“I pity the poor fool who would try to force
you
into marriage,” Jack said. “You seem very handy with a weapon.” The look he gave her was insolent, sweeping from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and he saw the hot color sting her cheeks at his impudence. Her chin came up.
“I shall be tempted to wield one again,” she said, “if you do not leave my house immediately.”
Jack grinned. “You have nothing to fear from me, sweetheart,” he said. “I am even richer than you are and I do not intend ever to wed you, only to bed you. Again.”
He flashed her a mocking smile before strolling in his own good time down the front steps. He almost expected to feel her dirk thudding between his shoulder blades. Instead he heard the door slam shut behind him. Another black-clad groom was waiting on the gravel, holding his horse for him. Through the archway to the mews, he could see a traveling carriage being prepared, not plain black this time but with the crest of the Duke of Forres and the arms of MacLeod entwined. It was the last word in luxury, fast and well sprung, sufficient even to deal with the state of the Highland roads. Lady Mairi was indeed making her own travel plans and they did not involve him.
Once they were at Methven, though, she would not be able to avoid him. The castle was huge, but the nature of a house party was such that the participants were thrown together no matter their wishes. Jack was suddenly aware that he was looking forward to the visit with a great deal more enthusiasm than he had felt the previous night. A house party also gave ample opportunity for intimacy and he wanted to rekindle his affair with Mairi, wanted to taste again the heat and the passion of their night together. He wanted
her,
her fragility and her strength, the fierce emotions she hid beneath that cool exterior. He knew she desired him too. She had betrayed herself when she had kissed him. She might lie, but her body’s response to him did not.
He was also still very angry with her for pretending indifference to his face and then seducing him secretly, for spending one night with him and then dismissing him like a paid lover. He recognized the anger and it interested him. He was not generally an introspective man, but something about Mairi MacLeod had him examining his reactions and his emotions like a poet or a philosopher. It was bizarre and he did not like it. But the anger was unusual. He did not generally bear grudges. He was not interested in revenge. Usually he forgot, moved on. It appeared that with Mairi MacLeod he had not moved on.
He shrugged. That was easy enough to solve. Another night of rapture, this time on his terms, and he would be ready to forget her. It had always worked before. His interest in a woman seldom outlived the intimate knowledge of her.
He encouraged his horse to a canter that raised the dust on the road. Lady Mairi MacLeod might be faithless and amoral, but then so was he. In that they were well suited. He was certain it would not be long before he was in her bed again.
CHAPTER FOUR
M
AIRI
SAT
AT
her desk with the household accounts spread in front of her. Jack Rutherford had gone, but the air still seemed to hum with his presence, fierce and elemental. It was impossible for her to concentrate. The columns of figures blurred before her eyes, and all she could see was Jack’s face and all she could feel was the touch of his lips against hers. She had wanted him very much and she knew he knew it.
Damn him.
She could not really blame Jack for being angry with her. Nor could she blame him for thinking her a whore when she had deliberately told him that any man would have done as a lover that night. That had been the literal truth, but no man could hear that without thinking her a shameless harlot.
With a little sigh she laid her pen aside and pinched the bridge of her nose to ease the headache behind her eyes. She could not understand why she was attracted to Jack. He was the complete opposite of her husband, Archie, who had been gentle and kind. Yet from the moment that Jack had walked into the drawing room, she had been acutely conscious of him, of the vitality and energy he brought with him, of the confident swagger in his step and the muscular perfection of his body beneath the close-fitting and beautifully tailored clothes. She did not want to want him. Yet it felt as though he had in some way imprinted himself on her so that her senses craved him, the taste and the touch of him. She disliked intensely the feeling that she was so vulnerable to him, but she could not escape it.
In Edinburgh she had used Jack shamelessly to drive out her feelings of loneliness and melancholy. She had sought out a man that night in order to forget for just a little while the huge weight of responsibility she carried and the secrets she kept. And for a time it had worked; she had forgotten everything in the bliss of Jack’s touch and the shocking, exciting sensations conjured by her own body. She had had so little experience of sex. She had had no idea, no notion at all, that it could be so delicious. It bore no resemblance to the mortifying fumbles she had endured at the start of her marriage to Archie MacLeod when they had barely managed to consummate their union.
Well, she had certainly made up for that inexperience now. She could barely believe that she had acted with such brazen lack of restraint when she had been with Jack. So much of her knowledge had been theoretical before, gleaned only from the books in her father’s library.
Even now the memory of Jack’s lovemaking made her feel very hot and slightly faint. She put her head in her hands and groaned. She hungered for Jack now. She wanted to know again that wicked pleasure she had felt at his hands. It was impossible. It could not happen.
