Sarah Gabriel (26 page)

“She looks more like her mother each time I see her,” he said, looking at his aunt.

“You should see her more often,” she said with a huff. “Perhaps then ’twouldna be so much of a shock to you each time that you keep away. Come inside, and we’ll take some chocolate. It’s early yet, and we’ve just finished breakfast, though you both may want a bite to eat.” She gestured for them to follow, and they headed toward the mansion, while Jack, behind them, turned the horses and took the chaise to stable it and the animals down the street.

“What does she mean, come here more often, Alec?” Kate asked as they walked across the yard—cobbled areas and garden plots, lined with fruit trees, compactly arranged—toward the house.

He was silent, letting the children run ahead with their great-aunt, though Daisy fussed and wanted to stay with her uncle. Alec stooped to pick her up, handing her to Kate because his left arm was still in a sling, and the child came readily into her arms to ride there sweetly.

“Their mother was my betrothed. When I returned
from Leiden, I found her married to my brother and already with child.”

Kate sighed out. “You mentioned something about it once, but—seeing the girls now, it gives me a stronger sense of what you must have endured.”

He shrugged. “Amy and Edward were better suited, perhaps, than Amy and I, for he was a wilder sort and she and I were both a little staid. He needed her calming nature, and she needed…well, perhaps some unpredictability. They had these three lovely lassies,” he said, glancing at Daisy, who never took her eyes from him as they strolled along. Kate knew, in a way, what the child felt. She, too, had fallen under the spell of Daisy’s uncle Alexander, and could not look at him often enough.

“And the more babes they had, the happier they were, and the more I stayed away,” Alec went on. “Amy passed away with the birth of that lovely bairnie in your arms.”

“Oh, no,” Kate murmured. She tucked her head against Daisy’s. “I’m so sorry.”

“For years, I dreaded coming here, so much so that I avoided it as much as possible. After Edward died early this year, it only grew worse for me. And a few weeks ago, I would have dreaded this visit as much as any other…but it feels different now.”

Kate glanced at him, and he stopped with her in the yard, just inside the iron gates, while Euphemia let the other two girls into the front door of the mansion, then turned to wait for Kate and Alec. “What has changed this time?”

“I am not sure. I do not feel such…fear of them, somehow, if you can understand that.”

“I do understand. I know you must love them very much.”

“I always have, but the hurt was a powerful thing, lasting over years. And now…it’s as if it has cleared itself away. It has changed…I have changed.”

Kate gazed at him thoughtfully. “You
have
changed, Alexander. You have let go some of the locks you kept on yourself, I think.”

He gave her a little, rueful smile. “I have, my love, and it’s thanks to you and your magic.”

“Oh, no, not me. It’s within you, sir—perhaps it was time to open up your heart again.”

He laughed softly and reached out to touch Daisy’s reddish curls. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now, Miss Daisy Fraser,” he said, and the child laughed as if they shared a fine joke. “I’ve been such a fool.”

“Foo,” Daisy said, and Kate laughed.

“Love, Captain Fraser,” Kate said, “makes its own magic.”

“So the MacCarran fairy sort like to say.” He put an arm around her. “And it may be true.”

“Oh, it is,” she murmured, looking up at him.

“But what we do not yet know, Miss MacCarran, is whether your special sort of magic can extricate three men from prison without putting you in their place.”

“Let’s hope it can,” she said, thinking of their plans with keen trepidation. “Or you and I will be back to chains and manacles, sir.”

“Let’s hope we at least share a cell,” he said, in a wry tone as he led her toward the front door.

As she set Daisy down and greeted Euphemia at the door, she lifted a hand to the crystal at her throat. Love had been born in her life and must be given the chance to thrive. Somehow, they must prevail in the dangerous task that faced them. The plans were in place, and she and Alec and the others had only to carry them out—while presenting a pleasant facade for Alec’s family.

“M
arried!” Euphemia stared at Alec.

“Well,” Alec said, sliding a glance at Kate, who turned a bright blushing color. “Kate and I are, ah, married by Highland tradition, and will be formally wed as soon as we can manage.”

