In the Heart of the Highlander (10 page)

Chapter

12

C
ould this infernal day get any worse? Endless cold showers. Icy streams. Snowbanks. Blizzards. The North Sea in January. Alec thought of all the frigid places he knew, and some he didn’t—like the North Pole—but nothing seemed to subdue his inconvenient erection.

He had touched her smooth freckled shoulders. Kissed her soft pink lips. Palmed a perfect breast. Now she was luring him with a curtain of copper and bronze that fell to her plush bottom.

He was only a man, prone to temptation as everyone and their mothers knew. He’d never been a saint, except for the brief period when he thought to cajole skittish Edith into his bed.

It was unfair—little Mary Arden had made sure he kissed her. Tasted her. And now he was supposed to slink away as if nothing happened.

All this nonsense about her having a “swan song!” He could show her all the swans and songs she could ever hope for, but they were talking about her aunt’s agency now, of which she seemed to know a great deal for a grocery shop girl on holiday. Maybe her old aunt was grooming her to take over the business. He snorted. As if anyone could place their future in the hands of this pocket Venus. Alec didn’t care how old she was—she looked like an innocent girl.

Not so innocent, the minx. She had stolen a kiss from
him
!

He rubbed his mouth, happy to find it still in place. His beard seemed to be sprouting right back, too. He’d let it grow again. What was he thinking to shave it off anyhow? He felt naked without it.

Ha. Naked. Ice floes. Eskimo. Robert Peary all rigged out in sealskin. Sled dogs. Snowmen. Snowballs.

Oh,
balls.

It was useless. He’d have to crabwalk out of the room and hope he could find his way upstairs without attracting any attention. Perhaps Alec could take the fringed pillow with him.

“You don’t intend to marry again?”

“Who would have me? Some poor girl would be avoiding all the windows at Raeburn Court when I’d be home, and let me tell you, there are a lot of windows. Mrs. Spotwood used to complain about cleaning all of them.”

“Well, of course you wouldn’t marry someone who thought the worst of you.”

“My dear Miss Arden, the only people who believe I’m not guilty of my wife’s death besides a handful of friends are my brothers—and I’m not even sure about Nick. He’s not come home since it happened.”

Mary smacked the hairbrush against her hand. “It’s so unfair.”

Yes, wasn’t he just thinking that? “I should go. Your aunt is expecting you.” He met her eyes in the mirror, and her lashes dropped. Did she feel guilty for what she’d done to him? Good.

And then she turned around to face him again, her hazel eyes dark as a forest. “Could I prevail upon you to help me out of this dress before you go? It’s most uncomfortable.”

Alec said a word he shouldn’t. Again. “You want me to undress you?”

“Just the buttons in the back.”

“
Just
the buttons.
Just
a kiss. Miss Arden, I don’t believe you know what the meaning of
just
is. If I undo your buttons, I’ll see your laces. If I see your laces, I will be tempted to tear them. With my teeth if necessary, if my hands are trembling too hard. And then we’ll be down to sheer shift and skin. You cannot expect me to act like a gentleman, because I am not one at the moment. You should know this by now.”

“Oh.”

Her blush owed nothing to paint. Damn, why was he even trying to talk sense to her? Wasn’t she offering what he’d wanted ever since he saw her in the lobby of the Forsyth Palace Hotel?

She was not exactly beautiful, he reminded himself. She was better than beautiful, though. Intelligent. Spirited. Her loose hair was a molten river, her body luscious.

But something about Mary made him
want
to be a gentleman, damn it.

“Stand up,” he growled.

The buttons were shiny and minuscule. Perhaps he was getting old enough for reading glasses. His clumsy fingers slipped and slid and he uttered that oath again. Mary stood as still as a statue, her hair slung over her right shoulder. Alec was getting a crick in his neck again—they really were the most mismatched couple.

Hell, they weren’t a couple—they’d only kissed once.

But what a kiss.

He stepped back. “There. I trust you can take it from here.”

“Y-yes.”

She seemed a little dazed, maybe from the warm breaths he blew on the back of her neck or the way his hands brushed her bare skin when it was revealed between the folds of fabric. He was a cur, and had only increased the discomfort in his aching nether regions.

