by Shana Galen
That was true enough, but it must have been some kiss if Duncan was now taking Miss Neves’s side. This morning he had not wanted her to go to Scotland with him. And if she was forced to go home, Emmeline would have to go home. Which was exactly what Stratford wanted.
Wasn’t it?
The door opened and the innkeeper paused. “Should I come back?”
“No,” Stratford said at the same time Duncan said, “Aye. And bring some whisky. I need it because my heid is so fuzzy I cannae even speak clearly. I’m nae corrupted, lass, but I’m nae saint, either.”
Stratford pushed the innkeeper out of the room. “Why don’t you bring some food? Whatever you have will suffice.” He pressed a coin into the man’s hand. “And keep this discussion to yourself.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stratford knew the gossip would be spread within hours, if not minutes. Emmeline stepped outside as voices rose inside. Stratford closed the door and moved closer to the kitchen. Thankfully the noise of the cook and the banging of pots and pans drowned out the sound of the duke’s verbal duel with the lacemaker. The kitchen door was closed, and the only light came from the public room. Emmeline stood in a shaft of that light, her dark hair curling over one shoulder and brushing the luminous skin of her neck. Stratford had the urge to brush that hair off her shoulder and then perhaps press his lips to the curve of her neck. But he couldn’t risk kissing her again. That kiss they’d shared at Wentmore...that kiss. He did not know how to describe it. He didn’t have the words to compare it to any other kiss he’d ever experienced. Stratford had always thought of kissing as something one did with a woman before moving to the more interesting activities. But when he looked at Emmeline’s mouth, the urge to kiss her was so strong, he almost gave in.
He had been telling her the truth when he’d said he did not want to ruin their friendship—not that they’d ever really been friends. And he’d hinted that he’d kept some distance between them because he had always wanted more than friendship from her. But how was he to keep distance between them when he was forced to sit in a coach beside her all day? He’d been able to smell her lemon scent, feel the warm press of her leg when the coach veered one way or another, catch her looking at him when she thought he was not paying attention.
“I don’t think the duke expected Ines to be so stubborn. And Mr. Murray is supporting her. Interesting, as he seemed to want to send her away just a few hours ago.”
Stratford shrugged. “He does need a wife.”
“An English wife,” Emmeline corrected. “I think it’s best I keep an eye on him. I’m not at all certain of his intentions.”
Stratford burst out laughing. He didn’t mean to, but it was very difficult to keep a straight face when Emmeline played chaperone.
She frowned at him. “Why do you laugh, sir?”
“Because for a moment I had the image of you scolding Duncan Murray in my head.”
“I could scold him,” she said, hands going to her hips.
“I would much prefer that you scold me.” The tone of his voice was lower than he’d meant it to be. She went still and looked at him from under her lashes.
“What should I scold you for?” she asked, her voice like velvet. His breath caught in his throat and he closed his fists and clenched his hands to keep them from reaching for her.
“Tell me I shouldn’t kiss you again,” he said. “You are the chaperone.”
“You shouldn’t kiss me again,” she said, stepping closer. There was that lemon scent, making his head spin and ruining his willpower. “You should definitely not pull me into your arms, press me against you, and put your mouth on mine, Stratford.”
His breath came in short bursts now, and his short nails dug into his palm. “And if I defy your orders?”
She wet her lips, the tip of her pink tongue visible just long enough to make his knees go weak. “You’ll be sorry.”
He reached for her, hauled her against him. “Make me sorry then,” he murmured and pressed his mouth to hers. Heat instantly flared between them as her mouth connected with his. Her tongue slid against his, making him desperate to pull her closer. Instead, he dug his hands into her hips, which he quickly realized was a mistake. Her figure was as lush as he’d always anticipated, her hips soft and full and perfect in his hands. One part of his mind warned him this was a mistake. The more he kissed her, the more he would want her. And he’d already wanted her for so long, already pushed down that want for so many years that he’d become accustomed to the subtle ache of desire for her every time he saw her or thought of her. But now he had the taste of her on his lips, the smell of her in his nose. That ache would intensify until he did something they would both regret.
He pulled back. “We should stop,” he said, trying to catch his breath and release her before the kitchen staff walked by and caught him with his hands on her.
“We should,” she said. “I’m not behaving like a proper chaperone.”
“You are a terrible chaperone,” he said.
“Just for that.” She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to her again. This time they stumbled back until he had her pressed up against the wall. His hands slid—accidentally, of course—to her backside. God, it was so round and plump and perfect. How was he supposed to stop kissing her when she felt like this in his arms?
She did something with her tongue no innocent woman should know how to do, and he felt himself grow rock hard. He could imagine so many delicious things she might do with that tongue.
And of course, that was the moment the kitchen door opened. The light hit them both, and Stratford pushed Emmeline behind him to shield her from the innkeeper’s view. The man’s brows rose. “I’m so sorry, sir.”
Stratford cleared his throat, feeling like a naughty schoolboy. “No matter. I see you have the food we ordered. I’ll let the others know we may eat now.” And he’d tell them to stubble it before the innkeeper heard more than he’d already been treated to.
