Susan Johnson (18 page)

“How many men can they muster?” Argyll bluntly queried.

And the discussion began.

“Four thousand,” one man asserted. “Maybe five. Considerably more than the regular troops in Scotland.”

“Not counting those from the Laird of Ravensby’s wife,” pointed out the man who oversaw information from the southwest.

“Give me a number,” Argyll growled.

“Another thousand.”

“A thousand? Why the hell does she need an army like that?”

“To guard her Redesdale inheritance. A right fair sum.”

“A king’s ransom, they say,” the spy from Redesdale interposed.

“The Carre kinsmen and
soutenirs
from their lands near Leith could amount to another five hundred,” a small man declared, his amused gaze on Argyll’s stormy expression.

“And the local militia, including that of Edinburgh, might not be dependable if it came to choosing sides between the queen and the Carres. The earl is a favorite with the city mobs.” Defoe knew of what he
spoke, since part of his duty while in Scotland was to report on the political agendas in and out of Parliament. “The Carre influence will see their titles returned shortly. Bets are a month on the outside.”

Argyll swore. The size of the Carre troop outnumbered his own. He gave them credit for good judgment. They could have used armed threat to regain their estates. “That will be all,” he brusquely said, waving the spies out. He sat at his desk after they left, pondering how best to meet his aims without incurring a full-scale engagement.

N
O ONE IN JOHNNIE CARRE’S PARTY HAD SLEPT
, their arrival in Edinburgh following close on the heels of Robbie’s returning troop. They were quickly apprised of the skirmish with the Campbells, as well as of Robbie’s journey south. And when Holmes appeared the next day, he was able to add further details concerning Robbie’s destination, easing the worry lines from Johnnie’s brow.

“Although he’s badly wounded,” Holmes added, “and should be under a doctor’s care.”

“You and Munro take a force south, along with a doctor,” Johnnie ordered, “and see that he has the necessary care. We’re assembling our men in five days. Orders have already gone out. The Duke of Argyll needs to be apprised of the limits of his powers in Scotland.”

“Which don’t include imprisoning the Countess of Kilmarnock,” Munro noted.

“She’s a friend,” Johnnie murmured. “Perhaps he doesn’t understand.”

“We’ll tell him, along with his Campbells,” asserted
his kinsman Adam Carre with a grin. “It’s good to be back.” The forced inactivity in Holland the months past had sorely tried the patience of the younger members of Johnnie’s retinue. They were used to the exhilaration of raiding as sport.

“We’ll wait for news of Robbie first.” Johnnie glanced over at Munro. “You stay with him, though, along with a guard. He’s too impulsive.”

“Don’t want him riding back to challenge Argyll to a duel?” Munro lightly queried.

“Definitely not.”

“I don’t expect he’ll be riding anywhere for a time,” Holmes observed. “Between his wound and the bonny countess, the lodge will serve as a right fine refuge.”

“Try to keep him there if you can, Munro,” Johnnie charged.

His cousin cast him an amused glance. “I can’t, but perhaps the countess might.”

“Granted. Talk to Roxane, then. We don’t need any duels, we don’t need him wounded again. Once I see Argyll, perhaps he’ll set his amorous sights on someone else.”

“If you pay him enough. The Argylls are for sale. Not just him, but his father before him,” Kinmont said with a derisive snort.
¹⁰

“Which makes negotiation so much easier,” Johnnie observed, lounging in his chair. “Men of principle are discouragingly slow to settle on a price.”

Munro’s eyebrows rose. “So cynical.”

“These are cynical times, with the Darien adventure gone bad, the years of bad harvests, the Alien Act almost closing Scotland to trade. All the lairds and
magnates are desperate for cash. The only men of principles are the rare ones of wealth or those without families.”
¹¹

“So we see Argyll first, and if that doesn’t work—”

“Well see if Red John of the Battles can fight as well on home ground,” Johnnie softly said.

I
T TOOK THREE DAYS OF HARD RIDING FOR ARGYLL’S
message to reach Roxane’s brother in London. As ordered, Colter immediately took the road north. The agents on watch at Longmuir were augmented by several of Argyll’s troops, with instructions to bring the Countess of Kilmarnock’s children back to Edinburgh as soon as the soldiers were notified.

