A Breath of Scandal (25 page)

“Where we’re going? I … I don’t know where we are going. But apparently you do,” Lara whispered.

“Drago knows. He has always known. Trust him. Go now,” Ramona urged. “Before Rondo returns.”

Lara hurried to her wagon. She found the small valises she and Julian had brought with them and stuffed their clothing inside. Then she removed their warmest cloaks from a trunk and took a last look around for anything she might have missed.

Ramona entered the wagon a moment later, carrying a cloth sack. “This should stave off hunger a day or two. Do you have sufficient coin?”

“Aye,” Lara assured her. “Julian had the foresight to bring a cache of gold and silver coins with him. I found them at the bottom of his valise.”

“Go to Drago,” Ramona urged. “Leave your valises. Pietro and I will take care of everything and meet you at the edge of the forest.”

“I’ll bring horses,” Pietro added.

Lara dashed out into the night. The forest was a dark and frightening place after sunset. Shadows mingled with shafts of pale moonlight filtering through the trees, creating distorted images. Lara shivered and pulled her cloak tighter about her as she plunged deeper into the woods.

Her voice held a hint of urgency. “Julian. Where are you?”

A shadow passed in front of her, then someone reached out and snagged her about the waist. She started to scream but a hard hand covered her mouth.

“Hush, sweeting, ’tis me.” He released her mouth. “What happened? I was going to return to the wagon soon. Why are you thrashing through the woods? Have Crockett and his men come back?”

“Rondo betrayed you. We must leave before Crockett returns with his men. Pietro is bringing horses for us. He and Ramona await us at the edge of the forest. Hurry.”

Julian spit out a curse. “I knew that young hothead was trouble from the beginning. He’d betray his own people if it meant he could have you.”

“Perhaps we should return to London,” Lara suggested. “Papa can protect me and—”

“No! ’Tis too dangerous for you there. The Jackal will try to hurt you to get to me. I can’t let that happen.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I’ve thought about this a long time,” Julian began. “There’s only one place you’ll be safe. I should have brought you there straightaway. I’m taking you to the Highlands, to my brother Sinjun and his wife, Christy. When I return to London, I want to know you are with someone I trust implicitly.”

“You’re not staying with me?”

“I’ll remain long enough for our wedding to take place,” Julian said. “Even if you don’t wish to marry me you have no choice now that I can see. When this is all over, the scandal resulting from our being together without benefit of marriage will be brutal. Your father will demand it of me.”

“We’ll see,” Lara muttered. Loving Julian was easy, having him love her back was more complicated. There were times she pined for the man she’d once known as Drago, that mysterious man who had entered her life unexpectedly and stolen her heart. Sometimes she felt she didn’t really know the dangerous earl still bound to his dead love by invisible ties.

* * *

Julian’s thoughts ran along similar lines. He couldn’t understand his need to bind Lara to him legally when he’d sworn off marriage. He told himself his reason for proposing to Lara was pure and unselfish. Lara was not the immoral Gypsy wench he’d thought her. But he was beginning to doubt his own motives. He wanted to protect her, which was certainly true. But even that line of reasoning was suspect.

“Let’s get out of here,” Julian said, grasping her small hand and guiding her through the forest. The lines along which he was thinking were discomfiting and better left for another day.

Pietro and Ramona were waiting in the clearing with two of Pietro’s best horses.

“Rondo hasn’t returned yet,” Pietro said in a hushed voice as he handed the reins to Julian and Lara. “You must hurry. Where will you go?”

“ ’Tis best you don’t know,” Julian said. “Trust me to take care of your granddaughter. What will you do to Rondo?”

Pietro’s lips thinned. “He will be punished in the Romany tradition.”

Lara threw her arms around Pietro first and then Ramona for one last hug, then Julian lifted her onto the back of her mount. “I will trust you both to do what is best where Rondo is concerned.”

“Your valises, food, and warm blankets are attached to your saddles,” Ramona said. “Lara said you had sufficient funds for your journey.”

“Aye,” Julian said. “We’ll be fine. I’ll try to send word when we’ve arrived at our destination.”

“God go with you,” Pietro intoned.

“Wait!” Ramona interjected.

The spirited horse danced beneath his thighs, eager to be off, but Julian held him in check.

“I would have a private word with my granddaughter,” Ramona said.

