Sweet Temptation (30 page)

“Look, it’s Ian,” she called to Gavin as he approached his friend, a tepid smile of welcome on his lips. He had seen Sara’s face light up when Ian appeared, and he was stunned at the feeling of jealousy that descended on him like a bucket of cold water.

“It didn’t take you long to find us,” Gavin said. Those were not the words he intended to say.

“I couldna stay away,” Ian’s eyes twinkled, and he looked meaningfully at Sara.

“Ye mean ye didna come tae see me?” Colleen demanded. “He’s my cousin,” she said, finally recognizing Sara.

“I came tae crow over Gavin. We have won another victory, this one at Falkirk, at yer cousin Hawley’s expense.”

“Hawley is a fool,” Gavin said explosively, “and a cold, unfeeling brute.”

“His men think so. He hanged several of them for desertion.”

“What?” exclaimed Gavin.

“Claimed it was their fault he was defeated. Of course, he forgot tae mention he was warned twice and refused tae get up from the table until the charge had begun. He doesna have much opinion of Highlanders, ye see, and he didna think we could do him any harm.

“Ye still think we willna win?” Donald Fraser asked, taunting Gavin.

“Cumberland is not Hawley. You’ll see the difference much to your sorrow. He’s bound to return now that the threat of a French landing is over.”

“He willna find the Prince ready to do battle. He’s been taken ill at Bannockburn House, and is being nursed by Clementina.”

“Miss Walkinshaw?” asked Sara.

“The same,” replied Ian, “and he’s watched over like a child by O’Sullivan. None of us can come near him.”

“Is he seriously ill?” asked Sara. “He was so kind to me.”

“I’m afraid so, and his illness is making things difficult with the army. The clans pull in different ways, and only the Prince can untie them. It will be some time before he’s able tae leave his bed.”

“Then we can go back to dancing and forget politics,” said Colleen, who didn’t care who was king.

“I’m going tae ask Lady Carlisle tae play for us,” Ian said. “She hasn’t played already, has she? I most particularly wanted tae hear her.”

There were several “No’s” and a few “I didn’t know she played.” Ian would accept no denials from Sara. “She’s a marvel on the harpsichord. Her fingers go so fast they disappear.” At this the whole gathering insisted that Sara play for them.

Sara knew that as the hostess, she should play something modest, but she just couldn’t. She sat down and tore into the showiest Scarlatti sonata she knew. She might not be able to dance a Scottish reel, but she
could
play a harpsichord. It wasn’t the way she wanted to excel, but it looked like all she had. She had been pleased that Gavin’s eyes seldom left her all evening, but it had not kept him at her side, nor brought him as quickly as one smile from her brought Ian. Well, she could do more than win smiles from Ian. She would show him.

Sara had her reward in the thunder of applause that greeted the end of her performance. With Ian in the lead and others seconding his requests, she shifted to some Scottish songs, and finally a spirited step dance. By the time she finished, the whole room was dancing and singing merrily, and everyone viewed her in a different light. This is just like being with the army after Clifton, she thought suddenly. Now they all knew she was more than just another woman, and it was a pleasant change.

Gavin was looking at her in an entirely new manner, one of admiration and of hunger. Sara suddenly felt giddy with happiness. She had forced him to see her as something other than a retiring female, who could draw attention in the army because she was the only female there. Tonight she was surrounded by every lovely and important woman within a radius of fifteen miles, and she was still the center of attention. She swore she would never be self-effacing again.

Gavin watched as Ian and the others crowded around Sara, and felt himself fall victim of the first jealous rage of his life. He was so surprised he almost didn’t recognize what was happening. He had kept his eyes on her all night, he always did these days, but he had been proud of her and of the party. He didn’t know how she managed it, but there was no name left off, and no one present who should have not been there. The choice of food was perfect, and her entertainment also well chosen. He found himself looking at her with increased admiration and respect. He had been pleased with her recently, you might even say complacent, but that had changed the moment Ian arrived.

