Amanda Scott (37 page)

His gaze grew wary. “I see where you are leading,” he said. “Do you fear you cannot trust me, Anne?”

“No, sir, but I admit I’m curious, more so than I have been about anyone else. I feel as if I know you well, yet I have no
good cause for that feeling other than my instincts. I trust them, and thus do I trust you. Still, I should like to—”

“—to know how I managed to get myself sentenced to a prison ship,” he said, finishing the statement for her.

She nodded.

“Do you mind if I help you undress whilst I tell you?”

“No.”

“Come here to me, then.”

She obeyed, fixing her gaze on his face, trying to read him, and finding it as difficult as she always had. Although she believed
she could trust him and had come to care so deeply for him that she believed she must love him, she could not tell what he
was thinking when he looked at her as he did now, without expression.

“Turn around so I can reach the laces in the back,” he said. “I could unlace you merely by putting my arms around you, but
if I do that, this conversation will be too short to satisfy your thirst for knowledge.”

“I want to watch your face.”

“Then the quicker you turn and let me unlace you, the sooner you will be able to turn back,” he said.

She did not argue, turning at once.

The touch of his fingers on her back distracted her for a moment, but his voice claimed her attention when he said, “Two of
my Highland cousins were murdered, and I was accused of the crime.”

“But you did not do it,” she said.

“I did not. But when I disappeared, it was easy for certain enemies of my family to make the rest of Inverness-shire believe
I had.”

“Why did you disappear?”

“Before I knew about the murder, the sheriff’s men ambushed me and captured me. I was given no trial. They simply trussed
me up, hands and feet, and bore me off to the ship.”

“But does a prison ship captain simply accept prisoners without seeing anything that proves they have been properly sentenced
to his ship?”

“How wise you are, sweetheart. You put your finger instantly on a question I did not consider for weeks. When I told other
crewmembers I was innocent and had been kidnapped, they just laughed. Apparently, every new man says much the same thing,
so they did not believe it. However, by the time I’d resigned myself to my fate and made a few friends, I’d learned much more.
The ship belonged to Beaton.”

“Beaton!”

“Aye.” He put his hands on her shoulders, easing the material from them.

When he moved her veil aside and she felt his warm lips on the bare skin of one shoulder, she turned toward him and put a
hand to his cheek. “How did you win free?” she asked.

“I jumped ship at Glasgow and made for the Highlands,” he said. “I found the cousin I told you about earlier and—”

“—and learned all about the legendary Black Fox,” she said with a chuckle.

“Aye, I did that,” he agreed, smiling. “But to get back to Beaton’s ship—”

“What a villain that man must be!”

His smile faded. “Don’t say that to anyone else, sweetheart, because even if it’s true, we’d never prove it. For all I know
to this day, the sheriff made a bargain with the cardinal’s captain, and Beaton knows nothing about it. In any event, it’s
all over now, and I’m here with you,” he added, smiling at her again.

“Willie told me you once offered to take a flogging for him,” she said softly. “That was very courageous of you.”

“It might have been the death of me if the first mate had had his way,” Kit said, unpinning her veil and headdress and casting
them aside. “As it happened, though, I’ve only a few scars from my shipboard experience and some bitter memories. I also made
two very good friends.”

“Two?”

“Aye,” he said, grinning mischievously. “Willie is not the only one wandering around Mute Hill House under false pretenses.”

Her eyes widened. “Berridge?”

“You are very quick.”

“It was not much of a leap, sir. He is the only other stranger here if one does not count the wedding guests. Is he not really
a lord then?”

“Devil if I know,” Kit said. “He plays the part well enough, but on shipboard he was just another prisoner. He boarded shortly
before I did but never talked much about himself, so I haven’t a notion where he came from or what his antecedents are. The
role of Berridge suits him, but so did the role of jester suit our Willie.”

“I hope Fiona will be happy with him,” Anne said with a sigh.

He pulled her close again, nuzzling her hair. “We can forget about them now,” he said.

“She is still my cousin. He had better be good to her.”