Alec smoothed his hair down and returned his tie to strangulation mode so he could get upstairs without attracting attention. Putting his ear to the door, he heard a steady stream of footsteps in the corridor. Laughter. Doors opening and closing.

“I may have to stay here for a few more minutes. Dinner must be over.”

She bit a lip and nodded. Was it so awful to be in his presence?

“Or I could go out Oliver’s door. People might think I was visiting him,” he said, gruffly.

Mary shook her head. “He hasn’t come back yet. You might be taken for a thief. Someone might have seen him still downstairs and put two and two together.”

Alec would like to put at least two together, but it was unlikely to happen as Mary Arden clutched the bodice of her satin dress. The lace bib had unfurled and her neck looked very kissable. He could see faint pink lines around her throat where the high-banded collar had pinched. Damn fool women and their fashions.

“Lord Raeburn—”

“Miss Arden—”

They had both spoken at the same time. Alec wasn’t even sure what he’d been planning to say, but the silence in the room had been a little onerous. “You first.”

“Um.” She didn’t meet his eyes. “If we come to Raeburn Court, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Alec had paid her aunt a fortune, and hoped Mary would get a generous cut of it for her performance. But he had a soft spot for her, and was willing to give her something of her own. Within reason, of course. He wasn’t made of money, though he had more than he’d ever need in his lifetime now that he wasn’t going to dress a wife in the latest styles from Paris and furnish a nursery.

He tried to smile at her. “If you manage to ruin Bauer’s reputation, you can have anything you want.”

“You don’t know what I want. At least I
think
I want it,” she mumbled. She was shifting nervously from one silk-shod foot to the other as if she had to relieve herself. Damn it. He should
go
.

He sat back down on the bed. “Out with it, my girl. You intrigue me.”

“Oh, I do hope I do. As you know, Lord Raeburn, I’ve led a rather quiet life. I’d like . . . something more.”

“A trip to Paris, perhaps? I warn you, Frenchmen smell of garlic,” he teased.

“No, not Paris. We were talking of Raeburn Court.”

“So we were. My house and what servants are left will be at your disposal.”

She looked straight at him, her hazel eyes wide and innocent. “I don’t need your servants. I only need you.”

“And what can I do for you?” Alec smiled for real now, frankly curious.

The hallway activity continued to rumble as Mary struggled for words. Odd. She usually had plenty to say to him, and not all of it kind.

She took a very deep breath. “I would like to experience one night of passion.”

His vision was going, and now his hearing seemed deficient. “I beg your pardon?”

She looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, don’t make me say it again.”

He felt very stupid. “Say what?”

“Damn you. Never mind.”

He sprang up from the bed. “No, no! Wait! I didn’t quite hear you—I mean, you’ve been beating me off with a stick except for that aberrant kiss. Not that it wasn’t lovely. In fact, it was about the loveliest thing—” Good grief. He was babbling. “You aren’t saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

She folded her arms around her glorious décolletage, still holding up the dress. “I might be.”

He sat down again before he fell. “Me? You want me to relieve you of—”

“My virginity. Yes, I believe so. I might change my mind tomorrow. But really, it’s not as though I’m going to have many more opportunities in my line of work to meet an eligible man. Men like you don’t come along every day.”

That was true. Alec had never been in a grocery store in his life, although now that Mrs. Spotwood had left he might have to go shopping. “Have you considered my reputation?”

“That’s precisely why this is a good idea. You have years of extensive interaction with females. I presume you know what to do.”

“I should hope so,” Alec said faintly. He thought of all the pliant courtesans, actresses, wives and widows he’d bedded. Well, not
all
of them—his memory was going the way of his eyesight and hearing. He’d never fielded any complaints, although some of his ladies were too well paid not to do anything but praise him.

Alec got a knot in his stomach. What if he was not the competent Casanova Mary thought him to be?

Her blushes had ceased and she was looking quite rational, even businesslike, somehow braiding her hair without benefit of the mirror and still keeping her dress up. “As I said, I’m almost thirty. I don’t expect to ever marry and I don’t particularly want to die a virgin. Not that I want any sort of complicated affair—I don’t have time for that. I have enough secrets—I mean, it would be difficult to keep a secret, and if my aunt found out, she wouldn’t much like it. But a night—or two—in the Highlands might suit me very well. Then I could go back to London with knowledge that might help me with my work.”

