The Husband Hunt (23 page)

"How did you undress like that?" she asked in amazement, struggling to look over his huge shoulder. The dark, confined space seemed to enhance the animal power of his body. All she could see was his muscular back and sinewy buttocks.

"With some great difficulty," he said as he kissed her back into a sensual daze. "I think Holmes is trying to set a personal record for hitting every hole on the heath."

"That wind is wickedly cold," she whispered.

He threw his coat around them, cocooning their bodies in warm wool. "There," he said. "Is that better?"

"I meant that Holmes might be cold," she whispered.

"Well, I'm not crawling up to the driver's box
au naturel
to offer him my coat, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't thinking at all," she said shyly, running her hand down his broad chest. "I was… well, enjoying. You are quite magnificent."

"Am I?"

He closed his eyes as her fingers trailed lower, teasing the head of his shaft until he caught her hand in his, and he drew back on his knees to enter her. "Open your legs all the way," he ordered her quietly.

"Knight, what if we slide off the seat?"

He eased his hands under her bare bottom to lift her to him. The tip of his penis pressed upward, and she caught her breath as he surged into her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "There. Now you aren't going anywhere."

"Unless we both fall on the floor in a most undignified manner."

He gave her a smile as she closed her eyes, impaled on his rod. "In which case, I shall be so deep inside you that neither of us will care."

"You are everything I have ever wanted," she whispered breathlessly.

"You are more than I ever wanted." His smile faded, replaced by a look of somber realization. "I love you, Catriona."

She drew another breath as he braced one foot on the floor to pummel into her, gripping her hips so tightly that at first she could not move except to shiver. Then, slowly, she began to ride him, raising herself to absorb the powerful thrusting of his body as the tension inside her mounted. And when it broke, she heard him groan her name and felt his large body convulse in climax while outside the carriage the wind howled into the night as if in lament for what they had done.

She fell asleep with her head cushioned on
his hard shoulder a few minutes after they dressed. Every so often, he would have to shift his weight to collect the damn stones of hers that kept sliding around the coach.

"Thank you," she murmured in a drowsy voice. "I'm thinking now that I made a mistake not going with my uncle to the holy well."

He wrapped his arm around her. The temperature had dropped inside the carriage. "It wasn't a mistake."

"Except for the curse on your progeny."

He glanced down at her, eyebrows raised. "I wasn't aware that I had any. At least, not yet."

He stared outside as the coach sped over the windswept heath. "The last time I came here was with Lionel and Duke hunting grouse," he said with a rueful smile as he remembered the three of them clambering over mossy rocks to chase one elusive bird in particular.

"And Lionel lost his footing and fell into a pool with his gun," Catriona said quietly, her eyes still closed.

He glanced at her. She looked so charmingly disheveled that he wanted to tumble her again. "I'd completely forgotten. Did he tell you, or did Wendell?"

"Neither." She buried her face in the firm hollow of his shoulder. "I just saw it in my mind."

"Toss a shilling in the hat!" he said in a theatrical voice, unable to resist teasing her. "She sees the past as well as the future."

"It's the present I'd be worried about if I were you," she said grumpily. "You're two seconds away from being clouted on the head."

"I will never mock your abilities again," he said solemnly.

She looked up at him. "Promise? Really, really promise?"

A horrible smile spread across his face. "No."

"Oh, you—you miscreant."

She curled up into a ball while he struggled not to laugh. "This takes getting used to. Give it time, Cat."

"What for? You're only going to get worse with age." Her forehead wrinkled in a frown. "And my visions are never going to stop, either, if that stone isn't returned to the holy well, or at least that's what Uncle Murdo said."

"Who can believe such a thing?" Knight asked her, smiling at the very notion. "He was probably only trying to lure you into the arms of this Lamar."

"Lamont." She sighed. "My mother always said that boy was trouble."

"Did you like him?"

"Well, when he wasn't tormenting me or showing off, he could actually be pleasant company."

"How pleasant?"

"Not as pleasant as you. I think Uncle Murdo had high hopes for turning Lamont into a healer, but it never happened. Lamont and I stuck together because we were both outcasts, that's all."

He grunted. "It's a good thing for him that Lamar didn't come to my house. I doubt he would have appreciated the welcome I had in mind."

"The same sort of welcome that you gave Sir Alistair in the stables?"

"Precisely," he said.

"Then you're right. He wouldn't have appreciated—"

At that moment, the carriage veered off the road to avoid a monstrous boulder that Holmes apparently had not noticed. His curses rang into the night as he struggled to bring the four frightened horses around. The vehicle slowed, and with a frown, Knight jumped outside to assess the situation.

