Highland Bachelor 02 - This Laird of Mine (2 page)

“Milord, yer scarin’ me. Ye got that look yer brother had right before he drank himself tae death.” Fin’s voice brought Jules’s gaze around.

Jules shook his head in an effort to clear his thoughts. The motion did nothing as questions raced through his mind. For his servant’s sake, Jules pasted on a smile. “You need not worry, Fin. I am not so weak a man as that. I have endured much worse than this.” At least he hoped he had.

Jules continued. “It looks as though Kildare Manor will have no time for grief. We will be having visitors on Saturday. I will arrange for a few maids to come up from town to help with the preparations.”

Fin’s brow furrowed. “I mean ye no dishonor, milord, but we’ve no funds fer food, let alone cleanin’ women.”

Jules nodded as he dug his booted toe into the thick carpet beneath his soles. “I have a notion of where I can gather a few funds, at least enough to hold off the creditors for a while longer until I figure things out.”

Fin stood. “Very well, milord. You’d best enjoy yer tea before it grows cold. That was the last of the tea leaves. If ye need somethin’ stronger, there’s plenty of whiskey still.”

Jules nodded as the servant shuffled out of the chamber, leaving him in silence. Whiskey seemed like a better option, Jules thought as he reached for the tea and poured himself a cup. Perhaps, in time, it would be his only option, just as it had been for his brother. But for now, he had work to do and a fake wife to meet.

What kind of woman pretended to be a man’s wife? Not the kind of woman he would take to wife, that was for certain. Would it be better to tell his friends what he had done or to go along with this scheming stranger who would soon arrive with the few people in his life who he trusted? Frustration and despair rose in Jules until he could scarcely bear it.

The truth was he needed Claire, any Claire, to help him move past his feelings for Jane, especially when she arrived in the arms of her husband. Could he, in turn, use this woman to help him in his deception, at least until Jane and Nicholas left?

He had loved Jane from the moment they first met ten years ago. While he had never been certain if she returned that love, over the years he had convinced himself that the lack of chemistry between them was not what mattered. To him, Jane was perfect—ethereal, brave, intelligent, and kind. Seeing her again would only fan his devotion once more, despite her married state. And yet, this very real Claire might be the very distraction he needed.

He could accept the schemer and play along with her, acting as husband and wife. But once they were alone, he would discover what was behind this imposter’s game. In the meanwhile, for better or worse, definitely poorer than richer, a living, breathing Claire MacIntyre, Lady Kildare, would soon enter his life.

T
he carriage rumbled along the dirt road, pitching its passengers left and right as it had for the last hour. The roads this far north in Scotland were rough, just like its men. Claire MacIntyre had barely finished the thought as she hit the squabs of the carriage once more. The padding did nothing to soften the jolt of the wood biting into her flesh. Only Sir David Buchanan rode somewhat in comfort on his own horse behind the carriage.

The heat of the day was behind them, and evening approached as they continued on, only stopping briefly at a roadside inn to allow the horses to rest, and to grab a quick bite of luncheon. The meat pie had seemed like a good idea an hour ago. Now it sat like a leaden weight in Claire’s stomach. She pressed her hands over her abdomen, as though holding back the upset.

“Is all well?” Jane asked.

At Jane’s concerned look, Claire straightened, then smoothed her gray linen skirts. “It’s merely nerves at seeing my beloved again.”

Or for the first time
.

Claire was spared from having to elaborate as they hit yet another rut in the road that pitched them all to the left. When the carriage righted itself, Claire put off more discussion by staring out the small window near her.

For the first four hours of their trip, the grandeur of Scotland’s countryside with its deep valleys and rolling hills all covered in a thick layer of heather relieved her anxiety. Yet now, as they progressed closer to their goal, Claire’s tension became a palpable thing.

The carriage gave another violent, creaking lurch to the right. Claire’s shoulder banged into Lady Margaret Galloway’s. “My apologies, milady.”

“Margaret. Please just call me Margaret. No need for such formality among us. We are all friends,” the older woman said with a wink at her husband, next to her, and to Lord Nicholas Kincaid, who sat beside Jane.

“The roads up here are in desperate need of repair,” Jane said with an apologetic smile. Jane, Margaret, and Lord Galloway had accepted Claire as Jules’s wife without hesitation. Nicholas had been more reserved in his judgment. He studied her even now with a calculating look. Could he know the truth?

Claire straightened beneath his regard just as the carriage gave another teeth-jarring lurch. “The road to paradise is not supposed to be smooth,” she said brightly. “Seeing my beloved again will be worth whatever trials await us on this journey.”

