The Marquess's Scottish Bride: A Sweet & Clean Historical Romance (The Chase Brides Book 2) (42 page)

“Lady Leslie,” Lady Carson gushed. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Lady Caithren.” Jason corrected the name, but not, Cait noticed, the unwarranted title. “My guest is yet unmarried.”

“Ah, I see.”

Cait thought Lady Carson saw all too much. “I’m glad of your acquaintance,” she told her, her gaze wandering the crowded entrance hall. Many people were looking their way, the ladies rather obviously gossiping behind fancy upheld fans. She wondered if they were discussing Jason’s altered appearance, or her, his mysterious companion.

She was certain she’d find Adam here. He must be in London by now, and he’d never miss a fussy occasion like this.

“Lady Carson,” she ventured. “I am wondering if my brother is on your guest list. Adam Leslie?”

“Adam Leslie? Not that I’m aware of. Though my balls are often attended by many uninvited.” Her tone said she was proud of that fact. And she seemed thrilled to have a new face at her party, because the next thing she said was, “Come, let me introduce you to some of my guests.”

Cait could only gawk as the tall, elegant woman led them through an enormous entry hall and past a few other large, well-lit chambers, one set aside for card playing, another for the ladies to freshen up. In yet another room, long tables groaned with food and drink. If Cait had thought Jason’s house was impressive, she was positively bowled over by Lady Carson’s abode. It could only be described as a mansion.

They were ushered into a chamber that Caithren thought looked out of a fairy tale, where the ball was in full swing. Illuminated by hundreds of candles in chandeliers overhead, masses of glittering guests danced, ate, and conversed. The ballroom’s glass-paned doors opened onto a vast garden that Cait was shocked to find in the middle of crowded London.

“Ah, Lady Haversham.” Lady Carson snagged a pale, elfin woman by the arm. “May I present a guest of Lord Cainewood’s, Lady Caithren. From Scotland,” she added in a conspiratorial voice, as though that fact alone should be of significant interest.

“I’m glad of your acquaintance,” Cait said again with a little curtsy. “I’m wondering if you’ve seen my brother, Adam—”

“If you’ll excuse us,” Jason interjected smoothly, “I’ve someone I need to see. Ladies.” He nodded politely, took Caithren’s arm, and dragged her all the way back to the entry hall, which was all but deserted now that the most-anticipated guests—Jason and Caithren, apparently—had arrived.

Pulling her into the shadows behind a large column, he gathered her into his arms. Before she could voice a protest, his mouth came down on hers, and anything she might have said was smothered by his lips.

Caithren’s heart raced as she kissed him back with wild abandon. He truly was a different person tonight, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know why.

She’d rather just enjoy it for now.

When he finally drew back, she stared at him, dumbfounded. Her knees felt like pudding, but his strong arms held her up when she would have slumped against the tapestried wall. “I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,” he said.

“Oh, aye?” She blinked at him, confused. “You had ample opportunity in your carriage on the way across town. The traffic was slower than Wat Gothard.”

He grinned at the quip. “I had other things on my mind.” His fingers traced her jaw, then he tapped the little black heart on her cheek and leaned to kiss her forehead. “Come, let’s dance.”

As quickly as he’d dragged her away from the ballroom, he pulled her back in. The musicians were playing a sedate tune, the melody accompanied by scrapes and taps of dancers’ shoes and the soft swish of ladies’ gowns as they traversed the polished-wood floor in an elegant configuration.

Caithren licked her lips and cast a worried glance at Jason. “I-I cannot dance.”

He smiled down at her, prodding her closer to the dance floor with a hand at her back. “I seem to remember you dancing with the Gypsies quite beautifully.”

“But not like this!” she exclaimed, tripping over the blasted high heels.

He caught her. “It’s a simple pattern. I’ll give you two minutes to watch. Two,” he warned with mock severity.

The music was eight beats, and the dancers balanced on their toes. Short gliding steps, a change of balance, a pause every third and seventh beat. Cait thought she had it figured out—until suddenly the women ran around the men and they all did a little hop.

“I cannot tell what they’re doing,” she complained. Just then the dancers bowed and curtsied. “Anyway, it’s over,” she said with more than a little relief.

“Ah, but there will be another.”