“Miss Wellesley.” He gestured for Emmeline to precede him and tried valiantly not to look at her bottom as she moved in front of him. When she opened the door, she cleared her throat before he had a chance.
“Dinner has arrived,” she said, giving them all a quelling look that made him want to push her up against the wall all over again. Duncan and Phineas, who had been at each other’s throats, parted and straightened their coats, while Miss Neves, who had been standing on a table, stepped down. They all took seats, Stratford across from Emmeline, Miss Neves at the head of the table, and Murray and Mayne glaring at each other from across the table. The innkeeper set the food down and scurried out of the room, returning a moment later with decanters of wine. Stratford needed a healthy dose of it. Besides the tension in the room from the Highlander and the duke, he couldn’t stop looking at Emmeline and imagining lowering her bodice to free those impressive breasts.
God, he wanted to touch her again.
“I have a suggestion,” Emmeline said. Stratford sincerely doubted it was the same one he was thinking of. “It has been a long day for everyone, and tempers are short. Why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep and discuss things in the morning.”
“Fine,” the duke said. “It’s not as though we can start back for Town this late.”
Miss Neves said something in Portuguese Stratford didn’t understand. Judging from her tone of voice, it was not complimentary. Phineas had been known for his skills as a negotiator during the war. He would need all of those skills tomorrow if he was to persuade the lacemaker to return with him. Stratford looked at Emmeline and wondered what decision she would make. Would she return as well or remain determined to travel north to stay with her grandmother? If the latter, they too would need a chaperone. Stratford didn’t trust himself alone with her any longer.
INES
“Where are you going?” Emmeline asked, causing Ines to freeze halfway to the door. She had been so quiet, but it was almost impossible not to wake someone when they were slee
ping in the bed beside you.
“To the privy,” Ines whispered, hoping the other woman would turn over and go back to sleep.
“We have a chamber pot.” Emmeline sat and peered at her in the low firelight. “And you are fully dressed.”
“Fine.” Ines pretended to be chastised. “I want to make certain Mr. Murray has no fever.”
“The duke said he would stay with Murray.” Emmeline’s blue eyes narrowed. “You are running away.” She threw back the covers, revealing she was still fully dressed. “Are you mad? You cannot leave on your own.”
“You look ready to leave yourself.”
Emmeline waved a hand, dismissing her concern. “I have Loftus.”
The women both glanced at the dog, who was sleeping on a blanket on the floor, snoring softly.
“And I have somewhere to go. My grandmother will take me in. Where will you go?”
Ines felt her shoulders droop and sat on the edge of the bed. “I do not know. I only know I cannot go back yet. I cannot! All my life I have wanted an adventure. All my life I have wanted romance and to fall in love.”
Emmeline’s jaw dropped open. “Are you eloping with Mr. Murray?”
“Não. He does not want to marry me.”
Emmeline crossed her arms. “You obviously have not seen the way he looks at you. He’d like to do more than kiss you, and men have been known to marry for lesser reasons.”
Ines felt a sudden burst of excitement. “How does he look at me? With lust? Oh, this is wonderful!”
Emmeline shook her head. “You are hopeless. You cannot run away on your own. I had better come with you.”
Ines took her hand. “You would do that?”
“Of course.” She gathered up her few belongings, and the movement woke the dog, who jumped to his feet, tongue lolling with interest. “Leave the candle. We do not want anyone to see us. Quietly now.”
Ines opened the door, but before she could step out, Loftus made a small whining sound. Ines looked down and into the eyes of Duncan Murray, who was lying across the door.
“I thought ye might try something,” he said, looking pleased with himself.
Ines peered down the hallway to make sure no one else was there then grabbed Murray’s uninjured arm and pulled him into the room. She closed the door then glared at him. “Why are you sleeping on the floor? You are injured, senhor! You should be resting.”
“I slept all day. Phineas tried to give me laudanum, but I switched drinks with him and now he’s snoring louder than a drove of piglets.”
Ines was actually impressed. “That means he will sleep most of the morning and perhaps into the afternoon. We will be long gone.”
“And where are we going, lassies? Surely the two of ye dinnae think tae cast oot on yer own.”
And of course, the idiot had to go and act like a man again. “We can take care of ourselves. For years Catarina and I survived on our own. I am not helpless.”
“Well, be that as it may, I will go with ye. I take it ye dinnae plan tae go back tae London. Will ye consider continuing with me tae Scotland?”
“I would not mind seeing Scotland,” Emmeline said.
“It’s settled then,” Murray said. “We go now, before dawn, and we walk until we find a farmer willing tae let us ride in his cart.”
Emmeline frowned. “What about the coach and driver?”
Murray shook his head. “Too easy for Draven and Mayne tae track. How do ye think he found us?”
Ines looked from Murray to Emmeline. “What about Mr. Fortescue?”
Emmeline shook her head. “He’s only stayed with us out of a sense of obligation toward me. He’d much rather go home. Now he will be able to return.”
Murray let out a bark of laughter. “If ye think he will just run home and give up, ye dinnae ken him verra well, lass.”
Emmeline gave him a stony look. “Shall we wake him and waste more time in discussions or leave now and put some distance between the duke and ourselves?”
