Rogue of the Highlands: Rogue, Book 1 (14 page)

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Ian’s shirtless state and then at Jillian who was busily brushing crumbs from the table.

“I know you’re a barbarian, Cantford, but one should at least expect you to be dressed when you come to the table.”

A look of anger flashed in Ian’s eyes, but before he could make things worse—the Lord only knew what he would say—Jillian interceded. “Lord Cantford acquired some scratches and scrapes last night. He needed to have salve applied.”

“I thought I was paying Jones to attend to such matters.”

Jillian took note of that reference. In the past, it had been she who saw to the servants’ pay, but she was no longer in charge here.

“Jones is out this morning,” Ian said as he pulled on his shirt and fastened one button. “You’d know that if you ever got up before the sun was high.”

Wesley ignored the remark and rang for the servant to bring him fresh, hot food, then he leaned back in his chair. “So, what happened to you? Did you manage to get into a brawl after I left?”

“His horse threw him,” Jillian said.

“Nae, lass. My horse dinna throw me,” Ian replied, his eyes on Wesley. “The saddle slipped.”

“Indeed? Perhaps one of our grooms could teach you to saddle a horse properly,” Wesley said with a smirk.

Ian kept his voice even. “’Twas not the problem.”

“Foxed, were you?”

“Aye. I was. ’Twas not the problem either,” Ian answered.

Jillian furrowed her brows. “What then, my lord?”

“Mayhap ye should ask your stepson.”

She turned to Wesley. “What does he mean?”

“I’m sure I have no idea. I left before he did.”

“Aye. And did ye manage to cut my saddle girth when ye went?”

“
What
?” Jillian exclaimed in dismay.

Wesley took a bite of toast that the servant had brought. “If the girth was frayed, I’ll speak to the head groom.”

“It werena frayed.”

Jillian looked at him with troubled eyes. “Are you certain, my lord?”

“Aye.’Twas a clean cut except for the middle. Just enough to hold the saddle in place while I mounted.”

“And you think I had something to do with it?” Wesley asked as he speared a sausage and chewed on it.

Ian remained silent, while Jillian looked from one to the other. “Wesley?”

He swallowed and took a sip of tea before he looked at Ian. “If you think there was a deliberate attempt to injure you, I would look to the gentlemen whose ladies you are attempting to ruin.”

Jillian saw the muscle clench in Ian’s jaw, but surprisingly his voice was calm. “I doona plan to ruin any maiden.”

“No? Then you plan to marry one of them? Pray tell, which one?” Wesley asked.

Jillian found herself holding her breath. This was, after all, what Prinny wanted—and what needed to happen—but if Ian had already chosen a lady, then their kiss had been very, very wrong. She was no better than a light skirt for reacting like she did with a man who clearly needed to find a wife who would bear him children.

“I’ve chosen no one.”

“I’ll wager you don’t plan to either, Highlander. Well, if you insist on leading on one lady after another, you can expect this kind of thing to happen.” Wesley reached across the table and patted Jillian’s hand. “Don’t you worry, my lady. I plan to take care of you.”

Jillian withdrew her hand as nicely as she could. Something about Wesley’s touch made her skin crawl. “I appreciate your hospitality, Wesley. In just a few weeks, I’ll not need to be a burden to you.”

He laughed. “You’re no burden, Jillian. Didn’t Cantford tell you? I plan to marry you.”

Jillian felt the blood drain from her face. “You what?” she managed to ask.

“Ah, yes. We discussed it last night,” Wesley said matter-of-factly. “Your payment from the prince depends on whether or not Cantford takes an English wife, does it not? And you’ve just heard him. He’s chosen no one.”

If Prinny didn’t pay her… Mari wouldn’t have a Season… She wouldn’t have a home. What would they do? She was penniless…and dependent on Wesley, just as he said. Jillian struggled to breathe. And then righteous anger took over. They had been discussing her in a semi-public place—as though she were no more than a material possession.

She stood. “I would remind you gentlemen that certain topics have no place being discussed in front of others.” She gave Ian a baleful look. “Have you learned nothing from my lessons?”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she had already moved to the door. She paused and turned around.

“Just so everyone understands, I have no intention of ever getting married again.” She lifted her chin and strode from the room with as much dignity as she could muster.

She heard Wesley laugh. “She’ll come around,” he said.

Tears stung her eyes. She would not—would
not
—enter another loveless marriage. She would not endure another beating ever.
Ever
. Ian Macleod was going to have to choose a bride. That was all there was to it.

But as she hurried to her bedchamber, she had the feeling she was going to lose either way.

Ian picked up an ice from the tray of a circulating waiter and watched Jillian on the porch of the Sherrington’s residence. She had left the townhouse yesterday afternoon to visit her sister and remained gone through dinner. This morning she had not been in the breakfast room and he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since Newburn’s blethering announcement. But Newburn hadn’t gotten close to her either.

The lawn party this afternoon was a different sort of affair and one that Ian would have enjoyed if he hadn’t been caught up in his own dilemma. There had been an archery contest among the men earlier and he had enjoyed besting the English dandies, especially the young upstarts from the Four-Horse Club. He’d gone a few extra shoots with Wesley before he defeated him and the lout had all but accused him of cheating. The only mon Ian hadn’t bested was the Earl of Sherrington, who had a steady eye and a strong arm. More and more, Ian found himself liking the older mon. Too bad his wife was no better than a trollop.

He heard a giggle from behind him. “Lord Cantford! We’re about to begin…”

He turned and forced a smile at Amelia Tansworth. The girl had turned up earlier to congratulate him, holding his arm possessively and chattering on.

“I absolutely know nothing about shooting,” she said with a bat of her lashes and another giggle. “I was hoping you would show me.”