T
HE FIRST DAYS AT THE HUNTING LODGE PASSED IN
blissful isolation, as though the fugitives had been offered respite from the world. After two days of soaking his wound in the lake, Robbie’s arm had begun to mend. His drinking had diminished to social rather than medicinal portions, and he was able to walk down to the water unaided. Late in the afternoon, he and Roxane lay in the green meadow, warming their chilled bodies in the sun. She’d joined him during his last water cure, taking the opportunity to wash her hair and her gown.

“I haven’t lain in the sun like this since I was a child. Look at that cloud,” she murmured, gesturing with her hand.

“A bear.”

“A bouquet of flowers.”

He turned his head and smiled at her. “Definitely a bouquet of flowers.”

“You don’t have to charm me. It’s quite enough being here like this, alone with you, in the warm sun and quiet.”

“I just want you to be happy—always.”

She rolled over on the scented grass and, lying on her stomach, leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’m more happy than I’ve been in years. You’re healing, we’re safe, I adore you.”

“We could stay here.” He gently touched her face, slid his fingers through her damp curls.

“Wouldn’t that be nice.” She rolled away and arms stretched over her head, she softly added, “If the world was without greed.”

“Argyll?”

“All of them—Queensberry, Seafield, Tweeddale, Argyll, his brother Archie … The list is endless.”

“They can’t touch us here, not until we decide to leave.”

Her eyes were tinged with sadness when she turned her head to look at him. “But then it all starts again.”

“He frightened you.”

She took a small breath, remembering the fear when she escaped. “He’s ruthless.”

“You’re not alone now. You won’t ever be alone with him again.”

“He’s in Scotland until fall at least.”

“I’ve enough men to protect you.”

“And my children?”

“Yes, more than enough.” He slowly sat up, his injured
arm still painful “If you’re worried about the children, we can go to Amelia’s tomorrow.”

“No,” she quickly said, sitting up too, brushing his fingers with hers. “I’m just being overanxious. We’ll leave once your arm is better. Amelia’s not expecting me for at least ten more days.”

“Are you going to be able to relax? If you can’t, I’d rather go to Longmuir now. My arm is healing well.”

“I’m perfectly fine, really.” She smiled.

“I know a sure way to help you relax,” he playfully murmured.

“If you wouldn’t faint from the effort.”

“I don’t think I’d faint.”

Her gaze was stern. “No, Robbie. Be sensible. You’re just barely mobile, and if your wound opens—”

“Then maybe you should put some clothes on. The sight of you lying in the grass like some dew-fresh nymph is damned distracting.”

She glanced at her gown and chemise spread over a bush to dry, gauging their dampness.

“Or you could give me one little kiss,” he murmured.

“Do I look that gullible?” She took cautious note of his erection, quickening, surging upward. “I’ll put on a gown from the lodge,” she declared, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

“Oh, hell, don’t bother. I’ll behave.”

“You’re sure, now? It’s for
your
own good,” she added, with a modicum of lecture in her tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with mocking obedience.

“Don’t get moody, now.”

“I’m not moody.” But he turned away, his gaze fixed on a point across the lake.

“I’ve seen a sulky child once or twice before, darling,” she noted, lying back on the grass, shutting her eyes. “And the best way to deal with the situation is to ignore it.”

“A shame,” he murmured, “when I wanted to suck on your nipples … until you came.”

His words drifted through the balmy summer air, instantly dispelling her smug equanimity.

Her breasts began to tingle as her nipples firmed into taut crests, the lust in his voice triggering a thousand sensual receptors. “Damn you,” she whispered, shutting her eyes tighter as if to protect herself from him, from the promise in his words.

“All I need is your approval.” He recognized her sexual response with a connoisseur’s eye. Slowly rolling on his side, careful not to jar his wound, he sprawled beside her. She was gloriously nude, utterly delectable, he thought, watching the subtle transformation his words had incited. Her skin was taking on the rosy glow of arousal, her nipples stood upright, taut and waiting, her breathing had changed, and shifting restlessly, her legs half opened, as though inviting him in.

