Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (32 page)

“I . . . I don’t want you to suffer a life you don’t deserve,” he said slowly. “You could have had any man you wanted. Why would you choose a common Highlander with no money at all?”

“I couldn’t have anyone I wanted,” she said. There was a fragility to her voice, as if she was still hurt by it. “If you’ll recall, I’ve had Season after Season with no man to offer for me. Oh, except for Viscount Lisford, who asked me to wed him because of a wager. We cannot forget him.” She sat up straighter and added, “And then there is the man who has loved me ever since I set foot in Scotland. He’s been there all along, and I was too blind to see it.”

Henry was about to speak, but Beatrice squeezed his hand tightly in warning. She didn’t want him to speak words that he would later regret.

“Cain is the man I want to be with,” she said slowly. “And since he hasn’t returned with Jonah yet, I believe he needs help finding him.”

“Haven’t you caused enough scandal?” her father demanded. “Why would you seek another reason for people to talk about you? You’ve brought embarrassment upon our family, and I will not allow you to become involved with such a man. It simply isn’t done.”

The stiffness in his tone wasn’t disapproval—Beatrice recognized it as worry. He was afraid of losing Margaret or watching her descend into poverty.

But their daughter crossed her arms and faced him down. “I will stand by his side and offer whatever assistance I can.” To Beatrice she asked, “I should like to borrow your coach, if I may.”

Before she could respond, Henry asked, “When do you intend to return?” His expression was pained, as if he had swallowed a packet of razors.

“It depends on when Jonah is found. I hope within a fortnight.”

With a heavy sigh, he said, “Are you certain you wish to marry a man like Sinclair, Margaret? All your life, you wanted to be a princess. Or a duchess at the very least.”

“A title isn’t important to me any longer.”

Beatrice could hardly believe the words she was hearing. Henry was right. Margaret had always wanted to wed a nobleman. Why would she sacrifice her dreams for a Highlander?

“And how will you live?” her father demanded. “He cannot give you a good house or servants. You’ll be working from dawn to dusk like a scullery maid. It’s impossible.”

“No,” Margaret said slowly. She reached among her packed belongings and pulled out a crimson silk chemise. “I will take responsibility for Aphrodite’s Unmentionables. With those profits, Cain and I can be quite successful.”

Beatrice could not have been more surprised.
Margaret
wanted to own the business? The same young woman who had protested about how terrible it was that they had earned so much income from naughty unmentionables? Her daughter had bemoaned their efforts at every turn, never wanting to acknowledge how much the business had changed their lives. And now she intended to manage the affairs?

“I don’t understand,” Beatrice said. “Not that I hold any objections, but I would like to know what changed your mind.”

Margaret met her gaze evenly. “I remember, many winters ago, how hard the crofters struggled to survive. We used to bring them food and clothing, but often they died anyway. How many have died since we began the business?”

“None,” Beatrice admitted. It was true that the men and women had benefited greatly from Aphrodite’s Unmentionables.

There was a light in Margaret’s eyes as she continued. “We’ve changed their lives for the better because we brought sewing to the women. They have so much to offer, and why shouldn’t they continue?” She straightened and regarded her father. “Cain and I will have our own prosperity, and it will be ours to manage.”

“It will bring shame upon everyone,” Henry protested. “Your sisters will not be able to hold up their heads in society.”

“
I
may not be able to attend the same gatherings,” Margaret agreed. “But it should not affect them. I will bear the scandal, if it comes to that.”

Her husband looked appalled by the idea, but Beatrice understood the sort of courage it took to accept the responsibility. And Margaret needed her support.

She walked over to stand beside her daughter. “It’s not a shameful endeavor, Henry. And if it keeps Margaret from living in a hovel, I understand her reasons for doing so.” She reached out to touch her daughter’s shoulder. “My darling, I know I’ve reacted badly to this news. But answer me this. If it had been another man who had rescued you, would you have agreed to marry him?”

Tears filled up her daughter’s eyes. “No,” Margaret admitted. “I wouldn’t have.”

And that was the answer she’d guessed. Pressing further, Beatrice asked, “Do you have . . . feelings for Sinclair?”

