Laird of Ballanclaire (9 page)

“You read seditious drivel, designed to incite. The truth got lost somewhere, Constant. England is na’ taxing the colonies without reason. The country needs to pay for their defense during the French-Indian war.”

“You’re wrong,” she replied, although she didn’t truly know. If there’d been anything resembling a war between the Indian natives and the French, it hadn’t been mentioned in Thomas’s family’s newspaper. She would have heard of it, too.

He sighed. “Forget France for the moment. I doona’ need an argument with you, although any other time in my past it would be working splendidly at what I do need.”

“And what is that?”

“My mind off certain things. It usually works.”

“What . . . certain things?”

He regarded her for several moments. Constant couldn’t hold the gaze and had to drop hers onto her hands.

“You seem to believe Britain is the mother country of all vices. I was trying to convince you that sort of thinking is wrong, but I wasted my breath.”

“You got something else, too,” she replied, looking up.

“Oh, really. And what would that be?”

“You got me angry.”

He grinned. Constant’s heart took a nosedive into the region of her stomach, where it joined the throbbing mass of nerve endings there. The worst part was that it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

“I am trying to concentrate on other things, Constant, love. Remarking on any kind of emotional state you’re suffering is na’ helping. Quite the opposite, I need warn you.”

If he was trying to confuse, titillate, and mystify her, he succeeded. She wondered if this was part of what he described as flirting. So she sucked in a breath and just asked it. “Is this part of flirting?”

“What?”

“What you’re doing?”

“And just what is it I am doing?”

“Making me very aware of you as a man.” She used as even a tone as possible, given her acute embarrassment at saying anything so bold.

He groaned, and it sounded worse than when he was in pain. “Constant, you are aptly named after all, I think.”

“Why?”

“Because you seem to do everything with a constant consistency of purpose, only it constantly intensifies, too. You bring a man to the brink, and then you just hold him there, constantly dangling it, constantly reminding him, constantly holding it just out of his reach.”

She went white. She didn’t dare believe what he was talking about. It was senseless. Absurd. She wasn’t the type to bring a man to the brink of anything, least of all what he was implying.

“Are you speaking . . . of fornication?” she finally asked.

“Of course.”

“With me?”

“You see any other woman about?”

“But . . . why?”

“Why? What fool asks a question like that?”

Tears glittered in her eyes at the roughness of his voice and the harshness of his words.

“Forgive me, Constant, love. I’m more than a brute. I am a bear. You’re an innocent. I’m doing my best to remember that. And you will na’ look in a mirror to find out why I have to.”

“I don’t want to look in a mirror. I don’t have to. I have seen myself. I know what I look like. I know it very well. My family tells me of it. Constantly, if you like the word so much. I’m very plain. I’m very large. I’ve a large nose, large eyes, large mouth, and a large body designed more for hard work than creating anything like what you describe . . . in any man . . . let alone one as handsome as you.”

She almost got through all of it before tears stole her voice. Constant felt them slip from her eyes before she closed them. She was absolutely and completely mortified. There wasn’t a better word to describe it.

“Good Lord. Who could have said such things to you? Damn them! And damn and blast my impotence in not being able to go and ram a fist down their throats for it! And I’m na’ asking your pardon for that bit of profanity, either, so doona’ ask for one.”

She opened her eyes at that. He looked as angry as he sounded. Although she’d not thought it possible, he was even more amazing while he glared at her. He had his jaw set, a nerve pulsing out one side, and what looked like every muscle tensed everywhere along his frame, too.

“Come here.”

It wasn’t a request. She shook her head.

“I said come here, and I meant it. Now.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because I’ve got some fool to thank for filling your head with stuff and nonsense, and you’re too pigheaded to look in a mirror and see the truth for yourself. Now, come here, or I’m ripping all your handiwork out and coming over there to you.”

It seemed impossible for her eyes to go wider, but they did. “You can’t move,” she replied.

“I use my arms. I’m quite proficient at it. How do you think I relieve myself?”

Her face was burning with intense embarrassment and her eyes stung with the last of her tears. She couldn’t get one word through her throat.

“Are you going to continue challenging me, or are you coming here?”

“I—” She began to answer him, but her voice just stopped.

“Verra well, Constant. But please recollect. You were warned.”

He lifted himself with his arms again and shifted. She watched the cheesecloth ripple with the movement. Constant scooted nearer to him.

“Finally. You do obey. Now, lie down. Fit your feet to where mine are.”

