In the Highlander's Bed (2 page)

She didn’t need poise or deportment—and she especially didn’t need, or want, a husband.

The husband part had been Charlotte’s dream, not hers. What Constance longed for was the freedom of the valley. She was homesick, and if she didn’t get away from dreary Britain soon, she feared she would turn into a vain, silly creature like all of Madame Lavaliere’s other pupils.

To that end, Constance had been feverishly planning her escape ever since she’d learned that theNovus was leaving for New York from Edinburgh harbor. It was a stroke of luck that the ship’s departure was timed around one of the monthly dances held in the academy’s sitting room. The day of these dances, everyone was too preoccupied with themselves to care what anyone else was doing. In the midst of all the preening and furniture moving, she hadn’t had any difficulty hiding a bundle of clothes under a shrub out in the garden.

As soon as everyone was involved with dancing and men and all the petty dramas of women, Constance was going to steal out the garden doors, grab her precious bundle of belongings, and head for Edinburgh.

The ship would depart in four days. In that timeframe, she couldwalk the distance to Edinburgh harbor if necessary.

She had no worry about paying her passage. Charlotte’s new husband, the despicable but very wealthy Lord Phillip, was overly generous with her allowance. Constance had no qualms about using it for this purpose. After all, it was because of him she’d been sent to Madame Lavaliere’s. The money was tied away in a scarf in her bundle.

But first she had to slip past Headmistress Hillary’s eagle eye.

She’d thought the task doable, until Captain Jonathon Ardmore, the man who sent half the hearts at Madame Lavaliere’s swooning, decided to fix his attentions upon her.

Page 7

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Really. The man was worse than a bloodhound in tracking her down. Constance had spent the past half hour attempting to avoid him and failing, since once again he was blocking her path.

“Captain, we have already danced,” she said, dropping her voice, hoping no one overheard his second request.

Of course, she knew better.

Off to her left, Lady Mary Alice Herrington was fuming. Captain Ardmore washers , or so she’d told everyone before this evening’s event began. She was not taking his defection well, especially his defection to Constance.

And, in spite of her urgency to run away, Constancedid take a measure of pleasure out of that. Lady Mary Alice needed to be knocked down a peg. She’d made Constance’s life miserable…that is, until Charlotte had married Lord Phillip.

Evil brother-in-law or not, that marriage had been a powerful tonic in Constance’s life. Before it she’d been the butt of every nasty little jest or prank. They’d laughed at her American accent and simple, straightforward ways. But now she’d been raised to Lady Mary Alice’s rank and given all the privileges due the daughter of a wealthy and important family.

Of course, Constance wasn’t certain that she didn’t prefer her earlier ignoble state to the tender-hook scrutiny of the staff at Madame Lavaliere’s. Headmistress Hillary had doubled her lessons in deportment and behavior, admonishing her to work harder now that she was to make a brilliant match.

If that wasn’t enough to make a girl want to escape, Constance didn’t know what was. Especially if it meant being polite to the likes of Captain Ardmore.

“I defy all approvals and disapprovals,” Captain Ardmore declared. He was in his late twenties, with sloped shoulders and a rangy build that reminded her of a scarecrow her neighbors back in the Ohio Valley had used. “I could no more hold myself back from you than I could refrain from charging enemy cannons.”

Constance remembered having a very different reaction that moment when their eyes had met across the room. After hearing Lady Mary Alice and the others carry on about him, hers had been one of disappointment. She didn’t understand why he wore such a fussy wig, with its tight row of curls across his forehead. In her opinion, any man worth her interest didn’t wear other men’s hair, or douse himself in scented water when he should be drinking it to sweeten stale breath instead. A man who couldn’t use soap or tooth polish was not one she could enjoy.

She flipped open her fan, the movement a smooth twist of her wrist as drilled into her for hours.

“Certainly I am not as dangerous as a cannon,” she suggested, wondering what he would think if he knew she had a knife strapped to her right thigh. She always wore it in spite of Headmistress Hillary’s reprimands.