“I miss him terribly,” she admitted, “and I believe it’s the right choice.” She mustered a smile. “It may take a few years for us to earn enough for a larger house and more land, but one day it will be possible.”

“If you marry Cain Sinclair, I will not support you,” her father said. “He will not take advantage of you, Margaret.”

“I don’t need your money,” she said. “But I wouldn’t mind having a true wedding celebration with my family.”

“There is nothing to celebrate about you being wedded to that Highlander,” Henry insisted.

Beatrice resisted the urge to sigh with frustration. Of course, he
would
see it that way. But she suspected that if he persisted in this attitude, he would lose Margaret. She sent her daughter a sympathetic look.

“I am sorry you cannot see the sort of man he is,” Margaret said. “He possesses more honor than any man I’ve ever known. And I won’t turn my back on him.”

She stood and walked to the doorway. Then she added, “Annie will bring my belongings to the coach and accompany me. In the meantime, I’ll bid you both farewell. I shall see you upon my return from Falsham, and perhaps we can have my wedding then.”

Henry started to go after her, but Beatrice pulled him back. “Don’t you dare, Henry. Let her go.”

“Didn’t you hear what she said? She intends to run away with that wastrel. I’ll not have it.”

She kept her grip firm upon his hand. “And if you go against her, she’ll grow to hate you. Neither of us wants that.” Beatrice knew, too well, how stubborn Margaret could be. When her daughter decided upon a course of action, nothing would sway her. And that trait had come directly from Henry. If she didn’t stop him now, he would go barreling after their daughter like a charging bull.

“Perhaps Mr. Sinclair isn’t so bad,” she reasoned, leading her husband out of the parlor and bringing him toward their own bedroom. Right now, she wanted privacy with him, to make him see that he was overreacting.

“And what in God’s name would a young woman as sensible as Margaret see in a man like that?”

A warmth suffused Beatrice’s cheeks, but she led Henry inside their room and turned the key in the lock. “Can’t you guess, Henry?”

His face was troubled, as if he saw himself as a failure. “No, not really.”

She leaned back against the door, studying her husband. Though she’d brought him here to deter him from berating Margaret, a sudden rush of nerves took hold. He rested his hand upon the post of their bed, his gaze downcast. Instead of the stoic colonel and baron, she saw a man who was utterly bewildered by his daughter’s behavior.

Beatrice’s heart quickened, and she pulled the pins from her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. It was a strange feeling to behave like a seductress, but she wanted to make a point of her own. “Sometimes two people might seem very different . . . but they are a great deal alike.”

Her husband’s attention was firmly caught, and she set the pins down. Slowly she walked forward and stood before him, turning her back. Henry’s hands moved to her shoulders and she drew his arms around her, moving his hands down to graze her breasts.

“I remember the first night we spent together,” she whispered. “I was terrified of you, so afraid I wouldn’t please you.”

“I felt the same.”

He lowered his mouth to her throat, and the moment he did, anticipation coursed through her. It had been so long since she’d been touched, Beatrice hardly remembered what it was like.

“A woman sometimes dreams of being stolen away,” she whispered. “Of being ravished by a strong, handsome man.” She turned around and his eyes were heated. “She wants to be adored, her body cherished.”

There was tension in her husband’s arms, as if he was aching for her. Henry had tried several times to make amends with her, to heal the distance the years had wrought. And she’d continually turned him away.

He was a stubborn, strong-willed man . . . but he did love their daughters. His anger at Margaret was a desire to protect her, she knew.

“Our Margaret is a grown woman,” she said to Henry. “She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

“I don’t want her to act in haste and later regret it,” he admitted. “She has a home with us for as long as she needs it.”

She leaned back, her heart softening toward him. This was the true side to Henry, the man who would do anything to keep them all safe. His hands rested at her waist, and she sensed that he wanted to touch her, but was afraid it might bother her.

“Henry, do you hold any regrets?”

In his eyes, she saw an unnamed emotion. “Many.”

Her heart began to tremble within her chest, but she asked, “What do you regret?”

His hands moved to her hair, stroking back the long length. “I regret leaving to fight in the army, when you were alone with our daughters.” He took her face between his hands, stroking her temples. “I regret giving you doorknobs for your birthday a few years ago.”

