Love Me Forever (12 page)

“G
oodness, you gave me a start,” Megan said as she entered the conservatory and noticed the sudden movement to her left. “What in the world are you doing in here in the dark?”

Kimberly shrugged, trailing a finger along a prickly leaf on the table of plants next to her. “It’s not all that dark in here, I can see the mansion all lit up through the windows.”

“Hmmm, you’re quite right,” Megan allowed, after a quick glance toward the solid bank of glass facing the house. “Haven’t been in here before at night myself, which is why I brought this lamp along—that I won’t need now.”

Kimberly smiled halfheartedly as Megan extinguished the light. She had wanted to be alone. She was in no mood for conversation, but wasn’t going to be rude to the duchess, who had been nothing but kind to her.

So even though she’d avoided answering the question herself, she asked the duchess, “What brings you here this time of night?”

Megan’s chuckle was somewhat wicked. “I’ve come for a rose. My Devlin’s been gloating about something all day that has annoyed me no end. He needs a reminder of what to expect if he doesn’t stop. I thought a nice long-stemmed rose might get the message to him rather quickly, placed on his pillow tonight—without the rose petals, of course.”

Kimberly’s laugh was spontaneous; she couldn’t help herself, and it felt really good to release it, after the horrid day. Trust the duchess to think of something so cleverly subtle. A stem of thorns on her husband’s pillow. Yes, he was bound to figure out exactly what that implied—and have a good laugh over it himself.

Kimberly grinned now. “Well, let’s hope he notices the thorns before he lays his head down.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure of that. Now, care to help me find the perfect rose?”

Kimberly nodded, and they moved down the aisle together to a bed of dark red roses in varying stages of bloom. And then nonchalantly, as she bent to sniff one of the flowers, Megan said, “You know, I’m glad you’re here, actually. I’ve been meaning to ask you, but just haven’t managed to find you alone recently, if you’ve considered the Scot?”

“Considered him?”

“For matrimony.”

“No.”

Kimberly’s answer came so quickly, Megan blinked in surprise. “No? But he’s such a handsome devil and so charming, why, he’d make a splendid husband. And he’s looking for a wife himself, don’t you know.”

“Yes, he has many good points,”
and just as
many bad ones
, Kimberly added to herself. “But he won’t do for me.”

Megan scoffed at that. “Of course he would—why don’t you think so?”

Kimberly could have said, “Because he’s in love with you,” but that would have unnecessarily embarrassed them both, so she said instead, “I suppose I should have told you that my father would never approve of a Scotsman.”

“You’re joking?” Megan said, her expression indicating surprise bordering on shock.

“No, regrettably it’s true,” Kimberly replied reluctantly, wishing this subject had not come up. “He’s quite prejudiced against them.”

Megan frowned. “I suppose it’s because you live so close to the border? All that violent history there, border raids and all that? Actually, now that you’ve mentioned it, I know several families who feel that way. Even though hostilities of that sort have mostly ceased in this generation, the animosity has still been inherited—”

“Not in this case,” Kimberly cut in. “With my father, it’s a personal matter that he’s, unfortunately, let encompass all Scots.”

“Personal?” Megan pounced on that. “Then you don’t share his views?”

“No, I have very few views in common with my father, and certainly not his narrow-minded prejudices.”

The duchess sighed in relief. “Well, that’s nice to know. But it’s—ah, absolutely necessary that he approve of the man you marry?”

“If I want to avoid a scandal.”

Megan gasped. “You don’t mean he would actually disown you?”

“Most definitely, and without a qualm.”

The duchess was back to frowning. “That’s—rather hardhearted if you ask me.”

“Yes, quite. But I did tell you he’s something of a tyrant. Quite unbending and set in his ways.”

“Well, I am quite put out about this, I must say—for your sake, that is. I just can’t imagine—what if you fell madly in love with a Scot? Not MacGregor, of course,” Megan quickly added, “but some other Scotsman you might chance to meet, and he adored you as well. For you to never know the kind of happiness that I do—”

“Ah, but that’s different.”

“It is?”

