Mine Is the Night (53 page)

Midnight, then. Later than he’d expected.

In the darkened study he felt the weight of something beside his feet. Charbon, no doubt, curled up on his footstool. Jack lifted his head to see the creature, then froze.

A woman. At his feet. Not moving, not speaking.

His heart began to thud in his chest. Who was she? Not Elisabeth, for this woman’s gown was pale, colorless. And Elisabeth had never worn so flowery a scent.

“Who are you?” he finally asked, his voice rough from sleep. Or from fear.

“ ’Tis Bess, milord.”

He abruptly sat up, exhaling in relief. “Madam! What sort of mischief are you up to, sneaking into my study at night?” To think, he’d supposed her some shameless lass among his Michaelmas guests come to tempt him at this gloomy hour.

Instead it was his own dear Elisabeth, seeking his company.

“Do forgive me for startling you,” she said softly. “I wished to speak with you. Alone.” When she rose to her knees, he could see her gown more clearly, as bits of gold caught the firelight. An exquisite costume, the sort only someone of means could afford.

Jack cast aside his plaid blanket and stood, lifting her up as well. “Come, let me have a look at you.” He turned her toward the fire, then lit a candle, holding it aloft. His plainly garbed dressmaker was gone. In her place stood a vision in lavender. “Is it yours, this fine gown?”

“Aye.” She glanced down, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirts. “Since I’ve not worn it in a twelvemonth, I was afraid it might no longer fit.”

Oh, it fits, dear lady. To perfection
. He averted his gaze, yanking his wayward thoughts in line. “Forgive me for asking, Bess, but … what has become of your mourning clothes?”

She lifted her chin. “I am no longer in mourning for my late husband. That is what I came to tell you.”

Only then did he notice the door to the hallway was closed. “What of your mother-in-law?” he asked, feeling a certain uneasiness. “Does she know about this …, eh, decision of yours?”

A slight smile. “ ’Twas her idea.”

He let that rather astounding fact take root. “So Mrs. Kerr will not mind if you enter into …, well, a courtship with someone? With … me?”

“Nae, she’ll not mind,” Bess assured him. “Reverend Brown has recently learned that you are a distant relative of Marjory’s late husband. Which means you are a kinsman of ours.”

Jack nodded, the picture growing clearer with each waking moment. “No doubt the minister thinks I should provide for the two of you. And I should. Nae, I
will
. Gladly.”

Bess took his hands in hers. The warmth of her skin surprised him.

“I am grateful for anything you might do for Marjory,” she admitted. “But provision is not what I seek from you, milord.”

He drew her closer, longing for an honest answer. “My dear Bess, what
do
you seek?”

“A future.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes hiding nothing. “Lord Buchanan, if your feelings for me compare in any measure to the fond affection I have for you, then I believe the Almighty intends for us to be together.”

Jack couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You wish … to marry me?”

She lifted his hands and gently kissed them. “I do.”

“Lord bless you,” he whispered, swiftly pulling her into his embrace. “You might have chosen a younger man, Bess. A richer man—”

“Nae, there is only one man for me.” Elisabeth nestled her head in the hollow of his neck as if she belonged there. And she
did
belong there. By the grace of God and no other.

He mustered his courage, knowing there was no turning back now. “You say you have a fond affection for me, Bess? Then I’ll be bolder still and confess I adore you. And everything about you.” He kissed her hair, like silk beneath his lips. Then the soft plane of her brow. Then the tender curve of her cheek.

“Lord Jack—”

“Jack,” he murmured. “In this room titles mean nothing.”

She smiled in the darkness. “Jack, then.”

He eased her from his embrace, then lowered her into his chair and drew up the footstool for himself. “No one must find you here,” he said firmly, keeping his voice low. “And no one must see you depart.”

She eyed the door.

He understood. Even now someone might be listening between the cracks.

“You’ve nothing to fear,” he assured her. “I’ll protect you and your good name as well. You are much respected in Selkirkshire, Bess.” He claimed her hands, then kissed each one. “At Bell Hill most of all.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, barely touching, simply breathing. He had a thousand things he wanted to tell her, but one issue prodded his conscience at the moment. “Bess, we must speak of a subject that will not be pleasant for you.” He inched closer, praying for wisdom. “Every wedding begins with the question, ‘Is there any impediment to this marriage?’ Alas, there is one for us.”

Her eyes widened. “What is it, milord? Have you been married before? Is there some other woman who—”

“Nae, there is no other woman,” he said firmly. “But there is someone who could destroy the very future you seek. A powerful man, who rules us all.”

lisabeth’s hands turned to ice. “King George.”

“Aye,” Jack said grimly. “Because you and your mother-in-law supported the Jacobite rebellion, you can never be truly safe without the king’s pardon.”

She stared at him, hearing the words, yet not understanding. “You’ve known this all along.”

His skin took on a ruddy tint, visible even in the dimly lit study. “I have, Bess. But I could not say anything until …” He looked down, clearly distraught. “Until now. Until the possibility of marriage was raised.”

“The … possibility?” Elisabeth felt herself sinking into the chair. Her shoulders, her body, her heart. “Might the king withhold his mercy?”

“He might,” Jack confessed, then looked up to meet her gaze. “But I’ve been preparing your case for months. Since the Common Riding, when Reverend Brown informed me of your treason.”

“I see.” Elisabeth did not know what to say, how to respond.

“As a retired admiral and peer of the realm, I am in … shall we say, a unique position to seek the king’s mercy on behalf of my bride.”

His bride
. Elisabeth closed her eyes, overwhelmed. With her bold proposal, she’d now forced him to defend her. “Jack, I should not have—”

“Aye, you should have.” He bent forward and kissed her, his mouth warm against hers.

