To Catch a Highlander (32 page)

As the woman gathered her clothes, Sophia held her breath, afraid she and Dougal might be found, but nothing so exciting occurred. Miss Stanton washed in the basin, dressed, and prepared to leave. The whole time, she and Sir Reginald carried on a conversation with an ease that told Sophia that this was a relationship of long standing.

"There. I'm presentable again."

"You're always presentable," he replied gallantly.

"Please, Reginald, don't." Though the words were petulant, the tone was amused. "This arrangement works because neither of us attaches any importance to it. Dressing it up will just confuse the issue."

"I apologize," he said immediately. "Did you get your scarf? It was on the dresser."

Miss Stanton crossed to the dresser, paused, and then picked up something from the floor. "A hairpin? I wonder how this came to be here."

Sophia's eyes widened. The pin she'd used to open the trunk!

"Let me see it." Sir Reginald rose from the bed and walked barefooted to Miss Stanton. "Hm. I don't know whose that is."

A
ping
sounded as Miss Stanton tossed the pin onto the dresser. "It's not Mrs. Kent's? I had the impression you two were becoming friendly before MacLean arrived."

"Mrs. Kent doesn't wear hairpins this color; her hair is too dark."

Sophia noticed that he didn't deny he'd been with Mrs. Kent.

"Then perhaps it belongs to the lovely Miss MacFarlane. You seemed very interested in her jewelry."

"I am."

"How interested? Enough to take it?" Amusement laced through Miss Stanton's voice. "I know how expensive you can be, Reginald. A man must live."

"I didn't steal Miss MacFarlane's jewelry," he said, though he seemed far from upset at her suggestion. "I thought about it, but in the end, I decided it belongs with its rightful owner."

"Have it as you will." Disbelief colored her voice. "I'm going to my room to call for a bath. Perhaps after dinner, you might join me for… a game?"

He chuckled. "Regina, you are insatiable. It is one of your best qualities."

There was a pause as the two kissed. Sophia looked at Dougal, whose brows were lowered, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Moments later, Miss Stanton took her leave, and Sir Reginald, apparently exhausted by his energetic activities, fell into bed and was soon snoring.

Dougal motioned for Sophia to stay until he could slip out and open the door. Checking Sir Reginald's snores, he motioned for Sophia to follow him. Then they were in the hallway, closing the door softly behind them.

Dougal grabbed Sophia's hand and pulled her into his own room, locking the door.

Sophia's heart sped up. "I never imagined Miss Stanton and Sir Reginald together! Did you?"

"No." Still leaning against the door, his gaze locked on her, he frowned.

"What is it?"

"Something just dawned on me. I don't know if it means anything, but—" He shook his head. "It's probably nothing. I'll have to look into it."

"I hate it when you're mysterious," she said dryly. "Did you find anything in Miss Stanton's room?"

"Only a pair of men's boots. Now I know whom those belong to."

Sophia sank onto the settee by the fireplace. "Then we're no closer than we were before."

"We've other rooms to search." He glanced at the clock. "But the others should be returning soon."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Dougal, I can't stay much longer."

"Why not?"

Because she was beginning to find it difficult to imagine her life without him. Because every time he came into a room, she yearned for him. Because she was afraid life without him would be stale and lonely.

"Because my father will worry."

Dougal shrugged. "Send him a message and explain what's happened. He'll understand."

"No, he won't. But a message will ease his mind. I will send Angus home tomorrow, but… Dougal, even if we don't find the deed and the jewels, there's no reason for me to stay. Besides, none of it really belongs to me."

He watched her with a dark expression in his eyes.

What was he thinking? Sophia bit her lip. What she really wanted to know was what did he think of her? Did he respect her and accept that their passion was a gift?

She'd thought for a long time that happiness lay in MacFarlane House; now she knew that happiness lay within her own heart. All she had to do was find it. And there were times when, looking at Dougal, she wondered if she finally had.

But thinking of Dougal in terms of forever was a waste of time. He wasn't the sort of man to settle in one place. Men like him needed constant excitement, the steady roar of the ton or travel to keep them happy. Did Dougal even believe in forever? And how could a woman ask such a question without appearing hopelessly in love? For she wasn't. She was merely in deep
like
—though a few more days in Dougal's presence could well send her over the edge.