“Certainly. It’s not as if I have any strong desire to please my father, any more than he’s ever had any desire a’tall to please me. No, if something like that occurred, I believe I’d face the scandal.”

“Wonderful—I mean, well, a scandal of that sort would be unfortunate, but I can’t imagine it being ruinous. Why, even the queen would take your side, as fond as she is of her Scottish subjects. Your father would more likely be condemned for his harshness and stubborn prejudice. If anyone would get the cold shoulder, he would. You would be—ah—well…”

“Pitied?”

Megan became flustered. “Well—no—”

Kimberly smiled, patting Megan’s arm. “It’s all right. It’s a moot point anyway, since I have no intention of falling in love with any Scotsman.”

Megan sighed again. “Quite right. But you know, I really can’t comprehend a father like yours. Mine spoiled me terribly. I can’t remember him ever denying me anything—well, except
when I wanted Devlin dismissed. He did refuse to do that.”

“Dismissed? From what?”

Megan chuckled now. “Ah, but that’s a
long
story, m’dear, and as late as it is, best left for another time. I should be getting back to the house, before Devlin sends a brigade of servants looking for me.” She bent to pluck one of the roses first, then added, “By the by, what
were
you doing roaming about in here?”

Kimberly groaned inwardly. But there was no point in lying. The duchess, after all, couldn’t have missed the gossip making the rounds today. No one could have.

However, she still said, somewhat evasively, “I felt the need for a little solitude, but I couldn’t manage to find a room in the house that didn’t have someone already in it. I should have just retired, I suppose, but I didn’t feel like it at the time.”

Megan smiled in understanding and hooked her arm though Kimberly’s to lead her back down the aisle. “I get that urge myself sometimes, but in your case—you must know that the kind of gossip running rampant today can’t hurt you, m’dear. Actually, it’s beneficial. Shows the rest of the gentlemen how popular you are.”

Kimberly was
not
going to get into a debate, but so much for evading the subject. “I notice the gentlemen involved choose not to face it.”

Megan grinned. “Well, I have it on good authority that Lord Lachlan went off to our nearest tavern to get foxed. And Lord Canston spent the day with his solicitor. He was determined to bring the matter to the courts.”

“What?!”

“Oh, never fear, there won’t be any more food for the gossip mill on this count. Devlin managed to dissuade him from making matters worse, which that would surely have done. He’s been—well, pouting isn’t a very dignified word for a viscount, but that describes his temper very well—ever since.”

Kimberly couldn’t quite manage to envision the virile, athletic viscount pouting, she really couldn’t. “Is he planning to end his visit then?”

“No,” Megan replied, sounding somewhat disappointed. “I’m sure he’ll be back into the thick of things tomorrow. We’re having that fox hunt in the morning, remember? I know he wouldn’t want to miss that.”

Kimberly would be missing that herself. She’d never cared much for hunting of any sort, but she thought foxes were rather cute…

“Are you coming back to the house?” Megan asked as they reached the entrance to the conservatory.

“Shortly.”

Megan nodded, then glanced once more about the room. “You know, I ought to arrange a picnic in here. Yes, now that I think of it, that’s a splendid idea.”

Kimberly grinned, shaking her head as she watched Megan saunter off, her single, thorny rose in hand. Now that
she
thought of it, it must be hell to play hostess to so many people, especially when you had to continuously think of ways to keep them entertained.

The duchess had been doing admirably in that respect though, and a picnic in here did sound like a nice idea. The air was moist, humid, but quite pleasant with so many floral scents floating
about. If someone was going to have a picnic in the heart of winter, a warm conservatory was the place to do it, and the one here at Sherring Cross was larger than most. Yes, it actually sounded like fun and…

Got foxed, did he? Good, and she sincerely hoped Lachlan had one of those horrid headaches in the morning because of it. The wretched man deserved no less.

S
ome very loud pounding on her wall came first, then, “Kimber, are you awake?”

She was now. Wide awake. And she also couldn’t quite believe that Lachlan would make that kind of racket in the dead of night—once again. He’d been so quiet the past few weeks, she’d begun to think he’d been given a different room when they’d returned from London.

