Harlequin Historical May 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Unwed and Unrepentant\Return of the Prodigal Gilvry\A Traitor's Touch (7 page)

‘Which is all very well, but doesn't change the fact that I underestimated you, and I'm very sorry for that,' Cordelia said contritely.

‘Well, it's good of you to admit it.'

‘Yes, it is.' Cordelia grinned. ‘I wouldn't have, you know, when I was younger. I hate to be in the wrong, and I hate even more having to admit it.'

Her smile was infectious. He was quite disarmed. ‘Were you often in the wrong, when you were younger?'

‘Oh, yes, lots, but I am afraid I was one of those children who took delight in pulling the wool over everyone's eyes. I turned into a young, heedless woman who did the same,' she said, ‘and look where that got me. But never mind that, you have not yet told me the detail of what passed between you and my father this morning. You mentioned that he had his terms.'

‘Aye.' They were heading east, roughly following the path of the river, the area known as the Pool of London. He bought himself some time by pointing it out, and the diggings which marked the excavation of the new Thames Tunnel.

Cordelia looked where he indicated, then looked back at him, raising her brows questioningly. ‘I'd rather you just came out with it, whether you think I'll like it or not.'

‘For a start, he wants the announcement formalised. I tried to put him off.' Iain grinned. ‘I developed a patriarchal concern for the state of the king's health, but your father's determined to puff off his new acquisition to all and sundry, though I've no idea what good he thinks it will do him.'

‘I suspect he has an eye to his sons' future,' Cordelia said disdainfully. ‘He can see that self-made men such as yourself will hold increasing sway in the corridors of power.'

‘So it's not just his daughters whose futures he maps out, then?'

‘I suppose not. I had not thought of that. What else?'

‘He wants to make the announcement himself, before it's in the press. At a family gathering, is what he said.'

Cordelia frowned. ‘My father has never been keen on socialising unless he has something to gain. He has never seen the point of family gatherings. I remember the last Christmas I was at Killellan, he arrived in time for dinner and left almost immediately after. Bella—that's my stepmother—was furious.'

‘Well, he was quite adamant on the subject. A family gathering at which the announcement will be made,' Iain said. ‘It's to be in ten days' time.'

‘He's already set the date?'

‘A couple of days before our ship is set to sail from Plymouth.'

‘Did he arrange that too?'

Iain nodded. ‘A frigate. He pulled yet more strings. It will take us to Lisbon, and from there we'll meet up with—I can't remember the name, but that will take us to Greece, and from there on to Egypt.'

‘Surely you will need more time to sort out your business?'

‘Until I speak with Sheikh al-Muhanna, I don't know exactly what my business will be—how many ships, what specification. I need to understand what use they will be put to before I can decide—it doesn't matter, but there are a host of technical issues I need to resolve face to face with the man. In the meantime, I have, believe it or not, a more than adequate deputy running my yard on the Clyde.'

‘Delegation, Mr Hunter?'

‘Aye, it pains me to admit it, but Jamie is more than capable. That's because I trained him myself, mind.'

Cordelia smiled abstractedly. ‘I wonder that my father agreed to my accompanying you merely as your affianced bride and not your actual bride. I wonder if the truth is that he wants rid of me.'

‘I'm afraid you might be right.'

‘What do you mean?'

Her eyes were narrowed. Iain took a deep breath. ‘Cordelia, he doesn't want you to see any of your family until the party. I'm really sorry, but he was adamant, and there was nothing I could do to change his mind.'

Cordelia stared at Iain uncomprehendingly. ‘Not see them?'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Did he give a reason? Is he afraid I shall contaminate them—corrupt them—did you even ask him?'

‘Of course I asked him,' Iain snapped.

He pulled the gig over to the side of the road. The banks of the river were lined with wharves on both sides. Through the gaps could be seen the waterfront, bustling with ships of all sizes. Two-and three-masters were moored two and three deep. The steamships, with their tall narrow funnels, were smaller and wider. The thick, grey smoke from the tugs billowed up into the air, the powdery tang mingling with the overriding smell of new coals—according to Iain, the main cargo. She noticed it all, but did not take any of it in. ‘What did he say?'