Julian nodded and turned to speak to Pietro.

“What is it, Grandmother?” Lara asked anxiously.

“You must beware, little one,” she warned. “I read the tarot cards. There is no safety until the enemy is vanquished.”

“I will take care,” Lara promised.

“Are you ready?” Julian asked.

“Aye, we must not linger. Good-bye Grandmother, Grandfather, I love you both very much.”

Lara’s parting words rang in Julian’s ears as they rode away from the Romany camp.
Love
, he thought. If that tepid sentiment he’d felt with Diana was love, then what name would he give to the powerful emotion he experienced with Lara?

T
hey reached the Highlands ten days later. Garbed primly in traveling clothing an English lady would wear, Lara raised little curiosity during their stays at coaching inns, or at the homes of noblemen acquainted with Julian. The first time Lara was introduced as Julian’s wife, she darted him a look that did not bode well for him. One that Julian promptly ignored.

“Why did you tell Lord and Lady Compton that we were married?” Lara challenged.

Julian slanted her an exasperated glance. “Would you have me tell them you were my lover? Your name would be dragged through the mud long before we returned to London. Think of the embarrassment to your father. Besides,” he said with a careless shrug, “our marriage is a foregone conclusion.”

After that, Lara learned to grit her teeth and be as pleasant as she could be to the people who thought her Julian’s countess. Let Julian believe what he wanted, she decided. Until she heard the word “love” from him, she wasn’t about to marry him in an Anglo ceremony.

Lara adored the Highlands. She’d spent many a pleasant summer on the Scottish moors, gathering heather beneath towering mountains in the clean, fresh air. She had been born in the Highlands, not far from Inverness, and had always considered herself more Scottish than English, though above all, she proudly proclaimed herself half Gypsy.

Each year until she’d turned thirteen and joined her father, she had traveled with the caravan between their summer quarters in the Scottish Highlands and their winter home in the lowlands. At the first hint of spring they returned to their roots in the Highlands. Not even the raw wind blowing across the moors could dim Lara’s enthusiasm when Julian informed her that they were on Sinjun’s holdings.

“ ’Tis like coming home again,” Lara said. “My family traveled throughout Scotland, but the Highlands were always special to me. It wasn’t until they brought me to Papa that they began spending winters in England, on Papa’s land. Now ’tis your turn. Tell me about your brother.”

“Sinjun defies description. A few years ago he’d been headed for perdition. He was married at fourteen by order of the king to a seven-year-old Scottish lass, heir to Glenmoor and the future laird of the Macdonald clan.

“The marriage was not to Sinjun’s liking and he never claimed his bride. Instead, he set out to become the most notorious rake in all of England. He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, until Christy Macdonald showed up in London pretending to be Lady Flora Randall. Sinjun didn’t recognize her as his abandoned wife, but from the moment he saw her he was bewitched.”

“My goodness,” Lara said. “Why didn’t Christy tell Sinjun she was his wife?”

“Christy was no more eager to have an English husband than Sinjun was to have a Scottish wife. But she needed an heir for Glenmoor. Sinjun had all but ignored Christy and Glenmoor during his years of carousing and womanizing, so that heir seemed unlikely unless Christy took matters into her own hands. Needless to say, when Christy returned to Glenmoor some months later she was carrying Sinjun’s child, and my dim-witted brother had no idea he’d taken his own wife as his mistress.”

“My goodness,” Lara repeated.

“All turned out well,” Julian said. “They have a son, Niall, and a small daughter, Althea. Sinjun is now respected by Christy’s clan, and has become a fine laird.

“See the sheep grazing on the hillside,” Julian pointed out. “They belong to Glenmoor.”

Lara let her gaze roam freely over heather-covered moors and verdant hills, impressed by the vast number of fat sheep grazing upon lush grasses.

“There’s Glenmoor!” Julian exclaimed as the towers and turrets of the fortress came into view. “ ’Tis a fine place. Sinjun has made improvements both inside and out, though he’s never gotten around to making a decent road through his property,” he groused.

Lara gazed at the gray castle rising out of the mist and thought it magnificent. She’d never been in a real castle before. Her father’s country estate was of recent vintage and could in no way be described as a fortress. Lara couldn’t wait to explore the ancient stone towers.

