It was only sex, he reminded himself. Physical intimacy was very different from emotional closeness. The hot, familiar sweep of desire took him then and he surrendered himself to it. His other thoughts, doubts and questions could wait until the morning.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Y
OU
FAILED
,
C
ARDROSS
.”
A ragged gray dawn was brewing over the mountains. Wilfred Cardross had been half-asleep, soaked, cold to the bone, huddled in the ruins of an ancient bothy halfway up the hillside. It gave him little protection against the elements, but it was a good vantage point. From here he had seen the soldiers fanning out across the glen, searching for him, city boys who hated these bleak mountains and the harsh terrain, stabbing ineffectually at the heather and the bracken as though they expected to find him hiding in a fox hole.
He had laughed then, but he was not laughing now. This predator had come up on him unseen and unheard, and by the time he was aware of him it was already too late and there was a dirk at his throat.
“You?” he said. “Here?”
He looked down at the blade. It was bright in the dawn and wickedly sharp.
The other man smiled. There was no humor in the look. “I said that if I needed you I would find you,” he said. “Though actually—” The dirk pressed a little harder. “I don’t need you.”
“Wait!” Cardross said. Panic scrambled in his chest at what he saw reflected in the man’s pale eyes. “It’s not my fault I failed,” he said. “They were too good for us. You said there would be no contest! You said my men would win—”
“So it’s my fault now, is it?” The man was laughing at him. Cardross felt a vicious rush of hatred. “Somehow, with you, I suspect it is always some other man’s fault.”
The dirk gouged a little deeper. “Give me another chance.” Cardross was gabbling now, playing for time. “I won’t fail again. I almost took her yesterday in the gardens. I got past all the guards Methven had set. It was easy—”
“So where is she?” The other man’s voice was devoid of sympathy. “You almost took her—but you didn’t succeed. A broken tool is no use to me.”
Cardross had meant to beg, but in the end he had no time. The conversation was over. He had expected a slash to the throat, and his hands came up in a vain attempt to deflect the blade. In the same moment he realized he had been deceived. The knife slid between his ribs. For a second he felt nothing and then the pain took hold of him and shook him like a rag doll. It was terrible. He had always been a coward, afraid of death, and now he had ample time for fear as his life leeched away. When the darkness finally took him, it was a relief.
* * *
T
HE
RATTLE
OF
the bed curtains woke Mairi.
“It is high noon, milady.” Jessie was placing a breakfast tray on the dresser. “Mr. Rutherford suggested I let you sleep late. He said you were quite worn out last night.”
Mairi rolled over, blinking as the bright sunlight struck across her eyes. She had slept very deeply. She vaguely remembered that she had woken as the sun had been coming up. She had been in Jack’s bed, wrapped tightly in his arms. She had known that she had to return to her own room, but it had been extraordinarily difficult to tear herself away. She was sure Jack had carried her back to her bed. She even thought he might have kissed her before he left her, but that might have been her imagination or perhaps wishful thinking. Then she had fallen asleep again and there had been no bad dreams.
She stretched, testing her feelings. Her mind felt lighter than she could remember it feeling in years. It felt as though a terrible weight had lifted and the darkness that had been paralyzing her life was banished because she had shared the burden at last and told Jack everything.
A sweet flood of emotion filled her. It was the same sensation she had felt when she had made love with Jack at the inn at Kinlochewe. It was the same feeling she had experienced on the afternoon of the storm when Jack had comforted her so tenderly. But it was stronger now and deeper.
She had wondered if she was the type of woman who could separate physical pleasure from emotional involvement. Obviously she was not. What she was feeling for Jack Rutherford was getting dangerous. She was falling in love with him. She had trusted him with her body. She had trusted him with all her secrets, but she could not trust him with her heart.
The thought was enough to waken her completely and she sat up, reaching for her wrap. The sunshine was flooding in and it felt warm, but she did not want its caress on her body. She felt emotionally stripped bare, and that chilled her. She needed to wrap herself up. She needed to protect herself.
Before the previous night she had thought that she would never trust a man again. Archie had betrayed her and smashed her faith. She had become accustomed to taking control and making her own decisions. Yet last night she had trusted Jack and that was because she was in love with him. She was not simply in thrall to the physical pleasure their affair gave her. She loved him and she wanted his love in return. But love was the one thing that Jack could never give her. He had made that abundantly clear right from the start.
