In the Heart of the Highlander (9 page)

No, not tonight. Perhaps not ever. Mary Arden was not a wanton woman, and deserved more than the likes of him. She needed a man with a future, a man who’d made fewer mistakes than he had in his thirty-five years.

He’d never promise another woman to love, honor, and cherish her again.

Chapter

11

M
ary could feel his loneliness, though he was so close, the heat of his kiss inflaming her cheeks and dampening her in places she didn’t want to think about. He kissed her as if he was afraid she would shatter, his fingertips barely touching her scalp. She supposed he was used to people being afraid of him because of his size, but she wasn’t made of spun sugar, and he didn’t need to be so careful. She cupped his jaw tighter, its strong edge digging into her palm.

He had a lovely chin, with just a hint of a dimple. No wonder he’d wanted to cover it—it made him look vulnerable. Between his lashes and the dimple, he was doomed to make women fall in love with him.

But not his child bride, and there was the crux of the problem.

Mary had never been kissed like this, but instinctively she knew there was more. Something deeper. Something darker. Something that would sweep her away and make her forget to say no. To say stop.

She was close to pulling away now, but she might never get a chance like this again. He was a baron. Barons didn’t go around kissing women like her. He hadn’t even meant to until she’d turned into his innocent kiss, the uncle-like peck on the cheek he had intended. She was not his niece, and she’d seen his bare thighs, so why not go one step further?

She hadn’t seen male thighs except for her little nephews’, and they hadn’t been dusted with dark hair or looked like tree trunks. She’d smelled the starch of his shirt and the cologne he wore, and yes, a hint of lemon when she’d smoothed the salve on his blistered skin. Things were already so very improper between them that one little kiss could not make it worse.

Proper. Proper. Proper
. Mary heard her late mother, Miss Ambrose, her sister-in-law, Phyllis, her Aunt Mim. Her whole life had been bound by warnings and duty.

Damn the warnings and the duty. Damn propriety.

She gave a little sigh and leaned forward, earning an anguished groan from Alec Raeburn. He seemed to like what she was doing with her mouth, so she did more of it. Mary was uncertain of her womanly skills, but Alec probably had enough manly skills for both of them. She let him lead, sweeping his tongue softly across hers, returning each parry and thrust with expectance. Mary was rewarded by his arm encircling her, bringing her so close to his broad chest one could not have fitted a calling card between them. Her breasts felt odd and tingly, and she couldn’t get quite enough air in her lungs to prevent her from feeling light-headed.

This was not simply the result of tight-lacing. This was epic! Worlds and tongues and teeth were colliding. Now Mary understood what all those silly romance books Harriet loaned her meant when they used their ellipses. Mary dot-dot-dotted, her hands on Alec’s shoulders, her eyes fluttering shut. She didn’t need to watch him anymore, only feel his mastery over her as he overcame his scruples and kissed her like she was the only woman in the world. The idea was ridiculous—Mary was sure he’d had better, more confident kisses—but who was she to argue? She could not think straight, or even crooked.

Hot. Hard. Wet, which implied something less than wonderful, but she did not have another word for it. Smooth. Rough. No more words. Her vocabulary was entirely insufficient. She fell back onto her bed and he was beside her, one big hand cupping her satin-covered breast, the other buried in her hair. She’d have to redo her coiffeur before she saw Aunt Mim—

Oh, she didn’t want to see anyone or go anywhere. Ever. This was so . . .

Her lips quirked. So . . . unprofessional. Misguided. Marvelous.

But perhaps Alec heard the first two words and not the last, for he rolled away and uttered a word she had never dared to use or even think of.

He was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, looking both fierce and flummoxed. Mary noted he clutched a pillow over his privates. She sat up and straightened her bodice. She would have loved to unhook the itchy lace insert, but Alec looked miserable enough as it was. She should not tempt him—or herself—further.