“I canna believe it,” Effie muttered, and looked at her husband, Walter, who sat in a high-backed chair in Hopefield’s drawing room, a cozy place with brocade sofas, embroidered draperies, and children’s toys scattered in a corner of the room. “What do you mean, married by Hielan’ tradition?” Effie had been raised in the Lowlands, and her Scots accent was thick with rolling r’s and abbreviated words.

“You dinna want to know,” Walter said bluntly,
while Effie gasped and put a hand to the shelf of her bosom. He pushed his brass-rimmed spectacles higher on his nose. “I think ’tis a fine thing, and you’ll no’ bother them aboot it any longer. Felicitations to you both,” he said, nodding.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Alec said, and Kate murmured the same.

“It’s time you decided to marry,” Walter said. “They’re happy, Effie, so leave it be. She’s a fine lass, and he was lucky to find her, is my thought.”

Effie stared at Walter in silence, then sighed and nodded.

“We’ve only come to stay a day or two, and then we’ll be returning to Kate’s home for a while. We’ll come back here for a longer visit,” Alec went on, lifting a hand to his aunt’s protest. “I have some important business to take care of in the Highlands,” he added in a loud whisper.

“
Och
, something for Mr. Keppick? Good!” Effie used the code name she had created for MacDonald of Keppoch—a lamentably obvious one, Alec thought. Effie looked at Kate. “And you are from the Highlands? Aye? Do you know a place called Jacob’s Ladder up north, or Jacob’s Stone?” She spoke in a loud whisper.

Kate looked blank. “I suppose they are not near my home—”

“Those are signals from one Jacobite to another,” Alec told Kate. “Aunt Effie, it’s fine. She shares our sympathies.”

“Ah! Verra good. And where did you meet?”

“In London, months ago,” Alec said.

“Did you visit White’s Chocolate House at the bottom of St. James’s while you were there?” Effie asked, folding her hands. “It has a fine reputation.”

“Aye, as a gathering place for Jacobites and anyone of a rebellious nature, be it politics or poetry,” he said. “Jack and I went there to make a comparison with your establishment here in Edinburgh. We recognized no one else frequenting the place, but I did try a hot chocolate drink in the Spanish style.”

“Aye, pepper makes the difference!” Walter looked pleased. “And it’s most authentic.”

“No one makes it quite like you, Uncle,” Alec said tactfully. “I also rather enjoyed the hot chocolate that Kate’s friend Mrs. Murray made for me,” Alec said. “Hot cocoa made with plenty of thick cream and extra loaf sugar.”

“
Och
, that’s for bairnies, that,” Walter said. “Pepper is the thing!”

Alec smothered a smile as he looked at Kate. She was blinking madly, trying to keep pace with his two eccentric relatives.

“I like it the Roman way, if you take my meaning,” Effie hissed loudly to Kate, who leaned back, a little startled.

“Iced with milk, madam?” Walter asked his wife, as if deliberately misunderstanding. “You used to like it hot and spicy—”

“Hush!” Effie waved her hand at him. “I mean, I like James Stuart’s
Roman
court,” she emphasized. “Do you, Miss Kate?”

“Aye, it’s nice. Well, a bit dull, to be honest. I lived
there with my parents for a few years. There was a great deal of praying and reading, and not very much intrigue, which I found so much more interesting.” She wrinkled her nose a little, and Walter laughed, low and hearty.

“You were in the court of exiles?” Effie sounded astonished.

“Aye, my father was sent to France, and we went with him. He followed the court to the Muti Palace in Rome, so we lived there, too, as well as in France and Flanders at different times.”

“Her father was exiled for crimes of rebellion,” Alec said.

Effie clasped her hands together rapturously and leaned over to grab Kate in a hug. Alec’s aunt was a tall woman and nearly twice Kate’s weight, with a generous bosom and a powerful hug, and she nearly enveloped the girl for a moment. Kate emerged, half-laughing, glancing at Alec as she straightened the little lace cap on her head.

“I like her!” Effie announced as she stood. “You should marry her!” She swept toward the door. “Now, you two will need to rest and refresh, and the maid will have your rooms ready by now. And I’ll go fetch the wee lassies. We all need to rest before luncheon, after the events of this morning!” She nodded at all of them, and left the room.

“She’s drinkin’ too much brown sherry before luncheon, that one,” Walter drawled, as the door closed with a theatrical thud. “After you’ve had your chance to rest and refresh, come downstairs, and I’ll show you the chocolate shop,” he told Kate.

