Seducing the Highlander (21 page)

Somehow that declaration made her handsome husband’s smile fade, his dark eyes taking on a look she wasn’t sure she’d seen before. Without warning, he pulled her close into the circle of his arms and kissed her deeply, his mouth insistent and seductive, his tongue plunging between her parted lips and taking possession.

For a moment, the lovely afternoon faded, the whisper of the breeze in the golden leaves did not exist . . . and all Julia could do was kiss him back, her hands clutching his broad shoulders and her body tightening in treacherous excitement.

When he lifted his head, he murmured roughly, “To hell with our bargain, Mrs. McCray.”

Lifting her lashes, she asked in confusion, “What?”

“This is a
marriage
, not a . . . a negotiated arrangement.” He sounded almost angry, his finely chiseled face showing no sign of his usual capricious charm.

Off balance, Julia reminded him sharply, “You married me for your ships, McCray.”

“Perhaps.”

“What the devil does that mean?” Julia stepped back, freeing herself from his embrace, tilting her chin up, afraid of the swirling emotions that were suddenly rising inside her. “Please don’t try to tell me you were struck with passion that night back in Edinburgh or some such rot.”

“All right,” he said agreeably, turning toward her horse and catching the reins. “I won’t tell you that.”

It was unreasonable, it was foolish, but Julia remembered Scotland’s wildest, most dashingly gorgeous bachelor admitting his romantic dream of a loving wife and a large family. Certainly they seemed compatible in bed, but surely any woman would melt to a puddle when faced with Robbie McCray’s formidable skill in the boudoir. However, that did not mean they were falling in love.

Hell
, she thought violently, letting him help her mount her horse, the last thing she needed was to tumble head over heels for such an arrogantly good-looking, high-handed, wickedly sensual man as her husband.

Once upon a time, she had believed she loved Adain.

And look where that had gotten her. Betrayed, bereft, and disillusioned. No, it was better if she accepted the pleasure to be found in Robbie’s arms but guarded her heart.

 

 

He’d had a splitting headache all day, which served him right. Grateful that Edward and Therese had left a little earlier, Adain nursed a cup of ale and stifled a low groan as his younger brother let out a shout of triumph and quickly pounced on one of the pieces on the chessboard.

“Your queen,” Arthur declared, grinning. “Adain, you’ve lost your queen.”

“I certainly have,” he responded quietly, Julia’s lovely face swimming up from his disloyal memory, her soft lips and long- lashed emerald eyes haunting him. She shouldn’t belong to another man, but it was just harsh, hurtful reality that she did.

Sensitive always, even though he was young, Arthur seemed to catch the implications of his response, the gleeful smile fading from his face. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I, but that doesn’t seem to help ease this incessant ache.” Getting to his feet, Adain paced across his study to stare out the window. “When you are older, Arthur, you will understand better the vulnerability a man experiences when he loves a woman. To think of her in McCray’s bed—”

He broke off, watching the low breeze swirl a few leaves across the dying grass of the courtyard as the sunset poured bloodred across the horizon, staining the low roll of the hills.

His brother said awkwardly, “At least he isn’t a bad fellow. She seems to like him well enough. I mean . . . they stare at each other a lot. . . . Oh, hell, I’m not helping, am I?”

“No, he doesn’t seem to be a bad fellow.” Adain turned and gave his brother the ghost of a smile. “I wish he were, damn him.”

“Why do you suppose someone shot at him?”

A deep voice spoke from the doorway. “Probably because whoever killed your uncle isn’t happy about my decision to stay on a few more days and ask a lot of questions.”

The interruption wasn’t a surprise. Adain had been expecting McCray to seek him out since his return, but Julia had dragged him off immediately to tend to his wound, and McCray hadn’t exactly resisted. What man would? Adain acknowledged, for having a beautiful woman fussing over you had to be one of the joys of the world.

“How’s the arm?” he asked, looking toward where McCray stood, more for politeness than anything, because chances were Julia’s husband had been shot because of his openly declared desire to help Adain clear his name.

Looking at a glance none the worse for wear, McCray strolled in and helped himself to the whiskey decanter. “It’s nothing. I went to see John Hexham this afternoon. He thinks Randal must have met up with our murderer, and Hexham wants to help us see justice done.”