"I'm sorry, my lord," Holmes said, standing in the middle of the moonlit road with a baffled expression.

The wind blew the tails of Knight's coat up around his back. "What happened?"

"I don't rightly know. I swear that this bloody rock was not in the road a few moments ago."

Knight glanced around. There were no hills within walking distance, only an ancient tumulus that sat like a ghostly sentinel in the night; it seemed highly unlikely that the wind could have rolled the stone across flat ground. "Perhaps you ought to stay on the regular coaching road, Holmes. We aren't in such a hurry to get married that we need have an accident to do so."

"But this is the coach road, my lord."

"Well, try to be a little more careful when we approach the cliffs to the coast."

Holmes glanced back once more at the boulder. "Indeed, I will."

"What was it?" Catriona asked as Knight rejoined her in the carriage, bringing in a breath of cold air.

"Just a boulder in the road." He closed the door against the wind, his face pensive.

"Oh, dear," she whispered.

"It really wasn't anything," he added at her worried look. "The horses weren't injured in any way."

"Of course the horses weren't injured," she said, looking even more distressed. "He always loved animals."

Knight looked down at her, wondering what in the world she was talking about or if he would ever become accustomed to her lapses in conventional behavior. The thing was, he didn't want to change her. He rather liked the mild anxiety of not knowing what she would do next, and he admired the unique passion she brought to life. But this alarm, over a rock in the road?

He frowned, removing his coat to fold beneath her head as a pillow. "'He always loved animals,'" he repeated in a slow, precise voice. "I hope that we are referring to Holmes."

"That's your arrogant English nobleman's voice," she said, biting her lip. "I refuse to answer. You'll shout at me."

He leaned forward, suddenly annoyed. "Do you mean
him?
Do you really believe your little Highland boy just caused a boulder to obstruct our path, out of the blue?"

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. "He liked to cause trouble, play pranks exactly of this nature."

"Well, so did I, Catriona, but there are some things beyond the realm of possibility." He slipped his arm around her shoulder. "We aren't allowed to quarrel during our elopement, only afterward, and we're almost to the coast road."

She peered around his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He took her face in his hands to kiss her. "And once we reach the—"

She stared up at him anxiously as he stopped, turning his head to one side. "What is it?" she said in concern. "What's the matter?"

"I think—something strange is happening to me." He dropped his head back against the seat. "Is this the sort of thing that occurs when you have one of your visions?"

She leaned over him in alarm. "What are you talking about?"

"Could they be contagious?"

"What?"

"Your visions." He studied her from the corner of his eye. "I think I might be having one right now. What happens to you when they start?"

"Well, I—I feel on edge and irritable—"

"That's me."

"That's always you," she murmured. "But do you feel cold?"

He shivered.

She touched his forehead, suddenly suspicious. "You don't feel cold to me. In fact, your skin is quite warm."

"It is?" He closed his eyes, affecting a loud groan. "The vision is becoming clearer—" He opened one eye. "Is this how they come upon you?"

"No," she said tightly. "Not at all. For one thing, I do not believe I have ever made such an undignified noise in my life as you just did."

The playful twinkle in his eye did not escape her notice. She slid further back against the seat and stared at him. "And what exactly is this vision of yours supposed to mean?"

"Does it have to mean something?"

"Well, there is hardly any point to them if they do not help us to avoid a tragedy."

He pursed his lips. "This vision is not seeming to have tragic connotations."

"Oh, really?" she said coolly. "Describe it to me, then."

"Well. Let me concentrate." He pressed his fingers to his temples. "Ah, yes, there it is again. Oh, my."

All right, she thought. She would play along. "What do you see?"

He sounded astonished. "Why, goodness gracious, it appears to be you."

"Me?"

"Yes." He paused as a grin quirked the corners of his mouth. "It is you, naked in my bed. What a vision."

"You did it again!" she exclaimed.

He rose swiftly to pull her back against him. "Am I forgiven if I allow you to use me as a pillow again?"

She sniffed, refusing to acknowledge him.

"Fine. I will behave myself." He hid another grin as she settled her small body against his. "Come on, now. You can't hold a grudge against your soon-to-be husband."

"Can't I?"

"No, you can't. Now, go back to sleep. I promise to be good."

He dozed off himself only to awaken a half-hour later; he sensed a menace in the moorland stillness long before the carriage slowed. Something did not seem right.

The wind had died to almost nothing. Somewhere in the distant hills, a dog bayed, and Knight was amused at himself for remembering the Devon legends of headless horsemen and demon hounds on the heath sent out to hunt for their dark master. Hunt what precisely? he wondered now. A human soul? His own was a little too damaged to fight for. But what about a fey young woman whose magical touch
he
could not live without?

