Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (18 page)

The innocent look in her sister’s eyes was an act, Margaret knew. Heaven help her, but it appeared that Amelia was matchmaking again.

“Aye, that’s true,” Sinclair answered with a smile. He wore a brown-and-green kilt and plaid like the other crofters, but there was a restless energy about him, as if he were a Highlander of old, fighting to slash down an enemy. Even when Margaret cast her gaze at the ground, she knew he was watching over her. They had known each other for years, but in the past few months, something between them had changed.

She sensed his attraction, even though he’d never said as much. And although she ought to put it from her mind, she couldn’t deny her own rise of interest. It had to be the allure of the forbidden, for she knew there could never be anything between them.

“Stay away from the earl, lass.” The warning held more than mere concern. It sounded as if he intended to personally shield her from the man’s interest, and her traitorous heart warmed to hear it.

“I don’t like Lord Strathland,” she admitted. “Something about him seems wrong.”

“Aye. Verra wrong, and you shouldna ever be alone with him.” Sinclair walked alongside her, and she didn’t miss the way his hand rested upon his dirk as if to guard her from harm.

“I don’t intend to be alone with any man,” she informed him. “You needn’t worry.”

But his eyes held a gleam of amusement. “You’re alone with me, lass.”

And sure enough, it was true. Her sister had secretly hurried on ahead, and Margaret hadn’t even noticed.

“Now why would Amelia leave?” Margaret wondered aloud.

Cain sent her an amused look. “Because she thinks we are—what was it she said?” He paused and raised his voice in mimicry. “Desperately meant to be together.”

Margaret groaned. “There are days when I should like to murder her.” With an apologetic smile, she added, “I really should catch up to her so she’s not walking alone.”

“She did go to a great deal of trouble to put us together,” Cain pointed out. “Why should it matter if I walk back with you?”

Her cheeks warmed at that. “I suppose you’re right.” It wasn’t so very far to her house, after all.

Cain sent her a knowing smile. “Of course I’m right.” Offering her the crook of his arm, he continued, “I’d ne’er lay a hand upon you, lass. No’ unless you wanted me to.”

A strange prickle ran through her at his words. Cain Sinclair was a wildly handsome man, but she wasn’t at all certain it was a good idea to welcome such attention. “Thank you, but no.” Even so, she took his arm and allowed him to guide her farther along the pathway.

“One day you might change your mind.” When they reached the path leading toward her house, he paused. “There’s something I’m wanting to show you, lass. If you could spare a few minutes.”

She wasn’t so certain that was a good idea, but Amelia was waiting for her at the doorway. Undoubtedly she would want to gush over them, embarrassing Margaret even more. This was her chance to hold fast to a few more moments of freedom. “All right.”

He led her across the glen, not far from the village, but toward a different part of the earl’s land. Though she kept her face forward, she caught a sidelong glimpse of his face. His black hair was longer than the typical fashion, falling lower than his shoulders. His jaw held the prickle of a darker beard, and his mouth was firm.

But it was his eyes that she found most intriguing. Sometimes they were a blue so vivid, they held her spellbound. At other moments, they turned a silvery gray, like a brewing storm.

“We’re here,” he said at last. But the moment she saw where he’d brought her, goose bumps rose over her skin. It was the place where Lord Strathland’s men administered justice. Men had been hanged upon Eiloch Hill—including Paul Fraser’s father.

“I don’t think I want to be here, Mr. Sinclair.” Though she didn’t believe in ghosts, she was unnerved by the haunted past that lingered here.

“Neither do they.” Cain pointed in the distance, and she saw wooden stocks on the far side of the hill.

It wasn’t hardened men who were locked there. Instead, she saw children, hardly more than eight or nine years old.

“Why are they there?” Margaret glanced up at the sky, knowing that soon enough it would pour down rain. These children would be soaked, their bodies shivering in the cold air.

“Their parents stole food a few days ago. This was their punishment.”

Margaret frowned. “He locked up their children?”

