Amber (Jewel Trilogy, Book 3) (34 page)

She heard very little conviction in those words. "You don't agree."

"It's difficult to avoid feeling like a failure when you lose an immense fortune and two lives into the bargain. But I'm working on it."

She'd been working on trying to better herself, too. "I wanted to stay here like you told me to—truly I did—but then when I realized they were murderers, and thought of you out there not knowing that...your lives at risk..." Remembering, she felt her heart pounding all over again. "I tried to obey, but I'm not made that way, Trick."

"I know." He sighed theatrically, but the smile in his eyes told her it was only for show. "I expect I'll have to get used to that."

"I'm so glad you're willing to try." Though she still didn't hold herself blameless, relief flowed through her in heady waves. He was accepting her for who she was. More than anyone ever had in her life. "I was only trying to warn you of their wicked ways, but it all went wrong."

"Your heart was in the right place." His lips brushed her knuckles, and his breath on her hands warmed her somewhere deep inside. "I'm not used to anyone wanting to take care of me," he told her in a deep, husky voice, "but I do appreciate it. And I'm hoping we can make a fresh start, and that some day I'll prove myself deserving of your special sort of loyalty."

Could they really begin anew and learn to trust each other? Her heart soared at the thought. She sent him a tremulous smile, and he dropped her hands, reaching down for a goblet.

She took it, sipping the fortifying wine while he walked over to the desk.

"Midnight supper." Carrying the platter, he dragged the chair over to sit by the tub. "Will you have some bread and cheese?"

She nodded, surprised to find herself suddenly ravenous. "I'm worried, Trick. About Hamish and Niall."

"Aye?" Balancing the platter on his knees, he cut a slice of pungent cheddar. "What makes you worry?" he asked, tearing a hunk of bread and handing them to her together.

"Things haven't gone well here since your father—the duke—took you away." She nibbled on the bread. "Jane told me he cut off your mother's allowance, and she had to dismiss most of the servants."

Taking a hearty bite of bread, he nodded as he chewed. "I guessed as much, noting the state of this place." He swallowed and washed it down with a gulp of wine. "I asked Niall about it on our long trek to Burntisland."

"And?"

"Hamish does well for himself in the cloth trade. But other than allowing him to make up back pay for the servants, Mam refused to take his money when he moved in." In three big bites, he polished off a slab of cheese. "Stubborn woman. She may not have been as bad as the duke had convinced me, but she was far from perfect."

"None of us are," Kendra reminded him. "Will they be all right here, then, do you think?"

"Aye, with Hamish's help. And Niall is planning to visit Amberley later this year and learn some more progressive farming. Scotland is behindhand, it seems. I thought maybe you could help him with that."

His steady confidence did much to make her trust in this fresh start of which he'd spoken. And Hamish and Niall would be fine. She sagged with relief, draining the rest of her wine.

"Feel better now?" he asked.

"Immensely." Everything was working out perfectly.

"Good." He rose and took the goblet from her hands. Was that a gleam she saw in his eyes, she wondered, or was it only that she wasn't used to seeing them so clearly?

She got her answer when he started ripping off his clothes.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Joining you,
leannan
. I'm grubby as hell."

"B-but...together?" She half rose out of the tub.

With a hand on her shoulder, he pushed her back down. "Together."

"You're jesting," she said. "And you're hurt."

But as his gaze held hers, his words that first night in Scotland slipped through her thoughts:
I'd like to see all of you wet.

And she knew he wasn't jesting at all.

"Aye, I hurt a bit," he admitted. "But I trust you'll be gentle." Opposite her, he stepped into the water.

"Your bandage!"

"Stop being such a worrywart, lass. I'm more comfortable with it on." As he lowered himself, he nodded toward her tattered chemise. "There's another where this one came from."

She sat motionless as his legs slid beneath her own, then gasped when he grasped her by the waist to bring her up and onto his lap. But his small grunt of pain didn't seem to signal any loss of enthusiasm. His lips went to hers immediately, the kiss deepening while he reached back to arrange her legs around his body.

Lulled by his mouth and his hands roaming her wet skin, she pressed closer. Below, where her body met his, a hot stab of desire took her by surprise.

Dear God, he was right there, almost inside her.

He smiled against her lips. "Not yet,
leannan
. We haven't washed."

"I've washed already."

He reached for the soap behind her head. "Then you can wash me," he suggested, holding it out.

At the silky tone of his voice, her heart pounded wildly, and when she took the soap, it slipped from her fingers and plunged to the bottom. His knowing smile only flustered her further while she fished in the water for the hard-milled ball. But when she brought it up and its scent wafted to her nose—her lavender fragrance, not his sandalwood—a wicked idea took hold in her mind.

Languidly, she passed the soap back and forth in her hands. "I'll wash you," she told him, "but only if you promise not to move. Not your arms, not your legs, not anything."

"Not even my head?" He lurched forward and stole a kiss.

Her lips tingled as she firmly pushed him back. "Not even. Not even one inch."

Contemplating that, he ran his tongue over the chip in his tooth, and she wished it were her tongue, instead. "Why?" he asked.

"You're injured. You mustn't strain yourself. And besides..." Her lips curved in a calculating smile. "I wish to play Poseidon and rule these waters. Because I owe you. For the dungeon."

"Sweet Mary," he breathed as she lathered her hands. Dropping the soap on purpose this time, she smoothed her palms over his shoulders, tracing circles down his back until her fingers met the binding around his ribs. Then up again, slowly, slowly, as his eyes slid shut and his head tilted back.

"Don't move," she reminded him, a little breathless. Feeling daring, she ran her hands down his chest, skimming the bandage until they met warm skin below. And down. All the way down.

