To Catch a Highlander (27 page)

Jack sent Fiona a quizzical look. "I wonder if we're about to meet the reason for Dougal's ill temper."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Jack, do you mind if I meet Miss MacFarlane by myself at first?"

"Of course. I'll see you when you're done with your interrogation."

"I am not going to interrogate anyone!"

Jack grinned. "Of course not. You're just going to ask questions." He cast a glance at Perkins. "Lady Kincaid will be with our guest shortly."

"Yes, my lord." The butler bowed and left.

Fiona frowned at the steady beat of rain against the window. "Dougal will catch his death, riding in such a rain."

Jack shrugged. "He made it; let him swim in it." He pressed a kiss to his wife's forehead. "I'll be curious to hear about this woman."

Fiona absently nodded. If what Jack suspected were true and Miss MacFarlane was the cause of Dougal's gloom, then woe betide the lady!

Chin high, she swept into the entryway. Standing in the center of the hall was a woman with red curly hair and freckles, broad as a barn and dressed as a servant. Fiona almost tripped over her own feet. Surely, this was not the sort of woman Dougal pursued? But perhaps… perhaps it was true love. Was
that
why Dougal had been so surly?

Fiona gathered her scattered wits and put a polite smile on her face. "Miss MacFarlane? Welcome to—"

A soft cough halted Fiona, and the woman before her pointed behind Fiona.

She turned around and knew instantly that she was indeed facing the cause of Dougal's storms. Miss MacFarlane wasn't simply beautiful; the girl was breathtaking. Small and fairylike, she had golden hair and the most amazing pale blue eyes, a mouth as sweet and red as cherries, and a straight, patrician nose that most of
London
's debutantes would kill for.

Miss MacFarlane bowed gracefully. "Lady Kincaid, I'm Sophia MacFarlane. I came to speak with your brother about an important business matter. Is he here?"

The woman's soft voice was both hesitant and determined, and Fiona detected a bit of steel behind the delicate features.

"Miss MacFarlane, I'm afraid my brother is out at the moment Perhaps you'd like to have some tea while we wait? He shouldn't be long." Fiona only hoped he'd be gone long enough for her to assess the mysterious Miss MacFarlane.

An hour later, Dougal returned to Kincaid House, his boots uncomfortably full of water. He handed his dripping overcoat and hat to Perkins, brushed his wet hair from his eyes, and headed for the stairs. Just as he reached the sitting room, the door opened, and his brother-in-law strolled out.

"Dougal! Just the man I've been wanting to see!" Jack said, a broad grin on his face. "I'm glad you've returned."

Dougal eyed him narrowly. "Why?"

Jack's dark blue eyes twinkled with mirth. "Are you thirsty? Perhaps you should come into the sitting room and have some tea with Fiona… and her guest."

Dougal scowled. He didn't want tea. He also didn't want Fiona trying to cheer him up. Ever since he'd arrived two days ago, he'd found himself at odds with everything. Nothing made him happy: not good food, not the flirtation of a pretty woman, not seeing his sister or his nephew. Nothing dispelled this heavy gloom.

All he could think about was Sophia MacFarlane and how she'd looked when he'd last seen her. As usual, the thought made his heart burn, and he silently damned her to hell yet again. "Pray make my excuses to Fiona. I want to bathe and change before dinner," he said curtly.

What he really wanted was to drown his thoughts in a decanter of Jack's best port. Scowling, he turned back to the stairs, then he heard a voice drifting out of the sitting room like down on the wind.

She's here
. Dougal came to an abrupt halt, every fiber of his being on edge, waiting, ready, wanting…

He pushed past Jack into the sitting room.

Sophia was perched on the edge of a settee, holding a teacup and saucer, facing Fiona, who was regaling her with tales of Little Jack. At Dougal's entrance, Sophia set down her cup and sprang to her feet, her face burning with color.

Dougal stopped before her. He'd never thought to see her again. Over the last few days, he'd told himself that things were exactly the way he liked them and that he'd been recuperating from his potent desire for her.

Now he knew he'd been lying. He wanted her just as badly now as he had the first time he'd seen her. Wanted her with a fierce fire that refused to be dampened.

And she felt the same. He could see it in her eyes, feel her desire as it pulsed across the space to him.

Fiona coughed delicately.

Aware that his sister's curious gaze was flickering between them, Dougal forced himself to bow. "Miss MacFarlane."

She sank into a quick curtsey. "Lord MacLean."

Dougal couldn't take his eyes off her. She was paler than before, with feint circles under her eyes. Had he hurt her when—He turned to Fiona. "I need to speak to Miss MacFarlane."

Fiona frowned, her eyes warning him that he was being impolite. "You'll have plenty of time for that this evening. I've asked Sophia to stay for the night, and she has agreed."

Stay? In the same house he was staying in? It had been pure hell trying to sleep before, but now, knowing she was there, under the same roof, her lush body—"No." The word was torn from him.

Fiona's gaze narrowed. "Dougal, this is my house—"

"And mine," Jack added flatly.

Dougal sent him a cutting glare.

Fiona sniffed. "If I wish Miss MacFarlane to stay, she'll stay."

Sophia lifted her chin. "I'm sorry you're averse to my visit, but I've already accepted your sister's kind invitation."

Dougal's jaw clenched. If she stayed, he might not be able to let her go. Damn it all, this was not fair!

