AnchorandStorm (13 page)

But it was still a dark cloud hanging over their heads.

After breakfast one morning, about a week after Edgar had proposed his plan, they settled in the library as was their habit. Emily sat and stared into the fire for a long time before she said anything. Then she haltingly began to ask questions.

“Do you still want me to go through with this?”

“Yes.”

She drew her legs up under her in the chair and hugged a shawl tightly around her shoulders, yet she still felt chilled. “Whom should I pick?”

“The choice is yours, my dear. You will have to be intimate with this man. I cannot make that decision for you.”

She began to nibble at her fingernails. “Should the man have dark hair, like yours?”

“It doesn’t matter. You are fair, I am dark. Any child of the union could be said to take after either of us. Of course, a redhead might raise some eyebrows.”

She gave a short laugh and turned a smile on him, appreciating that he was trying to find some humor in the situation. “What of his education?”

“That doesn’t matter either, as long as he is intelligent enough to be discreet. I would expect him to appreciate the gravity of our situation and not take advantage of it.”

He seemed to have it all figured out. She herself was still trying to get over the shock of her own husband telling her to take a lover. She sighed in frustration. “But I don’t know anyone, Edgar. Except for your tenants and the staff and a few couples of your acquaintance, we haven’t seen anyone since we got back from the Continent.”

He sat for a moment as if thinking. “You’re right, my dear. We have shut ourselves off. That has been the case with me for quite some time, but it is not fair to you. We will give a dinner party and perhaps a gaming night afterwards. I can invite some married couples as well as unmarried men, it would look less suspicious that way. Shall I send out the invitations?”

Reluctantly, she agreed, yet she still worried about what would happen when she went through with his plan. And she wondered if she could indeed go through with it at all.

Chapter Eleven

This one had horrible teeth, that one had body odor and the one over there dressed like a fop. There was not one man at the soirée whom Emily could stand to have touch her, much less make love to her. And worse yet, possibly father her child!

Edgar looked at her across the card table, where he was trying to lose each hand as a courtesy to his guests and shrugged his shoulders. She tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t make the necessary movement. Her head was pounding and the smell of the cheroots the men were smoking was making her queasy. She needed some air. As soon as she was sure that the few women in attendance were settled in the library with their tea and tarts, she made her escape to the garden.

She scurried down the steps and into the side rose garden, so that no one would see her and try to lure her back inside. Edgar’s favorite pink roses glowed a ghostly white in the moonlight. She remembered how he had told that her womanhood reminded him of these flowers—

“…the petals of your sex are like the roses in my garden at home—a deep, deep pink sparkling with the dew of your arousal.”

She quickly put that thought from her mind. A feeling of despair washed over her. What was she going to do? She didn’t want to disappoint Edgar, she loved him so much she would do anything he asked. But what he was asking her to do now seemed more than she could bear.

They had discussed it further and he still believed it to be the best plan. For him, she would go through with it. She turned to go back to the party and find the man who was the least repulsive.

As she took one last deep breath of the rose-scented air, another fragrance caught her attention. It was smoke, but of a different type from the smelly cigars of Edgar’s guests. It was sweet and rich, like cherry wood burning in a fireplace. She followed her nose to the honeysuckle arbor. “Angus?”

He jumped up from the bench and gave a quick bow. “Milady, forgive me for taking my leisure in the garden.” He gestured with the pipe he held in his hand. “I like to have a pipe sometimes and I dinna like to smoke near the stable.”

“That’s all right, Angus. You may come into the garden anytime you wish. I was just startled to find you here at this hour. Is all the noise disturbing you?”

“Och, no,” he replied. “’Tis good to see Lord Callander entertaining again. I never thought he would.”

“Hmm, well, it’s not all that entertaining,” Emily mumbled.

“I beg yer pardon?”

“Oh nothing.” She looked toward the house, dreading the thought of going back inside. She felt much more at ease here in the garden with the scents of honeysuckle and pipe smoke and Angus’ soft, lilting voice. Perhaps that was the root of her problem. She was a Highland lass tossed among Sassenachs and Lowlanders. Except for Edgar, she wouldn’t give tuppence for the lot of them.

Angus’ voice snapped her out of her reverie. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked.

“I was just sayin’ that’s a lovely gown. I usually only see ye in yer riding clothes.”

“Oh uh, thank you, Angus.” His comment made her take note of what he was wearing. The laces of his rough linen shirt were undone, revealing a smattering of dark curls on his chest. His breeches fit his hips and thighs like a second skin and his white stockings accented his muscular calves. To Emily, this was how a man should look—not like those prancing peacocks in her drawing room, with their gaudy brocaded jackets, padded hose and, she suspected, equally padded pants.

His voice again interrupted her thoughts. “Are you all right, milady?”