“There’s no need to apologize, my lord,” she said briskly. “That was very pleasant. My fault entirely. I tricked you into it, you see.” More like she’d tricked herself—when he’d angled down she did the first thing that came to her and opened her mouth. It had seemed so natural. So right, although of course it was anything but.

His
mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“When you meant to kiss me on my cheek. I turned my face. You couldn’t help it. Please excuse my feeble attempt at seduction. Well, not seduction, precisely. I only wanted a proper”—
or improper
—“kiss, not all the rest of it.” She waved vaguely at the pillow that was still being clutched as if it were a life preserver and Alec were about to drown. “You must know that with my background, my experiences have been somewhat limited. And after today and all the odd occurrences, I thought, what’s the harm? It is only a kiss.” To be fair, there really had not been much thinking involved.

“Only a kiss,” he muttered, looking fiercer and less flummoxed.

“I am almost thirty. Call this day my swan song. After all, it is unlikely any of the events will be repeated. I was naked in a room with you—”

“It was dark and I couldn’t see,” Alec interrupted.

“—when you touched me most intimately, and then I had you remove your pants so I could touch
you
. Tell me, which is worse? The kiss or the touching?”

He made a growling noise. “It’s all horrible. It must never happen again, Miss Arden.”

Mary stiffened. Was she really that awkward and unappealing? “Of course not, Lord Raeburn. My curiosity has been satisfied.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“You would never harm me, Lord Raeburn. I’m considered a good judge of character, and I would stake my life on that,” Mary said with total seriousness. The man had suffered from society’s suspicion enough. If more people had kissed him, they would soon be disabused of the fact that he was a murderer. He was the gentlest of giants. He had been most respectful during their interlude. Damn it.

Of course he couldn’t go around kissing everybody, although he’d made a valiant stab at kissing females, according to his reputation. Good Lord, but her thought processes were somewhat mangled. She felt like an electric circuit that had tripped a wire.

He didn’t move from the bed. “You’re not going to tell your aunt, are you?”

“About our silly kiss? Do you think I am a tattletale? You are not the only one afraid of Aunt Mim.” Oliver might appreciate the story, but Mary didn’t want to give him any inspiration. The boy might get into trouble up here if he decided to kiss whom he pleased.

Mary could not be sorry that she’d pleased. No, it had been a worthwhile experiment. She brushed her lips with a finger to see if they were still there.

“I should get up.” Alec made no effort to move.

“Yes. Yes, you should.”

“I don’t think I can quite yet.” His knuckles on the pillow were quite white.

“I must look a fright.” Mary managed to walk across the room and sit down at the dressing table, giving him a chance to shift whatever needed to be shifted. The pad she used to make her pompadour rise to outstanding heights was sticking out of her head like a small loaf of bread. Her lips were swollen as if she’d been stung by a hive of bees. There was no disguising what she’d been up to.

Or down to. She had lain down with a man on a bed, even if her corset was still laced as tightly as ever. It was all rather shocking and thrilling.

She was being as silly as a schoolgirl. “Drat.” Mary pulled the pins from her hair and tossed the pad on the table. She had as much hair as the next woman, but sometimes it was hard to rat it up high enough without a maid to help her. Hamblen had enough to do tending to Aunt Mim and was not always available. Mary picked up her brush, preparing to untangle the red mess.

She heard a moan behind her. “Are you in pain, Lord Raeburn?”

“Aye, lass, that I am. I’d be better off blind.”

“I know I’m not in looks, sir,” she said crossly. “That’s your doing.”

“You will be the death of me yet. God give me strength,” he muttered.

“God should give you strength to get off my bed! You must leave before the guests return from the dining room. You should not be caught on this floor.”

Her brush snagged on a knot and she stopped herself from uttering the very same naughty word Lord Raeburn had recently used. He was a very bad influence. Until she had met him, she had never dreamed of removing trousers or lying down on a bed or kissing anyone, and if she had, that was all it was—a dream. Mary spent most of her life fully awake, practical and full of purpose. “What if the elevator operator recognized you and tells Bauer we came up together?”