Kit claimed her lips again, silencing her, and when he stripped her clothes from her, shed his own, and took her to his bed,
she soon forgot Fiona and Willie.

“What are ye staring at, Fergus Fishbait?” Maggie demanded curtly.

Fergus leaped into the air, fading as he did, but he quickly recovered himself and turned to face her. “I… I be looking after
me lass, o’ course.”

“She doesna need ye now, and ye’re intruding,” Maggie said. “What if ye should forget and show yourself. Ye’d frighten the
liver out o’ the lass.”

“I wouldna do that. It takes effort tae let a mortal see me, as ye should ken.”

“Pish tush,” she said. “Get ye hence wi’ Catriona and keep a sharp eye out for trouble. I can feel Claud nearby, stronger
than ever when I’m in this house, so I’m nearly sure he must be melded tae that fool Lady Carmichael.”

“Nay, I’m telling ye, it be Eustace Chisholm,” Fergus said stubbornly, “and also, ye should ken that Jonah be nearby, because
I
can feel
him.”

“Aye, well, we’ll all keep a lookout for Jonah. As for this notion ye have about Eustace, I didna sense Claud nearly so much
when I were wi’ Catriona at Hawks Rig, but ye watch him if ye like. Just go, lad. They dinna need ye here.”

Fergus went, and Maggie glided deep into the shadows where she could keep watch over the lovers without intruding on their
privacy.

He was watching, too, for the mist had suddenly cleared and he had found himself in the room with them, but Maggie’s words
to Fergus strongly touched his conscience. Moreover, he too could feel Jonah’s presence hovering at the edge of things, and
he feared that his being there might have brought Jonah closer. Thus, he exerted himself, straining to leave, and the mists
obediently descended.

Taking time to light a candle from the fire and set it on the bed-step table, Kit got gently into bed beside Anne, awed by
her calm beauty. How, he wondered, had he ever thought Fiona beautiful when Anne was nearby? The soft springiness of her auburn
curls fascinated him more than Fiona’s smooth blond tresses, and her intelligent serenity intrigued him far more than Fiona’s
bland disinterest.

He reached for her, and she moved to him willingly, her skin soft and warm to the touch and smooth to caress. “Lie still,
sweetheart,” he said. “I want to touch you and look at you by the candle’s light.”

She said not a word, making no protest when he pulled the coverlet back to gaze upon her naked beauty. Gently, he touched
her right shoulder, cupping it in his palm and stroking down her upper arm until his hand lay tantalizingly near her breast.
Reaching with his thumb, he stroked the nipple lightly, teasing it erect, watching her eyes as he did.

They were steady, watching him, but he heard her breath catch and knew he was arousing her natural passions as well as his
own. Continuing to watch her eyes, he moved his hand lower, stroking her belly, then lower yet, brushing past the soft curls
at the juncture of her thighs to the silken skin at the inside of her right one.

She stiffened a little, so he moved lower to her knee and then to her calf, pushing the covers out of his way and shifting
his own position as he did.

Reaching for her right foot, he caressed the top of it, then held the foot in one hand, stroking its sole, glancing at her
face again to see her eyes widen even more. Then, he moved to the left foot, stroking it first and then kissing her toes one
by one, making her laugh and protest that he was tickling her. From there, he moved on to kiss her instep and calf. She was
breathing faster now, but so was he. Forcing himself to think only of her and what she was feeling, he kissed one knee and
then the other, lingering over them for a moment before moving to her thighs.

Using his hands more now, he stroked her as he kissed silken skin, moving tantalizingly closer to the secret place. The temptation
to possess her grew ever stronger, and he wanted nothing more than to use his lips and tongue to introduce her to the power
of her own passionate nature, but he knew they both would enjoy the sensations more if he went slowly. So he slid upward,
just brushing the fork of her legs again, to kiss her lower belly. Then, moving more slowly than ever, he kissed his way to
her breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth and sucking gently, delighting in her moans of pleasure before repeating his efforts
with the other one.

His hands stroked every curve of her that lay within his reach, exploring and delighting in what they found. Her body was
perfection. She was beginning to writhe against him, so he slowed again and then moved a little away, murmuring, “Turn over,
sweetheart.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to,” he said.