She was trembling. This time it wasn’t remotely pleasant.

“And you can cease looking at me as if I’ll harm you. I have na’ developed a taste for virgins, in spite of my stupidity in regaling you with my exploits. Lie down.”

“Here?”

“Right here. Right next to me. Match your feet to mine and lie back. Stretch out as big and large as you can.”

“Now?”

He blew a sigh across her cheek. She felt the tremor in it, probably from the effort of holding himself aloft. “Aye. Right now. Could you cease being a constant irritant, and just do as you’re told?”

She set her lips, scooted down until her feet were right next to his, and told herself to ignore that her dress slid to her knees with the motion. She heard him suck in air, though. She wondered why.

“Now, lie down. On your back. Match yourself to my entire length. Show me this huge frame you claim to have.”

Fresh tears blurred the view of her booted feet. She swallowed.

“Well? Are you going to show me this great big frame of yours, or will I have to force the issue? I warn you, it will na’ be pretty if you choose the latter. Go on, Constant Ridgely. Cease wasting time. Show me your tremendous size.”

“You . . . are cruel.” She tried stanching the agony. It sounded in her voice although she was doing everything in her power to keep it to herself.

“Nae. What’s been done to your confidence and self-worth is cruel. I’m going to correct it. I only hope I’m man enough to stop once I’ve started.”

“You aren’t going to ravish me, are you?” she asked.

She thought she’d heard it, but that was impossible. Absurd. Wishful thinking. And sinful. Wicked. Wondrous. Unbelievable.

Constant forced herself to lie still as he lowered himself, although he was moving about more than that should warrant. She realized he was maneuvering the log out of the way when he commanded her to tip her face up and look at him.

“Why?” she asked.

“You really are a constant irritant, are na’ you? Now, look at me, or by hell I’ll force the issue. And I’m tired of threatening. This is na’ easy. In fact, it’s damned difficult. Do you realize how you smell to me?”

She looked sideways and saw her eyes were level with the middle of his upper arm. Constant was a good five and a half feet tall. She was the tallest in her family. She was the heaviest. She knew Kam was large, but not this large. She had to angle her head until her neck bent, just to meet his eyes. He was looking down at her with the softest, gentlest expression in his eyes she’d ever seen, even from her mother when Henry was born and placed in her arms.

“Now, what was all that blather about being large?” His voice was soft, feathering the breath across her forehead. “You look nigh invisible next to me.”

“But, you’re enormous,” she replied.

He smiled. “True. Always was. ’Tis a family trait. What of it?”

“All this proves is that I am small next to you. But everyone probably is.”

“Nae.”

She felt him move his arm. He put his forefinger under her chin to keep her head tipped up to him.

“What this proves is that you are na’ as gigantic as you believe, or have been told. And tormented over. Men my height and weight are na’ normal, true, but they are about, looking for a woman your size. Do you ken what it’s like to find a woman matching a man like me? Most women look like porcelain dolls that I’m afeard to touch. You ken?”

“Most women are like dolls to a man like you?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, a fleeting look that was probably frustration passed over his features, and then he opened his eyes again.

“You are na’ large, Constant. You never were, except to a small-sized family and a dwarf named Thomas, whom I would like to thrash the moment I recover.”

“No, please. You mustn’t. No one is to know of this. Of us. Of my actions . . . with you.”

“I would na’ do anything to harm you, Constant. Ever. Rest assured of that. You’ve my word. And that means any threats I utter, as well as any overtures I make, are as empty as my head. All of which makes this even more torturous for me.”

“What is?” She was mystified again, and it was worse than before because every inch on one side of her body seemed to be in contact with his.

“You are small to me, Constant, except in all the right places. That makes you desirable. Extremely so. I’m losing sleep over it and there’s nae end in sight. Constant dreams. Constant arousal. Constant self-denial. Aye. Those are the correct terms when added to your name, Constant, love. You were named extremely well and aptly by your parents. They’ve my compliments.”

Constant was aglow with his admissions, although he couldn’t really mean what he said. Could he?

“I must keep on subject, or I will deserve another bath in hot tar. You say you have large eyes? That much is true, I’m afraid. Right now, I’m wishful you had a third one, however.”

“What? Why?”

“For the love of—you need ask?”

“I ask about things I don’t know. I don’t know anything about men. I haven’t been in contact with one until you.” That got her another groan, but he didn’t say anything. Constant just shrugged her shoulders and blazed on with her words. “You’re acting very strange and I have no one to ask. I don’t have any older brothers, and I’d never ask my father. And I can’t ask a woman. You’re impossible to describe without them guessing . . . uh, something. I’m sorry if it makes me sound stupid.”