She drew her knees up to her chest and sat hugging them, the breakfast tray forgotten beside her. An affair with Jack was not enough for her now. She loved him and she wanted more than he could give her. She wanted his love; she wanted to marry him. But the fact was that Jack, the perfect lover, would never be a perfect husband. His definition of fidelity was probably to make love to only one woman at a time. He wanted no commitment. While she had been letting down her guard he had been reinforcing his to keep her out.
She picked up her cup of chocolate absentmindedly. The rich liquid felt warm and comforting. Suddenly she had a huge craving for ice cream and marshmallow candy and just about anything else sweet that she could lay her hands on. If this was love, then it was going to make her very fat.
Jessie had come back for the breakfast tray and to help her dress.
“Mr. Rutherford sends his compliments, madam,” the maid said, “and asks that you would join him and Lord Methven in the library when you are ready. There is an army gentleman here with news of Lord Cardross.”
“What news?” Mairi asked quickly. “You must know, Jessie. They say that the servants’ hall is always the first to hear.”
Jessie looked furtive. “They say he was found dead in a ditch, ma’am,” she said. She lowered her voice. “Drowned in the storm yesterday.”
“Drowned?” Mairi said. She could not believe it. “Wilfred?”
“Aye, madam. Like the sewer rat he is,” Jessie said. The satisfaction faded from her voice. It turned cool. “Mr. Cambridge also presents his compliments, madam. He asked me to tell you that he had to leave early to return to Lord MacLeod at Strome. He will see you once you are back in Edinburgh next week.”
“Thank you,” Mairi said. She was not sorry to have missed Jeremy’s departure and she would be in no hurry to seek him out.
An hour later she presented herself in the library. She had dressed in bright cherry-sprigged muslin with a matching ribbon in her hair. It gave her courage in some strange way and she felt as though her emotions needed all the protection they could get. She had to make a conscious effort not to look at Jack as she came in; she felt curiously aware of his presence, even more so than usual, as though love had made all her senses acutely sharp. She could feel his gaze on her even though she greeted Robert first and only then turned to him with a casual smile.
Jack’s lips twitched at the indifference of her greeting. “I hope you slept well, Mairi,” he said. “You look radiant this morning.”
“Thank you,” Mairi said. One compliment and he was straight through her defenses, damn him.
Jack and Robert had with them a young captain of the dragoons; his eyes widened in blatant admiration when he saw Mairi and he blushed.
“Lady Mairi!” He sketched a bow, turning an even stronger shade of pink.
Mairi felt rather than saw Jack stir at her side. “This is Captain Donald of the Royal Scots Greys,” he said. “The captain is in charge of the troops who found Wilfred Cardross.”
“Congratulations, Captain Donald,” Mairi said. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, ma’am,” the captain assured her fervently. “Although I am sorry he was already dead. It would have been an even greater pleasure to drag him back to jail for you.”
Mairi could see that Jack was trying not to laugh at the young man’s ardor. She frowned at him; he gave her a look that said Donald might admire her but he was the one in her bed. She felt her face heat.
“I heard that Wilfred drowned,” she said, turning her attention away from Jack and back to Donald. “Can that be true?”
She saw Robert and Jack exchange a glance. It was Jack who answered. “He was found facedown in a flooded ditch,” he said, “but that was not how he died. He was stabbed.”
“The water had washed all the blood away,” Donald confirmed with rather too much relish for Mairi’s taste, “but we found the wound. Whoever killed him had left him there deliberately by the side of the road. They wanted him to be discovered.”
Chills chased up Mairi’s spine. “Who would do such a thing?” she said.
“Probably one of the band of outlaws who took part in the attack on your carriage, ma’am,” Donald said. “My understanding is that Cardross abandoned them in the fight. They would not take kindly to being double-crossed and would be looking for revenge.”
Robert leaned forward. “We are not making news of the murder public,” he said. “We’re putting it about that he drowned.”
“Dulcibella,” Mairi said, realizing. “Of course. She would have yet another fit of the vapors if she thought that another murdering outlaw was on the loose.”
