct in saying she was foolish? Was she indeed foolish to turn away a present suitor for one that might never profess to be one?
Her decision was already made, and her words already spoken, however, and there was no way to turn back the hands of time and take her declaration back. Her father was going to be incensed, but Victoria had had enough of Mr. Keating.
“Here is your cloak, my child,” Ruth said, while handing her the thick material. “And your pattens, My Lady. May I accompany you?”
Taking both items from the older woman, Victoria added her pattens to her slippers and slung the cloak over her shoulders. “Thank you for asking, but you know this is the one freedom I have with my father away.”
Ruth nodded, “You have always been of an independent mind.”
“Please don’t worry. I’ll be back soon,” Victoria replied.
Her feet took her down the same trail, going to the edge of the property near the forest line, and slowly walking alongside the ruins of the wall. She spotted the dilapidated guardhouse and hesitated. Should she go forth or not? She’d been there
for the past five days, and the object of her affections hadn’t been present, so what were the chances of him being there this time?
Thin, Victoria thought glumly.
She doubted Hector would come but a slim line of hope that always sprung alive when she came to this spot sparked up again. Slowly stepping forward, Victoria rounded what was left of the guardhouse with her heart beating furiously in her chest, and instantly stopped. The green was empty. Hector wasn’t there.
The thin thread of hope was snapped in two, just like the previous five, but this time it felt worse, and the pain that sliced through Victoria felt sharper than a double-edged sword. Numbly, she stepped toward the place where she and Hector had spent hours speaking and dazedly, dropped to the ground, not caring a fiddle about her clothes.
The cloak under her protected her from the brunt of the dirt as she curled her legs to the side and bowed her head. The pain was felt, but tears didn’t form, and she sat, submerged in grief that her hope had been proved foolish.
Maybe she was destined to grow old and die alone. The men she had rejected over the years started to form a queue before her open eyes, all commencing, with Mr. Keating as the last.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the air. “I’m so sorry.”
She heard the soft crunch of boots on the grass but didn’t want to look up. Victoria didn’t even move when rawhide boots stood right in front of her.
“Ye should no’ be on yer knees, lass,” Hector said, as his hands clasped her arms and gently lifted her to her feet. “That isnae a place fer ye.”
The kiss was quiet, soft and tender, and just the touch seemed to erase the last five days of misery cloaking her chest like a blanket. Having him there, Victoria didn’t know or want to assume how, or what, had made Hector change his mind from hating her to kissing her so ardently, like a lost lover.
Her hands found purchase in his thick hair, hugging him close as could be. It was only the burning of her lungs that forced Victoria to pull away, but her peace lasted only a moment as Hector kissed her again.
Eager fingers slid down from his thick hair over strong shoulders to trail over his arms, and then rest. Hector’s hands framed her face as they kissed. Sighing, Victoria pulled away a second time to press her forehead on his chest.
Clean water, woods, and something unique, Victoria breathed in as she pressed to Hector’s chest, Like nature.
“Why’d you come back?” Victoria asked softly, leaving out the other words, to me?
Chapter 15
Why had he gone back?
Hector had asked himself that question even as he was walking toward the old guardhouse and the answers that he gave himself weren’t all that comforting, but he couldn’t deny them anymore.
Hector’s nose pressed against the side of her head, near her left ear, “Because I judged ye wrongly, an’ tha past days were like a sore tae me skin. Mark it, I do want tae skin yer dead grandsire up by his britches, but I remembered all that ye did, comin’ tae me in tha middle o' tha dark when others wouldhae feared. Ye made a mark on me tha' night, lass, an’ I cannae forget ye riskin’ yer life tae speak wi’ me. An’ I’m nae proud o' it, but ye’ve been in me dreams, dreams that would send an untried lass like ye runnin’ tae tha hills.”
It pleased him that Victoria's cheeks went a pale red but unlike any other abashed lady, she didn’t shy away, instead looked Hector straight in his eyes, “I still need to apologize for not telling you the truth.”
“Ach,” Hector grunted. “Like I said, I wouldhae dismissed ye the moment ye uttered yer name an’ I wouldnae hae gotten tae see yer heart.”
“Just like I’ve grown to see yours,” Victoria replied with a smile. “I know that you’re not a selfish man, or you wouldn’t be on this quest to find your brother who, if found, would be the Laird instead of you, wouldn’t he?”
Hector nodded, “Yer right. He is tha rightful heir tae tha seat but e’en if I do find him, it’s goin' tae take a long while fer tha people tae trust him. I would hae tae be by his side every moment.”