She realized she must have been staring at him and she felt a flush rise in her cheeks. “Aye, yes, I—I suppose I should go back to our guests.”

“Aye, ye probably should,” he said with a smile.

“Good night, Angus.”

“Good night, milady.”

She turned and reluctantly made her way back to the party. Her feet grew heavier with each step she took toward the house. When she reached the stone terrace outside the drawing room, she turned and looked back at the garden. She thought she saw a shadow on the path she had just taken, but in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

* * * * *

The sky had not yet begun to lighten when Angus finally gave up trying to sleep. He had watched the people moving around inside Lord and Lady Callander’s parlor for quite some time after she left him. Then he had gone to his bed and tossed and turned most of the night. Each time he had managed to drift off, a vision came to him—a wee Highland lass in a gown of sky blue silk that matched her eyes, the bodice cut low to reveal the swell of her plump breasts. Both the cloth of her gown and her creamy skin glowed in the light from the windows when she had turned and looked back at him. His breath caught in his throat and he stood mesmerized, hoping to catch a glimpse of her again among the crowd of guests.

Before that night, he had known he loved her and wanted her. But he still had thought of her only as the young girl her father had spoken of. He had watched her mature into her role as countess over the past few months but never really thought of her body as being that…ripe.

The sight of her awakened feelings in him that had been buried for a long time. He still had nightmares about his time in prison and there was no room left for more pleasant dreams. Now it occurred to him how long it had been since he had lain with a woman. He had gone straight from the jail into Lord Callander’s service with no time in between to even look at one.

Here on the estate, there really had been no one to tempt him. He now realized that the urge to make love had not completely deserted him, even if the opportunity to do so was not forthcoming.
After all, a man has his needs
.

But he could not imagine having anyone fulfill those needs except Em.

She came to his bed, her gown the color of a summer sky. His cock rose and swelled just at the sight. He stood behind her and loosened her bodice, sliding it off her arms, then untied her skirt, letting it pool around her feet. One hand reached up and pulled the combs from her hair, curls the color of spun gold cascaded down her back. At the same time, his other hand came around her, under her chemise to clasp her plump breast. She leaned back against him and her buttocks rubbed against his shaft, hard now and straining at his breeks.

She turned around and undid his laces, then reached inside and grasped his flesh, sliding the smooth skin up and down his hard length. With a sly smile, she knelt at his feet and he gasped as her mouth closed around—

Angus awoke with his cock in his hand and warm cum seeping through his fingers.

Emily could feel Edgar studying her across the breakfast table the morning after the party. She knew he was waiting to see if she had reached a decision—she hadn’t and was reluctant to tell him so. His efforts at small talk were admirable, but only served to make her more ill at ease.

“What are your plans for the day, my love?” he asked.

“I think I shall go for a ride.” She hoped some fresh air and exercise would clear her head.

“That’s a good idea. It seems a beautiful day for one.”

With that, she rose, gave him a quick kiss and headed to the stable.

Angus approached her as soon as she entered. “Good morning, milady.”

“Good morning, Angus. Will you saddle Jezebel for me please?” Buttercup was too docile a mount for the ride she needed today.

“I know ye can handle her, milady, but with Tar along—”

“I shall ride alone today, Angus,” she responded, more curtly than she meant to. She turned her head away to avoid his curious gaze.

He was silent for a moment then said, “As ye wish, Lady Callander.” She was surprised that he addressed her with her full title but supposed her demeanor this morning had prompted it.

When he had finished saddling the mare, he led her out into the yard and helped Emily into the saddle. As he adjusted the stirrups slightly, he said, “Ye seem troubled today, milady. If there is anything I can do for ye—”

“
Ha!
” She let go a short burst of laughter then said, “Oh Angus, if only ye knew what it was ye could do for me, ye might not be so quick to offer.” With that she turned Jezebel’s head and kicked her into a gallop.

As she rode to the top of the ridge, a host of sensory images swirled through Emily’s mind—dandies in peacock-toned brocades and silks, stale-smelling cigar ashes, overwhelming spicy-scented cologne and foul breath. Then fresh air, the faint perfume of dew-covered roses and honeysuckle, fragrant pipe smoke, clean linen and snug, fawn-colored trousers.

The answer hit her with such force, it felt like a blow to her stomach. Suddenly, she knew the only man, other than Edgar, whom she could imagine touching her in that most intimate way. The only man her body could possibly welcome inside. She yanked back on Jezebel’s reins so hard that the mare skidded to a halt and reared back on her hind legs.

“Angus MacNeill!”

Chapter Twelve

Emily sat on the rug, her arm resting on the raised hearth. Despite her nearness to the flames, her whole body trembled with chills. She wrapped her shawl more tightly around her nightdress and took yet another deep breath, dreading the encounter that was to come at any moment.