“Not stupid, Constant, love . . . just enticing. Damn and blast! Stop me before I say another foul word.”

“Enticing is a foul word?”

“It’s right in there with fornication. Doona’ doubt it.”

She gave him another wide-eyed look. He shut his eyes, tightly enough to cause little lines about them, while the groan that went through him shook her.

“What else did you complain of? Large eyes? We covered that. You have verra large eyes. I have to tell you, that’s na’ all. Your large eyes are bordered in lush black lashes. That made me suspect your hair was na’ the same light shade as your brother’s. You’ve been gifted with verra long, verra black lashes, Constant. ’Tis a gift of nature other women would be on their knees in thankfulness over . . . after spending hours preening in their mirrors. Such lashes are perfect for flirting. They create shadows that draw a man’s gaze. Yours do. They send shadows onto your cheeks when you’re concentrating, such as when you carved on my chest. How do I ken that? Because I noted it. And I held my tongue. And now that you’ve forced my hand, I canna’ seem to stay the words. You should’ve just looked in a damned—oh. Begging pardon, I forgot. You should’ve looked in any mirror when I told you to, and saved me from this.”

Constant brushed her eyelashes with a finger. She’d never wasted time looking at her reflection in any detail. She hadn’t known eyelashes were for anything except shielding one’s eyes from the sun’s harsh glare. She hadn’t known men looked at things like that.

“Another thing about those large eyes of yours, they’re breathtaking. Beyond enticing. Let me put you straight about it in nae uncertain terms. You have large eyes. Aye. You have large, turquoise-colored eyes. They are wide and compelling and incredibly difficult to look away from once ensnared. They are too honest, as well. They show everything. This is especially true when I’ve said something shocking. They darken to a near slate color sometimes. I’m afraid I ken when it happens. I’m terrified that I also ken why. That is a constant problem for me, Mistress Constant Ridgely. Constant problem. Constant enticement. Constant fascination. Constant frustration.”

His voice stopped and he was frowning. His eyes were still scrunched shut. It just couldn’t be true. The man she’d had all to herself was saying things she’d reserved for her daydreams. Her heart was pumping with more energy than it had all day, her cheeks were probably chafing at the heat, and she didn’t want to miss one word. She knew her memories were all she’d have in the future.

“Since I canna’ go with my first inclination and beat the person or persons responsible for your jaundiced viewpoint of yourself, Constant Ridgely, I am going to try to correct it. You are na’ large. You are na’ undesirable. You are definitely na’
plain
. You’re so far from that word it should be hiding in embarrassment.”

She snorted. She couldn’t help it.

“Oh God.”

He mumbled the words and then went taut, right beside her. Since she was still touching him, she felt it. She probably should have moved away, but it was too exciting to stay right where she was, her head tipped upward to watch Kameron’s handsome face while she listened to the amazing words coming from between his perfectly formed lips.

“I’m going to convince you of your attractiveness, Constant Ridgely. I’m stating it in as near truth as I can without compromising you. This is what I will do. I started this, and I will finish it. Then, I would na’ bring it up again if I were you. Unless you wish consequences.”

“But—”

“I’m beyond arguing, love. Maybe later, once I’ve supped, and you’re gone, and I’m attired in your cast-off pantaloons—that you’re planning to take straight off your own flesh—oh my God, perish the thought!”

A tremor seized him and Constant felt every bit of it. His reaction came from thinking of her flesh-warmed underthings wrapped about him?
Oh my!

His shaking subsided, then stilled. Constant watched as he puffed each breath in, then out. She wondered what a kiss from him would feel like.
A kiss isn’t so bad
, she told herself.
It isn’t permanent. It doesn’t make one any less a virgin. It certainly doesn’t make one impure. Does it?
That troubled the Constant who spent the day doing chores. But she was a far cry from the Constant who had her entire right side pressed against Kameron.

“You should have figured out all these things about yourself already, Mistress Constant, and saved me the torment of having to inform you about them. Where was I, anyway?”

Constant choked on her reaction as he sucked in air with such a kisslike pucker of his lips, she was totally riveted. It was a good thing he was answering his own question; she certainly couldn’t.

“Oh, I remember. Your nose. You describe your nose as large, too. I say again, na’ in comparison. A smaller nose would look incongruous. It would be lost. Your nose is just right. Trust me.”