When he slowly pulled back, she saw in his eyes the answer to every question that mattered. He loved her. And he meant to save her.

Jack was still holding her hands, more firmly than ever. “I need only travel as far as Edinburgh,” he explained, “where I will meet with the king’s representative at Edinburgh Castle.” He paused before adding, “Dickson and I shall depart at noontide.”

Elisabeth hesitated but a moment. “There’s something I must do before you go.” She ran her fingers along the hem of her gown until she found the row of white silk rosettes stitched inside the hem of her petticoat. “Have you a pair of scissors, Jack?”

He retrieved a paper knife from the table beside them, the slender, curved blade designed to slice open the folded pages of bound books. “Will this do?”

“Aye.” She gripped the ebony handle and, using the sharp point of the knife, began picking apart the stitches holding her hidden roses in place. “If you are willing to stand before God and king to seek my pardon, then ’tis time I put aside my past.”

Elisabeth sensed his gaze on her as she removed the roses one by one. She felt no sorrow, no regret, only relief. When all her flowers were in hand, she tossed them into the nearby fire. The flames quickly consumed the silk, leaving not a trace.

After a quiet moment Jack said, “No tears, Bess?”

She looked up at him so he might see that her eyes were dry and her soul at peace. “No tears,” she assured him, “for I’ve a whole new life ahead.”

“Indeed you do.” Jack slowly stood, then pulled her to her feet. “At the moment we must get you home before someone sees you and sends rumors flying.”

They crossed the room together, then she stepped to the side while Jack checked to see if the hall was deserted. He opened the door no more than a crack before closing it again, just as quietly. “Footman,” he whispered.

Elisabeth’s heart quickened as Jack drew her back into the recesses of the room.

He explained in a whisper, “Roberts stationed one of his men outside my study in case I might have need of him in the night. He’s fallen asleep, I’m afraid, with his shoulder against the door. We’ve no choice but to tarry here until he wakes and finds his way to bed.”

She looked about the study. “Do you mean for me to spend the night in this room … with you?”

“Can you think of another solution?” he asked.

In truth, she could not. “Perhaps I might sleep over here,” she said, standing to consider an upholstered chair by the window.

“I can do better than that.” He quickly gathered a dozen plump, down-filled pillows from round the room, then built a tidy nest for her next to his reading chair. “Will this suffice?”

She sank onto them, knowing very well she’d not be able to sleep. In this gown? At his feet? Not for a single moment. “Very cozy,” she assured him.

Jack added a fresh log to the fire, extinguished the only candle in the room, then settled into his chair with its thick, rounded upholstery. Unfolded, his plaid blanket draped over them both. “Perhaps we might take turnabout,” he said softly, “so we do not both oversleep. If we rise well before dawn, we can be halfway to Selkirk before the household stirs.”

Elisabeth propped her head on the footstool, looking up at his shadowy form. “You first, milord.”

“Jack.”

“Aye.” She smiled in the darkness. “Jack.”

He shifted round a bit, trying to get comfortable. Then again. Yet a third time. “ ’Tis more challenging than I’d expected,” he murmured. “Because of the chair?”

“Because of the company.”

His hand found hers beneath the plaid. “Have I told you why I love you, Bess?”

She clasped his hand more tightly. “Not yet.”

“Ah.” His voice caressed her like the firelight. “I love your kindness, Bess. Your generous nature. Your courage. Aye, and your sense of humor.”

Elisabeth closed her eyes, undone by his words. She’d not thought it possible
to be loved for herself and not merely her appearance. Still, she could not resist teasing him. “All well and good,” she said lightly, “but what about my hair? My face? My form? I thought that was all men prized in a woman.”

“Some men, perhaps. Not this one.” He drew her hand close enough to brush his lips across her skin. “Though I have taken note of your beauty. By the hour, truth be told.”

“I see.” She did not mind that so much.

Jack changed position once more. “Come, Bess, we must sleep while we may.”

“I shall try,” she promised, her eyes wide open.

With muted chimes the mantel clock marked each quarter hour through the night.

Elisabeth heard them all.

Jack slept off and on, for which she was grateful. He had a long ride ahead of him that day and much to prepare for. Whoever the king’s man might be, Jack would have no easy task convincing him the Kerrs were worthy of his pardon.

In those long, quiet hours, Elisabeth remembered something Donald had said to her on their last night together, promising he’d return from battle a changed man.
A different husband will cross your threshold. A husband who is faithful
. Donald did not return. But he did speak the truth, without knowing how God might bring it to pass. Lord Jack Buchanan was entirely different than Donald Kerr. And utterly faithful.

At half past five she heard the scrape of a chair at the door and footsteps fading down the hall. With dawn only an hour away, Elisabeth quickly rose and smoothed the wrinkles from her gown. Jack was awake as well, pulling on his riding boots.

“Have you no other shoes?” he asked, frowning at her brocade slippers.

“Aye, with my gown in the servants’ hall.”

He nodded, his expression intent. “Make haste to the drawing room and
leave by the outer door. I shall stop by the workroom for your clothing, then meet you beneath the tall oak near the stables. Do you know the one I mean?”

She nodded, her pulse quickening. “And if I am seen? If I am questioned?”

“Pray you will not be.” He bent down and kissed her again. A brief touch but so very tender, warming her to her toes.

They were almost at the door when he caught her wrist. “Give me your reticule, Bess.”

She slipped it over her hand, not questioning him for a moment. It contained all of a ha’penny, and he was welcome to it.

Jack unlocked his desk drawer, pulled out a fistful of bank notes, stuffed them inside her reticule, and returned it to her, bulging at the seams. “For your mother-in-law,” he explained, then slowly opened the door to the hall and looked out.