What sort of grocery store was her family running that required carnal knowledge from its cashiers? “I thought you said the stores were in Oxfordshire.”

“We might be branching out,” she said vaguely. “Anyway, it’s time
I
branched out. I haven’t had any fun in years.”

Fun?
Fun?
No decent woman of his acquaintance thought sexual congress was fun, more’s the pity. That’s why he spent so much time with indecent ones.

“You might be disappointed,” Alec said, feeling considerable pressure.

Mary Arden eyed him with a speculative gleam in her hazel eyes. “I doubt it. You are a very fine figure of a man. I enjoyed the kiss. What could go wrong?”

“Your aunt—that Oliver fellow—”

“Oh, we’ll be discreet. Raeburn Court is huge, is it not?”

“Aye.”

“We’ll just find a quiet place away from them. It’s to our benefit your house is not well-staffed at the moment. No servants’ gossip. Not that anyone will ever know who I really am.”

She was a candidate for Bedlam, that’s who.

“I think you should sleep on this idea, Miss Arden. If you still feel this way in the morning, we will discuss the subject again.”

She looked stricken. “Oh! You don’t want me. I understand. I’ve been much too forward. You probably flirt with and kiss everyone.”

“I do not!” Alec lied. “And I do. Want you, that is. You are very . . . different. In a good way,” he said quickly, watching her face fall. “In a very good way. You must forgive me. It’s I that usually do the propositioning. I have not had an offer like yours since I left school. A randy young woman, but you don’t need to know the details.” Lord, would this night never end?

“Was she a virgin, too?”

“Gad, no. Grace slept with ev—that is, I should be frank with you, Miss Arden. To the best of my knowledge, I have never deflowered a virgin, not even when I was one myself.” He remembered Dory, the saucy housemaid who decided to work her way through all three Raeburn boys when they came to stay at the London townhouse. He took a deep breath. “Your aunt must have told you—not even my wife. We never consummated our marriage. She was afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be! What if you fall pregnant after this one night of abandon?” Lord, why was he borrowing trouble? He should leap at this chance to do exactly what he’d wanted to do to—with—Miss Arden from the second he saw her.

“I expect you know how to prevent that.”

“Nothing is foolproof.” To the best of his knowledge, he hadn’t littered the countryside with his by-blows, which was a bit of a miracle, really.

Maybe he was sterile. Now there was a daunting thought. But Evan was his heir, and Nick after him in case Evan fell in a vat of Raeburn’s Special Reserve.

The corridor was quiet. Alec staggered to his feet. “I’m going now. As I said, Miss Arden, we needn’t make a decision tonight. I may not be the man for you. What about Oliver? He’s a handsome boy.”

Mary bit her lip again. “I’m afraid not.”

The lass had probably approached the lad already, being as they had only a thin connecting door separating them. Ah, well. Alec was still flattered, more or less.

And somewhat terrified.

Chapter

13

M
ary couldn’t blame anything on alcoholic spirits, because she’d had nothing but tea and good Scottish water. What had come over her?

Alec Raeburn. Technically he’d been beside her, but it wouldn’t have taken much to get him to roll on top of her tonight. And she had wanted him to.

Where was her vaunted good sense? Not in the Highlands, that’s for sure.

But really, was it so wrong for her to want the forbidden at her advanced age? Ever since the man had rubbed her bare shoulders—and her feet!—this afternoon, she had the oddest sensations bubbling in her blood and mind. It was as if Alec Raeburn had opened a tap and liquid insanity was pouring out by the bucketloads.

Mary had resolutely ignored her physical self all her life, apart from keeping her body reasonably clean and covered properly. For the past four years, her body had been covered
too
properly—all that black bombazine and hideous hats and gloves and glasses. That awful, awful wig.

No one had ever told her that her hair was pretty before. No one had ever kissed her as Alec Raeburn had.

If he agreed to her proposal, he would kiss her again.

And do much more.

Mary shivered. The poor man looked terribly anxious to leave her bedroom. She had shocked him. Well, join the club, Lord Raeburn, for she had shocked herself and it felt
wonderful
.