“You are, where my heart is concerned,” he answered with so much false sincerity Constance had to stifle the urge to gag. It would have been unladylike.

Instead, she said, “Or could it be I am more attractive to you, dear captain, since my sister married the Lord Phillip Maddox and I am now a relation to the Duke of Colster?”

Page 8

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

His eyes widened at her bluntness.

She continued, enjoying herself. “You see, we’ve met two other times and I never impressed you then.”

“I must have had other matters on my mind,” he murmured. “My responsibilities at the garrison are quite rigorous—” He stopped at the eyebrow she raised over his excuse. “Or I was a complete fool,” he amended before smiling, an expression that reminded her of a tinker pushing inferior goods for too high a price. “Please, let me make amends for my slight now.” He reached for her gloved hand, boldly lifting it to his lips as he whispered, “I shall never be so remiss again.”

He was going to kiss her hand. Panic mixed with annoyance.

Constance had never been kissed by a man in any form. She had avoided it. Her first kiss was going to be special. She wasn’t going to waste this rite of passage on a hand peck by someone who irritated her.

Closing her fan with military precision, she rapped him on the head before his lips could touch her kid gloves.

The startled man pulled back.

“I beg your pardon, Captain,” she said, reclaiming her hand. “My fan slipped.”

“Why you vixen.” His sudden anger was a bit startling. “Do you think to embarrass me?”

“You are doing a perfectly acceptable job of that on your own,” she answered. Perhaps he intimidated other women, but not her.

His lips curved into a harsh smile. He took her arm by the elbow, pinching it tightly as he leaned close to say for her ears alone, “If you thought to set me off, you’re wrong. You were right earlier. Iwas interested in your family connections, but now it isyou I find intriguing.”

“And I find you a bore,” Constance replied calmly even as her chest tightened with alarm. She didn’t need this. Didn’t want it. He’d have his eye on her all night, and she’d never be able to run away—

“Captain Ardmore, you have not yet danced with Lady Mary Alice.”

Headmistress Hillary’s intervention could not have been more welcome. The headmistress was a dour Scottish lady who was no one’s fool, as Constance had learned repeatedly, much to her regret.

Apparently the captain also had a healthy respect for Headmistress Hillary. He released his hold on Constance’s arm, glancing around and realizing he’d been in danger of creating a scene.

“Yes, I do believe I owe Lady Mary Alice a dance. If you will excuse me?” he said with a bow.

“Of course,” the headmistress answered.

Dismissed, Captain Ardmore turned to find a very anxious Lady Mary Alice waiting for him a few steps away. Headmistress Hillary watched until the couple was walking toward the dance floor before asking,

“What was going on?” Her pleasant manner belied her keen interest.

“I did not encourage his advances, Headmistress Hillary,” Constance said in her defense.

Page 9

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The headmistress’s smile said she knew better. “The next time you deliver a set down, please don’t resort to violence. A fan is for attracting, not attacking.” Her clipped, Scot accent gave the rebuke even more weight.

“Yes, headmistress. I shall be more docile in the future.”

Headmistress Hillary met her eye. “I doubt that, Miss Constance. However, I shall endeavor to remember how uncivilized you were when you first arrived. Almost a savage. If I succeed in taming you, then the success will be my life’s reward.”

It was going to give Constance great pleasure to disappoint her. She bobbed a curtsey. “I pray that I may become a model of propriety, Headmistress, the better to prove the importance of your educational methods.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor, Miss Constance. I don’t like you any more than you like me. But understand, I shall succeed.”

Constance thought of the clothing bundle waiting for her beneath the bushes. “Yes, Headmistress.” She was tempted to punctuate her words by wiping her nose on the puffed sleeve of her dress, but refrained.

The dress was a sore spot between them. Constance had wanted to wear one of emerald green, a color that would not be noticed in the night when she made her escape. Headmistress Hillary had insisted that all the girls be dressed in white, as befit their unmarried state.