Easing open the door that adjoined his room and Kate’s, Alec stepped in quietly, expecting to find Kate resting. But she stood at the window and turned, haloed in sunlight softened through curtains, as if she had been waiting.

He knew she had, then, for she wore only a chemise, only that, so that the light behind her gently filtered through the fabric to show her delectable shape. He caught his breath silently, feeling himself surge and harden just at the sight of her. He walked toward her over Oriental carpets that added quiet luxury to the bedchamber.

She moved toward him, the rhythmic sway of her body telling him what she wanted, for it was the same desire he had. She lifted her arms to him as he reached her, and without a word, he took her by the waist, drawing her forward to kiss her. Under his hand, smoothing up and down her back, he felt her warm curves, felt her body press against his own.

Her lips were luscious beneath his, firm and knowing, and she opened for him quickly, the small tip of her tongue sweet and willing. He sucked in a breath and pressed her even closer. Earlier, he had removed jacket, sporran, all but his shirt and plaid, and he could feel her shape meld against his through the layers of fabric, could feel the heat and hardness building in his own body.

She pulled back, then, glancing up at him, glancing at the door. “They’re all asleep,” Alec told her, “napping in their rooms. They think we are, as well.”

“And so we will do,” she whispered, “in a little while. But for now,” she went on, as her mouth traced over his lips, along his chin, her breath warm and delightful upon his skin, “for now we have a promise to fulfill.”

“Aye, what is that?” he murmured, his lips caressing hers.

“First, a promise of marriage,” she whispered against his mouth, “and after it, a fixing of the bargain between us.”

“Ah,” he said, “a bargain we can both agree on.”

She laughed softly and took his hand, leading him to the bed. He saw that she had turned down the covers, and as he reached up to draw shut the bed drapes, she sat on the mattress and he sank down beside her, then paused to strip away the cloth sling that encumbered his bandaged left arm. He took her into his arms and reclined in the cool, deep nest of pillows and linens.

As she leaned forward to kiss him, as he returned it and rolled her to her back, where he could most easily sweep his hand up under the long chemise that veiled her body. He felt excitement mounting in him, its beat strong as a drum, but he paused, nuzzling against her ear, licking the delicate lobe.

“I promise to marry you, Katherine MacCarran,” he whispered, “as soon as you like. And will you promise the same to me?”

“Oh, aye,” she whispered, “I will.”

“So that is all we need for the
matrimonio
part of it,” he murmured, tracing his lips over the softness of her cheek. “And now for the
consummato
, if you will.”

“I would dearly love that,” she breathed.

He laughed softly and kissed her throat, her upper chest, his next exhalation pooling hot between her breasts. He glided his tongue over one soft mound and found the nipple, and Kate sucked in a breath of pleasure, arching for him. He reached upward with his hand under the chemise to strip away the fabric and draw it over her head. A moment later, she lay nude and exquisitely lovely in his arms, and he let his gaze caress her, creamy skin, golden hair like ripe sunlight, the graceful allure of her body making him pulse and throb for her until he could bear it no longer.

“Now you,” she murmured, and with sure, deft hands, she helped him out of the plaid, the shirt, the rest of it, until he stretched beside her, his body pressed beside her own, dark where she was pale, taut where she was soft, hard where she was satiny, and all of it a perfect complement and fit. His fingers traced up and down, circling the smooth hollows and secrets of her body, and she stroked him, kissing and admiring and easing along, while his heart began to thunder within him.

He knew a little more about pleasing her now, knew that she loved to stretch out and arch for him, knew the shape and sweetness of her breasts, so that he kissed and caressed her with a leisurely sureness that he knew would bring him as much pleasure as it would bring to her. Soon he covered her with kisses, then gently eased his fingers inside of her, tenderly coaxing until she began to whimper and rock against him.

When her hand found him, shaping his hard, heated length and teasing even more life into that part of him,
he sucked in a breath and rocked toward her, and she moved a little and opened for him, so willing and lovely that his heart leaped just to know it. Lifting, taking her hips into his hands, he eased himself into her, feeling her luscious heat surround him and mold to him, and as he began to thrust, he felt himself shift, pulsing blood and breath, then his very soul rushed through him, and he felt his life open up before him as it never had before.