Before she’d left school, she’d heard stories in the dormitory. Harriet’s books had been somewhat helpful. Acting as her aunt, she’d been privy to a lot of conversations that were completely inappropriate for an unmarried young woman to hear. Her knowledge was spotty at best. It was time she remedied that.

“I don’t need a day to reconsider. Once I make my mind up about something, I carry on to the finish.” Aunt Mim called her as stubborn as she herself was. “I trust you don’t have any diseases?”

Lord Raeburn’s pale face suffused with color. “What?”

“I may be a virgin, but I’m not entirely innocent. Do you know it is rumored that Isabella Beeton’s husband infected her with syphilis? That’s hardly household management in my book. Any number of historic personages have died from gentlemen’s diseases. I should hate to break out in rashes or lose my hair or go mad.”

The baron’s lips twitched. “You are mad already, Miss Arden.”

She tied the end of her braid with a ribbon, her dress nearly dropping to the floor. She wasn’t ready for Lord Raeburn to see her yet, although he’d probably gotten an eyeful already. Was she mad? She was very much afraid she was.

She was infected with something—lust. Mary could see why females were so carefully chaperoned around men like Alec Raeburn. A few days in his presence and she’d tossed away years of self-control.

Well, why not? Who would ever find out? If she didn’t seize this opportunity, nothing like it would ever come along again and she would be doomed to thwarted curiosity for the rest of her days.

She smiled at Alec in what she hoped was a perfectly sane way.

“Perhaps you’d like me to get a health certificate from Dr. Bauer,” he snapped.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll take your word as a gentleman.”

Alec’s nostrils flared. “I’m not a gentleman, remember? But I’m not diseased, either. Really, this conversation is extraordinary.”

“Don’t you usually have this discussion with your paramours? I would think they’d want to know, and so would you. One can never be too careful.”

“What kind of a virgin
are
you?” Alec spluttered.

“My inexperience does not preclude my intelligence, Lord Raeburn. Alec. It seems silly to call you by your title when we are about to fornicate.”

“Miss Arden—
Mary
—you are making all this sound much too cold-blooded for my taste.”

“I’m surprised. I was under the impression that most of your liaisons were business arrangements. I did not take you for a romantic.”

“I’m not a damned romantic! But this—you—it isn’t proper!” He was adorably rumpled, his hair standing on end as he practically ripped it out. Mary had never suspected she could have such an effect upon a man.

“Exactly. I am somewhat tired of being proper. And I’m sorry if you think I’m being too forward. I realize women are supposed to wait for a man’s overtures. But I’d say you made enough overtures today, wouldn’t you? I am simply returning them.”

“In spades,” he muttered. “All right. If everything goes as planned with Bauer, we should be able to leave the hotel on Sunday. The Lord’s day, Miss Arden, so I think you’ll want to wait until Monday to conduct this harebrained experiment. I myself will be in Raeburn Chapel on my knees all day Sunday asking for forgiveness. And strength.”

Mary wondered if he’d be in his kilt, the stones digging into his knees. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“I really should rescind my invitation. You know the house is not finished,” Alec reminded her. “The work crew will be at it for at least another week.”

“Then we will have to be creative finding a spot for our rendezvous.”

“I prefer a good, old-fashioned bed, Miss Arden. I’m getting too long in the tooth for acrobatics.”

Mary doubted that. Alec Raeburn was fit, well-muscled, radiating physicality. She imagined he would be up to pretty much anything.

But she didn’t want an exotic encounter, just the basic shag. No hanging from chandeliers. Mary would have enough to do preserving each sensation for future reference without worrying about pulling a muscle in her back.

“Very well. Let’s shake on our agreement,” Mary said.

“Don’t you want to put it in writing? You remind me very much of your aunt. She’s a canny, cunning woman. I almost wish I hadn’t consulted her.” Alec sounded deuced gloomy.

That wouldn’t do. Mary did not want to think of herself as a duty, someone to be tolerated until the unpleasant task was accomplished. She was not a complete antidote, after all.

“Should you have misgivings, my lord, you can change your mind at any time.” She held out a hand.

He looked at it with contempt. “A handshake to seal this kind of bargain? I think not.” He grabbed her fingers and tugged her forward until she was flush against his body. Or would have been, if the arm holding up her dress had not been in the way. He glared down, and Mary felt misgivings of her own.

