Nothing but Trouble (24 page)

“Miss Boyd has kept our secret,” she whispered.

He did reach for her then, reservations cast aside. He wrapped his arms around her own, encasing her in a double embrace. Nothing more. Not yet. He just needed her to know he was there for her now, even if he hadn’t been before.

She didn’t push him away
. He even thought he felt her relax, just a bit, into his body. He breathed deeply. How had their marriage gotten this far off course in so short a time?

He
rested his chin on her head and stared off towards the hills as she had moments ago, hesitating. “It didn’t turn out to be that difficult to keep, did it?” He wasn’t really asking as much as acknowledging.

She gave a tiny shrug within his arms
. He didn’t let go. To his surprise, she answered. “Miss Boyd has actually been quite helpful. Her presence is a comfort. I wanted to hate her, you know, when she first arrived.”

He stifled a laugh
. “I thought you might hate her still.”

“
No. She’s very good.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that
. Was it her nursing skills that were good? Had Charity actually needed those…had his absence worsened her condition? Or did she just mean Miss Boyd was good, as in a nice person to be around?

“I’m glad, then
. Was she out walking with you just now?”

“No, not this time.”

He hated to spoil the moment, but his protective instincts wouldn’t let him do otherwise. “It makes me happy to know you have grown fond of my homeland. But, dearest, I really would prefer you not go walking alone.”

Lady Charity Maxwell—who hadn’t
even owned that title long enough to become accustomed to it before her husband left her—felt her ire rising. She shrugged off his embrace and turned to face him.

He looked like he’d aged ten years in the short weeks he’
d been away, yet somehow he was as handsome as ever. How could she love him so much and be so mad at him at the same time?

She’d plotted for hours about how to seduce h
er husband when he finally returned. Now that he was here, it was much more complicated. Oh, she still wanted to wind up naked in his arms, but she couldn’t do it while she was so upset with him. He wanted to waltz back into her life and tell her how to behave? Pretend like nothing had happened? She hadn’t realized until now that her feelings went way beyond heartbreak. She was just so
angry
.

Heaven above
. The man hadn’t been home an hour and her emotions were all in a windstorm. “Why shouldn’t I walk alone? What’s it to you if the madwoman gets lost in the woods? I should think you’d be relieved. It would free you to go find the ‘suitable’ wife and mother you wanted in the first place.”

“I don’t believe you a madwoman, lass,” he said quietly
. “You are eminently suitable. You may very well be the only woman on earth who will ever suit me.”

His gentleness, his protectiveness, only increased her frustration
. He could say he needed her, that he cared for her. But his actions had proven otherwise. “Your opinion seems to have changed quite suddenly.”

Even if he was a man prone to jumping to conclusions, she knew him well enough to know he
wasn’t
prone to drastically changing his mind after reaching said conclusion. “What made you change your mind?”

Graeme cleared his throat
. “Walk with me again.”

He took her arm once more, and they circled the garden, coming to stop at a stone bench, while he explained
. “I had a lot of time to think. Spent two weeks at the hunting box of an acquaintance of mine, surrounded by nothing but wood and brush. By the end of those weeks, I could think of little else but you. But I still didn’t know what to do. It is one of my fondest wishes, you know, to give Nathan a passel of younger siblings. I truly feared, with madness running on both sides of the family, we might doom any children we had to an unbearable life.” He stopped suddenly. “Of course, I realized those worries could already be too late. Were they?”

“My lord?”

“Are you with child, beautiful wife?”

“Nooo
…” she said slowly, trying to follow his thoughts. Oddly, his look of disappointment pleased her.

“
So I stayed away a while longer,” he continued. “Maybe I’m just slow. My father always used to say it took a long time for a thought to penetrate my thick skull, but once it did, it never slipped back out.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I suppose he was right. And then…well, then I ran into Beaufort at the races in Edinburgh. He was with a certain Monsieur Durand. The three of us had a rather long conversation.”

The anger left her like a sailboat in a sudden
absence of wind, leaving only a drifting weariness. She sank down on the garden bench. “Oh. So you know.”