She couldn’t stop her smile. “The sapphire bracelet was much better.”

“And I regret that I wasn’t the husband you needed me to be.”

Her eyes filled up with tears. Not of unhappiness, but because she could not hold back the feelings growing inside her.

“You tried,” she said in a thick voice. “And I was at fault, too. I didn’t welcome you back as I should have, when you returned from war. We were both changed, and I couldn’t see that you were still the same man I once loved.” A tear spilled over, and he wiped it away. “Then I let my grief over Margaret come between us even more.”

“I missed you, Beatrice,” he said, his hands moving down her spine. “You’ll never know how much.”

The ache inside her intensified, until she felt the need to open herself to him. She wanted to push back the years of hurt and replace them with new memories. “Show me.”

His hands moved over the buttons on her gown, unfastening them one by one. He fumbled against them, and when her shoulder was bared, he kissed it.

“I want you to remember the nights when you were away at war,” she said, helping him remove his coat. “The nights when you were lonely for me.”

“I was lonely for you every night,” he said.

She unfastened his waistcoat and loosened his shirt, sliding her hands up his bare skin. Unlike other men in their forties, Henry’s body wasn’t at all soft or stout. She touched the scar over his ribs where a bayonet had grazed him.

“Sometimes I wondered what it would be like if a handsome soldier carried me away,” she whispered. “If he loved me until I couldn’t breathe.”

Henry’s mouth came down on hers, crushing the air from her as he kissed her hard. There was no hesitation, only a man starving for her.

And as he took her down on the bed, her clothes falling away beneath his hands, Beatrice murmured, “I made the right choice when I married you, Henry. We have to trust Margaret to do the same.”

Chapter Thirteen

C
ain had lost track of the days, hardly eating or sleeping. But several innkeepers had confirmed that a boy of Jonah’s description had been traveling alone with a man who answered to the name MacKinloch. Thank God, MacKinloch had stopped at several villages along the way.

There had been a few wrong turns, but Cain believed they had been traveling southeast toward Edinburgh. It wasn’t clear why, for the men who had spoken with MacKinloch had said they’d planned to travel toward London.

Let me find him,
he prayed. His brother had never taken a long journey before. Jonah had no idea of the hardships involved, and Cain blamed himself for leaving. He should have found another way to earn an income, a means that didn’t require so much traveling.

He rode toward the last village, his mind and body weary. To take his mind off the endless road ahead, he thought of Margaret.

She had more courage than he’d believed possible. Though he’d always admired her beauty and spirit, she’d proven that there was more beneath the surface. She wore her proper manners like a suit of armor, hiding the passionate nature within.

He missed her. Though he’d had to leave, he didn’t like the prospect of her having to face her parents alone. They would make her feel ashamed of what she’d done, when the truth was, she was trying to protect a loved one.

Now he had to do the same.

He rode into the village and saw flickering lights in the public house ahead. There, he could get a meal and find out more. After tending to his horse’s needs, he opened the doorway and the sounds of conversation, laughter, and music filled the room. At first, he didn’t recognize anyone . . . but then a hand touched his shoulder.

He turned and saw his friend, Dr. Paul Fraser. “What are you doing here, Fraser?”

The man’s face was grim. “I ought to ask the same, but I already ken the answer, Sinclair. Join me, and I’ll buy you a drink. You’re going to need it.” He raised his hand toward the innkeeper, signaling for the man to bring two drinks.

Now what did he mean by that? Cain’s instincts sharpened as he sat down beside the man. “Why will I be needing a drink?”

“Because I saw your younger brother, and I assume you didna ken that he was here.”

“I’ve been tracking him,” Cain said. A sense of uneasiness came over him. “Where did you find him?”

Paul traced the rim of his own cup. “He’s been arrested for the murder of Lord Strathland. They’re holding him in the Tolbooth at Edinburgh.”

Disbelief and fear caught him low in the gut. Jonah had been arrested for murdering Strathland? It wasn’t possible. His brother could never do such a thing. Moreover, how had Strathland managed to leave the London asylum?