Adain frowned. “I also questioned him, but he was distant and unhelpful, telling me that he and Randal weren’t really well acquainted.”

McCray glanced at Arthur, and then, turning back, said neutrally, “I think Mr. Hexham values his privacy more than most of us and probably wished to be left out of any investigation. However, now that so many months have passed and Randal is still missing, he fears like the rest of us that his friend has met with foul play.”

Though he doubted his younger brother caught the implication, Adain had no trouble reading the meaning in those carefully said words. He’d wondered himself a time or two over his cousin’s sexual orientation, especially since they were of a similar age but so different in the way they reacted to women. Randal had never shown the slightest interest in the usual pursuits of randy young men, including losing one’s virginity as soon as possible. But then again, he wasn’t interested in drinking or gambling either, so Adain had assumed it was simply Randal’s quiet, reclusive nature that made him so shy. He said with resignation, “I see. How is Hexham going to aid us?”

“By asking a few questions here and there . . . You and I are conspicuous, Cameron, but he is not. He also has friends in some high circles and is accustomed to secrets and intrigue. I’ll be curious to hear if he finds out anything significant.” Robbie sipped his drink, remarkably nonchalant for someone who had been the victim of a murderous attack just hours before. In truth, it was impossible to miss the fact that Julia’s new husband had the air of a confident, fearless,
satisfied
man.

“And in the meanwhile?” Adain tempered his resentment by focusing on how he wanted Julia to be happy, and if McCray proved, surprisingly, to be the man who could give her that happiness, he would have to accept it. “We can hardly sit here and do nothing. That bullet might just as easily have hit Julia.”

“Yes.” McCray’s expression darkened, a lethal gleam appearing in his dark eyes. His mouth twisted dangerously. “Our cowardly friend made a grievous error this afternoon. Before, I was only casually interested in your dilemma, but now it is personal.”

“I think I get first crack at whoever has done his best to destroy my good name and rob me of my loved ones,” Adain pointed out tersely.

For a moment, their gazes clashed, and then McCray said grudgingly, “I suppose you should be the one to kill him.”

“Damn right I should be, McCray.”

From his seat by the chessboard, Arthur grinned. “I wish the murderous bastard were here, listening to the two of you argue over which one gets to skewer him first. It would serve him right to have his blood run cold.”

McCray lifted his glass and drained it, setting it aside with a definite click. “His blood will run, one way or the other, lad. In the meantime, I think Julia should stay in the house, where there are servants and family around her. Someone dangerous is out there, and I don’t want her in the line of fire.”

For the first time since he’d learned of it, Adain was able to feel a glimmer of amusement over McCray’s being wed to his lovely, but undeniably headstrong cousin. “I wish you luck with that,” he said sardonically. “Julia won’t like the notion of being confined to the indoors. Not one bit.”

“Yes, that’s the same conclusion I’ve come to myself,” Robbie muttered, rubbing his lean jaw. “You’ve known her much longer. Any suggestions on how to approach this, Cameron?”

Adain found some small measure of satisfaction in being able to shake his head. “No. I’m afraid, McCray, that problem is
all
yours.”

S
tacks of correspondence sat in disarray across the surface of the desk and spilled onto the floor in disreputable piles. Eyeing the mess with disdain, Therese Gibbons pulled the empty glass from her brother’s lax hand and, in one swift motion, threw it across the room. It shattered against the hearth with a satisfyingly loud crack of breaking crystal.

Edward blinked, sitting up groggily, his red-rimmed eyes bleary, the clothes he’d been wearing since the day before sadly wrinkled and stained. “What the hell?”

“It’s midafternoon, you little toad.”

“I was sleeping,” Edward muttered thickly. “Just a little nap . . . up late last night.”

Disgusted by both his appearance and the rank odor of sour wine, Therese said, “Did you win?”

His eyes took on that shifty light she despised. “A little.”

“Don’t lie to me, Eddie.”

As usual, he protested. “I never lie to you. Good God, Therese.”

