Bride of the Solway (28 page)

'I see,' Ross muttered, stony-faced.

'As to your desire to offer for Cassie,' Sir Angus continued, obviously more at ease now the distasteful history had been related, 'I fancy, from what she has said, that you are not the husband that James Elliott would have sought for her.'

'No, sir, I am not. I am neither wealthy enough nor weak enough to suit Elliott's purposes. If he looks to touch me for money, he will be sadly disappointed.'

'Hmm.' Sir Angus looked troubled. He sat down once more and began to swirl the brandy in his glass, staring thoughtfully down at it. Ross and Cassie resumed their places on the sofa, both staring straight ahead. Silence reigned for what seemed a very long time. At last, Sir Angus raised his head. 'Remind me, Cassie. How old are you?'

'I shall be twenty-three next birthday, Godfather.'

'Yes. I thought it was so. You must forgive an old man's poor memory. But, if you are of full age, your brother has no rights over you. I do not understand how he intended to compel you.'

Cassie heard herself laugh. It was a harsh, mirthless sound. 'Easily, Godfather. He kept me a prisoner. He allowed me no access to money. He ensured I had no chance to make friends who might support my interests. And he would have been happy to start
rumours
about my chastity, if it had served his purpose. He made it perfectly clear that, if I resisted his marriage plans for me, I should be committed to the Bedlam as a wanton. I believed him. That was why I was coming across the Solway to you. I could think of no one else who would take my part. You will not send me back to him, will you, Godfather?' She could not conceal the note of pleading in her voice. Or was it fear?

'You shall certainly remain with me for the present, my dear. Your brother cannot take you from here by force. I dare say he would not try. He must know by now that you are no longer in Scotland. And he has precious few to do his bidding on this side of the Solway.'

'Thank you, Godfather,' Cassie breathed, feeling the tension draining out of her body at last. 'Thank you.'

The old man smiled. 'And since you are of full age, I think it best if you decide for yourself how to respond to Captain Graham's addresses. Let me say only this: you do not have to marry Captain Graham—or anyone else—in order to secure your safety. I will be happy to give you a home with me. And to provide for you after my death, too. You do not need to return to
Langrigg
. Ever.'

'Oh, Godfather!' Cassie threw her arms round the old man's neck and kissed him soundly on the cheek. 'Thank you, sir. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!'

Sir Angus unwound her arms and put her from him. He was blushing a little. 'No need for thanks, my dear. No need at all,' he said gruffly. 'An old bachelor like me enjoys having a young thing about the place. You will make me feel alive again. And where else would I leave my money?'

Cassie could not find words to thank him properly. She felt as if the thunder clouds had lifted and both body and soul were being warmed by the brightness of the sun.

Behind her, Ross cleared his throat. He looked very stern. 'Your offer is most generous, sir. But might not James Elliott continue with his charges of impropriety, if Miss Elliott remains here unchaperoned? Might he blacken her name just for revenge? Between us, we will have removed his last hope of paying off his debts.'

'I am an old man, sir,' Sir Angus said stiffly. 'And I am Miss Elliott's godfather, besides. There is no impropriety in her remaining here.'

Ross was silent. The point had been made, and the risk was clear to them all, in spite of Sir Angus's hasty denials. Cassie could not remain in any man's house unchaperoned. She must not accept his offer. She must not!

The silence continued, awkwardly. Ross saw that Cassie's heightened
colour
persisted. Was she thinking about the possible hurt to her reputation if she stayed with Sir Angus? He doubted it. It was not her way. If she was considering Sir Angus's offer, it would be as a way of escaping her brother, of being free. Did she want to be free of Ross, too? Of the traitor's son? He must find a moment to be alone with her—and soon—to find out the truth of that. He had to know. For his part, he would assure her that his intentions were unchanged, that he wanted, above all things, to make her his wife. He could only pray that she loved him enough—still—to accept him. She could never be safe with Sir Angus. Marriage—marriage to Ross—was her only sure refuge.

The door opened to admit Sir Angus's butler. He seemed flustered. Looking around at the assembled company, he said, 'Excuse me, Sir Angus. Would it be possible for me to have a private word with you? Some urgent news has just arrived. I think you should hear it as soon as may be.' The man was almost hopping from foot to foot in his impatience.