The ladies were about to attempt to loose arrows at targets that had been moved much closer. Ian glanced again at the porch to find Jillian watching him. She was expecting him to pay attention to these lasses. He sighed. He was as determined as she was that he wouldna marry for convenience, but if word got back to the prince that Ian was acting like a recluse, it would hardly help Jillian get her coin.

“Of course,” he said and escorted a beaming Amelia to where the ladies were fussing over which bow to choose. Yancy Newell glared at him, but he ignored it.

Ian chose a fairly lightweight bow made of willow and notched the string. “You’ll need the brace and tab,” he said as he handed them to her.

She gave him a doubtful look. “Would you assist me, my lord? I’m not sure how these work.”

He bit back a retort that even his youngest sister could slide a brace onto her arm and fastened the device. “You slip your fingers into these tabs,” he said, “like so.”

Picking up three beech arrows, he examined the fletching and then walked with her to where several other ladies had taken their places. “All you have to do is hold your bow arm steady, and keep your draw slow and even,” he said as he demonstrated. Then he handed the bow to her. “Try it.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I’m not strong enough,” she cooed and slipped in front of him. “Would you help me?”

He found himself with one arm halfway around her. Placing her hand on the handle, he steadied the bow and positioned her fingers on the string. He used his own to ease the string back. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Jillian had edged closer and was still watching him. Instantly, he formed an image of how Jillian would feel with his arms around her. How he would press her back against him and inhale the sweet fragrance of her hair and the softness of the swell of her breast against his bow arm. He would have a most uncomfortable arousal from that contact, he knew. Yet, strangely, the girl who was standing in his embrace did nothing to excite him at all. He drew the string taut, released the arrow and stepped back.

“Could we try another?” Amelia asked.

He shook his head and smiled. “You won’t win points if you don’t shoot the bow yourself, Miss Tansworth.”

“It hardly seems fair for you to have the advantage, Amelia,” Violetta said as she came up to them. “I too would like to have Lord Cantford instruct me.” She tilted her head and gave him a slanted look.

“Well, I—” he began and heard more giggles. Looking over his shoulder, he realized that four more young ladies had lined up, waiting.

He groaned inwardly, all too aware that these ladies had swains and beaus who were barely concealing their ire at him. He wished he could tell them they need not worry. He wanted a woman who was concerned about something more important than fashion and parties. A woman who could think independently and was passionate in her beliefs. One who could eagerly give and receive pleasure in the bedchamber. He doubted that any of these lasses had ever thought that far.

But Jillian was watching and so was Wesley now. Better that he let them both think he was considering a wife. And so, each had her
lesson
and, as far as Ian was concerned, he might as well have been teaching young lads. Not one had stirred him to desire her.

“How about ye?” he called to Jillian on a whim. “Do ye wish to compete?”

“Well, no,” she started to say and then nearly jumped as Wesley approached her and put an arm around her shoulders. “That is… Well, yes, I think I might at that.”

Ian grinned at how quickly she extracted herself from Wesley’s grasp, and he opened his arms as she approached for her to step inside his embrace. Placing her hand on the handle, he cradled it and placed his fingers over hers on the string. Stepping close to her, he already felt his erection harden against her buttocks. Jillian felt so right in his arms.

“My lord…sakes!” she hissed, “I do not think this is the right position.”

He leaned his head against hers and his breath fanned her ear. “Humor me, lass.”

“This is most improper.”

Ian restrained himself from nibbling her ear. “Do not tempt me to think of being improper, lass. Ye’ll no doubt be embarrassed if I do what I’m thinking of doing.” She gave a slight gasp as he pressed even closer, but she didn’t try to pull away.

Feeling her was pure bliss and Ian wanted to draw out the pull of the bow for as long as he could without it being totally indecent. Moving his arm so that it brushed the side of her breast nearly made him forget what he was supposed to be doing. With a sigh, he released the arrow. It hit the bull’s eye.

“Ye are a natural,” Ian murmured before he let her go.

She glanced over to where Wesley was intent on showing Delia Sherrington how to hold the bow. “Well, I don’t intend to compete,” she said. “I only let you take such liberty because it was better than having Wesley demonstrate the same thing, which he was about to do.”

Ian was elated that she didn’t want Newburn touching her and equally irritated that she found him only a necessary evil. Still, she hadn’t pulled away from him, so maybe the ice around her heart was thawing a wee bit.

“I think I’d like some refreshment,” she said and started toward the house and left the milling group to their warm-up.

Falling into step, he said with a grin, “I’m a bit hot myself. Another of those ices might cool me down.”

She arched an eyebrow at him but made no comment on that as they strolled up the small hill toward the veranda. Instead, what she said surprised him.

“Lady Sherrington asked me directly if I had plans to marry Wesley. Apparently, the rumor is all over town.”

The remark was like a cold bucket of water that squelched all his hot, lusty thoughts. “What did you say?”

“I told her I had no intention of marrying him or anyone else.” She walked on for a few steps and then turned to Ian. “I got the distinct feeling that she was warning me off. Delia has always been a flirt, but I would hope that Wesley is not quite such a cad as to be involved with her. The earl is a genuinely nice man.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that Wesley was probably much more than a cad, but he held back. She was already having a difficult time with the situation.

They were just about to climb the stairs when an arrow zinged past them, so close that Ian felt a slight swoosh. Jillian gave a cry as he wrapped his arms around her and tumbled them to the ground, covering her body with his.

He looked up. No one from the shooting range seemed to have noticed. Everyone was still milling around. There were no bushes nearby where someone might be hiding. He became all too aware of the soft body beneath him, all of her most feminine parts fitting perfectly against him. He was tempted to enjoy the moment a bit longer, but concern over who had shot at them took precedence. He helped her up. “Get up on the porch behind the railing,” he said.