That part of him moved—more than an inch—before his eyes flew open. "Are you sure I didn't drown?" he husked out.

"Hmm?" She brought one hand out of the water, smiling to herself at the glazed expression in those newly unshielded eyes. Dear God, they were beautiful. Moistening a finger in her mouth, she wet his bottom lip, right there in the center where she always thought of touching it.

Thrilling to his soft intake of breath, she licked her finger again and drew it across his top lip. So chiseled, and so talented—oh, what that mouth could make her feel. A third time she sucked her finger, then worked it between his lips, rubbing his tongue while she held his gaze with hers. It was heady, the power of seduction, driving her to try things she'd never even imagined.

A dazed smile on his face, his eyes slid shut when she moved her hand beneath the water, leaning forward for a long, melting kiss. "Don't move," she reminded him when she pulled back.

His hands clenched on the edges of the tub.

"I know I drowned," he gasped, "because I've died and gone to heaven."

Duncraven seemed lighter the next morning.

When Kendra woke, the chamber seemed brighter, and the walls seemed to hold fewer secrets. Ghosts no longer seemed to be lurking. She found herself almost sorry to leave.

But Trick was in a hurry.

"I want to deliver what's left of the king's treasure. Get it off my hands." He latched his trunk. "And I want to get back to Amberley. Although..."

He watched her look up from tying a garter. "Although what?"

"It shouldn't be mine." He'd been thinking about that ever since he'd had other obvious facts pointed out to him—that Annag and Duncan were his siblings, and that he wasn't really English at all. "Amberley, and the dukedom. By rights, by blood, they shouldn't belong to me."

And the shock of it was, he found that disturbing. Mere months ago he hadn't wanted Amberley at all, hadn't wanted anything that came from the man he'd thought was his father. His shipping concern had been more than enough to support him, the estate and title just another reminder of the life he'd wanted to forget, another responsibility he hadn't needed.

But he needed them now. He needed them for his wife and the family he'd begun envisioning. No sane man would reject something that so clearly benefitted the people close to him.

Loving Kendra had changed everything.

"Who would get Amberley if not you?" Always direct, his Kendra.

"I don't know. The man who raised me had no brothers...some distant cousin of his, I imagine. Someone I've never met."

"And do you imagine he'd use that dukedom for the same good that you do? Do you imagine he'd shelter orphans in the old manor house?" Always straight through to the heart.

"I don't know that, either."

She rose and walked close. "You know I didn't want to be a duchess any more than you wanted to be a duke. But you earned that dukedom, Trick."

"Did I?"

"Yes. With your sweat, and I suspect with your blood and your tears." She leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Legally, it's yours, and I see no reason on earth it shouldn't
stay
yours."

Maybe she was right, and there was no reason he shouldn't be able to keep it.

No reason except his monarch's threat hanging over his head if he failed to finish the job he'd started.

He kissed her back, a kiss filled with all the hope he had for their future. "Come,
leannan
, let's traipse down these endless stairs one last time. Let's go home and get started on our brand-new life."

Kendra held Hamish's arm, thrilled that he was strong enough now to accompany them outdoors along with Niall.

They paused on the drive where the Amberley servants waited. "What will you tell King Charles?" Hamish asked Trick.

"I'll think of something." Trick looked up to the single chest he'd had lashed to the top of the ducal carriage. "At least nobody will suspect I'm carrying anything of special value."

He'd told Kendra that when they stopped for the night at an inn, they'd simply bring it with them into their room. They didn't need all the extra guard he'd been envisioning. Four Amberley outriders stood ready, and that should be enough. They planned to travel directly to London.

Her gaze followed his. "I want to see it," she said.

"See what?" Niall asked.

"The Royal plate that brought about all this treachery and heartache. It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know." Her brother-in-law shrugged. "I've never seen it myself."

"In all those years?" She hadn't pegged him as being so uncurious. "I would have begged until my parents let me look."

"Oh, I did. But it was pointless. There's no key to the padlock."

Hamish gave her a hard hug. "I tossed all the keys into a loch years before Niall was born. After one of those bitter quarrels. To keep the pieces from disappearing one by one."

So he'd distrusted his friends even then. Unfortunate that he'd failed to take those feelings to heart—it might have saved Elspeth's life. But as the old French saying Kendra used to hear on the Continent put it,
"L'amitié ferme les yeux."

Friendship closes its eyes.

Drawing her from those thoughts, Niall stepped forward and planted kisses on both her cheeks. "God willing, I'll see you soon."

She was surprised to feel tears welling up. "I expect you at Amberley before too long."

He nodded. "After the harvest."

Trick embraced his brother. "I thank you for taking care of that for me."

"We—Da and I—thank you for allowing us to stay." Niall's gaze flickered over to the castle's open doorway, where Annag and Duncan stood glaring, her children behind them. "And allowing them to stay, too."

Trick shrugged. "They're harmless." And he was right. For all Kendra's wild imaginings, Duncan and Annag had never done anything to hurt either of them. "Besides, they're my siblings. I won't pretend to like them, but if it makes Da happy to give them a home, then I'm happy, too."

Tears welled in Hamish's eyes as he took Trick by both hands. "We don't deserve you, lad."

He shook his head. "It's I that don't deserve you—a father and a brother that would do any man proud. Family, after all these years." Blinking back his own tears, he wrapped the older man into his arms and held him a long moment. "We'd best be going."

"Aye, I suppose you must." Hamish forced a smile and watched them climb into the carriage.

Trick closed his eyes until they rode away, then opened them and pulled Kendra across the cabin for a soft kiss. "When we get to London, I'm going to ask my solicitor to deed Duncraven over to Hamish, with Niall as his heir."