Two blackbirds squabbling on the terrace outside roused her with their noisy calls. Shaking her head impatiently, Mairi turned back to the file of papers on the desk. This was mainly correspondence that Murchison, her secretary, had already filtered and deemed important enough for Mairi to see. Archie MacLeod had not been an elder son, but he had inherited a huge fortune from his nabob godfather at the age of one and twenty. There were the two houses in Edinburgh, the country estate outside the city where Mairi was currently living and Noltland Castle in the eastern Highlands near the town of Cromarty. There was money in bonds and investments. There were endowments to charity and a dozen other business and philanthropic ventures. The entire inheritance had come to Mairi at Archie’s bequest.
Today’s crop of correspondence included reports from the trustees of all the various charities that Archie had set up. While his inheritance had been rich beyond the dreams of avarice, his generosity had been equal to it. He had been desperate to use the money to do good; there were almshouses for the indigent elderly, an orphanage, a cholera hospital, so many good deeds and good works that Mairi’s head swam whenever she tried to keep track of them all. She was the custodian of Archie’s inheritance now, though, and she had to be worthy of it. She had to continue his good work.
At the bottom of the pile was one last letter, written in terse legal terminology. It was from Michael Innes, the heir to the MacLeod barony. Mairi read the letter through once a little carelessly and a second time with a growing sense of irritation. It stated that Innes was bringing a case to court to prove that Mairi was an unsuitable chatelaine of the late Archibald MacLeod’s estates. He claimed to have evidence of her lax financial management and her personal immorality. He would be laying this before the courts and petitioning for all the late Archibald MacLeod’s holdings to pass to him.
Mairi allowed the letter to drift down onto the desk. It was not the first time that Michael Innes had threatened to take her to court. He had resented Archie’s inheritance from the first and had always insisted that it should have been subsumed into the main MacLeod estate because he believed it was impossible for a woman to administer such a huge inheritance without a husband’s guidance. Mairi knew he was motivated by spite and greed. Now, though, a line at the bottom of the letter caught her eye and she paused to reread it for a third time.
You may be sure that I will not hesitate to expose all the old scandals in the pursuit of truth.
A ripple of unease passed down Mairi’s spine. She rubbed her eyes. They felt dry and gritty. Her head felt heavy as though it were full of sand. She tried to think.
I will not hesitate to expose all the old scandals...
Her father-in-law had worked very hard to make sure that those scandals would never be revealed. Mairi could not believe that Michael Innes knew anything of them. No one did. Only she and Lord MacLeod knew the truth in its entirety. Or so she had thought. But that was the trouble with secrets. You could never be completely sure that they were safe.
Mairi’s head ached suddenly, so sharply she bit her lip. She did not know what to do. There was no one to share her burden but Lord and Lady MacLeod. Archie had wrought devastation on their lives as surely as he had torn hers apart and there was not a moment when she did not seek to make up for that.
She sat irresolute for a minute and then picked up her pen. She knew she had to write to her father-in-law to tell him of this latest threat. He could not be left in ignorance. She felt sick as she started to write the letter. The old laird was too frail and too ill to be troubled with such matters these days, but she needed his wise counsel and there was no one else she could trust.
A moment later, there was a knock at the door and Frazer entered with a large dish of tea on a silver tray. Mairi moved her papers aside and Frazer placed it carefully on the desk. All Frazer’s movements were precise and ordered.
“I thought you might require some refreshment, madam,” he said.
“Thank you,” Mairi said, smiling at him. “I do. These accounts make my head hurt.”
“I meant as treatment for the shock, madam,” Frazer said.
“Ah,” Mairi said. Her smile broadened at Frazer’s austere expression. The steward was a strict Presbyterian and he never hesitated to make his disapproval known. She suspected that he considered it a part of his duties to try to keep her on the straight and narrow. “I collect you are referring to Mr. Rutherford,” she said. “I fear my sins have found me out.”
“Quite so, madam,” Frazer said, with no flicker of a smile. “I am sorry that Murdo and Hamish and Ross were obliged to hear the gentleman refer to the sensual excesses he shared with you.”
“Elegantly put, Frazer,” Mairi said. “However, since Murdo drove the carriage the night I picked up Mr. Rutherford and Hamish and Ross acted as grooms, I am sure they are already aware of my morally reprehensible ways. Thank you for the restorative tea,” she added. “You are most thoughtful.”
Frazer’s expression eased a fraction. “Murdo asked me to apologize, madam,” he said. “He is exceeding sorry for his failure to prevent Mr. Rutherford’s ingress.”
“Murdo is not at fault,” Mairi said. She stirred honey into her tea, then laid the spoon down thoughtfully. “I suspect Mr. Rutherford always does as he pleases.”
“Indeed,” Frazer said. “A dangerous man, madam.” He bowed and went out, shutting the door with exaggerated care.
Mairi took her teacup in her hand and walked across to the long windows. They stood open onto the shallow terrace. Beyond that a small flight of steps led down to the gardens, and beyond that Mairi could see the silver glitter of the sun on the sea. The July day was hot; only the slightest of breezes stirred her hair. If the weather held for a few weeks, it would be beautiful for the christening at Methven. It would also be awkward to be obliged to see Jack Rutherford again, but she would ask Lucy for a room as far away from Jack’s as possible. It was common knowledge that she and Jack disliked each other. Lucy would not think there was anything odd in such a request.