Following some discordant re-tuning, the musicians launched into a country dance, not so different from those Cait was used to at her village dances in Leslie. “This one I can do,” she declared and let Jason swirl her into the crowd.

All her reservations melted away. It was bliss being in his arms, and it didn’t even seem to bother him in front of all society.

Though the dance was energetic, she couldn’t keep her eyes from his clean-shaven face. “You don’t look like Ford.”

“Ford?” They crossed arms and switched sides. “You have the most disconcerting habit of starting a conversation midstream. Where did that come from?”

“Lady Carson. She said you look like your brother.”

“Ah.” He twirled her around. “She referred to my other brother, Colin. And yes, I expect with my hair cut and without my mustache, we do look somewhat alike. Green eyes and black hair. He’s always kept his shorter. Prefers convenience over fashion, in all things.”

“I like him already.” The music came to a close, and she curtsied. “What other siblings are you hiding?”

“Only a sister-in-law. Colin is married.” He led her from the dance floor. “Her name is Amethyst, but we call her Amy.”

“The woman who gave you the watch.”

“That’s right.” Another country dance followed the first, and he swept her back out and into the double line, leaving her with the women while he stood across from her with the men. “Amy used to be a jeweler. Or rather, she still is a jeweler, but without a shop. Colin is building her a workshop at Greystone, their home.”

“Greystone,” she murmured, clapping her hands and then touching them to the women’s on either side of her. She remembered him chuckling at seeing that name on an inn. “Your brother married a commoner?”

Coming closer, he smiled down at her. “We Chases don’t play by the rules.”

“I’ve noticed.” The dance separated them for a moment before they came back together. “You certainly don’t play backgammon by the rules.”

“I’m not a cheater. If I’m ahead five matches, that’s only proof of my skill.”

“Ha!” Linking arms, they skipped in a circle. “You distracted me with your bare chest. That is hardly playing fair.”

She was getting breathless by the time a portly gentleman tapped Jason on the shoulder. “May I claim the pleasure?” he asked.

Jason didn’t look very happy. But he pulled Caithren from the dance and introduced her to the man, a Lord Berkeley.

“It’s glad I am to make your acquaintance,” Cait said. “And by any chance, have you seen my bro—”

“Beg pardon,” Jason interrupted. “We must be off.” And he propelled her back to the entry and the shadow of the post.

“Wait.” With two hands on his chest, she stopped him leaning in to kiss her again. “Why don’t you want me to ask after my brother?”

“I only want to steal a moment with you,” he protested, drawing her close. He trailed little kisses along her jaw, and she felt dizzy. “I don’t know what’s come over me, but I cannot seem to resist you.”

Her pulse sped up, but she wasn’t going to fall for his tricks. No matter how delightful they were. “Do you think my head laces up the back?”

He paused. “Pardon?”

“Don’t take me for a fool. You’re trying to keep me from Adam, and I want to know why.”

He caught her gaze with his. “I want only for us to be together tonight. Besides, would you not have noticed your brother by now were he here?”

He had a point. And when he pressed his lips to hers, she was afraid he made that point compellingly.

The footman opened and closed the front door, admitting a new guest, but Caithren barely noticed the footsteps or the low murmur of the servants’ awed acknowledgments. Jason was nibbling her lower lip, a new and thrilling sensation. She wound her arms around his neck and twined her fingers in his thick hair.

“Cainewood, is that you?” The voice was deep, the words drawled and amused. “I cannot wait to see the lady who’s taken your fancy.”

Caithren pulled away and stared up at a tall, dark stranger. Heat flooded her cheeks, and embarrassment made her feel weak as a newborn bairn.

Jason turned her to face the man square on.

“Od’s fish, what happened to you?” The man peered at him critically. “You look like Colin.”

“A long story, best told another time. Sire, this is Caithren Leslie.” The fact that he hadn’t called her by the invented Lady title was not lost on Cait, even in her confused state. “Caithren, King Charles.”

King Charles?
She felt the blood drain from her face. Jason supported her with one steady arm. “It-it’s pleased I am to make your acquaintance,” she said by rote. She caught herself before reciting the “have you seen my brother” part. “Your Majesty,” she added instead with a tremulous smile.