Ian had brought Sara to life in a way he never had. He was shocked and jealous, and somehow felt excluded. Why couldn’t he bring the smile to her face, the humor to her lips, the gleam to her eye?

He
knew
why. He didn’t have to see Ian’s unabashed appreciation of her loveliness or his pleasure in her enjoyment of the evening. He, Gavin Carlisle, was the reason she thought before she acted, weighed each word before saying it, could not relax in his presence, and he cursed the fate which kept him on the horns of this dilemma. He cursed himself for his own distrust of love. But most of all, he cursed himself for being afraid of being vulnerable.

Someone asked her to sing a Scottish love song. “Sir,” Sara replied, with playful downcast eyes, “surely it is not proper to sing such a song to any man except one’s husband.”

“Or one’s lover,” added Colleen.

Gavin roused himself abruptly from his reverie. “What if they are one and the same?”

“I doubt that’s possible,” Ian said, an infuriating smirk on his lips. “A lover must court his lady.”

“Who ever heard of a husband doing such a thing?” said Colleen, adding her mite to the stinging wound of Ian’s words. “What would be the fun in it?”

“That still doesn’t answer the question about my song,” complained the guest.

“Enough songs,” Gavin heard himself say. “Ian, I challenge you to a sword dance.” A roar of expectation went up from the crowd, and Sara saw a fleeting look of dismay scurry across Ian’s features. “Are you still up to it, or has playing with real swords stiffened your muscles?”

“I’ll match ye step for step as long as I can stand,” Ian vowed.

Sara looked baffled when two swords were laid across each other in the middle of the floor. Donald Fraser explained what was happening.

“Both men must execute a series of complicated and extremely difficult steps as they dance over the swords
both at the same time.
If yer foot touches or dislodges the sword, ye are considered the loser.”

“Ian ‘tis the only man alive who can best Gavin,” Colleen stated proudly. “I’ve seen him do this dance many a time, and never has he touched the swords.”

But Sara didn’t hear Colleen’s words. She was beginning to realize the difficulty of what the men were about to do. She had also just realized that this was a kind of competition, and that in some way she was at the core of it. Colleen realized this as well, and she looked even less pleased than Sara.

The men danced in silence. The sight of them, dancing so closely they almost touched each other, feet moving silently as they moved rapidly through the steps, knees raised high, hands over their heads, was something Sara was sure she would not soon forget. Imperceptibly the tempo quickened, Ian stumbled slightly and bumped into Gavin, almost causing him to lose his balance. Only by a supreme effort did he recover without a misstep or loss of his place. Sara didn’t fully understand it, but she knew she was witnessing a remarkable exhibition of coordination and physical endurance, as the men danced ever faster until they completed the dance without further mishap.

Their performance was greeted with piercing whistles and applause and loud stamping on the floor to the accompaniment of a wild tune played on the bagpipe at such volume that Sara winced in pain. It was a release of tension, a tension shared by the dancers and audience alike, and Sara could see they all felt a pride in what these men could do.

But it was nothing to the pride Sara felt for Gavin. It was not just that he was the best-looking man present, that his body caused Colleen to stray beyond the boundary of good taste, or that his performance represented a supreme achievement of skill and coordination. It was more than that. Somehow he and Ian had captured the spirit that was Scotland, had shown themselves to be leaders of men, and Sara was proud for them. This dance spoke of what it was to live in Scotland, to be Scottish, of a people proud of their heritage and determined to preserve it against all outsiders. It spoke of unbreakable loyalties, of unspoken allegiance, of the unalterable flow of Scottish history, much of it bloodied with tragedy. For the first time, Sara felt a part of the land that had given birth to and nurtured her parents, and she felt her eyes fill with tears of happiness. She wasn’t home yet, but Gavin had helped her to build the first bridge toward understanding.