'Private business...?' Sir Angus's tone, at first unconvinced, soon changed, probably as a result of the very serious look on the manservant's face. Ah, yes, I see. My dear, would you...?'

'Perhaps Captain Graham and I should take a turn in the garden, Godfather?' Cassie said, rather too brightly.

Ross breathed a sigh of relief. He needed a chance to be alone with Cassie, and now it was being offered to him on a plate.

Sir Angus nodded. 'Yes, do. You can go out through the French windows there. But make sure you take a shawl, Cassie. The wind is quite sharp today. I'm sure this business—whatever it is—will not take long. And then we may sit down to dinner together.'

Cassie dropped him a tiny curtsy. Then, retrieving her shawl from the back of the sofa, she took Ross's proffered arm and allowed him to lead her through the window and down the steps into the knot garden beyond.

She smiled impishly up at Ross as they walked down the gravel path. His heart turned over. If she planned to spurn him, she could not smile at him like that, could she?

I fear I suffer from insatiable curiosity. It is a sin, is it not? Yet I cannot help wondering what is so urgent—and so serious—that my godfather must send us out of the room.'

Cassie was trying to hide her nervousness behind a bright facade. To be honest, she was afraid to be alone with Ross just at present. As long as they were with Sir Angus, she could tell herself that Ross did care for her, that every look and word was an expression of that feeling, rather than a sign of doubt or—worse—distaste for the daughter of a wanton.

Oh, God in heaven, he knew now! Surely he would spurn her? What man in his senses would marry a penniless girl whose mother had perished in an asylum? What man would want his children tainted by such a mother?

'Cassie?'

She jumped. His voice sounded odd. Strained. She started away from him, but he would not let her go. With his free hand, he covered hers, where it was trying to pull away from his arm. His touch was gentle, and warm, but Cassie's skin prickled under the firm contact.

'Cassie, my dear, what is it? Tell me what is wrong. Please.'

She said nothing. She could not bring herself to look up at him.

'Do you not trust me any longer, Cassie?' His voice was suddenly very low, almost inaudible. As if he had barely the strength to make his words heard.

That crack in his voice almost broke her heart. She looked up into his eyes. 'Of course, I trust you, Ross. How could it be otherwise?'

'I thought you might have changed your mind, now that Sir Angus will make you his heir. Have you? Is that it?'

'No! How could you think such a thing?'

'I.. .I...' He smiled. It was an enigmatic smile. What was he thinking? 'I felt sure that, when you discovered that you had allowed the son of a traitor to make love to you, you would—'

Cassie felt herself reddening all over again as he spoke. She stopped him with an impatient gesture. 'I regret nothing that we have done together, Ross. Nothing. But I—' Gently, but firmly, she detached her hand from his arm and took two steps away. Turning back, and seeing the sudden anguish in his face, she said quickly, 'You are not the son of a traitor. All that is long forgot. In Scotland, no one asks about such things. They have been buried deep for decades, and we all know better than to rake them up. They mean nothing now. Besides, you are Captain Ross Graham, an officer and a gentleman. You could pay your addresses to anyone. Anyone!'

For almost a minute he stood staring at her, his jaw working. Then, 'Is that truly what you believe, Cassie? Truly?'

'Yes, of course it is,' she said a little crossly. Why was he so determined to focus on ancient history? Why would he not tell her the truth about what really mattered?

When he still said nothing, she burst out, 'Oh, ask anyone if you do not believe me. Ask my godfather. Ask Colonel Anstruther. They will all tell you the same. No one cares any more.' A huge surge of emotion threatened to overwhelm her. She turned away, battling against her tears. She must return to the house, before she broke down completely. She started away from him.

'Cassie. Cassie, wait.'

His hand was on her shoulder. It was gentle and warm, not controlling. She could shrug him off with barely a shiver.

'Cassie, forgive me.' Behind her, his voice was low. She fancied it was shaking, just a fraction. 'Forgive me, I have been so swept up in my own concerns, my own disgust at what I have learned, that I have not given you a chance to tell me what is wrong. You have told me what it is not. So now, will you tell me what it is that is troubling you? Please?'

He let his hand slide slowly, caressingly, down her arm until he reached her fingers. Then he took her hand in his and held it. She welcomed his touch, her heart swelling at this evidence of his kindness, his regard... But still she could not turn to look into his face.