‘That they were in the country and there was no point in you going there when he was holding the party in London. That Lady Armstrong would wish to prepare the children because they'd not seen you in nearly ten years. That if we were to leave for Arabia in less than two weeks you'd have more than enough to occupy yourself with. That he wanted to give us both time to reflect on our commitment before he made it public.' Iain transferred the reins into one hand, reaching for her with the other. ‘You know what he's like, Cordelia, the way he can make anything sound reasonable.'

She snatched her hand away and glowered at him, knowing perfectly well that it wasn't Iain's fault, but needing to blame him anyway. ‘But he wasn't being reasonable. It's outrageous. He is just doing it to spite me.'

‘Aye, of course he is.'

‘He had not even the courage to tell me to my face, but must use you as a messenger.'

Iain grabbed her wrist and held it firmly, giving her arm a little shake. ‘It's as well he did. Would you really want him to see you like this? He's nothing to you, remember?'

‘Don't shout at me. I am not the one who's being unreasonable.'

‘I'm not angry with you.' Iain dropped the reins and covered her hands with his. ‘You're right, it's outrageous, but it only matters if you let it. No,
wheesht
and let me talk. Aye, he's trying to pull your strings, have things his own way, but he's doing it because we've outmanoeuvred him.'

‘How?'

Iain looked sheepish. ‘You'll think me daft, but it stuck in my craw to tell him that we were getting married...'

‘Betrothed.'

‘Betrothed, just to please him. So I—well, I told him that after he left us alone together yesterday we both realised that we were—that there was—that we—I told him we had fallen in love.'

For the second time in two days, Cordelia's jaw dropped. ‘In the space of twenty-four hours?'

‘In the space of a few minutes. I said it was love at first sight.'

Colour tinged Iain's cheeks. A bubble of hysterical laughter caught in Cordelia's throat as she tried to imagine the scene. ‘You actually used those words?'

Iain nodded.

‘You said—you actually said...'

‘That I had taken one look at you, and fallen head over ears,' Iain said soulfully.

She stared at him, utterly lost for words for a few seconds, then the gleam in his eye was too much to resist. She let out a peal of laughter. ‘Oh, dear God, did he believe you?'

‘My ain wee love,' Iain said, looking quite wounded, ‘how could he doubt it?'

Cordelia's jaw dropped further. ‘My ain big liar, I did not think that you had it in you. You should be on stage, Iain Hunter.'

He laughed. ‘To be honest, I didn't plan it that way, but when I told him that we'd agreed to a betrothal he looked that smug I wanted to belt him one, and it was the only thing I could think of to bring him down to size. You should have seen his face, Cordelia, it was a picture, and I couldn't help rubbing it in just a wee bit when I realised he was actually embarrassed.'

Her hands were still enveloped in his. He had turned towards her on the narrow bench of the gig, so that one of his knees brushed against the outside of her leg. Not that she could possibly feel it through her voluminous skirts, but it felt as if she could. His face was quite transformed when he smiled, it was utterly beguiling. It was making it very difficult to concentrate. She struggled to recover the thread of their conversation. ‘Yes, but—but the outcome of your deluding him is that I am not to see my family until this blasted party.'

‘I suspect he'd already decided that.' Iain pressed her hand. ‘He is an old man who can see his powers slipping from his fingers, and must resort to increasingly petty revenge to assert himself. You're above all that, Cordelia. Remember, though he doesn't know it, it is you and I who are pulling the strings. More importantly, you're getting what you want. Much as I know you wish to be reconciled with your half-siblings and your aunt, it is Celia and Cassie who matter most to you, isn't it?'

She sighed, but smiled too. ‘Are you always right?'

‘I'm rarely wrong.'

‘You will be hoist by your own petard you know, when we make an appearance at this party, for you must now play the besotted swain.'

The gleam in his eyes was back, though it was a very different kind of gleam. ‘A man who cannot wait for the pleasures of his wedding night, you mean? A man who cannot look at his bride-to-be without picturing her naked? Without imagining the softness of her flesh quivering to his touch?'