Chapter 19

Sara was on edge. The Frasers had been the last to leave, and now she was alone with Gavin. After the wild swing of emotions he had experienced during the evening, she was nervous about which one would surface now that they were by themselves.

“Tired?” he asked, and his voice was like a caress.

“I’m still too excited to be tired. It was a good party, wasn’t it?”

“Superb,” he said, smiling at her in a way that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and caused her bones to go soft. “You are a wonderful hostess. I imagine you’ll be glad to get back to London.”

Sara fought to keep her spirits from collapsing. She had
not
had this party to prove that she was a capable hostess, and she had
not
done it to convince Gavin to let her return to London. How could she persuade him that everything she did, she did for him, that she wouldn’t care if she never saw London again?

“No,” she replied, much more calmly than she thought possible. “I have no desire to return to London. If this is where you feel happiest, then it’s where I want to live also.”

Gavin’s heart beat more quickly, and hopes he had 255 steadfastly refused to acknowledge soared within his breast, but he forced himself to respond carefully. He could feel the sand shifting beneath his feet and see the danger before him, but he could not overlook the chance that Sara might mean what she said, that she wasn’t merely saying what she thought he wanted to hear. “But you’ve always lived in London. All your friends are there. You must feel uncomfortable with the strangeness of everything here.”

“Yes. I do, but I’m Scottish nevertheless, and tonight I even began to
feel
a little Scottish. But that’s not why I want to stay here. I would go to London if you wanted. It doesn’t matter where we live. You remember that I said I wanted a home, to feel that I belonged somewhere. Well, I am your wife, and my home will be wherever you are.”

“And children?”

Sara had not expected the question to be put to her so directly. She knew how he felt about the reason for their forced marriage, and she knew he had sworn never to satisfy his father’s wish, but she felt she had to answer him truthfully. “I would like to have children,” she replied, hoping he couldn’t see the trepidation with which she answered.

“I suppose we must have at least one son,” Gavin replied almost nonchalantly. “I don’t think I could die in peace if I thought Hawley was going to inherit my title.”

Sara clamped her jaw tight, to keep her mouth from falling open. It wasn’t just the words Gavin had uttered, or the tone of voice he had used, though they signified clearly enough a change in his thinking. It was the way he looked at her when he spoke, his eyes sending a totally different message from his words. It was as though his tongue was speaking Sanskrit, and his eyes and the rest of his body were shouting in loud and very pithy English. He wanted her so much he was willing to break a promise that came as near to being an oath as was possible without swearing on the Bible; he wanted her so much his eyes looked at her with an intensity that burned her skin; he wanted her so much he had to clench his fists and set his teeth to keep from slipping her gown off her shoulders and covering her neck with kisses right there in the hall.

And she wanted him, too. After nights of hoping to hear his step at the door that separated their rooms, of remembering every minute of their night in Edinburgh, of comparing him to every man she saw and still finding him incomparable, her body trembled at the thought of being held in his arms and caressed until her sense of time and space was wholely suspended.

But she didn’t want to be viewed solely as the mother of a son to displace Hawley, and she didn’t want to think that Gavin was coming to her merely out of physical necessity. She would accept these as part of his reasons, but not all.

“It was nice to see Ian again. I had no idea he was coming. Was that your doing?” Her gambit succeeded more completely than she had hoped. Gavin’s hot gaze focused even more intently on her face.

“I thought you had invited him. You seemed happy enough to see him.”

“And I thought
you
had invited him. If he is your best friend, he must have been a childhood playmate as well.”

A brief flicker of a smile acknowledged her hit. “He didn’t spend the evening talking to me.”

“That shouldn’t surprise you.” Gavin looked at her dangerously, but she replied with all the innocence she could muster. “After twenty years, there can’t be much left for you two to say to each other. Besides, he wanted to tell me about the Prince and Lord George.” They were walking up the stairs to the floor where their bedchambers were situated, and it was impossible for her to make out Gavin’s expression in the flickering candlelight.