Constance had protested, but as always happened in her battles at the school, Headmistress Hillary won. She held all the control, which only fueled Constance’s determination to run away. She hated being portrayed as some American rustic who was all but a lost cause save for English manners.

“Now, let us find you another dancing partner—” Headmistress Hillary’s voice broke off as her gaze went to the door, where a new guest had arrived. Constance turned to see who it was that had caught the headmistress’s attention.

A gentleman handed his hat to a servant, a gentleman with the looks of Apollo come to life. A tall, golden-haired god blessing their poor assembly with his radiant presence.

Even the musicians put down their instruments to gape, and Constance found herself staring as well.

His coat had seen better days and the riding gloves he removed were exactly that, riding gloves, used and abused. But no one cared. His shoulders were broad, his limbs long and strong, his manner confident. Candlelight caught the gold in his hair, the hollows in his cheeks, the aristocratic, masculine line of his nose and jaw. There wasn’t a person in the room who hadn’t marked him for a gentleman.

Feminine interest stirred. Breasts were lifted higher, lips were licked, fans fluttered. His appearance raised the stakes of their country dance. He was the Unknown. The Stranger. The evening suddenly promised to be a night like no other. Captain Ardmore was vanquished from all minds. This golden gentleman had now become the prize.

“Who is he?” Constance whispered, speaking her thoughts aloud.

“I don’t know,” Headmistress Hillary said, sounding dazed herself. “But I shall find out.” She moved forward to greet him as the mysterious gentleman walked into the room with the fluid grace of an athlete.

Page 10

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

And Constance realized that although this stranger was handsome, she had no time for weak knees and heart flutters.Here was the distraction she had hoped for. While everyone else’s wits were man-addled, she would make her escape.

But before she could take a step toward the door, the gentleman looked right at her.

His sharp eyes took in everything about her, from her new kid slippers, to her silk stockings and demure debutante’s dress in virginal white muslin and lace, to the lock of hair that had been plaguing her all evening by threatening to tumble out of its hairpin…and she had the uncanny sense that he’d come to search her out.

Unsettled by the disquieting thought, Constance knew that if she was wise, she’d best leave now.

Two

Gordon immediately knew which young woman in the room was Constance Cameron.

When he’d last been in London, the three Cameron sisters’ names had been on everyone’s lips. They were the long lost granddaughters of the disgraced Earl of Bagley and had been raised in the American wilderness. They’d come to London with scarcely a shilling to their names and taken theton by storm.

The eldest, Charlotte, had just made a brilliant match with her elopement to Lord Phillip Maddox, one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

Gordon had seen Charlotte from afar and thought her indeed beautiful, although he’d heard she was extremely outspoken. He wasn’t fond of outspoken women and hoped the youngest Cameron was more malleable.

In truth, Constance shared her sister’s same blue, jewel-bright eyes framed by thick dark lashes, but there the differences seemed to end.

Constance was taller, more slender. Her honeyed brown hair was several shades darker than her sister’s and her mouth wider and more expressive.

However, what caught Gordon’s interest was the air of purpose around this young woman. There was an energy to her, a confidence that every other woman in the room lacked. It was as if she stood apart and unafraid. He had the unsettling notion that here was a warrior, a female warrior, and it wasthat vitality that drew him to her—

He stopped, surprised by the direction of his thought.

There was no place in his life for a woman. The Cause was his mistress. He was here to kidnap Constance Cameron, not woo her.

However, courting gave him an excuse for searching her out. The problem was, he sensed that he might be wagering more than he wanted to stake in this matter.

Gordon shook his head. When had he become fanciful? He wasn’t a man given to doubts. He couldn’t afford them. He wanted the Sword of the MacKenna and this lass was the key. The time had come to put his pretty face to good use.

Page 11

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

But before he could take a step toward his goal, a matronly woman with the protective air of a mother hen placed herself between himself and Constance Cameron. “I beg your pardon, sir?” she said crisply.