Kitabı oku: «Regency Proposal», sayfa 5
Chapter Six
The cold seeped into Ian’s bones. He wanted to turn over on his back and float as what little heat he generated from motion was leached away by the chill of the sea. With an effort he glanced over at Beau and his passenger. The lass had heart and no mistake, but it was clear she’d not last long. And the horse was snorting and blowing hard, starting to tire.
He peered through the spray at the top of each wave, searching the shore, seeing only the faint phosphorous glow of sea breaking on rocks. There. A dark patch. He veered towards it, praying there were no watching eyes up on the cliff.
Unlikely. It would take those on the beach too long to make the climb, and surely they’d be more interested in chasing the contraband.
It had seemed like eons before he felt sand under his feet and heard the gentle hush of surf on sand. Not that there was much of a beach. A sliver, only revealed at low tide. But it was enough. The horse passed him, eager to be clear of the water, and pranced up onto the dry ground like a colt, while Lady Selina clung on for dear life.
Ian dragged his weary legs through the surf, weighed down by his kilt and grabbed at the bridle. ‘All right,’ he soothed, patting the sodden neck. ‘You did it, old fellow.’
He reached up for the girl. She fell into his arms a dead weight. Dear God, don’t say she was hit. He didn’t think the shots came anywhere close. ‘Selina. Are you injured?’
‘J-just c-c-cold.’ Her teeth clattered together.
He had the answer for that, if she could hold on long enough. ‘Can you walk?’
‘C-c-can’t feel my legs.’
Oh, hell, what had he been thinking? It was all right for him to swim in the ocean, he’d been brought up on it, swimming in the cold lochs in the hills when there was nowhere to bathe, but this delicate creature wasn’t used to such hardship.
He swept her up in his arms.
‘No. You must be tired.’
‘Aye.’ He was. But he was used to battling on, no matter how exhausted. Hardship was a fact of life in the Highlands.
He staggered up the narrow beach, clicking his tongue for the horse to follow. Rocks jutted out from the cliffs, forming a natural inlet invisible from the overhanging cliff top. From the sea at high tide, one needed a boat, but right now, the entrance to the cave was a gentle slope into the dark. A cave wrought by seawater and an ancient underground river.
He ducked inside.
The sound of the waves became a muffled roar—a bit like listening to a shell up against your ear.
The fragile body in his arms vibrated. Shivers. He was feeling chilled himself, but out of the wind it wasn’t so bad.
Beau shook himself, water drops flying. He obviously approved of the dry and followed Ian willingly.
The incline got steeper, rockier. The horse’s hooves slipped here and there, but the animal kept close behind, trusting. God, the whole clan had trusted him to bring this off tonight. And now he was stuck here with no idea what was happening.
If not for the girl, he’d probably be dead. And now she lay lifeless in his arms, her dark hair hanging like seaweed over his arms, her body cold and suddenly still. He should have called the whole thing off the moment he saw her. Got the men away. Ignored the boat.
Either that or given himself up instead of plunging into the sea. Please God, he could get her warm and dry before she succumbed to the cold.
The cave was black as pitch and freezing, but he knew it as well as he knew his own bedchamber in the dark. His senses told him when the passage opened into the cave proper. That and the light touch of air rushing by his cheek. He set the fragile female in his arms down on the sand. She struggled to a sitting position and he felt relief flood through him at the sound of another round of clattering teeth.
‘Wait there,’ he said and felt his way to the corner where he found several oilcloth-wrapped parcels.
It wasn’t long before he had candles lit, tinder and peat laid out for a fire and blankets spread on the floor. He lit the kindling from a candle and nursed the fire to life, gently blowing on the embers until flames flared up and beat back some of the darkness.
‘W-w-what is this p-p-place?’ Her voice was an echoing whisper.
Thank God, she was alert enough to talk. ‘‘Tis an old cave used by fisherman.’ He kept his voice matter of fact. No point in letting her know how much he had feared for her. He strode to her side. ‘Sit by the fire. There are more blankets. We’ll get you out of these wet clothes.’
He helped her to her feet. Made to pick her up.
‘I can walk,’ she said. She staggered a few steps, but, unable to stand the sight of her weakness, he picked her up and carried her to the warmth of the fire.
‘I’m cold too, lass. I’ve no wish to be waiting a week for you to get yourself by the warmth.’
He put her down on the blankets and handed her another. ‘Put that around you and take off your wet things.’
He turned his back, more and more aware of the sodden cloth clinging to his legs and dripping onto the floor. He grabbed Beau by the bridle and led him to an iron manger some enterprising ancestor had attached to the rock wall. There were oats and hay in a sack, waiting for just such an occasion as this: a need to hide from the authorities or to save a fisherman caught out in a storm.
It hadn’t been used for a good long while, as far as he knew, but one of the local fishermen had the job of keeping it stocked in case of a wreck.
After emptying the hay into the manger, he used the sack to rub the horse down, then went farther up the tunnel on the landward side, to the rain barrel. The water was peaty-tasting, but clean and fresh. He filled a small pan for the horse and a couple of leather flasks.