She’d almost thought, for a moment while he spoke, that he’d come to this decision alone
. That he loved her unconditionally, even if he still thought her mad. Knowing that he’d spoken to Alex Bainbridge and Philippe Durand…they wouldn’t have been able to relay all of the things she’d revealed to Ismay Boyd, for she’d never spoken of them before. But her two rescuers had certainly known enough to paint a picture for her husband. So where did that leave her?

“All right,” she said dully
. She gave a little wave of her hand. “You asked me once, why the duke sent men to shadow me. The answer I gave that night at Vauxhall was true, but only a small piece of the truth. I won’t walk alone anymore. You can walk with me, or send a guard, or whatever.”

Graeme frowned
. This wasn’t what he’d wanted. A submissive Charity was no Charity at all. Worse, it was he who’d repressed her. He sat beside her. “We’ll figure something out, sweet. I want this to be your home, not a prison.”

Tears welled in her eyes
. “Everywhere is a prison. Even inside my head.”

“
Oh, my love.” He swallowed, hard. “I wish you had told me.”

“You never gave me a chance to explain
. You just left.”

Graeme ran his tongue over his teeth
. She was right. He hated that she was right, but she was. He took a deep breath. He came from a long line of Scottish warriors and clan chiefs who understood the art of battle far better than the art of apology. He was enlightened enough to know when one was called for, dammit, but could not for the life of him come up with words that would set everything to rights.

He started simple
. “I’m sorry, love.”

He saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes
. But she didn’t say anything back.

“I am ready to listen now, love
. To anything you need to tell me.”

“How could I tell you
? Everyone warned me,
tell no one
.
No man will want you if they know
. I thought I could hide it. I might lose you otherwise. You would no longer desire me.”

“I don’t know who these men are, that would blame a woman for crimes committed against her, but I am not one of them
.” His eyes softened. “And as for desire…”

She moistened her lips, her gaze caught with his
. “Yes?”

“I will desire you until the day I draw my last breath.”

“Are you sure? Even knowing…what you know?”

“Let me
prove it to you.”

Chapter 19

His mouth came down to capture hers
. Gently at first, almost tentative. She didn’t want tentative. A needy sound escaped her throat. She’d tossed and turned so many lonely nights, dreaming of this. Afraid he would never come back. She kissed him in return, pliant and willing.

He groaned as
uncertainty gave way to absolute possession.

Her head fell back, baring her throat and thrusting the tops of her breasts toward him
. His tongue met hers, stroking and thrusting as he clutched her closer.

She gave herself
over to his touch, needing to forget, even for a moment, the pain of the past weeks. He cupped her breast, dragging his mouth from hers to kiss her throat, causing her pulse to leap.

“I could never stop desiring you,” he murmured against her throat
. He bent his head lower, to the top of her breast, while his thumb grazed her nipple.

“More,” she whispered.

“Come upstairs with me.”

She nodded, and they beat a hasty retreat to the master suite, away from the eyes of any curious servants.

The moment the door closed behind them, his fingers worked the laces and hooks of her gown. She shrugged off the garment, and her chemise, as soon as they came loose. His shirt and trousers followed quickly after, and he tugged her toward the bed. She couldn’t stop touching him. A flurry of stroking tongues, urgent fingers.

They hit the bed and s
he collapsed on top of him, reveling in the feel of his skin, the hard planes of his body pressing into hers. He looked up, noticing the colorful silks she’d draped from the bedposts. She’d almost forgotten them—a part of her plan to make him desire her.

“Very exotic,” he murmured
.

“I thought they might remind you of a certain Indian princess.”

“
You
remind me of a certain Indian princess.”

His thumb found her nipple again, and the only response she managed was, “Mmmm.”

“Shall I show you the things I wanted to do to you that night, my princess?”

“Oh, yes.”

His mouth took the place of his thumb, and Charity forgot everything else. Need spiked through her, sharp and pleasurable at the same time. He drew on her nipple until she cried out, grinding her hips against his hardness, desperate for him to fill her.

He lifted her
hips and shifted beneath her. She settled back down, sheathing his cock, throwing her head back as she rocked back and forth. She’d needed this for too long. They both had. She could feel him already, thickening, pulsing hard inside her. He wouldn’t last long. Neither would she.

She came with another cry, shudders racking her bod
y as she fell against him. He held her to him, rolling them both over until he was on top. He thrust again, and again, and found his own release, spurting into her as a long groan of satisfaction escaped him.