“I can see why Jules fell in love with you.” Jane’s smile broadened. “He is a fortunate man, but then again, you are a fortunate woman. Jules is just as his name proclaims, a jewel among men.”

An uncontrollable tremor of dread shot through Claire. That was not what she had been told by the dark-cloaked figure who had forced her into this marriage. Her husband, she’d been informed, was a wicked rogue with a reputation for carousing Scotland’s local villages as well as its lustiest locales late into the night. He had started as a youth, and had continued his craven debauchery until he had been imprisoned for the mysterious death of his own stepmother. He had been sentenced to hang, but was spared by the proof of innocence Jane had supplied.

And yet, there were still rumors of his gambling and carousing. Claire’s skin flinched at the thought of joining her life with his.

She pressed her hand against her chest as if to physically quell the fear that had suddenly arisen. No matter who or what he was, she had no choice but to achieve her goal. She had to make Jules MacIntyre fall in love with her, then abandon him.

That was the agreement she had made. In a fortnight, he had to profess his devotion to her or else Penelope, Anna, and Eloise would pay for her failure.

Claire’s fingers rose to the small silver locket that weighed against her chest. Her breath caught as her fingers clasped the cool metal. The three young women—all of whom were abandoned after the death of their parents, just like Claire—were her wards. She’d been told they would be tortured and killed if she did not do as instructed.

“Claire, are you certain you are well?” Jane’s voice cut through the dark thoughts swirling through Claire’s mind.

She startled, releasing the locket, and forced a nonchalant smile. “You remember what it was like to be a new bride?”

“Yes, I do.” Jane reached for Nicholas’s hand just as the carriage lurched to a stop at the end of a long drive.

“We have arrived,” Hollister, Lord Galloway, said as he and Nicholas exited the carriage first. Nicholas extended his hand to Claire as she made her way out. She accepted his assistance as her knees suddenly became unsteady. How could she make a man she had never met fall in love with her in two weeks’ time when she had never even managed a flirtation with the opposite sex in all her life?

Forcing herself to remain calm, Claire took in her surroundings and frowned. This could not be right. The one painting she had seen of Kildare Manor had pictured it as a grand estate set against a landscape of lush green hills and wrapped by the shores of Loch Awe. In that image, the house’s cool gray stone had reflected in the sun like polished silver.

It was not entombed by bramble bushes that nearly reached the roofline of the two-story structure, or the dull, sad gray that peeked out from beneath the weeds and dust. Kildare Manor was broken and abused and in desperate need of a caretaker.

Was the estate a reflection of the man who lived inside? Was her supposed husband careless and neglectful as well as a rogue? She shivered. What could Jules MacIntyre have done to someone that was so bad they wanted to break the man’s heart, his very spirit?

“Claire?” Jane spoke beside her and gently touched her arm. “Jules will no doubt be anxious to see you. Let us go inside.”

Claire nodded. She had no notion of what the man’s reaction would be, which was why she had arrived with his friends. At least in their presence he would not refuse her outright.

She hoped.

As she had learned from his solicitor, if the man was desperate enough to falsely create a bride in order to stop his friends from interfering in his life, then perhaps he would play her game until it reached the only conclusion she would allow.

Just then, weak summer light broke through the clouds overhead, bathing the manor house in a shimmer of warmth. Claire drew a steadying breath. She could do this. She had to do this.

“I will help the coachman with the horses and meet you inside,” David called.

The remaining five progressed toward the crumbling arched doorway just as it swung open to reveal a withered old man with wisps of white hair sticking up at odd angles on his head. “Welcome tae Kincaid Manor,” he greeted, then stepped back, allowing them to enter the large, open foyer. “Milord will be with ye momentarily. In the meanwhile, allow me tae show ye tae the drawin’ room fer refreshments.”

When Nicholas and Hollister hesitated, the elderly man waved them on. “Leave the bags there. I’ll take them to yer chambers momentarily.”

Nicholas frowned and cast a speaking glance at Hollister. “We will take them up the stairs and leave them at the landing.”

The older man shrugged, but gratitude shone in his tired gray eyes before he turned away. “Ladies, this way, please.”

Claire frowned as she made her way across the bare marble floor and past the unpolished and slightly sagging wooden stairs. No carpets dampened the sound of their footsteps in the hallway or inside the drawing room. The floors were bare, the walls unadorned, and the furnishings sparse. Who was the man who lived here? A shiver worked its way across her neck. Chief among the things she knew about Jules MacIntyre was that he had a reckless spirit, but was he also mad to live in such a place?