“Maybe I should just put this hard cock inside you instead,” he quietly declared, “and see how far I could go in, how long it would take to reach that tantalizing limit where you gasp.”

“Stop it, Robbie!”

Her voice was strained, her hands clenched at her sides, her eyes shut tightly against temptation, but she didn’t get up and leave. So he took care not to antagonize when he mildly said, “I wouldn’t even have to
move. You could sit on me. My arm will go unscathed, and you could come as many times as you like.” His voice deepened, turned velvety. “Think of how good it feels when I’m filling you, when your little clit is quivering and engorged, when the throbbing ache between your legs melts through your body like liquid ecstasy. How you always scream at the end,” he finished in a whisper.

Her hips stirred at his lascivious description, wanton need flooding her senses.

“You’d be doing me a favor. After—”

“No,” she sharply said, but she still didn’t dare look at him, nor did she flee. Both facts duly noted.

“I feel as though I’m going to explode if I don’t climax,” he said. When she drew in a great restraining breath he softly added, “After these days of celibacy, I could fill you with rivers of come.”

“Robbie, please,” she whispered, “I shouldn’t.”

Her equivocation instantly added dimension to his erection. “My cock is so hard I’m in pain. Darling … look.”

No longer able to resist, she turned her head, and when she saw his splendid length, she flushed hot pink. His flagrant erection lay flat against his belly, the pulsing veins feeding his arousal, stretching it, the head gleaming a deep crimson in the sunshine, the magnificent size intoxicating.

She hadn’t climaxed either … for days.

“If I agree, you have to lie still.”

He barely heard her hushed words, her voice the merest wisp of sound. “I promise,” he quickly agreed, his own feverish excitement mitigating the pain in his
arm as though his sensory nerves had better things to do than remind him of his wound. “Come closer to me,” he whispered, “so I can touch you.”

She hesitated a moment more before giving in to her covetous longings. As she moved nearer, a soft moan caught in her throat, her sleek, pulsing labia rubbing together, the friction luxuriously carnal.

Gratified by her feverish utterance, his own anticipation acute, he rolled onto his back, waiting.

“Ill make you pay for this someday,” she threatened, rising to her knees, her body reacting traitorously to his ostentatious size with a rush of liquid heat.

“Why not pay me back now?” he seductively murmured, holding out his hand to help steady her as she moved over him. “Any way you want.”

“And if you faint?” She balanced on his thighs.

“Not likely, with my heart beating in triple time.”

He hardly looked the invalid. His lean muscled body gleamed in the sunshine, the flagrant virility of youth, potent, intense. Even with his bandaged arm, his brute strength was palpable. “We really shouldn’t be doing this,” she equivocated, a fragment of reason still operating in the hotbed of her arousal. “Are you sure?”

“You aren’t?” He traced the curve of her waist, his touch gentle.

She took a deep, sustaining breath. “I’m not completely mindless yet.”

“Really.” He slid his hand downward, slipping two fingers into her vagina with ease. His grin was impudent, shamelessly cheeky. “Ready and waiting from the feel of this,” he murmured, sliding a third finger upward into her moist, heated recess, softly stroking.

Trembling at his expert ministrations, her mind in tumult, she simultaneously wanted and didn’t want him to stop, chided herself for her susceptibility, resentfully reminded herself that he was too practiced, skillful, too accomplished in seduction, yet too fragile in health as well But his delicate massage was bringing her senses to fever pitch, his long, slender fingers magical in their expertise, and her transient reservations faded before the exquisite ecstasy flooding her brain.

When he quietly said, “You should be able to take me now,” she felt as though she’d been favored by the gods.

Sliding his fingers out, he urged her up on her knees, guiding her into place, his thumb holding his erection upright, his index and middle finger spreading her labia to accommodate him. Gently forcing the engorged crest of his erection into her pulsing cleft, he whispered, “Careful now as you go down.”

Her eyes were half-closed, consummation beating at her brain. “Yes, yes,” she whispered, heedless of all but her insatiable need.

“Slowly,” he cautioned, arresting her swift downward progress, sliding his hand between her legs to curtail her descent.

She tried to push his hand away.

“Not yet.” Firmly restraining her, he eased her down another small distance. “You’ll be hurt.”