He gathered her close, holding her tight
. Neither of them tried to speak. It felt so good to be in his arms again. After a time, though, his arms grew heavy. The haggard lines marring his features smoothed out. Eventually, Charity realized her husband had fallen asleep.

When Graeme awoke, Charity was no longer beside him
. Disappointment filled him, though since he had fallen asleep midday, he couldn’t really have expected her to stay. He pushed himself up from the mattress and strode to the window. Judging by the sun hanging low in the west, he’d slept a solid couple hours. After the unrelenting journey home, he’d needed the rest.

His protective instincts urged him to check on his wife
. Was she still all right?

One look in a mirror, and he
forced himself not to. After all, that sort of hovering was exactly what had spurred her rebellion back in London. Instead he called for a bath and a shave, both desperately needed. Charity must have missed him nearly as much as he’d missed her, if she’d allowed him to make love to her in the condition he’d arrived in. Did their lovemaking mean everything was settled? He considered himself a lucky man, but not
that
lucky.

Once he felt human again, he went downstairs
. He listened for Charity’s lilting voice, but heard nothing.
Stop worrying. Give it time
. Following his own advice was not easy.

Moving through the house, Graeme noticed other changes
. Aside from the addition of the governess, none were his work. The windows of the front room had been washed until they sparkled, the curtains thrown back so sunlight could stream in. A pile of nature drawings, detailed studies of leaves, bark, and a birds nest done in a childish hand, lay atop a side table in the hall. His nephew had a good eye. Graeme hadn’t known that.

Nathan himself was now
happily chasing a spotted puppy over the back fields, the grin splitting his face an expression Graeme hadn’t seen since the lad came to live with him.

He passed by the library, where
Miss Boyd was chatting with his mother. Both of them clicked away with knitting needles and balls of yarn. He hadn’t seen his mother so comfortable and engaged in years. A basket sat between the two women. Socks, his housekeeper informed him, for the Wounded Soldiers Society. The local weavers had donated yarn scraps leftover from larger projects. Not only that, but the dowager countess had begun taking her meals at the main house again. Interesting.

Although
Charity was nowhere to be seen, Graeme had a pretty good idea who was responsible for the changes. For all her faults, Lady Medford
had,
apparently, raised her daughter to know how to preside over a large household. Add that to Charity’s natural charm, and the residents of Leventhal House were becoming exactly the sort of close-knit household he had hoped for. Only they’d been doing it without him.

Charity’s sparkle naturally breathed life into her surroundings
. Not only was she
not
insane, she was amazingly capable. The transition from London life to running an estate in the Highlands would be a challenge for anyone. Yet she’d done it, and without the reassurance of a husband by her side. She’d done it while fighting back the demons of the past, determined to live life on her own terms. To go through the ordeal she’d endured, and emerge with such unbroken spirit…. Regret flooded him.

She lived every day knowing there were men out there who’d tried to kill her, and who might try again
. Who wouldn’t have nightmares, or occasionally crawl under the bed? As tempting as it was to lock her in a tower for her own protection, he couldn’t do that. She’d never fully trust him again if he barged back into her life acting as though he had all the answers—no matter how galling it was to admit that he didn’t. He was going to have to learn to live with his own fear—the fear that someday, someone might lurch up from Charity’s past to try to rob him of the most wonderful woman in the world.

Charity dressed carefully fo
r dinner. She hadn’t needed her elaborate seduction plan, but she still didn’t quite understand where things stood between she and her husband. She wasn’t one to hold a grudge. She just didn’t
know
. He was back, and he’d made love to her. So at least she knew he still desired her. Did that erase her own hurt feelings? Maybe. She could understand why he might have felt betrayed, or his fears about the effect on their future children. But did he think less of her now, knowing how foolish she’d been? Knowing she’d been exposed to cruel and base men?

Her silk gown, the intricate styling of her tresses, and the delicate pearls at her throat all formed a sort of armor, shielding her from the ugliness of that past
.

Perhaps
he didn’t hold it against her. He had, after all, returned in great haste. He’d called her his love, his sweet. Lord Maxwell wasn’t the sort of man to fling such terms around lightly. Hope burned like a flame in her chest, stronger and steadier than before.