God, what time was it? The heavy drapes in her room were drawn closed, giving her no clue. Yet she recalled the difficulty she’d had in getting to sleep. Midnight had come and gone when she last remembered pounding her pillow…

“Kimber?”

The sound she made could only be called a growl as she tossed her covers back, shot to her knees to face the wall, and gave it a hard pound herself. “Be quiet in there! Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea what time—”

“I’m…dying.”

“What?!” she shrieked.

Her heart had skipped a beat. She got no further answer, even when she pounded again on the wall. Fear coursed through her the like she’d never felt before. She bounded off her bed and ran toward the door with no thought of anything except getting to him. She’d break his door down if she had to—but that wasn’t necessary. It opened to her touch, slammed open actually, because she hadn’t paused in her race to get there.

She found him where she expected, by the wall where he’d been pounding. He was on his knees there, bent over, his head nearly touching the floor, and so still. Not a movement could she detect in the candlelight that flickered about the room, not a breath, and her own breath was held as she slid to her knees beside him.

“Lachlan?”

She grasped his head, heard his moan, and felt such incredible relief, she would have cried if it wasn’t temporary. But it didn’t last. He wasn’t dead yet, but she still didn’t know what was wrong with him, and her panic shot right back up there.

“Where do you hurt? Tell me! Are you bleeding? Have you been shot or—”

“You came?”

“Of course I came. You said you were dying. Now tell me,
how
are you dying?”

“Poison.”

“Oh, God, I don’t know what to do for that,” she cried. “How did it happen? How long ago? I’ll send for a doctor immediately—”

“Nay, dinna leave me.”

One hand came out from under him, where his arms had been wrapped across his belly. It reached blindly for her, encountered her ankle,
and squeezed tight around it. His condition hadn’t affected his strength yet. His grip was like steel, making her wince.

“You have to let me go for a minute, Lachlan, just long enough to find someone who can go for a doctor.”

“A doctor canna help me, lass.”

Her fear made her snap, “Don’t say that! You’re not going to die, do you hear me? There must be something that can be done for you, and a doctor would know what.”

“A bed is all I’m needing, Kimber, and a gentle hand tae see me through the worst of it. D’you think you could find a wee bit of compassion tae help me?”

“I’m
trying
to help you,” she began, but then said more gently, “All right, come, I’ll help you to your bed first. Sit up for me, so we can get you to your feet.”

She tried lifting his shoulders, but without his cooperation, they wouldn’t budge at all. There was just no way she was going to be able to move him without some assistance on his part.

And then his torso rose on its own, with his other hand pushing, then bracing against the floor to keep him upright. Facing him now, seeing him completely, she realized he was still fully clothed, had apparently only just come to his room when he’d started pounding for her. He was also a mess, his hair bedraggled, dirt and straw clinging to him as if he’d taken a tumble in a stable but forgot to dust himself off. But what gave her pause was the alcohol fumes, so strong that he could have been doused in the stuff.

She had forgotten that Megan had told her he’d
gone off to get drunk, and she demanded now, “Have you been drinking
all
day?”

“Nay, I slept—I dinna remember where.”

“And went right back to drinking some more?”

He smiled lopsidedly. “Och, I had a powerful thirst as I recall.”

Kimberly sat back on her heels. He didn’t look like a man who was dying. He merely looked sotted, smelled it, and come to think of it, sounded it too.

“How did you get poisoned, Lachlan? And do you know it for a fact, that you are?”

“Poisoned?”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “You said you’d been poisoned, remember?”

“Och, aye, the drink’ll do that tae you. I’ve never felt this rotten—”

“You wretch! You scare me half to death, telling me you were dying, when all you are is foxed?”

She leaped up, furious, but she forgot he still had hold of her ankle. She didn’t even manage a full turn toward the door before her balance was lost and she fell backward, landing on her behind. She was able to catch herself on her elbows before she ended up completely prone.

“Now that’s an invitation I canna refuse, darlin’,” she heard him drawl.