She drained her cup. Her thoughts were drifting to family matters now and she wondered if Lucy was enceinte again. If Lucy and Robert produced an enormous brood of children, there might be years of such trips to Methven for family occasions such as christenings, birthdays, even marriages in time. Mairi shuddered. She hated family reunions, hated the reminders of her own solitude and most of all hated her status as a childless widow. She had desperately wanted a family of her own. The lack of it was like a hollow space in her life, a painful barrenness that she could ignore but that would never heal.
She set her cup down with a clatter on the little cherrywood table by the door. In the fullness of time, Jack would probably bring a wife and family of his own to future events. Despite his denials, a man wanted a wife or at least an heir. She felt an empty, yawning sensation in the pit of her stomach. There was no child to inherit Ardglen, or Noltland or any of Archie’s fortune even if she could keep it safe from Michael Innes’s grasping hands.
To distract herself she stepped out onto the terrace and went across to lean on the sun-warmed balustrade. The air was full of the scent of roses and honeysuckle. The sun felt hot on her face. There was silence but for the faint jingle of harness and the sound of distant voices from the stables.
For a second it felt as though time had slipped back and any moment she would see Archie coming toward her, smiling as he strode across the gravel of the parterre in his ancient gardening clothes, burned brown by the sun, dusting the soil from his hands. She had always teased him that he employed several gardeners and yet preferred to do the work himself. He had never been happier than when he was outdoors.
The silence stretched, sounding loud. Nothing moved in the quiet gardens. It was a waiting silence, as though someone was watching, as though something was about to happen. Mairi felt odd, as light-headed as though she had had too much sun.
The loneliness ambushed her so suddenly and viciously that for a moment it seemed as though the sun had gone in. She could no longer feel its warmth or the roughness of the stone beneath her palms. It was terrifying.
“Madam?”
Mairi had not heard Frazer coming out onto the terrace until he cleared his throat very loudly. She turned, trying to pin a smile on her face. It felt forced, wobbly, and the tears stung the back of her eyes and closed her throat. She fought desperately for control.
“Hamish asked me to tell you that the carriage is prepared for your departure to Methven in the morning, madam,” Frazer said. “We will all be ready to leave as soon as you are.”
The words were commonplace, but for a second Mairi struggled to understand them. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice sounded husky. “Please tell Hamish I shall be ready by seven.”
“Of course, madam.” Frazer bowed. “And Mr. Cambridge is here to see you,” he added.
Damnation.
Mairi blinked. It was so inconvenient that Jeremy Cambridge was here now when she felt as wrung-out as a dishcloth. If she were not careful she would cry all over him and that would be a disaster on many levels.
“Shall I tell the gentleman you are indisposed?” Frazer spoke delicately, hovering by the terrace door.
“No.” Mairi cleared her throat. “No, thank you. If I am to leave for Methven tomorrow, there will be no time to speak to him. But, Frazer—” She raised her chin. “Pray give me a moment.”
The steward nodded.
As soon as he had disappeared, Mairi made a beeline for the pier glass that hung to the left of the fireplace and checked her reflection. It was not as bad as she had thought, though her eyes looked strained and bright and there were lines at the corners she could have sworn were new. With a sigh she tucked a stray curl back beneath her bandeau and turned to face the door.
When Jeremy Cambridge was announced she was standing behind her desk. She found she needed the physical barrier. Not that she needed protection against Jeremy. There was nothing remotely threatening about him. Jeremy’s father had been estate manager to Lord MacLeod, but he had had ambitions for his children to rise in society. He had sent Jeremy to university and his sister Eleanor to finishing school. Jeremy was now a respected banker in the city of Edinburgh and was among other things the MacLeod family’s man of business. He was large, solid and reliable. Steady. Safe. Mairi found herself thinking that he was the opposite of Jack Rutherford in every respect. He had nothing of Jack’s restless spirit or air of danger.
“Lady Mairi.” They had known each other for a number of years, but Jeremy was never less than respectful. He held out a hand to shake hers. “I was passing by and called on the off chance that you might be at home. I hope I find you well.”
“I am in very good health,” Mairi said. “No need for formality, Jeremy. Would you care for a cup of tea?”
She saw him relax. His gray eyes warmed. “Of course, if you have the time to spare. Frazer tells me you leave for Methven tomorrow. Will you call on Lord and Lady MacLeod on your journey?”
Mairi nodded. “I intend to. I hope Lady MacLeod will be well enough to see me.” Lord MacLeod would have received her letter by then. She paused, toying with the idea of confiding in Jeremy about the latest threat from Michael Innes, then decided against it. She needed to speak to the laird first. Jeremy did not know anything of Archie’s secrets, and it would be better if it remained that way. Besides, she had her vanity, and while she knew Jeremy well, she would not relish discussing with him what Innes referred to as her moral turpitude.