“And I’m sure you would be,” Victoria added, while carefully folding her cloak under her to sit, before tugging Hector down with her. “I meant what I said. I do not have any grudge against you Scotsmen. In fact, I find you to have a life that is enviable.”
Hector cocked his head to the side, a move that made his green eyes glimmer, and his hair to frame his square face and strong jaw perfectly. “I highly doubt tha'. Ye hae all tha comforts in tha world here, at yer beck an’ call, how is my life enviable tae ye?”
“You have freedom.” Victoria replied a little bitterly, “You are not chained to customs or traditions and you get to choose how to live your life and with whom. You marry for love, not money.”
A light went off in Hector’s head as he tugged her into his side. “Is tha' why ye hae been lookin’ so stressed lately? Is yer faither forcin’ ye tae marry?”
Victoria pressed herself onto him, as if she was trying to hide from the problems and worries of the world, “Not as yet, but I’m sure he will come to it soon.”
“Will ye tell me what happened?” Hector asked.
With a level voice, Victoria recounted her first meet with Mr. Keating at his dinner party, an ‘ambush’ she termed it, as it was an open secret how her father and Mr. Keating had planned her meet, several days ago, before she got to the one mere hours ago.
“You should have seen him when I told him off,” Victoria mocked, “His face was even redder than his clothes.”
“Hmm,” Hector snorted, while his hand idly traced over Victoria’s arm that wrapped around his stomach. “Sounds like a dobber tae me.”
“If that means he’s a fool, I agree.” Victoria sighed, “But he’s a rich fool and that is what matters most to my father.”
“I cannae unnerstan' ye English,” Hector admitted, while inhaling the soft perfume of Victoria’s hair. “Ye claim tae be smart but hae some real foolish ways. What is marryin’ fer money when ye can borrow it cheaper?”
The soft laugh that came from her and reverberated in Hector's chest felt wonderful. Her body felt so right in the circle of his arms, and Hector did not want her to leave them. Victoria was such a remarkable lady. She was strong in so many ways, but so fragile in others. A part of Hector wanted to shield and protect her from all the pain in the world while offering her the best pleasure she could have. He wanted her to be his.
Ach, Hector thought, I suppose me Da’s curse hae taken me, tae. I’m fallin’ in love with a Sassenach.
Hector wasn’t one to be double-minded in any matter, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Yes, he had his doubts before about Victoria, but he knew they were gone and replaced by a tightening knot around his chest whenever he thought of her blue eyes and angelic hair.
I want her - I ken I want her - but there’s so much tae stop me from claimin’ her. I hae tae find me brother, first, but I hae no idea how long tha' would take. E'en more, what if I did find Andrew but her faither has married her off afore I can get tae her?’ The thoughts were running through the young Laird's mind like a thick fog, hard to see through.
“Hector?”
His name, called so sweetly, dragged him out of his troubling thoughts, and he twisted his head to see bright blue eyes looking quizzically at him. One look was all it took - Victoria was going to be his even if he had to go through hell for her.
“Are you all right, Hector?” Victoria asked, her voice dripping with concern.
“Aye,” Hector replied, deliberately dropping his voice to a husky tone while he gently took hold of Victoria and lifted her onto his lap. “I want ye, Victoria. No’ just carnally e’en though I want tae see yer face in tha throes o' pleasure I can bring ye, but I want ye – all o' ye.”
The moment he had mentioned ‘throes o' pleasure’ Victoria’s eyes had gone wide but hadn’t moved from his. She did swallow, though, and her breath had quickened. Framing her face with a sword-roughened hand, he brushed
her cheekbone with his thumb.
“Yer soul is pure, Victoria. So pure tha' ye loved yer cousin e’en without kenning him. Yer heart is so brave tha' ye risked yer life an’ censure tae come tae see me in tha middle o' tha night an’ ye dinnae look at me like I'm tha scourge o' tha earth.” Hector laughed deprecatingly, “I guess tis tha curse o' tha MacTavish Clan, tae fall fer tha wunnerful Moore ladies, isnae it?”
Victoria’s eyes had never moved from his and that spark of bravery was something Hector loved. She bit her lip briefly before saying, “Kiss me.”
“Gladly.”
Touching her lips sent a fire straight down to Hector’s loins, and he felt himself start to fill. Parting her lips, Hector kissed her hard as the lust roiling through his body was consuming him. His tongue mapped every part of her mouth, stopping to tangle with her tongue before continuing his erotic exploration. Victoria was shivering as she kissed back, as her desire took her over.
Highlander's Forbidden Soulmate Page 13