He still had his eyes closed. She watched him lick his lips prior to sucking them both into his mouth, then sliding them out. Her eyes didn’t move from the sight. An icy cold shockwave went from the roots of her hair to her leather-booted feet beside his, and then back, although it settled in the area below her rib cage and just sat there, pounding with every heartbeat.

“Your mouth is also large, Constant. I think it was designed that way on purpose. Do you have any idea what large, luscious lips such as you possess can do to a man?”

She shook her head. She didn’t trust her voice. She was afraid of what might come out. He opened his eyes and looked at her then. The light was shadowing him. Not her. She watched him look her over.

“I was afraid of this,” he told her.

“What?”

The word was mouthed. She couldn’t put sound to her own whisper. Her voice was missing. It was probably lost in the knot in her throat.

“What large, luscious lips such as you possess can do to a man. I just remarked on it. Dinna’ you listen? And if na’, you need to start, because I’m doing my best here to ignore it.”

“Why?”

“Because I will heal. I will leave this little loft. I’ll rejoin my regiment. I’ll go back to my life. All of which . . . you will na’.”

“I know,” Constant replied.

“We will na’ meet again. You’ll find some large, handsome, farmer type to marry. Or you can still pursue the undeserving Thomas.” His words weren’t as soft or gentle as they had been. “Either way, you’ll forget me. You’ll forget this. Everything will fade.”

“You too,” she said.

“I’m afeard ’tis too late for any of that in regards to me.”

She smiled and raised both eyebrows, and then teased. “Oh, I agree. I doona’ think there is a farmer in the land that will offer for you.”

“Have you ever been kissed, Constant?”

He’d read her mind!
Oh. My
. “Uh . . . no,” she replied.

“Would you like to be?”

“I—”

She had to drop her eyes. The answer was probably written so clearly on her face, he could decipher it. The slight indentation in his chin drew her gaze back. Then his overly full lips. She licked her own and watched his eyes widen.

“If the answer is nae, doona’ do that again, please.”

“What?”

“Constant arousal. Constant enticement. Constant promise. Constant Ridgely, you are constant, all right. You are a viciously desirable creature, too. I should have chosen a different gully to fall into.”

“I cannot believe you are saying these things to me.”

“Please doona’ tell me I’ve failed. I may be rusty, but I canna’ be that inept.”

“At what?”

“Making certain you’re aware of your own attractiveness. That is the task I set myself, remember? Do you recollect the bit about the rug seller?”

Constant wrinkled her brow. “The one about underpricing?”

“I doona’ want you doing the same. Ever. There is naught wrong with you, Constant Ridgely. Your Thomas is na’ worth the wait, especially if he puts four other lasses before you. If he is na’ brought up to scratch afore Christmas, find another beau. They’re out there. They’re bigger than you. They’re strong, too. They’re marriageable.”

“I don’t know any of them, though.”

“Then look farther afield. Go to Boston. You’ll see. Tell your parents you need a new wardrobe or some such.”

“A new wardrobe? I’m a farmer’s daughter. My family has land and property, but little ready funds. I wear hand-me-downs. We don’t get wardrobes.”

“Well, start. It’s a feminine requirement to get entirely new clothes in the latest styles. Every season. Without fail. How else would dressmakers stay employed? And haberdashers. Shoe makers. Parasol designers. Et cetera.”

“How . . . wasteful.”

“The man who weds you will receive a treasure. I hope he kens it. For that reason, I’m halting the lesson tonight. Treasures doona’ handle desecration well, and I’m afraid I’ve a mind to do something that might promote that very thing.”

“What you said tonight . . . was just a lesson?”

He sucked in on both cheeks and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I canna’ answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m na’ as truthful as you are, and there is nae correct answer. If I say it was a lesson, will that demean my words and make you doubt your own beauty? Conversely, if I say it was nae lesson, will that be even more dangerous for us? What is my answer, Constant? What? You tell me.”

Doubt her own beauty?
Constant was reeling with what he’d just said. And he didn’t even notice.

“So tell me, Constant, love, didn’t you say something earlier about—?”

“Pantaloons?” she offered, rolling to her knees.

“Good Lord, nae! I speak of sup. You mentioned turkey pot pie . . . and something about rolls? You did say something about rolls, dinna’ you?”

“You’ll have to wrap them about you. I am not your size.”

Constant lifted the back of her dress where he couldn’t see and pulled the undergarment down to her knees. Kameron’s mouth gaped open.