When she heard the tapping of Edgar’s cane coming down the hallway, she knew it was time to face him. She had no idea how he would respond and hoped that perhaps her decision would make him abandon this whole idea.

As he entered the room, he said, “Emily? Are you all right?”

She nodded, trying to swallow past the knot of nervousness in her throat. Her heart pounded in her chest and her hands shook. She felt the beginnings of a dreadful headache.

He sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the fireplace and leaned toward her. “Something is troubling you, my dear. Can’t you tell me what it is?”

She took a deep breath and glanced up at him, then quickly looked away again. “I-I have decided.”

“Oh I see.” There was no need for him to ask her what she had decided.

“You said his coloring didn’t matter.”

“That’s true, I did.”

“Nor his education or status in life.”

“No. If there is a child from the union, I will claim it. He or she will have the best education available, so it matters not how schooled the father is.”

He waited for her to continue, but her courage again failed her. “So who is it to be?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and in a shaky voice whispered, “Angus MacNeill.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the logs in the fire. The small pang of fear that had started in her stomach now spread to her chest and she found herself holding her breath, waiting for his reaction. From his stunned silence, she suspected it wouldn’t be good.

Then he started to laugh. A more apt term, she thought, would be guffaw! He threw his head back against the chair and tears ran down his cheeks. Although he had an easy wit, she had never seen him laugh so hard.

“Edgar, that is unworthy of you!” She had worried over what his reaction would be, but she never suspected
this
. She suddenly found herself defending her choice. “Angus is an educated man. And he would have been a great chieftain, had it not been for the Rising. He—”

Edgar was shaking one hand at her and wiping his eyes with the other, his mirth finally subsiding. “I know, I know.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Oh my dear,” he said, clearly making an effort to control himself, “Angus was my choice all along.”

Now it was her turn to be silent. She stared at her husband in disbelief. When she saw he was being serious, she asked, “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

All the laughter drained from his face, replaced by a tender smile. “As I told you before, I could not choose the man with whom you would be so intimate. I trusted you to pick the right man and you did.”

“Oh Edgar,” she replied, shaking her head. Her headache was becoming worse, she pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll never agree to do it.”

“Are you so sure of that?”

“Aye, a cat and a dog get along better than we do.”

“From the way he took care of you when I was ill, I suspect he will not object.” He reached over and took her hands away, then leaned down to peer into her face. “Shall I speak to him tomorrow?”

She nodded. “But if his reaction is no, as I’m sure it will be, don’t tell me what he says. I don’t think I could stand to hear it.”

“All right.”

“And tell him that, when we go riding together after, we will never speak of it.”

* * * * *

Angus was just lifting a bale of straw to spread in Jezebel’s stall when he saw Lord Callander enter the stable. “Good day, milord. Can I do something for you?”

He made to set the bale down but stopped when the man said, “That’s all right, Angus, finish what you were doing. Then I should like to have a chat with you.”

“Aye, sir,” Angus replied. He suddenly felt the way he had when his father used to prepare him for a dressing down and his mind raced to figure out what he had done. Of course, there had been his many episodes of insolence with Em, but those had been some time ago and he thought he had made up for his temper since then. If the ax had finally fallen, it had certainly taken a long time to do so.

As he pondered his predicament and continued to spread the straw, he saw Lord Callander move to Tar’s stall. “Hello there, big fella. How have you been?” he said as he stroked the stallion’s thick neck.

Not for the first time, Angus felt sorry for the man. In the years he had been with Callander, he had seen his condition worsen. In the early years of his indenture, Angus had helped him ride Jezebel, then as time passed, Callander could only handle Buttercup. But in the last year or so, he could not ride at all. Angus knew it was a great disappointment to the man—anyone who owned such fine horses must surely want to use them.

He felt a flush rise in his cheeks as a parallel situation occurred to him. Lady Emily Callander was a fine woman. He wondered if Edgar had trouble riding
her
too! He shook the image from his mind and went to face his master.

Callander sat on the bench beside Tar’s stall. “Have a seat, Angus.”

There being no bench opposite Lord Callander, Angus sat down on a bale of hay. “Is everything all right, milord?”

“Well, not really.” Angus’ heart sank in his chest. He was afraid of what was coming and prayed only that he wouldn’t be sent back to jail. But Callander was speaking again. “I’m here to ask for your help with a rather, um, delicate situation.”

“Sir?”

“Lady Callander and I have been married for some months now, as you know.”

The man seemed reluctant to continue, so Angus, his curiosity piqued, said, “Aye?”

Lord Callander’s next words came out in a rush. “We want children, an heir for my title especially, and I have been told that my infirmity could be passed on to my offspring.”

Angus sat quietly, wondering why his master would be confiding such a problem to a servant.

His nervousness clear in his now hesitant speech, Lord Callander continued, “Emily and I have discussed the situation and we have decided that we should use a surrogate, so to speak, to father a child for us.”