“That horse has left the barn, my dear. And I could be visiting anyone. I’m so popular, you know.”

Did he feel sorry for himself? At least he had his brothers.

“You must be more discreet tomorrow. Actually, it would be best if you didn’t see me at all until Oliver rescues me tomorrow night. Nothing must upset the applecart.”

“The applecart is already upset, Eve.”

Now what did he mean by that? Her hair crackled under the hairbrush as she methodically counted her strokes. She could pretend he wasn’t there, taking up so much space on her bed, in her room, in her h—

Mary Arden Evensong
, she said to herself,
do not be so foolish
.
It was
just
a kiss
. Just because her life had been bereft of kisses so far, it meant nothing in the wider scheme of things. Lord Raeburn was a rake and a reprobate, and she was a ridiculous old maid who was too nosy for her own good.

Well, she’d satisfied one question—kisses were much nicer in practice than theory. Mary had always wondered how two people could enjoy smashing noses and swapping spit, but now it wasn’t so incomprehensible. Actual lovemaking was probably equally enjoyable, if one could get over the embarrassment and body odor. Lord Raeburn smelled quite wonderful, actually.

She whacked her head with the hairbrush in an attempt to beat some sense into it.

She heard the bed creak. “Are you still here?” she asked with annoyance.

He was sitting up now, his dark hair disordered. “You have beautiful hair. Like a sunset.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “It is just hair.”

“My mother had hair like yours, all fire.”

“I remind you of your mother?” Mary felt unexpectedly peevish.

“Aye. I mean, nae. You are nothing like her at all. She was tall, a regular Valkyrie. Bruising rider. My brother Evan takes after her. You will meet him when you come to Raeburn Court.”

Mary turned to face him. “I really don’t think that’s such a good idea, my lord. I’m sure your housekeeper and your butler have an idea of the staffing needs of your home. They can convey that by letter to the Evensong Agency and we—I mean, Aunt Mim will do her best to get suitable employees.”

“Ha, that’s where you are wrong. They’re both gone.”

“They deserted you?”

His hand raked through his hair, disordering it even more. “In a manner of speaking. Old Elphinstone dropped dead last month, right in the front hallway where he’d sat for fifty years. Mrs. Spotwood retired shortly thereafter, saying the house was unlucky. I think it was just too big to keep after, being so short-staffed, and she had to do the cooking, too. The local girls would rather go down to be typists in Edinburgh now than swing mops and make oatcakes. So aside from the temporary workmen, we are in a bit of a jam. I drive over every day to keep an eye on the renovations, but I’ve always spent more time in my London house than here in the Highlands. My mistake. Evan doesn’t have time to get it all sorted out, and since I intend to hibernate up here from now on, it falls to me. As it should.”

The hairbrush almost slipped from her fingers. “Y-you are giving up your London life?”

“Aye. It’s about time, don’t you think? I’ve sown my wild oats. And it’s damned unpleasant to walk into my clubs and have that silence fall. I’ll be better off here with my brothers. One canna run away from one’s past or one’s heritage forever.”

But he
would
be running away, hiding up here and licking his wounds. “I see. I’ll talk to Aunt Mim. The visit may be too much for her, though.”

“She seemed in excellent health when I met her on Mount Street. What happened?”

Lord, but this double life was hard to maintain. “Oh! Just a little indisposition. It does not affect her business sense one iota. I would not want you or anyone else to think that the agency suffers from lack of leadership.”

“No, its reputation is why I came to you in the first place. I have a friend—one of the few left—who’s looking for a wife. He tells me your aunt does some matchmaking, too.”

“On occasion. The fee for that sort of service is rather exorbitant, though.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll not be availing myself of it. One disastrous marriage was enough.”

Despite his assurance that he wouldn’t marry again, Mary couldn’t help but imagine which of her clients was suitable to be the next Baroness Raeburn. Then she shook the thought right out of her head. It was of no concern to her. Unfortunately, something else popped right in.