Awkward as it was, if she wished to know how he felt, she would have to ask. She cleared her throat. "Dougal, why do you wish me to stay?"

"The deed and jewels are missing."

"And?"

His eyes narrowed. "And what?"

Embarrassment flooded through her, but she kept her composure. "I wish to know
all
of the reasons you want me to stay."

There was a long silence and then he answered, his voice abrupt, "I enjoy making love to you."

His answer sent her pulses racing, yet her heart panged hollowly. "Is there anything else? Any other reason?" She met his gaze straight on and knew from his frozen expression that he knew exactly what she wanted to hear.

His gaze flickered to the window beyond. She didn't know what he saw there, other then the ruined garden, but his exprression hardened even more.

Finally, he looked back to her. "No," he said shortly. "I enjoy your passion, and I am determined to find the missing items. What else could there be?"

Sophia's throat tightened with disappointment. But what had she expected? She knew Dougal was a man of many dalliances; why had she thought their relationship different?

Well, no matter what the outcome of their relationship, she would not be sorry they'd met. He was a generous and skillful lover, and she was thankful for that at least.

She'd never known how important that was, but having tasted it once, she didn't think she'd ever be satisfied with a passionless relationship. When she married, she wanted compatibility
and
passion, though she couldn't imagine making love to anyone but Dougal.

Dougal caught her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. "Don't look so forlorn." He tugged Sophia forward, pulling her into his arms. "For now, my little spy, we must plan our next attack."

"The judge's room?"

"Yes. We need to find a way to lure him and his busy wife away from the house." Dougal traced a finger from her shoulder to the top of one breast.

Shivering at the sensation, she managed to say, "Do you really think we'll find anything?"

His fingers dipped into the low neckline of her gown, watching her face with a warm expression. "We won't know until we try." Before she could answer, he enveloped her in a kiss, and soon they were lost to passion.

It was magnificent, as always. But afterward, when Dougal was asleep, his arm warm over her, tears welled and slowly slid down Sophia's cheeks to the pillow.

The thought of leaving was lonelier than she'd ever imagined. Yet staying was not an option. Oh, she could sneak an occasional embrace with Dougal, but that was all.

Two days. Two days, and she'd leave and begin the process of forgetting Dougal MacLean.

When the wind blows from the north and the cold rains begin, I wonder what sort
o'
trouble the MacLeans must be in to have set loose the wrath o the storms
.

Old Woman Nora from Loch Lomond to her three wee granddaughters one cold evening

Sophia slipped out of Dougal's bed, pausing to look back at him. His tawny hair was mussed, his thick lashes crested on his cheeks, his sensual lips parted in sleep. He'd slept with one arm over her, and now, frowning, he gathered a pillow and hugged it in her place.

She reached out and gently brushed his hair from his eyes, smiling as he snuggled deeper into the pillow. He was painfully handsome, and she couldn't look at his large, well-shaped hand without thinking about that hand cupping her breasts, running up and down her back as she pressed to him—

She shivered and forced herself to turn away. She ached to toss her sense of self-preservation to the winds and slip back between the warm sheets, but she needed to think—and that was the one thing she couldn't do while wrapped in Dougal's arms.

He was a complicated man, tender one moment and demanding the next. There were times when their eyes met and she felt that she'd never want to be with another man. But then she'd remember what he was, and the thought would shatter.

Lips trembling, she quietly dressed, tiptoed to the door, and peered out.

No one was in the corridor. With a lingering look at Dougal, she slipped outside.

She was halfway to her room when she heard a doorknob turn. Without checking to see which door it might be, she hiked her skirts and ran.

She darted inside her room and closed the door, resting her cheek against the panel, panting as she strained to hear into the hallway. Were those footsteps coming toward her room or—

"Where have ye been?"

Sophia jumped and turned to find Mary standing behind her, arms akimbo.

"Well?" the maid said, looking her up and down.

Sophia pressed a hand to where her heart had attempted to jump from her chest.

Mary's suspicious gaze whipped over Sophia. "Ye been that ye've mussed yer gown, too!"

Sophia looked down. The entire front of her gown was smeared with dust from where she'd hidden beneath Sir Reginald's bed. "Ah. I was looking for a—a—an earring that had fallen under the, table in the, ah, sitting room, and the floor was dusty."

"Humph." Mary's disbelief was plain. "That might get dust on yer knees, but it don't explain the dust on yer bodice."