“We hope that Lady Dulcibella will feel able to go home now,” Robert agreed smoothly. “There is no virtue in causing further alarm.”
Jack turned to Mairi. “Needless to say,” he said, “you will be traveling back to Edinburgh with me when we leave. I don’t want you taking any risks.”
“With Wilfred dead, surely there cannot be any further danger,” Mairi said.
“You will not,” Jack said, an edge to his voice, “put that to the test, if you please.”
It felt as though the tension in the room had suddenly ratcheted up by several degrees. Mairi saw Robert watching them. There was a look of intense interest in his eyes as he surveyed his cousin’s taut face.
“I think Mairi is right,” he said mildly. “The danger is surely past. Cardross was killed by a criminal with a grievance. It’s unlikely that such a man would attack anyone else and thereby risk being hunted down. Besides, with so many soldiers about we are surely as safe as houses here.”
Jack turned on him with repressed anger latent in every line of his body. Mairi almost flinched but Robert seemed unmoved. “With respect, Robert,” Jack said, “you cannot know that, and I do not wish you to encourage your sister-in-law to get any further involved in this—”
“I am involved,” Mairi pointed out.
“It isn’t seemly,” Jack rapped out.
There was a silence. Robert looked as though he was trying not to laugh. “Now I’ve seen it all,” he said. “Jack Rutherford preaching on propriety. I wonder at the cause of this sudden change of character.”
Jack took a step toward him and Mairi was afraid he was actually going to punch his cousin.
“I am sure Captain Donald has no wish to witness our family bickering,” she said quickly. “Captain, thank you again for your diligence. I wish you a good day.”
Jack tore his gaze away from Robert and stepped back. After a moment he sketched a bow. “Your servant, Donald,” he said abruptly and stalked out. Mairi looked at Robert, who gave her a faint lift of the brows and a rueful smile. She knew he was trying to apologize for the fact that in provoking his cousin he had disregarded her feelings and opinions. It was exasperating and she had no idea why Jack was behaving like a bear with a sore head.
“Let me show you out, Donald,” Robert said, standing up to escort the captain to the door. Mairi went across to the long windows and watched the detachment of dragoons outside form up and march away. It was a glorious summer day and suddenly she ached to be out of the house and in the open air. She wanted to ride out onto the mountains and let the wind chase away the blue devils.
She went upstairs and changed into an old jacket and trews that Murdo, one of Frazer’s sons, had lent to her years before, trousers being so much easier to ride astride in than a habit. She dispatched Jessie with a note for Lucy to tell her that she was going for a ride. The one thing she did not want to do was tell Jack. She had had quite enough of his overbearing ways for one day.
“You’ll no’ be riding on your own, milady,” Murdo said as she came into the stable yard, “not with masterless men on the loose.”
Mairi groaned. “You sound like Mr. Rutherford, Murdo,” she said. “Did he tell you to keep an eye on me?”
A wide grin split Murdo’s face. “Aye, madam.”
“He’s got a damned nerve,” Mairi said. “I’d like to see any of you try to stop me.”
“Then at least let us come with you, madam,” Murdo begged as he led out one of Lucy’s mares. “That way we can tell Mr. Rutherford we looked after you.”
“You’re afraid of him,” Mairi scoffed but the groom only nodded with no trace of a smile.
“Aye, madam,” he said. “If anything happened to you I’d be terrified to tell him.”
He gave her a leg up and Mairi swung up into the saddle and dug her heels in. The mare was fresh and as eager for the ride as she. They galloped out of the yard, scattering the grooms like straw in the wind. Behind her Mairi heard Murdo give a shout, but it was not until she reached the knot of pines halfway up the track that edged the mountain that she slowed down to wait for him and for Hamish to catch up with her.
It was a good four hours later when they rode back down to Methven, and Mairi felt exhilarated by the ride. The sun was starting to drop behind the hills and evening was cool in the air. As soon as she entered the stable yard, though, she could feel a tension in the air. The grooms looked at her sideways from the corners of their eyes.
She jumped down from the saddle and handed the reins to Murdo with a word of thanks. And then she turned.
Jack was standing directly in front of her and it was clear he was blazingly angry.