The king took her hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss. His eyes burned into hers, a compelling black. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear. The lady who captures Cainewood’s heart is a special one, indeed.”

He was still holding her hand. Her heart was beating like it wished to escape her chest. She wanted to drop into the intricate parquet floor. Which was ridiculous. He was but a man.

“Love’s wan e’e and ower deef,” she blethered.

The king dropped her hand. “Pardon?”

“Caithren is full of her mother’s Scottish wisdom,” Jason explained.

“I’m of Scottish descent, but sorely lacking in wisdom.” In a gesture that reminded her of Jason, Charles stroked his thin mustache. “And this saying means…?”

“Love is almost blind and a bit deaf,” Cait interpreted.

With that, the king threw back his head and laughed, a great roar that all but rattled the enormous chandelier overhead.

“She’s a gem,” he told Jason. Peering over their shoulders, he frowned. “Blast it, Barbara and Frances are at it again. I’d best be off.” And he made his way toward the ballroom, a commanding figure in dark red velvet trimmed with some sort of fur instead of ribbons.

Cait all but collapsed against Jason’s chest. “Barbara and Frances?” she asked weakly.

“His two mistresses of the moment.” When she looked up at him in shock, he just laughed. “Come along, I think you could do with some wine.” He guided her down the hall toward the refreshment room.

“I didn’t mean to imply there was love—I mean, that you—that line just popped into my head, and—”

“Think nothing of it.”

She halted in her tracks and turned to confront him. “And why didn’t you tell me the
king
might be here? He must’ve thought I was sodie-heid”—at the look on his face, she translated—“feather-brained, aye?”

“Kendra did say Charles would be in attendance.” He led her to a table and picked up a cup. “If you’ll remember.”

Caithren wracked her brain while he handed her the cup and lifted a gigantic, solid silver ladle that must have weighed ten pounds if it were an ounce. “Aye, that is exactly what she said.
Charles
would be in attendance. As though he were a personal friend of the family or some such—”

“He is.”

She dropped the cup, jumping back as it splashed and rolled under the table.

“We spent years together with him in exile, after the Civil War. In abject poverty, I might add. The Restoration restored more than Charles’s throne—he saw our property restored as well. And he settled titles on my two younger brothers, who otherwise would have—”

“And was I supposed to guess all that, you daftie? The longer I’m around you, the more confused I get.” She looked down. “And now I’ve gone and ruined Lady Kendra’s fancy gold shoes.”

Jason only smiled. “I’ll buy her another pair.” He filled a second cup and curled her fingers around it. “Here. Drink.”

Served from an enormous silver punch bowl shaped like a swan, the wine was spiced and delicious. She drank two cups of it, danced with Jason, then drank another. Her gaze never strayed too far from King Charles. But he didn’t stay long. When he left, she watched him all the way to the grand front doors, feeling relief tempered with a healthy dose of awe.

She had actually attended the same ball as King Charles. Cameron wasn’t going to believe it.

Jason introduced her to Lady Castlemaine and Lord Arlington and the Duke of Buckingham. Everyone she’d ever heard of seemed to be here.

Everyone but Adam.

She couldn’t bring herself to be too sorry, though. Much as she wanted to see Adam and settle Leslie’s future, this night was too enchanting to really wish such mundane matters would intrude.

Jason followed her when she teetered off the dance floor and leaned herself against the mantel of one of the immense fireplaces that flanked either end of the ballroom. They weren’t lit tonight, which was a good thing, because the chamber was overly warm as it was.

A giddy little giggle bubbled out as she looked up at Jason. Surely no other man here was as handsome as he. He wore a dark green velvet suit that brought out his eyes, and his own glossy black hair skimmed his shoulders. The hair that she’d cut. She’d cut the hair of a marquess.

She giggled again at the memory. “Will you fetch me another cup of wine?”

“I think you may be tipsy enough as it is,” he responded with a good-natured grin.

Now that he mentioned it, her head
was
reeling a wee bit. “It’s only this glorious night. I will remember it forever, my lord.”

“I won’t have you start ‘my lording’ me now. Not after what we’ve shared between us.”

The thought of the kisses they’d shared made her blush. “The wine? Please?”

He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “As you wish. But we’ll get you something to eat as well.”