Shattered Rainbows (32 page)

Catherine thought frantically as Haldoran crossed the room. Had he ever met Michael, who had escorted her so often in Belgium? Or Colin? She couldn't remember. But if he had, her deception would be exposed on the spot, and she had seen enough of her grandfather to know he would not be amused.

She thought her heart would stop when an odd expression—shock?—flickered in Haldoran's eyes at the sight of
Michael. It vanished so quickly that she might have imagined it. He said genially, "How delightful to meet you again, Mrs. Melbourne."

He bowed to her, then offered his hand to Michael. "I believe I saw you with your wife at a number of those crushes in Brussels, but we were never properly introduced. I'm Haldoran."

Catherine did her best to conceal her relief as the men shook hands. It was ironic that Michael's consideration in escorting her now reinforced their charade.

The laird frowned. "You already know each other?"

"We met in Belgium last spring," Catherine replied. "When it seemed that Brussels might be overrun by the French, Lord Haldoran very kindly conveyed my daughter and the family who shared our billet to Antwerp."

"I'm glad you didn't turn tail and run," her grandfather said approvingly. "Being a woman is no excuse for cowardice."

"
Au contraire
," Haldoran said with a hint of mockery. "Your granddaughter was known throughout the army for her bravery. She earned the nickname Saint Catherine for her nursing work."

"I'd heard that," the laird said. "It made me think she might be strong enough to rule Skoal, even though she's female."

Catherine disliked being spoken of as if she were not present. Luckily, Michael caught her grandfather's attention by saying, "From what I've read, the islanders trace their ancestry to the Vikings and Celts, whose women were known for courage and independence. With such blood in her veins, it's not surprising that Catherine dared the battlefields."

"You're interested in history?" Not waiting for a reply, the laird began expounding his opinions about early Britain while Michael listened with apparent interest.

Catherine gave Haldoran a quizzical glance. "I haven't gotten over my surprise at finding you here. Did you know last spring that we were cousins?"

"I knew you must be of Skoalan descent, perhaps William's daughter, but I wasn't sure, so I thought it better not to speak." He accepted a glass of sherry. "However, when I returned to London I visited Edmund Harwell and said I'd met a charming officer's wife with island eyes. He confirmed your identity."

She remembered how disconcerted he had seemed the first time they met. Island eyes again. Had he concealed their kinship because of discretion, or because he did not want to alert a possible rival for Skoal? The uneasiness she had always felt with him intensified. Under his amiability, she sensed a kind of disdain, as if he felt superior to the mere mortals around him.

A footman entered to announce dinner. Davin Penrose unobtrusively stepped behind the wheelchair and pushed the laird into the dining room. As steward, he must work with her grandfather constantly, which would require tact as well as competence. The more Catherine saw of him, the better she liked him. She also liked his blond wife, Glynis, whose droll sense of humor was reminiscent of Anne Mowbry's.

"Catherine, sit at the other end of the table," her grandfather ordered. "Melbourne, you sit next to me."

She silently obeyed, realizing that he was giving her the position of hostess. Haldoran was seated on her right. She gave him a quick glance, wondering if he resented the laird's mark of favor. She couldn't read through his polished surface. As the first course was served, she said quietly, "My grandfather seems to want to set us against each other. I'm sorry."

His brows arched. "Well, we are in competition, aren't we? Only one of us can inherit Skoal."

She gave him a level look. "Before three days ago, I'd scarcely heard of the place. It must seem unfair to you that I have appeared from nowhere with a claim to what you must have believed would be yours."

He shrugged. "My expectations were not long-standing. Until last year, I assumed Harald would inherit. I must admit that the sheer feudal whimsy of being Laird of Skoal appeals to me, but that is offset by the dreary responsibilities that go with the title. The island is also hopeless for serious hunting. I shan't repine if Uncle Torquil prefers you."

It was a persuasive disclaimer. She wished she believed it. She swallowed a spoonful of lobster soup. "Exactly how are you and I related?"