She hesitated for a moment but then did as he asked.

He put both hands on her shoulders and stroked gently downward, saying softly as he did, “I want you to know my touch, to
trust it and desire it. And I want to know every inch of you with my fingers, my lips, and my tongue.”

She sighed lustily when his hands moved over the small of her back to her buttocks, cupping them. He let one of his fingers
move between her legs then, and when she gasped, his body leaped in response.

Knowing his resolution would not hold out much longer, he lay down beside her, still stroking her as he turned her over and
claimed her lips again. The inside of her mouth was velvety soft, and the way her tongue darted at his, playing with it and
encouraging it, enchanted him. He moved his left hand more purposefully now, down over her stomach to the juncture of her
legs, testing her readiness with two fingers before easing himself atop her. Then, stroking her, teasing her body until it
strained beneath his, demanding satisfaction, he gently slid himself into her.

He heard another moan and knew he was hurting her at least a little, but he knew too that it couldn’t be helped and would
ease soon. Still, he waited, letting her body adjust itself to accommodate him. His desire was at its peak now, aching for
relief, but he held himself in check until he could do so no longer. His body began to move faster of its own accord, then
faster and faster. until it released him in a wave of pleasure greater than any he could remember feeling before.

She lay silent beneath him, and he knew he must feel heavy atop her, so he pushed himself up and gazed into her eyes, searching
for her thoughts in them.

She gazed soberly back at him.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Mother did not mention feet or the feelings that claim one at the height of things, but she did
say that it would hurt the first time. I expected it to be worse than it was, but the other feelings I had were so much stronger
than the pain. That was wonderful.”

“It should not hurt at all in future,” he said.

“How long does one wait between?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “When you look at me like that, sweetheart, I warrant we shan’t have to wait any time at all. Would you
like to do it again?”

“That depends,” she said saucily. “Do I get to do the exploring this time?”

“Ah, lassie,” he said, pulling her toward him, “explore as much as you like.”

They slept at last, and Anne slid into the cavernous depths of exhaustion, sleeping so deeply that heavy pounding on the bedchamber
door seemed only part of a vague dream until movement beside her in the bed startled her into waking. Her thoughts struggled
before finding clarity, but then she remembered with welcome amazement that she was in bed with Kit and married to him.

He was already up. The fire had died, and the room was dark, but pale moonlight through the uncurtained windows was sufficient
to let her see him snatch up his netherstocks and shirt. As she sat up in the bed, the pounding came again, and he turned
toward the door to shout, “Who is it?”

“Beg pardon, Sir Christopher, but an important message ha’ come for her ladyship—dire tidings, sir.”

“Such a message can only have come from my guardian,” Anne said, fully awake now. She had wondered why Thomas Ellyson had
not arrived yet, and little though she had wanted him, she hoped nothing dreadful had happened to him.

The heavy knocking came again.

“Just a moment,” Kit shouted, clearly irritated by the intrusion no matter what the reason was. Scrambling into netherstocks
and shirt, he glanced over his shoulder, saying quietly, “Cover yourself, sweetheart, and do not forget that whatever the
news is, you will not have to deal with it alone.”

Instantly comforted, and realizing that the blanket she held to her breast with one hand was not high enough to accommodate
modesty, Anne adjusted it and pressed back against the pillows, into the shadows.

Kit nodded his approval and turned to unlock the door.

“Now then,” he said as he opened it to the golden glow of lantern light, “what the devil do you mean by—”

His words broke off in a startled cry, and although Anne could not see exactly what happened in the flurry of shadowy movements
against the glow of light from the gallery, the sounds of clumping boots, gruffly muttered curses and commands, and violent
assault gave her as much information as she needed.

“Stop that,” she cried, clutching her blanket to her naked body. “Who are you? How dare you!”

One tall, shadowy figure separated from the others, spoke briefly in low tones, and then took a torch from someone in the
hall. Its crackling flame lighted his face, revealing Eustace Chisholm.