She stepped fully into the room and searched for her missing “husband.” When he was nowhere in sight, she released a pent-up breath. What would he say when he saw her? Would he challenge her outright or play along with her game? Was he absent now in order to build her anxiety? Or worse, would he send her away immediately without even giving her a chance to explain?

The truth was they were married. He had signed the marriage documents himself. The paperwork was official, the marriage was real, binding, forever.

For a girl who had lost everything early in life, she finally had something of her own—a real husband. She would take his name, and as a result she would be afforded more independence and be accepted in society’s highest circles. Yet that was all she would keep from this marriage. She would have no protection from him, no financial support when she left him behind.

Claire shook off the dark thought and looked about the room. Faded and tattered curtains were pulled back, allowing filtered sunlight to illuminate the chamber. At odds with the stark interior of Kildare Manor was the fresh scent of lemons and rosemary. The room was free of dust, and the floors were, although bare and aged, polished to a shine. The furnishings were as sparse as in the foyer with only three chairs and a settee, and a small table in the middle of them all, bearing a three-armed candelabra with only one candle.

Kildare Manor was nothing like what she had imagined. Would the man who owned it be as well? Would she have to adjust her plans? Because suddenly, making this notorious man fall in love with her seemed harder than she had expected.

“Greetings, my dearest friends,” an unfamiliar voice called from the doorway behind her.

Claire stiffened, forced her chin up, and slowly turned around. Conversation moved around her as the newly dubbed laird of Kildare Manor greeted his friends. Claire saw their smiles and heard the joy in their voices as they reunited until all sound faded, and all she heard was the sound of her own heartbeat as it filled her ears. She waited. She watched. She couldn’t take her eyes off him and hoped no one else noticed the fact that he would wait to greet his “wife” last.

But those moments with his friends gave her time to appraise him. She wasn’t sure what she expected, never having seen even a portrait of him, but it wasn’t the handsome man before her. His wavy blond hair fell to the collar of his coat. He was much taller than she expected, and his body, though relaxed, still hinted at lithe power. His jaw was strong and defined, his cheekbones high, and he had a slight cleft in his chin. Her gaze drifted to his lips—lips that were full and expressive and made for kissing. The thought warmed her cheeks as she met his startling blue eyes.

Those eyes narrowed on her. “My dear, sweet wife.” His voice was rough-smooth with the hint of a Scottish burr. His gaze shuttered as he came toward her. Only a slight curl to his upper lip indicated his current disposition. He was angry, but he would not reveal that to his friends. Only to her.

The air between them all but crackled as he took a final step closer to her. He leaned toward her, slid his arm about her waist, and pulled her forward, caging her against his body.

Her nerves flicked and her fantasy of him wrapping her in his arms and accepting her without question shattered about her feet. This close to him, the scent of soap and mint filled her senses. She could feel the tension thrumming through his body, see the challenge in his eyes.

“Jules.” She didn’t press back or retreat. She held her body erect and tried to force a look of nonchalance into her gaze. He studied her eyes, her lips. Against her will her lips parted.

“Oh, how I have missed you,” he said. His voice lowered to a gravelly purr as his gaze fixed on her mouth.

“I’ve missed you, as well, my dearest husband.” The words rang with outright challenge as she met his gaze, dared him to reveal that they had never met. His grip at her waist softened as he pulled her close and lowered his lips to hers.

She knew it was part of the role she’d been forced to play—that he would have to touch her and she would have no choice but to allow it—yet the brush of his lips to hers sparked not only anger, but a surprising stir of passion, and that angered her more. Why had the solicitor and his cloaked comrades forced her into this situation?

The girls. Yes, her wards were her life, and all that mattered to her. And still . . . she had wanted a life of her own someday. She had wanted to choose her own husband. Instead, the decision had been ripped from her. And she was now Jules’s property in order to save the only three people who ever cared about her.

With a flash of temper, Claire brought her hand up to Jules’s face, smoothed her fingers against his jaw. She wanted to push him away. Instead she tunneled her fingers into the hair at his nape and across his neck, pulling him closer.

He responded with a soft groan that only fueled her pent-up irritation. She put her anger, her frustration, and her fear into her kiss. It felt good to let her emotions loose, to focus all her energy on the one thing that had driven her to this place. If he wanted a kiss, she would give the man, who no doubt had had many kisses before, one more that he would not soon forget.

She put everything she had, everything she was, into that kiss, and he responded. He wrapped his arms about her and hauled her against his chest. His lips firmed, he tilted his head, and his kiss deepened. He was now in charge. His kiss was fierce and hot as he ravaged her mouth.