All of it, suddenly, seemed a miracle to him such as he had never experienced before, and he felt himself surge with the great power of it and felt her move under him like a wave of the sea, sweeping in tandem with him toward a new threshold.

Never before, he thought as he emerged, had he felt so truly joined, so blessed, so deeply in love. He was filled with a renewed, deep certainty that this woman, this union, was what he had been needing, and missing, for so long.

Yet danger still lay ahead for both of them, threatening that union—and he thought she understood that as well as he did.

“We will be meeting our friends at the Chocolate House in a little while,” Alec said, when they met Walter in the drawing room an hour or so later. “We’ll need a private room to speak with them, if you have that wee room at the back of the shop available.”

“Aye,” Walter said, as he led them through the corridor to the front door of Hopefield House.

A minute’s walk took them across the yard to the ten
ement building. Walter let them in the back door and through a corridor, past a kitchen, and out into the main area of the shop. “We’ve been here nearly forty years, when my brother and I started the business of Fraser’s Fancies. We started out with coffee and added China tea and chocolate,” he told Kate. “We opened this shop originally as a coffeehouse, then added chocolate, and it’s since become known as the Chocolate House. It’s the brown stone front as much as what we serve here, but we like the name.” He smiled and held open another door for Alec and Kate to pass through. Walter Fraser was slightly built, lean and spry and barely as tall as Effie, but his good nature balanced her exuberance.

As they went through, Kate smiled up at Alec. “I like your uncle,” she whispered. “Is he one of the staid Frasers?”

He leaned down, knowing Walter was a bit deaf and would not hear their conversation. “He may seem that way, but for his penchant for experimentation, especially with chocolate and cacao, which puts him on the wilder side, I think.”

“Hot peppers and such?” she whispered.

“You say you have friends meeting you here today?” Walter asked. “You’ll be wanting to take chocolate, then. ’Tis the king o’ drinks.” He led them into the main room.

Stepping over the threshold, Alec looked around, and his hand clenched on Kate’s shoulder.

Three soldiers sat at a table by the front window. Kate caught her breath and nearly stopped, so that he
bumped against her. She looked up at him with alarm in her eyes. He recognized two of the soldiers as those who had been at MacLennan’s Changehouse.

“Is the private room empty now, Uncle?” Alec asked quietly. Walter nodded and led them to a side door, opening it to show them a small room with four tables, each with a silver chocolate server on it. No one was there, though a fire crackled in the hearth.

“This is the smokin’ room,” Walter said. “You can use this one for your meeting. Might be others coming in to use it, too, though. We get busy of an afternoon. We see a fair number of clerks and advocates here, and because we’re so close to the courts, the justices themselves come here often. The Lord Justice Clerk and the Lord Advocate himself come here for their midday break from proceedings there.”

Kate gasped then, and Alec pulled out a chair for her to sit. She shoved back her hood and patted her hair with a shaking hand. “Lord…Advocate? Here?”

“Aye, he’s Alec’s uncle on his mother’s side. Lord Hume.”

“I thought your mother was a MacDonald,” she said.

“She was, but her stepbrothers are Humes. Complicated, but that and other relatives have given me an assortment of uncles. Uncle George comes nearly every day, does he not?” Alec asked.

“Usually. He takes his chocolate here often as he can. Likes Spanish-style with cinnamon and anise, or else chocolate with jasmine, and biscuits. If he has trials and interviews and such, he’ll come for the fours and have his cocoa instead o’ tea.”

“Jasmine?” Kate asked dubiously.

“
Och
, ’tis good, that. Jasmine flowers and vanilla beans with the chocolate. The lassies like it.” Walter winked at Kate, and Alec nearly gaped—he had never seen his uncle do that.

But he remembered Kate’s peculiar effect on men, and supposed his uncle must have succumbed, in his way. “We’ve whatever sort you like, lass. With cinnamon, or jasmine, with anise or pepper, or the way the bairns like it, with milk and sugar and vanilla beans. We serve it hot and some days can serve it chilled on ice, when we have the snow brought down from the mountains for the packing. We have medicinal chocolate, with brown sherry frothed with eggs, and we have chocolate soup, as well. What will you try?”