She gulped and let the words come out in a great rush. 'I know I did not tell you the whole truth about myself. I allowed you to propose marriage to me without making you aware that I.. .that I am the daughter of a lunatic' His fingers tightened convulsively on hers, but she would not be stopped. 'And my mother was a wanton, too. Please believe me when I tell you that I did not know about that. I had always believed that my mother was unjustly imprisoned.' She whirled back round to face him and wrenched her hand from his. 'It seems I was wrong. My father did have cause.'

Ross reached out to take her hand again, but she did not dare to touch him. Instead, she clasped both hands tightly together in front of her.

He sighed deeply. She glanced up at his face, expecting to see disgust, or anger. But his expression seemed to have lightened. What on earth—?

'Exactly when, in our dealings together, were you supposed to have told me about your mother's fate?'

'I...ah...well, I could have—'

'Perhaps you could have mentioned it when we were leaping across sinking pools in the quicksand? Or when we were cowering under that bush, soaked to the skin, and praying that your brother would not discover us?'

'I...um...'

'Precisely so. And later on, when we were huddled together, trying to keep each other warm, perhaps you should have told me then?' 'Yes. I could have—'

'Cassie, you are no lunatic, but your memory is clearly defective. I have a very clear recollection that I had found other uses for your delicious mouth by that stage. I do not believe talking played any part in it.' He grinned at her. It was sunshine after rain.

'Oh, you are impossible, Ross Graham. Why will you not listen to me?'

'Because, my sweet, you are talking nonsense. Utter nonsense. Your mother was not mad. You have your godfather's word for that. Poor lady, she suffered at the hands of a cruel husband. I could not blame her for trying to escape. Nor should you.'

It was not enough. He had overlooked the greatest risk. 'What if I were to take after her?'

'Why should you? Are you suggesting that I would treat you as your father did your mother? Good God, Cassie, what sort of man do you take me for?'

'Not a cruel one. Never that,' she whispered to the gravel at her feet. He had seemed amused before, but now he sounded very hurt. She had not intended that.

This time he did not try for her hand. He reached her in a single stride and pulled her roughly into his arms. When she opened her mouth to protest, he laughed delightedly and captured her lips.

Cassie did not try to pull away. She could not. This, after all, was what she wanted more than anything, to be held, and kissed, by Ross Graham, the man to whom she had given her heart. She breathed in the warm male scent of him, letting the intoxication of his nearness fizz in her blood. She was almost dizzy as she began to return his kiss with a
fervour
equal to his own. He had taught her the joys of passion, but she now showed him that the pupil could match the master, perhaps even surpass him.

Ross groaned, deep in his chest, as her tongue touched his, teasing, retreating, and teasing again. He pulled away just long enough to take a breath, and gasp, 'I swear you are a witch, Cassie.' For a second, he put a hand to her hair, stroking the silken curls as if they were the most precious treasure in the world. Then he lowered his mouth to hers once again.

For a long, long time, they kissed. It seemed to Cassie that her soul was melding with Ross's, that they were becoming one, a single spirit, it felt.. .oh, it felt like utter bliss. He was still stroking her hair, and one strong hand was splayed across her back. His fingers seemed to be branding her there. The heat was searing her skin, in spite of her clothes.

'Cassie. My sweet Cassie,' he whispered. He had torn his mouth from hers and was gazing down into her eyes. His own were unfocused and dreamy. Were hers the same? She was certainly no longer sure of who or where she was. But why had be stopped kissing her?

'Ross? What is it?'

'Nothing. Except that I hope you are now properly convinced of my intentions, ma'am.'

'I... You mean that you truly do want to marry the daughter of a lunatic?'

He shook his head wearily. 'Our positions are clear enough. You are not the daughter of a lunatic. But you are being asked to marry the son of a traitor. For that, it appears, is what I am. That being so, I think the benefits of the union would be all on my side. If you would agree to take me. Will you, Cassie?'

She looked up into his eyes. They were focused now, and full of doubt. He was afraid that she was going to reject him. How could he possibly think that? And for such a reason? She had given herself to him, because she loved him. Her path was set. Nothing could alter it, except Ross himself. 'Do you not know that I love you, Ross?' Her voice was very low, and it shook, just a little.