"My grandfather was younger brother to your greatgrandfather," he explained. "The island has few opportunities for younger sons, so my grandfather embarked on a very profitable career as a privateer. He used Skoal as a base during his active years, then retired to an estate in Hampshire and became so respectable that he was made a baron. However, he also kept a house on the island. I was born here and I visit regularly."

"So you are also a Penrose, and you know the island well." She finished her soup, feeling somewhat revived by the food.

He gave her another wide, unreadable smile. "Since we are cousins, you must call me
Clive."

She nodded vaguely, though she really did not wish to be on terms of intimacy with her newfound cousin.

The Reverend Matthews, who was sitting on her other side, asked if she had ever met the Duke of Wellington. Everyone was interested in the hero of Europe, so the duke provided a safe, neutral topic for general conversation.

Catherine was eating a sliver of poached sole when Haldoran drawled, "Speaking of dukes, Melbourne, I understand that Lord Michael Kenyon, younger brother of the new Duke of Ashburton, was billeted with you in Brussels. I've some acquaintance with the duke. What is Lord Michael like?"

She choked on her fish. It seemed impossible that the question was innocent. Perhaps Haldoran was toying with her, waiting for the best moment to expose her deceit. Her helpless gaze went to her partner in crime.

Michael calmly broke a piece of bread. "Kenyon was a rather quiet fellow. Since he was busy with a new command, we didn't see much of him."

Haldoran said, "Quiet? I'd had the impression from his brother that Lord Michael was a rake, the family disgrace."

Michael's fingers tightened around the stem of his wineglass, but he kept his voice even. "Perhaps he was. I really couldn't say." He smiled at the vicar. "After all, the traditional choices for younger sons are the church or the army. I assume that the saints go for the church."

Matthews chuckled. "Even among men of the cloth, saints are in short supply." To Catherine, he said, "Will you be visiting the island church, All Souls? The crypt dates from the seventh century, when the first place of worship was built by missionaries from Ireland."

The vicar would want to be on good terms with her, since his post was held at the mercy of the laird. The prospect of having such power over a man's livelihood made her uneasy. Luckily, Mr. Matthews seemed kind and conscientious. Catherine tried to convey her approval in a smile. "I'd love to visit the church."

The laird gave a sharp nod. "You need to see the whole island. Tomorrow Davin will take you and your husband about. The sooner you start learning about the place, the better."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Haldoran's lips thin. She wondered if her grandfather was treating her as the likely heir in order to provoke Clive. She wouldn't put it past the old devil. It was far too soon to assume she would be his choice, and she suspected that premature gloating would be fatal.

After she and the constable set a time for the next morning, Haldoran said, "When you're done with the tour, stop by Ragnarok for tea. The setting is quite dramatic."

"Ragnarok?" she said, startled. "Isn't that the Nordic version of Armegeddon?"

"Exactly—the twilight of the gods," he said with cool amusement. "A melodramatic name for a house, but my grandfather wanted to honor the island's Viking past."

"Tea should bring the melodrama down to the mundane. We'll call tomorrow." She got to her feet. "Since the meal is over and I'm at the end of the table, I suppose it's my duty to give the signal for the ladies to withdraw so the gentlemen can have their port. Alas, I have no idea in what direction to withdraw."

Everyone laughed, and Glynis Penrose and Alice Matthews rose and led her to the drawing room. It was a relief to be with the women, who were both pleasantly down-to-earth. As they took seats, Glynis, the steward's wife, said candidly, "It's good to meet you, Mrs. Melbourne. Speculation has been running wild ever since your grandfather revealed your existence. It was feared you'd be a grand society lady with no use for folk like us."

"I am merely an army wife," Catherine replied as she settled into a chair. "There's nothing grand about me. But I feel as though ever since we reached Penward and met George Fitzwilliam, everyone knows more about my business than I do."

"It's like that in small communities," Alice Matthews said placidly. "But Skoalans have good hearts. With your island background, you'll soon be accepted."

Thinking this was a good time to ask questions, Catherine said, "I know nothing about my mother's family. Do I have any aunts or uncles, or other close relatives?"