He rubbed his face. "I'll be making predictions at parties next, I suppose," he muttered.

Catriona stirred, her eyes slowly opening. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Only a dog."

"What dog?" She was suddenly awake, leaning over him.

"It's gone now."

"Perhaps the poor thing is lost," she said. She pulled back the curtain. "We can't just leave a dog wandering on the heath."

"We can't just interrupt our elopement to go chasing after one, either," he said firmly.

Just then, the carriage came to an abrupt halt. From the window, Knight could see moonlight glinting off a circle of standing stones, but he could not understand the reason for this second delay until he heard Holmes cry out, followed by the low murmur of voices.

"Stay here," Knight said over his shoulder, already opening the door, his hand reaching imperceptibly for the pistol inside his coat.

"Do you think we're being robbed?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know." He did not look back. He could see two horses standing behind the stones. Robbery was, of course, a possibility on this desolate road to the coast where travelers, carrying valuables, must pass before embarking from the harbor. Yet Holmes carried a musket and had not used it, unless he was outnumbered or injured himself.

He stepped down onto the road, closing the door carefully behind him. Holmes had left his box and was carrying on an animated conversation with— hell's bells, they had been chased there by Catriona's peculiar little uncle, and beside him a lean younger man in a black cloak, who could only be the fabled tormentor of her girlhood.

Lamont Montgomery.

Their gazes met like a pair of swords connecting in battle. For several moments, the two of them stood assessing each other in silence, until Knight walked forward to express his displeasure. He could not say whether this Lamont was a handsome man or not, although even from there he sensed an ironic awareness in Lamont's gaze, a native intelligence that most people lacked.

And, at the same time, Lamont was thinking:
Ah, yes. Tall, dark, arrogant, and aristocratic, the type who breaks women's hearts with a smile.
So this was the man his wild, wee Cat had selected as her mate. Interesting choice. An impossible pairing of opposites. Could they possibly love each other? he wondered with an unexpected twinge of envy.

"What do you want?" Knight demanded of Murdo, making a point of ignoring the other man.

"An honor to meet you, too," Lamont murmured.

Knight sent him a menacing look. "What is the meaning of this, Murdo? I almost shot you."

"That's exactly what I told him, my lord," Holmes said, clutching his musket. "Good thing my eyesight is keen. I recognized him as the lady's uncle, or he'd have been dead for certain."

"We have come to put a stop to your elopement," Murdo said, looking ridiculously short compared with Knight and Lamont, a gnat between a pair of angry giants.

Knight glanced toward the circle of stones. "On my own horses, I notice."

"One of them is mine," Lamont said, sounding amused. "And I believe the woman in the carriage was meant to be mine also. At least, so I've been told all my life."

He made a move toward the vehicle only to find Knight's hand firmly planted on his chest, holding him in place. "If you take one more step toward that carriage, I will kill you, childhood friend or not," Knight said in an undertone.

Murdo shook his head. "Please, Lord Rutleigh. You do not know the extent of his abilities."

"I suggest he does not question mine," Knight said, not giving an inch.

Lamont allowed himself a smile. "Would you really try to kill me?"

"No." Knight's face looked as if it were chiseled from the moon that shone down on them, cold and remote. "I
would
kill you."

Lamont glanced past him at the silver-washed landscape. "I do believe he is serious, Murdo."

"Aye," the little man said grimly, turning away.  "Then do what you must, Lamont. I canna bear to watch."

"What
is
going on out there?" Catriona called from the carriage. "May I please come out, Knight, and talk to my meddlesome uncle?"

"You've trained her to obey you," Lamont said in astonishment. "I'd never thought I'd live to see the day that anyone tamed her. I am impressed at what you have accomplished."

Knight did not betray his reaction to the words. "If our conversation is done, then we'll be on our way," he said. "Shall I give Catriona your best wishes, or do you want my worst?"

Before Lamont could answer, a dog started to bark from the standing stones. Both men glanced around to look, not noticing the spry feminine figure in a man's coat jump down from the carriage.

"Fergan!" Catriona shouted in heartfelt glee. "Come to me!"

At the familiar voice, the dog burst like a bullet from the stones to launch itself at her. Catriona shrieked in delight, knocked back against the carriage step by the hound's wiry strength.

"Oh, you big, slobbering beast!" she exclaimed. "You've gotten mud all over me, and here I am, almost a bride."

Knight watched her, unaware that his harsh features had softened at the joyful reunion. "That's my coat the monster is ruining," he said gruffly.

She laughed, throwing him a tearful smile. "Do you remember Fergan, from the night I first met you?" she asked as she plunked herself down on the step to hug the dog.