When she reached the dining room, the dowager countess
, Miss Boyd, and Nathan were already there. “Come, Master Graeme,” Lady Eleanor teased her grandson, “you must leave your puppy with the servants. He won’t wish to sit through a long dinner.”

“But neither do I,” Nathan whined, not bothering to correct her on his name.

“But you must learn, if you’re to be master of the house one day.”

“What, am I already being usurped?”

Charity started, not having heard Graeme’s approach. He was clean-shaven, smelling of sandalwood and soap. She breathed him in, little flames of desire already licking along the edges of her consciousness. His fine white shirt and dark jacket stretched across broad shoulders. He came to stop beside her, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back.

“Uncle Graeme!”

The elder Lady Maxwell looked confused for a moment. Then her eyes cleared and she lowered her head. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I?”

Graeme opened his mouth to reassure her, hating that
his arrival had caused her embarrassment, but Nathan jumped in first. “’Tis no matter, Nana. Aunt Charity found a portrait of Uncle Graeme as a child, and even I think we look the same. But now that he’s back, I can’t sit in his chair anymore and pretend.”

Graeme raised a brow
. “Pretending to be master, eh?”

Nate shrugged sheepishly, and Graeme reached forward to tickle him
. The boy dodged. Graeme gave a half-hearted chase, making all of them break into laughter. A footman quietly removed Mac, so the puppy could have his own dinner at the back of the kitchen. The awkward moment forgotten, they took their seats.

Miss Boyd flicked a nervous glance at him from her place far down the table
. What had he done to set the members of his household on edge whenever he was near? True, he knew Miss Boyd’s real occupation might not merit a place at the dinner table, but he’d essentially authorized it when he’d notified the staff that she was training to be a companion.

He wasn’t
certain how, but somewhere along the way, the people most fundamental to his life had stopped treating him as an approachable man and started acting as though he were a distant lord. A certain amount of deference came with his title. He knew that. The rest was too much. He couldn’t just
order
them to relax, though. He obviously needed to show them he would welcome it if they did.

Through the open window, the beat of a snare drum broke the evening stillness
. A burst of piping followed.

“What is that?” Charity asked.

“Ach. That’ll be Red an’ his band practicing for Pipers’ Fest,” he answered, letting his brogue shine through in deference to the Scottish festival.

“Pipers’ Fest?”

“Aye.” Being new, Charity wouldn’t know about the annual musical festival. “Every June, Grantown hosts a competition for pipe and drum groups. Over the years, it’s become quite an event. Our own Mr. Red is one o’ the top competitors. He’s still sore about coming in second last year to the Bog Country Beaters. I imagine they’re bound and determined to take first this year. Like as not we’ll be hearing quite a lot of them in the next fortnight.”

“What else is at the festival?” Nathan asked.

“Goodness, you haven’t been either?” the dowager countess asked.

“I don’t think so,” her grandson said, frowning as he tried to remember.

“Well, there are all the performances, of course,” Graeme answered, “and a craft fair, a children’s parade, usually some dancing, and of course all the local establishments turn out to sell food and drink.”

Nathan keyed in on one phrase
. “A children’s parade?”

How thoughtless of him to have forgotten
. Maybe he really had become a distant, standoffish lord. “Aye. How would you and Mac like to march in the parade?”

The boy nodded eagerly.

“Shall we all go?” Charity asked.

“That sounds lovely,” his mother agreed
. Even Miss Boyd was smiling.

His head groom’s timing for this evening’s practice could not have been better, Graeme realized
. “I’ll ask Red what time The Lost Pipers are set to perform. I’m sure it would give them great pleasure to have the whole of Leventhal House turn out in support.”

“The whole house?”

“Why not? The staff would welcome a surprise holiday, don’t ye think? It will be fun.”

The wariness melted away and, around the table, faces smiled at him.

“Uncle Graeme, if we all go cheer for Mr. Red, he’ll be certain to win, won’t he?”

He
chuckled. “I don’t get to be the judge, Nathan, but I daresay we’ll make it hard for him to lose.”

Graeme left the dinner table that night with a spring in his step
. He hadn’t managed to get Charity alone since making love to her, but all things considered, he’d made more progress today than he could have dared hope. If he continued in this way, it would, just as he’d told his nephew about Red’s pipe and drum band, be hard for him to lose.