“What?”

She’d been startled by the fall, and his remark made no sense until she took her eyes off of him to glance down at herself. Her nightgown—there’d been no thought for grabbing a robe in her haste—was twisted about her hips and hiked up, one side above her knee, the other halfway up her calf. And her knees, God help her, were
bent upright, her feet flat on the floor, and spread wide apart.

She understood his remark now, crude as it was. And worse, he was already starting to crawl toward her, albeit slowly and not too steadily. But apparently, he had every intention of placing his body on top of hers to accept that “invitation” he’d alluded to. Just the thought of him doing so sent a core of heat straight to her vitals, which amazed and appalled her at once.

Her reaction to that, however, aside from a choking sound of embarrassment, was first to snap her knees together, then bring her foot, the one he wasn’t still holding, straight up to plant flat against his nearing chest.

“Don’t
even
think about it,” she warned.

“Nay?”

“Absolutely not.”

He sat back on his haunches, swayed once, righted himself, then frowned down at her. “You’re a coldhearted woman, Kimber, that you are.”

“Where you’re concerned, I have to be,” she mumbled in reply. She hadn’t said this for his benefit, yet he still heard her and actually perked up.

“Really? Now why is that, darlin’? Can it be you’re tempted and fighting it?”

That was much too close to the truth for her comfort, and she sat up straight. “Can it be you’ve lost your mind again? Look at you, reeking of spirits, bedraggled, blurry-eyed. Tempted? By what, pray tell?”

She came just short of snorting. And to her ears she sounded believable, had used just enough scorn to make him wince. The trouble was, Lach
lan was too handsome to begin with. A little messy and inebriated wasn’t going to make him any less desirable.

“I wish I could say the same about you, lass. You’re blurry-eyed yourself, and after that tumble, just as bedraggled, yet I’m wanting—”

“Not another word!” she cut in frantically, afraid she would hear something that might sway her. “And let go of my foot so I can leave. You had no business waking me in the first place, and I’ve got no business being in here.”

He looked down at his hand on her ankle and seemed surprised that it was there. But he did release her with a sigh. “Go on then, back tae your warm bed. I’ll abide the night here on this cold floor, since I canna make it tae my own bed.”

Her eyes narrowed on him as she rose to her feet. “Was that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?”

“Nay, that would take a wee bit of compassion, which you’re proving you dinna have.”

“I’ll have you know I have just as much compassion as any other woman,” she replied stiffly. “Why else would I have come running in here?”

“Aye, you did come. But you can see how miserable I am, yet you’ll no’ stay tae help me.”

“What I see is that you’re in a condition that was self-inflicted, and so undeserving of sympathy. What possessed you to drink so much?”

“You dinna want tae be knowing the answer tae that, Kimber, believe me.”

She ground her teeth in exasperation. And now, as so many times before, it was on the tip of her tongue to retort that she didn’t like hearing him shorten her name to Kimber, any more than she liked his calling her darling. Usually she was
too angry to tell him or some other point was more pressing, which was why she hadn’t mentioned it sooner. And this time it would really be pointless, since she doubted he’d remember her complaint in the morning.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. I only asked to be civil, since I hardly care. Your motivations don’t concern me in the—” She stopped when she realized she was protesting far too much, and switched to a blasé tone to finish, “Well, good night, Lachlan. Try not to make any more noise, will you?”

He said nothing as she moved to the door, nothing when she reached it. She wasn’t going to look back at him, wasn’t going to feel sorry for him. If he still felt wretched, well, it was no more than he deserved.

It wasn’t until she was on the other side of the door and closing it that she heard, “I need you.”

Kimberly groaned. She dropped her forehead against the door, closing her eyes, fighting the wealth of emotions those three words provoked. But it was no good. There was no way in hell she could ignore that plea. Not from him. Not put that way.

She supposed she could be grateful, though, that it was only aid he was needing from her, because she wasn’t sure just now if she could resist those same words if said in that other context. And for her to end up in bed with him again, just because of some small thing he said, God forbid, she couldn’t be that much of a fool, could she?