She shut her eyes as his face loomed closer, each bristle on his dark cheek looking quite deadly. His mouth covered hers in ownership, his tongue thrusting deep. This was not the kiss from before. There was no playful tenderness or gentle exploration. This kiss was pure possession, confirming Mary’s hope to be swept away. She was bobbing on a sea of wicked waves right now, barely able to stand upright. He held her tight, each fingertip scorching the bare flesh of her back.

The disparity in their heights was an issue, and she stumbled toward the bed as he steered her sideways. A small voice inside her said,
Not yet
, but she could not have spoken even if her lips were free. How far would he go? How far would she let him?

He pushed her arm away and peeled back her bodice, answering one question. And then he nibbled his way down, attending an earlobe, her throat, the blade of her collarbone, searing her with expertise. While he kissed her, one hand was unhooking the front of her corset, pushing her chemise away, capturing a breast. His mouth followed his nimble fingers, and Mary gasped as he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked. She felt a string inside her snap and her legs fell apart as if she were a broken marionette.

But Alec confined himself to her breasts, her neck, her mouth again, his hands and teeth and tongue working together to leave her wanting more. And she would get it three long nights from now.

One should always be careful what one wished for. Mary felt way over her head, her arms lying uselessly at her side while Alec plundered. She didn’t know what a man wanted. What a man needed. She’d have to find out before Monday night.

What if Aunt Mim didn’t want to visit Raeburn Court? Mary would have to convince her without arousing her aunt’s alarm. The journey to Scotland had tired her, so perhaps Mary could promise a few extra days of rest before they returned to reality and London.

She herself would need a lifetime to recover from the kisses and caresses of Lord Alec Raeburn. This—whatever it was—was so much lovelier than she’d expected, yet not enough. Mary’s nose was becoming unaccountably numb, and there was a rushing in her ears. Her scalp tingled. Could one faint from pleasure? The spacious room had shrunk to the bed and the bodies on it, and she was glad she was safe in Alec’s arms.

Safe.
Ha. Not the right word.

Alec shuddered and inched away, pulling up her dress as he did so. She stifled her urge to pull it back down. Leaning up on one elbow, he gave a ragged breath and stared down at her, his eyes dark.

“Are you frightened yet, Miss Arden?”

Frightened
was not the right word either. Whatever she felt was a word that was nonexistent in her vocabulary. She really had to expand it.

“I don’t think so,” she said carefully, happy to find her tongue still worked for ordinary speech.

“This is not right.”

She would try to overcome her ignorance. Should she ask Oliver? How different could his encounters be? “I’m sure I’ll learn quickly.”

An odd look passed over his face. “I mean, it’s not
right.
Not proper.”

Mary nodded. “I know. That’s why I want to do it.”

“You are playing with fire and you don’t even know it. What am I to do with you?” He fell onto his back again. This time there was no strategically placed pillow and Mary got quite an eyeful when she looked.

“Just what you’ve been doing, only more of it.”

There was a rumble, then a roar of laughter. Mary tapped him on his chest. “Be quiet! My neighbors will hear you!”

“Maybe they’ll think I’m young Oliver,” Alec said, wiping his face. “Where is he anyway? He should be bursting in here to save you from
me
.”

Mary bunched up her dress and stood on wobbly legs. “He enjoys meeting new people. He’s probably blowing a cloud in the gentlemen’s smoking tower. You should go. I’m sure the hallway is empty now.”

“Give me a minute.”

“Does it—your condition—hurt if you do not find relief?”

“Don’t ever fall for that old chestnut. You are not to mention my current difficulty. A lady isna supposed to notice such things.”

“Well, it’s very noticeable. I couldn’t help you with it, could I?”

Alec shot up off the bed. “That’s quite enough for one night, Miss Arden. I’m going to shoot myself if you utter one more word about my unfortunate problem, and then you’ll have to find a new man to torment. I canna believe this.”

His Scottish burr became more pronounced when he was agitated. Mary thought it charming. It would always be easy to gauge his emotions.

Not that she would see him after Tuesday, when she bid him farewell after one night of bliss. Or Wednesday, after two nights. There was no future for Lord Alec Raeburn and Miss Mary Arden Evensong.