He
did
lie, though. And on the rare occasions he actually won money in those ill- fated gambling bouts he couldn’t seem to avoid, he hid it from her like some sneaking tavern wench. Resisting the urge to slap his unshaven face, Therese snapped, “I’ve servants to pay. Hand it over. The cook is threatening to quit again. How do you think that will look? The exalted Earl of Larkin without means to put food on the table.”

Sullenly, like a little boy, he said under his breath, “I don’t give a bloody damn how it looks.”

“You will when you are in the kitchen, trying to fry a piece of ham or cook a potato, you useless fool. Now give me the money at once and go upstairs to clean up. You smell like the bed of some cheap wharfside whore.”

“Not a whore,” he declared softly, defensive and triumphant. “Richmond’s wife. She proved to be most . . . obliging.”

It was unfortunate that Edward had been born both weak and good-looking, though Therese saw with a critical eye that his dissolute lifestyle was catching up with her brother. Tiny red veins threaded around his nose, and he was no longer quite so trim and athletically built. What the insipid Lady Richmond saw in him was a mystery, for he was usually so deep in his cups by evening that he couldn’t be more than a fumbling buffoon in bed. “Can’t you keep your cock in your breeches for one night?” she asked sharply. “It would serve you right if you found yourself in a duel over the non-existent honor of one of your sluts. Then what would I do?”

“Maybe you could kill off Julia and have the randy McCray and her inheritance,” Edward suggested with a small, nasty sneer. “Since Adain doesn’t seem to be coming up to snuff very easily.”

Actually, the idea of killing off Julia Cameron had long held some appeal. The ungrateful wench was too lucky for her own good: beautiful, rich, and having enjoyed her handsome cousin fawning all over her ever since she was barely a woman. Even her impetuous marriage to the roguish Robbie McCray seemed to be touched with the same cursed good fortune, for by all accounts the two lovers spent an inordinate amount of time in the bedroom, and Julia seemed content enough with her devil’s bargain. As Therese glanced around the disheveled mess of her brother’s study, the once elegant furnishings starting to show the edge of shabbiness and neglect, she smiled coldly. Castle Cameron was a stately house, the grounds well kept, the servants trained and deferential. Being mistress there would be a pure pleasure. Adain was still a very promising prospect. “I might do just that,” she murmured.

Pushing his rumpled hair off his brow, Edward said stupidly, “Do what?”

“Kill her.”

“You cannot be serious.” Her brother gaped, his mouth falling open unattractively.

“Adain can’t forget her if the little bitch is still around.”

Vigorously shaking his head, Edward said, “You’re mad. The risk is too great, and she has McCray’s sword to protect her.” He contradicted himself in an ineffectual lie. “Adain will come around, Therese.”

“One can,” she observed coolly, “never have money soon enough, Edward, when one is in our dire circumstances.”

Her brother looked a little pale. “Killing McCray was not a bad idea, not when you were going to vouch for Adain’s innocence by telling everyone he was with you alone at the time of the shooting. That way he would have to marry you to protect your reputation, and undoubtedly to save his neck. It solves two problems, both putting an end to McCray’s infernal inquisitiveness into the first two murders
and
snaring Adain very neatly in our trap.”

“But you missed him, you incompetent idiot.” Therese still felt furious over the lost opportunity. She’d managed to lure Adain into a walk in the gardens alone, and was going to claim they’d been
occupied
once Julia accused him of murdering her husband. She knew enough about her quarry to count on his sense of honor if she sacrificed her reputation to prove his innocence. Adain would have married her.

Edward’s mouth tightened mutinously. “I am better at close range with a pistol.”

“Let’s hope that’s true.”

Suspiciously, her brother eyed her. “What do you mean by that?”

Therese elevated her brows. “Time is running short. Already rumors are leaking out about our shaky finances. It’s time for a new plan, don’t you think?”

 

 

The sky was a gorgeous blue, and out the window of her bedroom, Julia could see the water of the loch ripple in tiny frothy waves.

“Stop it.” Half laughing, but also half irritated, she slapped her husband’s hand away from the bodice of her chemise. He’d managed to untie it, she saw, the ribbon dangling and the material gaping open. She said firmly, “I am going to get dressed and go for a ride, McCray. It’s a beautiful day and I need some fresh air.”