“Aye. Strathland thought it would be a punishment that would hurt their parents more. He doesna care that they did naught to deserve it. A man like him would ken that it hurts a man to see his children locked away.”

Margaret stared at the children in disbelief. How could anyone do this? These were innocents, who had done nothing wrong. “I should do something.”

“Nay. They’ve already spent one night here. They’ll be set free in a few hours, and that will be the end of it. But I wanted you to see what sort of man was courting you.”

Margaret had already suspected the worst, but this was more than she’d imagined. She took off the shawl she’d worn and walked toward the children. “Here,” she told them, placing the wool over their shoulders and heads. “It might help with the rain.”

The young boy and girl muttered their thanks, and she told them they would not have to stay for much longer. But the words felt hollow. No one should treat children in this way.

She walked with Cain back along the pathway, understanding why he had shown her Eiloch Hill. It wasn’t jealousy—he only wanted her to see the truth.

“Lord Strathland invited my family to a supper party,” Margaret said aloud, not really knowing why she was telling him this.

“Don’t go.”

She didn’t want to, but it would be impolite to refuse, particularly since they were close neighbors. “If he asks my mother, I may not have a choice.” Since they were neighbors, how could Beatrice possibly decline?

Sinclair offered his arm and escorted her back the way they had come. The summer sky was laced with the storm clouds that were blowing in. Margaret hastened her step, hoping to avoid the rain before it fell.

“Then if you do go, be more
proper
than you usually are.” He sent her a sidelong glance, and she understood his meaning.

“You mean I should be so prim and disdainful, he’ll want nothing to do with me.” It was a perfect way to avoid the man’s attention, and her mother could not fault her for rudeness.

“Aye, lass.”

The idea of it was rather devilish, but she knew it would work. “All right.”

No sooner had they reached the glen than fat droplets began to spatter over her bonnet. Cain raised his plaid over his head, pulling her closer to share in it. “Come this way. There’s a small copse where we can take shelter.”

She followed, hurrying with him toward the trees. The rain was pounding hard, and it was at least another mile to her family’s home. By then, she would be fully drenched.

They ran together, his arm around her waist, until they reached the grove. An older oak shielded them from the worst of the downpour, and Cain kept his plaid over them. “We’ll wait here until it stops.”

Margaret leaned back against the tree, and beneath the woolen wrap, she grew fully aware of him. The warmth of his body kept her from shivering, though inwardly, she was questioning the wisdom of taking shelter in his arms.

“Don’t be looking at me like that, lass,” he warned.

“Like what?” She kept her question calm, though she already suspected what he meant. His blue eyes were watching her, filled with such longing, she couldn’t move.

“Like you’re wanting me to kiss you.”

The moment he spoke the words, her mind conjured the image of his mouth upon hers. It was a heady temptation, simply thinking of it. She ought to be kissed by the man who would become her husband, a gentleman who might steal that kiss on the night of a ball.

Not a Highlander who was staring at her as if she was his reason for being alive. Cain lowered the plaid, his knuckle grazing her cheek. The heat of his touch burned through her, and she might as well have been made of stone. She couldn’t move or speak, particularly when he bent his face toward hers.

“Last chance, Miss Andrews,” he murmured.

When she said nothing, he claimed her mouth in a soft kiss. It was the first time any man had taken such a liberty. Margaret was fully conscious of the taste of his mouth and the way he was coaxing her to kiss him back. She’d never expected to feel the urge to open herself to him. It was both alluring and terrifying.

He guided her hands to rest upon his chest as he continued kissing her, his mouth slightly open as her knees melted beneath her.

Dear Heaven, Cain Sinclair was quite good at kissing. His mouth tempted her in a silent invitation to push back the boundaries of friendship and allow him to become something more.

“I shouldn’t let you do this,” she whispered, before the second kiss he stole. “It’s not right at all.”

“I’ll stop any time you ask,” he said. “But if you don’t speak, I’ll kiss you as long as you’re wanting me to, lass.”

All afternoon
, her reckless body pleaded. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts, even as she lifted her face for another kiss. She wanted him, and in his blue eyes, she saw a glimpse of what it meant to surrender to a man. If he tried to seduce her, she would go willingly. And it would ruin her life.