Murray scratched his head. “It’s best if we wake him. He willnae take it kindly if we leave him behind.”
“Well, I vote we leave him behind.” She looked at Ines. “What is your vote?”
Ines knew who her ally was and did not hesitate. “Leave him.”
“This is why women are nae allowed tae vote,” Murray grumbled. “Nae, dinnae lead the way. I’ll go first and make sure all is clear.”
He opened the door, and Ines slid behind him, liking the warmth of him in front of her. She’d been ready to go on her own, but now that he was here, she could not stop herself from sliding her hand into his. The Highlander’s hand was rough and callused, and she never wanted to let it go. How could she have been willing to leave him behind just a quarter hour ago? She couldn’t imagine never kissing him again, never touching him again. She hadn’t known kissing could be like he had shown her. If kissing was that wonderful, why did Catarina and Draven not kiss all the time? Perhaps they did, in private. And that led her to wonder if the other things done in private were as wonderful as kissing. How could she convince Murray to give her a taste of that forbidden fruit?
But she had to be careful not to fall in love with him. How many times had Catarina told her that just because a man desired a woman, that didn’t mean he loved her? Ines had seen too many girls in her shop heartbroken because they’d fallen in love with men who did not love them back. She’d seen a number of babies born as well due to men’s lies about love and women’s willingness to believe them. Slowly, Ines pulled her hand out of Murray’s and tucked it in her pocket.
Eleven
EMMELINE
Emmeline watched Ines step carefully down the stairs, avoiding steps that might creak. She took hold of the railing herself and prepared to step cautiously when a voice whispered in her ear, “Where are we going?”
She spun around and almost toppled backward and down. She might have fallen head over heels if Stratford hadn’t caught her arm and hauled her against him. Her heart had been beating hard from the fright, but it still managed to speed up when her body connected to his. She liked the feel of his chest pressed against hers. She liked it too much, which meant she immediately pushed away and then almost fell right back down again. He grabbed her and pulled her away from the precipice.
“What the devil are you about?” he hissed. “Are you trying to break your neck?”
“You scared me half to death,” she accused him. “How dare you!” It was only with a great deal of feigned indignity that she managed to move out of his embrace when everything in her told her to move closer.
“I wouldn’t have to sneak after you if you weren’t escaping in the dead of night like some sort of criminal.” He looked down the stairs and pointed at the two faces peering up at them. “I thought better of you, Duncan.”
The Scotsman muttered something about women voting.
Emmeline started back toward the stairs. “If we’re to argue, let’s do it outside. I don’t want to wake the duke or the other guests.”
“Fine.” Taking hold of her arm, Stratford escorted Emmeline down the stairs, and they followed Ines and Murray outside and into the yard. All was quiet except for the chirp of insects and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. A gibbous moon hung in the sky, the occasional cloud sailing over it.
“I told them tae fetch ye,” Murray said.
“You and I will speak later,” Stratford said.
“How did you hear us?” Emmeline asked, annoyed now that he stood before her, his expression disapproving. She pulled her arm away, and Loftus, sensing her dismay, licked her hand. She’d lost her gloves at some point on this trip, and it seemed one more indignity.
“I was listening for you,” he said. “I went through all the possible scenarios for this evening, and the most likely one was that you two”—he pointed at the women—“would try to flee. I didn’t think he’d be part of it.”
“Because ye kent Mayne planned tae drug me.”
“I shouldn
’t have bet against you,” Stratford said. “Where is Mayne now?”
“He’s having a wee lie down. If the potion he thought tae slip me is worth anything, he’ll be oot for hours yet.”
“I don’t suppose I can convince the rest of you to go back inside and lie down?” Stratford asked.
In answer, Ines said, “Which way is north?”
Stratford sighed and looked at Murray. “Have you considered throwing them over our shoulders and carrying them back home?”
Murray raised a brow. “And just how far do ye think we would get before they concocted some devious plan?”
“I have a devious plan in mind right now,” Emmeline said. “If we don’t start walking, I might just put it into action.”
Grumbling, Stratford fell into step behind Murray, who led the way, Ines right behind him.
After an hour or so of walking, Emmeline had grown to appreciate the comforts of the coach. She also realized it might have been wiser to sleep a few hours before starting out. She was having difficulty focusing on where she put her feet and every muscle seemed to ache. By now the small party was well away from the inn and village, and she was relying wholly on moonlight to see the road. Emmeline tried to watch where she stepped so as to avoid large rocks or dips in the road, but she could feel Stratford looking at her. For his part, he walked as though he had slept for days and could walk as far north as Dunnet Head without pause. Seeing her looking at him, he gestured to Murray and Ines, walking ahead of them. “Duncan may seem fine, but you can’t expect him to walk all the way to Scotland. He’ll do it because he’s an idiot and then fall down dead on his doorstep.”
“I see what you are about,” she said.
He gave her an innocent look.
“You worry that I am tired and need to stop, but you think if you behave as though a rest is for Mr. Murray’s benefit then I will not object.”
“Will it work?” he asked.
“It might if I didn’t have a plan already.”