Iain ran his hand up her arm to touch the nape of her neck. ‘A man who dreams of her mouth on his,' he said, leaning closer, his voice a whisper. ‘Of the sweetness of her curves.'

He traced the outline of her breasts with the flat of his palm, resting his hand on her waist. ‘A man who wants to taste every inch of her.'

His lips touched the corner of hers, his tongue the briefest of caresses. ‘And you,' he said, his accent noticeably thicker, ‘you will have to play a woman equally in thrall. A woman who wants to touch, and to taste every inch of her man.'

He took her hand and placed it on his thigh. ‘A woman so sure of her power that she only has to look at him in a certain way to send the blood rushing.'

Of its own volition, her hand crept up his thigh, and found that the blood had already rushed. Iain's eyes flickered closed, then open. His pupils were dark. Her heart was pounding. A pulse beat in her neck, and at the top of her thighs.

‘When you look at me, they will see it in your eyes,' Iain said. ‘Power. Passion. It's a heady mix. Do you think you can do it, Cordelia?'

His breath was coming fast and shallow on her cheeks. His fingers were curled into her waist. She opened her mouth to speak, and his lips descended on hers. A strange little moan escaped her as she wrapped her arms around him and bowed her body towards him, instantly afire with desire. He kissed her hard, and she kissed him back with equal passion. He moaned, the same sound, lower, as her own.

A catcall made them jump apart. Looking around her in bewilderment, Cordelia remembered they were in an open carriage. Blushing furiously, she tried to right her bonnet. Iain swore, bending to unravel the reins, which seemed to have become wrapped around his ankle. The urchin who had interrupted them shouted something vulgar, and Iain grinned, said something incomprehensible but without doubt equally vulgar back, and tossed him a penny.

‘I think we might have to tone our performance down a wee bit,' he said to her.

‘I have no intentions of
performing
in such a way in front of my family,' Cordelia snapped. ‘That was not love, it was simply lust.'

‘We know that,' Iain replied, ‘but I doubt your family will know the difference.'

Which was very true, but she was tired of Iain being right. ‘All the same, if you think that I am going to kiss you just to prove a point...'

‘No, no, my wee love. I think you're going to kiss me because you want to. All you have to do in front of your family is look at me as if you want me to kiss you, and I'll look at you as if I want to kiss you, which won't be difficult, because I'm always wanting to kiss you.'

‘One of the things I dislike about you, Iain Hunter, is the way you make it very difficult to be angry with you. Stop being so charming.'

He put his hand on his heart. ‘I can't help it, for I am charmed by you.'

Cordelia turned away to hide her smile. ‘Shouldn't we be on our way? I thought you had urgent business.'

‘Indeed I do, though you should know that there can never be anything more urgent than kissing you.' He picked up the reins and set the reluctant horse back into motion.

‘Iain.'

‘Yes?' He gave her an innocent look.

‘I am not your wee love.'

* * *

The visit to the docks, contrary to Cordelia's expectations, was fascinating. Being at the centre of so much industry, the ships with coal and sugar and tea and silks and tobacco converging on one bit of river made her feel as if she were at the very hub of London.

‘Not a place many ladies would care to be,' Iain said when she told him so. ‘They'd think it vulgar.'

But it struck Cordelia that without all this noise and bustle and dirt and smoke, ladies would have no gowns to parade in Hyde Park, no sugar confections to decorate their dinner tables or coal to burn at their parties.

The Millwall Iron Works, where Iain had business, were on the southernmost tip of the Isle of Dogs, which was not an island at all, but a bulge of land encircled on three of its four sides by the River Thames.

‘It's not that long been taken over by Sir William Fairbairn and David Napier,' he said, helping Cordelia down from the gig, which he had pulled up in front of the main building. ‘Both fellow Scots of course,' he added with a grin, ‘and fellow engineers too. Napier built the boiler for the
Comet—
the first steam-paddle ship—and he built the
Aglaia
too. She was one of the first paddle steamers to have an iron hull, though she still had a wooden keel. My own
Eilidh
has an iron keel. Here he is now.'