Glynis and Alice shared a glance, as if wondering whether to reveal some secret. "Your mother was a De Salle," Glynis said. "She was an only child so you've no first cousins, but I was a De Salle, so you and I are related. Second cousins, I believe."

"How lovely. I think I'm going to like having relations." Catherine leaned forward in her chair. "Did you know my mother?"

"Aye, though I was just a tiny lass, I remember her well. She was the most beautiful girl, but then, you'd know that." Glynis smiled wryly. "Headstrong, too. It was plain to anyone who saw her with Will that they were meant to be together, but neither set of parents wanted to believe it. Too much difference in their stations, him being the son of the laird and her the daughter of a smallholder, not even a member of the council."

"What is the council?"

Looking surprised by Catherine's ignorance, Alice explained, "The original Norman charter said the laird must be able to field forty armed men to fight for his overlord,the Duke of Cornwall. The first laird assigned a plot of land to each of his men-at-arms. The land and the right to sit on the island council descend to the eldest son."

"I see. Is Davin a council member?"

Glynis glanced at Alice again. "No, but he was a bright lad, so he was sent to the mainland to study agriculture."

Catherine wondered what wasn't being said. Before she could pursue the point, the vicar and Davin joined the ladies. "The laird wished to speak privately with your husband." Amusement showed in Davin's eyes. "I don't think it will be fatal."

Poor Michael; he was paying dearly for the nursing care he'd received in Brussels. When he and her grandfather joined the others half an hour later, Catherine was not surprised that they both looked tired.

Michael came to her side. "Would you like to go onto the balcony for some fresh air?"

"That would be welcome." They went outside. After closing the French doors behind them, Michael draped his arm around her shoulders. "Since everyone can see us, we might as well put on a small show of spousely affection," he said under his breath.

She smiled, glad for an excuse to slip her arm around his waist. "Was my grandfather interrogating you?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "It was easier being a French prisoner. The laird seems to have heard of every wild thing Colin ever did. After throwing it all in my face, he announced I was not good enough for his granddaughter. Naturally I agreed with him instantly."

Half amused, half appalled, she said, "How dreadful. Did that mollify him?"

"Eventually. After I mumbled a lot of platitudes about how the horrors of war can make a man act recklessly, but that peace and my fortunate survival have made me reevaluate my life and vow to reform." He frowned. "I dislike deceiving him. Though he's difficult, his concern for his tenants is very real."

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry to have put you in that position. You were right at the beginning when you said there would be all sorts of unexpected consequences."

His arm tightened around her shoulders. "In this case, I think the end justifies the means. You'll make an admirable Lady of Skoal. But first we must convince your grandfather that we are reliable and very married. He has an old-fashioned belief that a woman must have a husband."

"Then it's time for more spousely affection." She stood on her toes and touched her lips to his.

She meant it as a gesture of thanks and affection, so she was unprepared for the intensity of his response. He made a choked sound and his mouth crushed into hers. Her lips opened under the force of the kiss. Sliding, languid richness. Fierce, consuming power. She felt strengthless, her body melting into his, yet at the same time she was blazingly alive, her fatigue seared away.

She had not known, never dreamed, that a kiss could be like this. Her hands opened and closed helplessly on his ribs.
This
was what she had wanted since the first time she met him. This dark masculine force that dissolved her fears, this flowering of desire that filled her heart and flooded her senses.

His palms kneaded her back, shaping her body and pressing it into his. Then the hardening ridge of male flesh against her belly shattered her mood and returned her to reality. She wanted to cry out and shove him violently away.

But the fault was hers, not his. She put her hands on his upper arms and stepped back, saying lightly, "That should convince everyone we're married."

She saw the shock of interrupted desire in his eyes, the rapid pulse in his throat, and despised herself. She had failed to keep her distance, and now he was paying for her weakness.

Because he was stronger than she, it was only a handful of moments before his feelings were masked behind cool, social amusement. "We might have overdone it. People who have been married for a dozen years seldom kiss like that in the middle of a dinner party. This would be more believable."