Outside, the gray sky began to darken again, a rumble of thunder sounding in the distance.

Sophia glanced out the window, her face paling yet more.

"Not again," Jack muttered. "We're going to float away."

"Dougal," his sister snapped, "watch your temper!"

"I am," he said through gritted teeth.

Sophia made a sound of disbelief, and he glared at her, which was a mistake. The sight of her plump lips pressed into a frown caught him—lips he'd tasted, lips that had clung to his when he'd taken her on the table, surrounded by the heat of a summer storm. His body immediately burned, and he knew that he couldn't speak to her yet—not until he'd exhausted himself past the point of desire.

Dougal turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"Dougal, where are you going?" Fiona asked.

He didn't break stride. "For a ride."

"But you just returned!"

"I know, damm it." He yanked the door open.

"Will you be back for dinner?" Fiona called after him.

He didn't bother to reply, leaving the house without his coat and hat, slamming the door behind him.

Scowling, he ignored the roiling thunderclouds and was soon riding wildly over the fields as if the hounds of hell pursued him.

"There you are!"

Dougal turned to find his sister hurrying across the entrance hall. She was dressed in a pink silk gown that flowed about her slightly plump figure. She'd gained a bit of weight when she'd had the baby, but Jack didn't seem to notice or care.

For an instant, Dougal envied Fiona and Jack. They loved each other in a way that was rare, accepting each other as they were. There was no deception or guile between them.

He sighed as Fiona looked him over from head to toe. "You're soaked! Dinner is in half an hour; you'll never be ready in time."

"So begin without me." He shrugged out of his dripping coat and handed it to a waiting footman.

Fiona glanced at the impassive footman, then took Dougal's arm and pulled him into the empty sitting room. She shut the door firmly. "I've been waiting for hours, and I deserve some answers. Who is Sophia, and why is she so important?"

"Before you begin, explain why you invited that woman to stay here."

Fiona crossed her arms, which, because of her small stature, wasn't a very threatening pose. "I invited Miss MacFarlane because I could see that there was something between the two of you."

"Something that I longed to avoid."

Fiona eyed him a moment, obviously fascinated. "Would you explain what you mean?"

"No."

She pursed her lips. "What if I promise to name my next child after you?"

Dougal lifted his brows. "Wont Jack dislike that?"

A smile quivered on her lips. "Yes. Which is why I thought it a wonderful inducement for you."

"I don't believe you'd do that."

"Well, I would," Fiona said firmly.

Dougal ran a hand over his wet face. "Fiona, I am wet through and through. If you wish me ready for dinner, I must change."

She sighed. "Fine. You aren't going to tell me anything anyway." She opened the door and told one of the footmen,"I requested a bath to be readied for Lord MacLean's room. Please have it sent up now."

"Yes, my lady." The footman bowed and left the hall.

"Dougal, I will hold the guests in the library for a little while, but do hurry, or dinner will be cold."

"I shall bathe with alarming quickness." When he'd been riding hell for leather through the rain, he'd been too angry to feel the cold. Now, standing away from the warm fire, he was chilled through and through.

"I don't know why I even try," his sister said sourly. "That's what I get for taking pity on you."

"Pity?"

"Pity," she repeated firmly. "Look at yourself in the mirror. I've never seen such a long face. Now, go get ready for dinner, and don't dawdle." She turned and left, her gown fluttering behind her.

Dougal made his way up the stairs. Two footmen had just finished filling a large brass tub beside the fireplace and as they left, Dougal went to test the pleasantly steaming water.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than the hot bath soothing his aching muscles. Every inch of his body felt beaten and bruised.

He glanced at the clock and realized he had only twenty minutes to make his appearance. Walking to the tub, he tugged at his neck cloth and began to undress.

His own sister pitied him, he thought sourly. He didn't need any pity. He might be angry, but he certainly wasn't sad. He was
not
unhappy about the way events had turned out. The heaviness that pulled at his soul came from the feeling of betrayal.

He yanked his shirt over his head and tugged off the rest of his clothing, then went to the bath.

Fiona was a fine sister for all her busy-body ways. She'd had the tub placed by the fire so that he'd have both warm air and the warm water.

The tub itself was phenomenal, large enough for two and deep enough that he could sit upright with water almost to his shoulders. He rolled his stiff shoulders, wincing at their tightness. Sophia had him stretched as taut as a wire.

All day, he'd been haunted by the way she'd looked at him in the sitting room, as if her entire future rested on him and no one else—which was a foolish thought, indeed.

Why had she followed him? What did she want? He hoped he hadn't hurt her with his abrupt departure.

He clenched his jaw. Damn it, her feelings were not his problem. Ruthlessly pushing his thoughts aside, he prepared to step into the tub when someone knocked briskly on his door.

Before he could answer, it swung open, and Sophia slipped into his room, closing the door quickly. "Dougal?"

She was dressed in a gown of vibrant blue shot through with silver that draped over her body, hugging the line of her hips and the lovely curve of her breasts. Her long hair was upswept, a diamond winking in the curls. Her chin was high, and she held a folded sheet of paper before her, almost like a shield.

When she saw him standing nude beside the fireplace, her lips parted, her eyes widened, and she took a startled step back, dropping the paper.

Surprised as well, Dougal couldn't move. He stood beside the tub, completely naked, one leg lifted to step in. The heat from the tub and the fire were nothing compared with the hot excitement that shot through his veins.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked harshly.