Busy work, because all he could think of was her slipping out of her clothes, baring her lush body. He gritted his teeth. He was not the adolescent he’d been that long-ago summer, fancying himself in love with a girl he should have nothing to do with. None the less, the images were certainly warming his blood. And that wasn’t such a bad thing.
By the time he got back, Lady Selina’s clothes lay near the fire and the blanket was wrapped tightly around her delicious curves. She looked beautiful. Pale, her lips a little blue, strands of damp hair curling around her face, sticking to her skin. A legend come to life.
He grinned. ‘You look like a selkie.’
‘A sea witch? I feel more like a bit of jetsam washed up on the shore.’ The brave smile on her lips as she dragged her fingers through her hair caught at his heart.
‘Are you warmer?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘What about you? Shouldn’t you …?’ Her words trailed off and she looked away, embarrassed.
Noble lasses like her didn’t think about men taking their clothes off. Indeed, they probably didn’t think a man had anything beneath his clothes. Clothes made the man, if the strutting peacocks in Edinburgh were to be believed.
Well, he wasn’t going to stand here and drip to save her sensibilities. ‘Aye. There’s a spare kilt here, but nothing fit for a lady to wear. You’ll have to dry your clothes before we leave.’
He grabbed the supplies put there for men prevented from landing their fishing boats at the quay during a storm. Or smugglers forced to flee the long arm of the gaugers.
He moved out of the light of the fire, wrapped a blanket around him and stripped off to his coat and shirt, using another blanket as a towel.
When he turned back she was eyeing him from beneath lowered lashes. She probably didn’t realise the light from the fire, while distorting her features with flickering shadows, did not hide her expression of interest.
Heat travelled up his neck to his face.
Blushing like a lad. Surely not?
‘What the hell did you think you were doing, coming down to the beach?’ he said, his voice gruffer than he intended. ‘What you did was brave, but foolhardy.’ There, that was less ungrateful if still grudging.
‘You are a fool, Ian Gilvry,’ she said scornfully. ‘All that danger for brandy.’
Stung, he glared at her. ‘The brandy pays for other things.’
She gazed at him blankly.
He shrugged. What would a privileged lass like her know or care about the hardships his people faced? All her father cared about was the hunting and the grouse. ‘As soon as your clothes are dry I’ll get you home.’
Her gaze wandered to his horse. ‘I have never seen a horse swim that way.’
‘I lost a horse in a river once. He went in at a ford and got confused. I swore I would never lose another horse to the water.’
She rested her chin on her knees. ‘I can see why. They become like friends …’ She hesitated. ‘Your mother gave me permission to ride him.’
‘Did she know who you were?’ He sat down beside her on the blanket. The fire’s warmth was painful to his icy skin.
‘Yes.’
That did surprise him. His mother had always been opposed to everything English—it was a point of honour. If she ever learned Ian had sent Drew off to America at the behest of Albright’s daughter, she would never forgive him.
He’d done it for the memories of a short time when he’d felt happy and carefree, when he’d forgotten his duties and responsibilities. Very selfish reasons wrapped around youthful dreams and wishes. Reality in the shape of his brothers’ shock at seeing them together had brought him back to earth, but he’d never stopped feeling guilty for the hurt look on her face at his rejection and cruel words spoken in parting. That guilt had sent Drew to his death. He would not let her influence him against his family again. But she had made up for it in part, at least, with tonight’s warning.
‘Thank you for coming tonight. Without your warning we would have been caught. I wish you had not come down to the beach, though. I would have handled it.’
She sighed. ‘I thought the Revenue men would follow the goods and we could ride up the path on the other side.’
He was surprised by the resignation in her voice. ‘How did you know of their plans?’
‘Through my father. I should have sought you out earlier in the day.’ She sighed. ‘I was almost too late.’ She shook her head. ‘Why risk lives for a few tuns of brandy? How will the women and children survive without their men?’
She was lecturing him? After all her father had done to destroy their way of life? ‘They can’t live on fresh air.’
‘Well, they can’t live on brandy.’
‘You are a Sassenach. What do you know about what my people need?’
She flinched and he felt like a brute. His rough direct ways did not suit a drawing-room miss. Not that she’d seemed much like a lady riding bareback to his rescue.
‘It brings money to purchase what they can live on,’ he explained. More than that, though—it was an investment in the future.
After a few moments’ silence, she turned to face him. ‘Do you think we were recognised?’
He shook his head. ‘They were too far away.’
She breathed a sigh of relief. That small little breath, that mark of gladness, sparked warmth in his chest. Foolish warmth. She was the daughter of his clan’s worst enemy. He’d do well to keep that in mind.
But she had risked a great deal tonight and he would not have her suffering for it. ‘The sooner we get you back to the keep, the better,’ he said, ‘before you are missed. Hold up your clothes to the fire so they will dry.’
She did as he bid and they both sat toasting her clothes, watching the steam rise from them to mingle with the smoke from the fire.
‘Why do your people try to turn back the clocks? Bonnie Prince Charlie is never returning.’
