Mad for the Plaid (42 page)

Tata nodded. “In some ways, women have better instincts than men.”

He finished his champagne and placed the glass on the empty tray of a servant who was walking by. “There's only one task left.”

“Children. You must have a dozen, if not more.”

“I was thinking of you. What will you do, now that you've married off all your grandsons? What hobby will you pursue? Painting? Embroidery?” He twinkled down at her. “Knitting?”

“
Nyet
.” She sipped her champagne, holding it as delicately as if she were a lady born. “I have already chosen my next project.”

“Oh? Who is it? Or should I ask?”

“I am devoting myself to the good of the country. There are too many bachelors in court, and they are troublesome, the lot of them. Half of them are under the spell of some mistress determined to lead them to treason; and the other half are not fulfilling their duty to the crown to have children and populate the kingdom with loyal citizens.”

Nik couldn't keep the startled look from his face. “You are going to attempt to find wives for
all
the bachelors at court?”

“Only the titled ones. I cannot do everything, you know.”

“There must be— Good God, I don't even know how many.”

“One hundred and thirty nine,” she replied, looking satisfied. “I decided it was too late for the ones over eighty. Men of that age do not deal well with change.”

“I see.” Nik wasn't sure whether he should be happy for the men of the court, or worried. Either way, she was right about one thing: it would keep all of them busy, and her, as well. “I wish you luck.”

“Pah. It does not take luck, but talent.” She grabbed
her cane and stood, pressing her empty glass into his hand. “I am off to find my first project. Lord Pahlen has been a widower for three years now; it is time to fix that. You go, dance with your new wife. Poor Max has been stepping on her feet, for I have seen her wince twice now.”

“I will rescue her.” Nik caught Tata's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Tata Natasha. We owe you so much.”

Her gaze softened, and she patted his cheek. “Just be glad you came around when you did. My next strategy involved a potion made of turtle's feet and a bat's wing.”

“Good lord. I begin to feel sorry for the men of court.”

She cackled and left, making her way to where Lord Pahlen sat watching the dancers with a sad look on his face. Nik thought about warning the man, but sometimes it was best to let Tata Natasha do her magic. Smiling, he went to rescue Ailsa.

As soon as he saw Nik approaching, Max pulled apart from Ailsa and bowed to her. “Thank you for the dance. I'm sorry about your toes.”

“Och, 'twas my fault. I moved the wrong way.” She managed a smile, though Nik thought he detected the slightest limp as she turned into his arms.

Max bowed and then went to where his wife, Murian, stood waiting near the refreshment table, her eyes twinkling with laughter.

Nik swung Ailsa around the dance floor. She was a remarkable dancer, light on her feet, and unerring in
step. “It was kind of you not to blame Max for his awkwardness.”

“Murian warned me he is a horrid dancer, but I dinnae listen. He was so eager to dance, too.”

“He always is, but his partner always regrets it. Murien won't dance with him anymore. She says she only has ten toes and she needs them all.”

Ailsa laughed, her gray eyes sparkling. She looked lovely, her rose silk gown clinging to her curves, her skin flushed and dewy in the candlelight. And she was his. All his.

He pulled her closer and she obligingly stepped into his embrace. They still danced, but at their own pace, without regard to the music.

He bent and kissed her nose, and then her forehead. “You look tired, my dear. It's been a long day.”

“So it has.” She leaned closer. “The Austrian ambassador's wife wishes me to ride with her tomorrow. She is quite clever, you know. I think I should go, for if we can get her to encourage her poor befuddled husband to accept the new treaty to limit the tsar's power, we would have enough votes in the coalition to—”

He kissed her. He'd loved every word she'd said, that she was here, in his arms, and by his side. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “Before you came into my world, I was alone. I was that way on purpose, thinking it would protect me from the hurts and betrayals that are everywhere.”

Her hands came to rest on his, her silver eyes shining with love. “And now?”

“And now, I don't know what I'd do without you.
I love you, Ailsa Mackenzie Romanovin. I love you and I trust you and I will never keep anything from you.”

She closed her eyes and leaned against him. “I love you, too. So long as I breathe, you will never again be alone.” The whispered words warmed him.

Around them, people danced, talked, whispered, and—yes—perhaps even plotted. But none of them would ever part him and Ailsa. Never.

He bent and picked her up, her silk skirts fluttering over his arm and trailing on the floor. “It's time we retired, my love.”

And ignoring the shocked expressions of those around him, and the amused guffaw from Tata Natasha, Nik carried Ailsa away.

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Chapter 1

Never had an elopement been so poorly planned or so shabbily executed. Theodora Cumberbatch-Snowe, huddled in a wooden chair hastily pulled up to the fire in the parlor of the Wild Boar, pressed her hand to her uneasy stomach and hoped she wouldn't spoil an already horrendous day by retching.

Though her fiancé—the esteemed and quite handsome Squire Watson—possessed many admirable skills, driving an elopement vehicle was
not
one of them. When not racing haphazardly down the straight portions of the bumpy roads found so frequently in the north, Marcus oversteered the curricle, leaning wildly through each and every corner, the entire equipage swaying sickeningly while the wheels groaned in protest.