“It’s wrong,” she whispered.

“Is it?” he asked. He didn’t seem to care as his mouth claimed hers, nipping at her lower lip.

Margaret forced herself to pull back, inwardly trembling at what there was between them. Now she understood the temptation her mother had warned her about. She had a wanton side buried within her, and this man knew exactly how to coax it from the shadows. He was utterly dangerous, no matter that they’d once been friends. Cain Sinclair’s name spelled out
R-U-I-N
, no matter how she looked at it.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It won’t happen again.”

He tilted her head back, his eyes burning with desire. “Aye, it will. And one day you’ll ken what I have all along. You were mine from the moment I saw you, Margaret Andrews. No man will ever have you, save me.”

His assurance shocked her. He really believed that, didn’t he?

And why wouldn’t he? You were all but throwing yourself at him. You wanted him.

Her cheeks were burning, and her thoughts slid into turmoil. Not because of his predictions, but because of her own response. Never in her life had she imagined that a shameless side lurked within her.

She’d always believed she was a responsible, obedient daughter. Her mother had enough to worry about with Father away at war. Margaret was supposed to marry a nobleman with a title, someone who would help rescue their family from financial ruin. Her own desires didn’t matter, and she certainly had no choice.

If she behaved like this, allowing Cain to kiss her openly, he had every reason to believe that she might one day marry him. But that could never happen, for they were so very different. How could she keep him at a distance, to protect herself?

She lowered her gaze, wondering what she could possibly say to him. The answer came, though it bothered her deeply.

Cain Sinclair had already told her how to drive men away, especially those like the Earl of Strathland—by behaving in an overly proper manner, with arrogance.

She could do the same with him. And the truth was, she
had
to put aside her feelings and place an invisible wall between them. He was far more dangerous than any man she’d ever met—not because he’d ever threatened her. But because he made her care deeply. If he’d tried to seduce her, he would succeed because she was powerless to resist him.

Margaret took a step backward, steeling herself. “It will
not
happen again. I made a mistake coming here with you. I must return home before anyone finds me gone.”

“I’ll walk back with you,” he offered.

And if she permitted that, undoubtedly he’d share his plaid with her, holding her close. She couldn’t allow that, not if she wanted to push him away.

Despite her unease, she forced herself to speak words that would make her decision clear. “You may walk with me. But after today, I cannot see you again.”

The expression on his face held disbelief. “Why? Because you’re angry that you kissed me back?”

“It’s for the best,” she insisted. “We both know that you could never become my husband. It would be unfair to let you think otherwise.”

Her stomach twisted, hating herself for using the words as weapons. He’d received her answer clearly, and she suspected he would one day grow to hate her. Her eyes welled up, but she held her ground.

“You’re afraid,” he predicted.

And oh, he was right. But what else could she say? Instead, she stepped away from him and began the walk home, never minding the rain. The downpour soaked through her skin, but it was not the terrible weather that sent a chill down to her bones. It was the knowledge that she would have to maintain this pretense for many years. She had to become the good girl her parents wanted her to be. She could never, ever let herself ignore a rule, for behind her propriety lay a woman who delighted in wickedness.

If she let her guard down for even a moment, she might fall into ruin.

Chapter Eight

1815

F
orgive me, Mr. Sinclair, but I have my doubts that you are Miss Andrews’s cousin,” Lewis Barnabas began without preamble. He poured Cain a glass of brandy, which he accepted. “I understand that you may have had to invent a story for the sake of propriety, but I strongly suspect that you are not a member of the family.”

The man’s look of discomfort said that he believed Cain was incapable of proper behavior. Which was likely because of the way he’d behaved at the dinner table. The truth was, it had been a good deal of fun to see their horrified reactions when he’d eaten with his fingers. Aye, he knew what he should’ve done. And yet, he’d felt the sudden desire to break free of the rules.

“I would have remembered a Scottish relative,” Barnabas continued. “Lord Lanfordshire is as English as I am.”