Angus just sat and stared at the man, still unsure why he was telling him this.

“The decision as to who the man should be was left up to Emily and she has chosen you.”

The full import of Callander’s words did not hit Angus for a moment. When it did, he felt a pang of fear go through him such as he had not known since his days in prison. It took him some time to find his voice, then he said, “I never suspected yer wife was such a vindictive wee—” He stopped before his words made the situation worse…if that were possible.

“Emily? Vindictive? You cannot be serious. She hasn’t a vindictive bone in her body.”

“So this is how she plans to send me back to the jail?”

“What in heavens’ name are you talking about?”

“She’s tryin’ to trap me.”

Callander’s mouth dropped open, as if in surprise that Angus would see it that way.

“You walk in on yer wife and me, then the both of ye cry ‘rape’, and that quick, I’m back in that hole, or hangin’ from the nearest tree. I choose the tree, thank ye kindly.” He got up and turned his back on the man, too disappointed and disgusted to look at him any longer.

“That’s amazing,” Lord Callander said.

Angus’ curiosity got the best of him and he turned to face Callander again. “What do ye find so amazing?”

“Emily had the same reaction. She thought I was trying to trap
her
because I wanted to get rid of her, have our marriage annulled. Are all you Highlanders so suspicious?”

“Aye, usually. Don’t we have a right to be? And ye must admit, this is a verra strange proposition ye’re putting to me.”

“Yes, I will admit that. But why would I want to trap you? And why would Emily?”

“Well, we’ve had some spats, as ye probably know. I thought she had decided at last to get her revenge.”

“Did you have a spat while I was ill?”

Angus remembered his cruel words to her. “Only once, but I apologized.”

Callander nodded. Then they were both silent for a time, staring, as if sizing each other up.

“I shall claim any child of the union as my own.” Lord Callander’s voice grew quite firm with his next words. “I would expect you to relinquish any rights to the child.”

Angus stared at him for a few moments, trying to figure out how he felt about that stipulation. He had always wanted as many sons and daughters as his wife could give him. With each passing year, his hope of fulfilling that dream seemed to fade. He still had eleven years left on his indenture. When it was finished, he would not be an old man but he would be homeless and penniless, unless Callander deigned to be generous toward him. He had heard there were opportunities in America and his plan was to somehow get enough money for a passage. But if there was a child in Scotland who was his, he knew he could never leave the country. He doubted he could ever leave this estate. Everything that made him who he was had been taken away from him, could he lose his child too? Callander’s whole proposal suddenly seemed ridiculous.

“What if I decline yer offer?” Angus asked.

Callander sighed. “Then Emily and I will have to find another man.”

“Another stud, ye mean?”

Lord Callander ignored that remark. “If I die without issue,” he said, “Lord Stockdale will be your new master.”

Angus was able to suppress a shudder but not, apparently, the expression of disgust on his face. Lord Callander saw it and commented, “Yes, the idea is abhorrent to me also and to Emily. She’ll be well provided for in my will, of course, but I suspect Raymond will still make trouble for her.”

Angus leaned against the stall behind him and studied the man again. Callander sat with his head bowed, his hands crossed over the top of the cane he held in front of him. He couldn’t be more than ten years older than Angus, yet he seemed much older due to his infirmity. Death was creeping up on him, taking his mobility away from him slowly, yet steadily, day by day.

Angus himself had faced death many times in the Rising, but he had not feared it—he had the strength to fight against it. In prison, he had felt that strength ebb away from him with each passing day and knew that when death came for him, he would not be able to fight it off. Now, despite everything he’d been through, he was hale and hearty again—in body if not completely in spirit.

For the first time, he had some inkling of the pain and fear Callander must be suffering. Were they both destined to die childless?

Then another thought occurred to him.
Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.
Would his Catholic upbringing let him go through with this? He had met many attractive women who were already married and each time had channeled his desires in another direction. Never once had he allowed his lust to overrule his brain and put himself, and especially the woman, in a bad situation. Even if he had, he would not have been living under her husband’s roof, his future at the mercy of the man he was cuckolding!

But then, on the other hand, the husband had never invited him to do it. And remembering the sight of Emily Callander in that gown… His cock twitched slightly in his breeches. He admitted to himself that he had been coveting Em since the first time he saw her.
Aye
, he thought,
I can do it.

As if reading Angus’ thoughts, Callander said, “I am so in love with my wife, I can’t understand why anyone would not want to make love to her. But if you feel you really cannot do it—”

“It would be no chore.”

Callander gave a short laugh and nodded. “I am prepared to make it worth your while.” When Angus didn’t answer, he continued, “On the day my son turns five years old, I will give you your freedom and enough money to go anywhere you want and do whatever you want to do.”