They rode over a bridge and through the curtain wall. Since enemies were few in this remote comer of Scotland, no guard was posted at the gate, although they could see men patrolling the ramparts. They rode through unchallenged and drew rein before a set of stone steps leading to a scarred wooden door four times larger than Lara.

They were preparing to dismount when a man came striding from an outbuilding. He hailed them with a shout and hurried over to greet them.

“ ’Tis Sinjun,” Julian said.

Lara stared at Sinjun, her breath catching in her throat. Julian had failed to mention how handsome his brother was. He was tall and muscular, and his smile alone could charm the leaves off the trees. She was more than a little surprised to see Sinjun wearing kilts, a garment banned after Culloden.

“Julian! Welcome. I was going to send a message to you in London and here you are. I was worried. You’re much too secretive.” Suddenly, his eyes narrowed and he caught his breath. “Something is wrong, I can sense it! What is it?” Before Julian could answer, his gaze settle on Lara. “Is this the lady I saw you with at the fair?”

Suddenly Lara recalled seeing Sinjun with Julian at the fair. Julian had told her that Sinjun was merely someone interested in buying one of Pietro’s horses.

“Your memory is intact,” Julian drawled. “Sinjun, this is Lady Lara, Lord Stanhope’s daughter. Lara, this is my brother Sinjun. I’ll explain everything once we’re inside, ’tis bloody cold out here.”

Sinjun’s eyes were the same color as Julian’s, Lara reflected as she mentally compared the two men. Sinjun was younger, but no less handsome than his brother. They both had dark hair, dark eyes, and devastating smiles, but to Lara, Julian was far more attractive. The mystery and danger surrounding Julian gave him a distinct edge over his brother.

Sinjun bowed over Lara’s hand. “Welcome to Glenmoor, my lady. Come inside where it’s warm.” He sprinted up the stairs and threw open the door. “Christy will be pleased to see you, Julian. I don’t believe you’ve met our daughter yet.”

Lara’s eyes widened as she entered the great hall. The room was huge; its whitewashed walls were hung with colorful tapestries, and there was real glass in the windows. Servants moved about the room, involved in various chores and chatting back and forth. Sinjun led them to chairs set before a huge hearth that dominated one side of the room.

A handsome woman wearing the Macdonald plaid hurried over with cups of warmed ale.

“Margot, where is Christy?” Sinjun asked.

“In the solar, Sinjun. Shall I fetch her for ye?”

“Aye. Tell her we have guests.”

“Your servants call you Sinjun?” Julian asked, taken aback by the informality at Glenmoor.

“Margot is Christy’s kinswoman. You’ll find that we’re all family here, and that English titles mean little to Highlanders.”

Lara slumped back in her chair, warmed by the fire and ale. Her eyes felt heavy and she had started to drift off when a high-pitched squeal and the patter of small feet on the fresh-smelling rushes jerked her awake. She glanced up just as a small lad toddled forward and threw himself into Sinjun’s arms. Sinjun laughed and tossed the boy high in the air, much to the lad’s delight.

“This is Niall,” Sinjun said with a hint of pride. “The little imp would rather run than walk.”

An old stooped woman wearing a white apron over her plaid came bustling behind Niall. “There ye be, ye little scamp. Dinna bother yer papa and his guests.”

“ ’Tis all right, Mary, let him stay. This is his uncle Julian and Julian’s … friend, Lady Lara.”

“Will they be staying, Sinjun?”

“Aye, Mary, prepare rooms for them, will you? Ask Rory to bring in their luggage and see to their horses.”

“Aye,” Mary said, scooting off.

“Julian! How nice to see you. What brings you to the Highlands? Dare I hope ’tis your desire to see your nephew and new niece?”

Lara’s attention was captured by the vision who had just entered the room. Lara thought the Macdonald laird the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Hair the color of copper tumbled over her shoulders, and her slim figure belied the two children she’d borne. She wore the Macdonald plaid with inherent pride.

“Christy!” Julian leaped to his feet and embraced his sister-in-law. “You’re more beautiful than I remember. Marriage and motherhood must agree with you. I hope my sister hasn’t run you ragged with her usual shenanigans. Where
is
Emma, by the way?”

“Emma?” Christy said, exchanging a puzzled look with Sinjun. “Is Emma supposed to be here?”