She understood nothing. ‘My people were here long before the English. Yes, they need to move with the times, but not give up who they are, their traditions or their homeland. All the great landowners are turning their land over to sheep. Or using it for sport. They are leaving nothing for the clan members. If you take away their livelihood, then they need other work to replace it. Instead of that, they are being left destitute, labouring in the kelp fields or smuggling whisky. Hundreds of them have shipped off to America. Soon there will be no Highlanders left.’
She frowned. ‘Don’t the crofters earn enough to pay their rents?’
‘The rents keep going up.’ He combed his fingers through his almost-dry hair as he sought for a way to explain without giving away his plans. ‘The old ways, such as crofting, are no longer viable, but I believe other ways can be found to keep the people here. In Scotland. But the English, men like your father, pass laws that make it impossible for us to earn a living. Those are what need to be changed.’
Her silence said she wasn’t convinced. Hell, he was barely convinced himself that changing the law would make a difference. Yet some men were making a go of it, but they were men who owned their estates, who had the power to decide the best way to proceed. If Albright decided to clear his lands, in the end there was little Ian could do about it.
‘Must we swim back?’ she asked.
At last a question he could answer with confidence. ‘No. The cave has a back door. Or a front door, depending on your point of view.’
‘Then we should go. I cannot be found missing from my bed when the maid comes to light the fire.’ She shivered.
Instinctively, his arm went around her. He touched her cheek. The skin was warm and alive beneath his fingers, her mouth so deliciously inviting. Her back was frigid beneath his arm. No wonder she had shivered.
‘We have to get you fully dry first.’
‘I am much warmer than I was.’
‘Aye, but not warm enough.’ He lifted her easily and set her between his legs, so her back was against the warmth of his body, her round little bottom nestled between his thighs. He almost groaned with the pleasure as his body hardened and he prayed she could not feel it through the blanket. He forced himself to ignore the delightful sensation and instead focused on the feel of her cold back permeating through her blanket and his. He pulled her close up against his chest.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked breathlessly.
‘Body heat. The closer we sit together, the warmer we will both be. Something I learned on cold nights when out on the hunt with the men of the clan.’
She leaned back and hummed her approval. The sound struck low in his gut. His arousal swelled painfully. He forced himself to breathe and to think. This woman was not for him.
She laughed a little.
‘What?’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘I’m thinking about a bunch of men snuggled together.’
‘Not pleasant, believe me. Men stink after days in the hills. But it saved us from freezing to death or returning empty-handed.’
‘The clan always protects its members.’
‘Aye.’
‘One of them gave you away tonight.’
‘Possibly.’ A traitor in their midst. The thought gave him a cold feeling in his gut. It would have to be addressed, though. As soon as the hue and cry died down. ‘You didn’t hear who spilled the beans?’
‘No.’
Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy, would it?
He rubbed her finely boned arms with his hands, taking care not to hurt her. Heat blossomed beneath his palms.
‘That feels good.’ She sighed.
He wanted to do more than warm her arms. He wanted to take her with him to the stars and back. A boy’s long-ago dream. It was no more right today than it had been then.
The sooner he got her home, the sooner he could be rid of temptation. It would lead to nothing but trouble for all of them.
The thought of her leaving made the fire seem to blaze less brightly and the cave seem more cavernous and empty. Not since Drew’s departure had he enjoyed one of these night-time adventures, he realised, or shared his worries about the future.
How much more disloyal could he be to his brother’s memory? Probably a whole lot more when it came to this woman, unless he was careful.
He was always careful. Always in control. Tonight was no different.
Chapter Seven
Selina let the blessed warmth of Ian’s body at her back and the heat of the fire in front gather her up and set her adrift. The feel of his arms around her made her feel safe, protected from the world beyond their cave.
Men usually made her nervous. They had to be watched and judged and kept at a distance. If you let them get too close, they found a way to hurt you.
Ian had taught her that lesson when she was an impressionable schoolgirl. How could she forget that about him now?
Or was it the schoolgirl who had once more taken over her mind and her body reminding her of those old foolish longings?
Certainly not. She knew what this was, what it had always been: forbidden desire. A fragile woman always brought out a male’s urge to protect. And thus she held the upper hand, as long as she didn’t allow herself to be drawn under its spell. Under those conditions, there was nothing wrong with a little bit of mutual lust. Provided it didn’t go too far.
A lady had to be careful of her reputation, especially if she hoped to marry.
Then why this pervasive sense of well-being wrapped in his arms when tonight she had risked everything?
She turned her face up, looking at his hard square jaw covered in stubble. Her gaze traced the shadow of his cheek and the carved cheekbone. And the longing inside her seemed to increase with the expansion and contraction of his ribs at her back. A silent sigh, yet she felt it with every bone in her body.
‘I never forgave myself for what I said to you, that day at the beach,’ he murmured low in her ear. ‘Children are cruel, but I was old enough to know better. I had an overabundance of pride in those days.’
Surprised, she twisted in his arms to better see his expression, to assure herself he wasn’t mocking.
Indeed, his lips did smile, but it was a lovely generous smile, youthful, touched by regret, his eyes gleaming with firelight.
Her insides drew tight, pulsed with a sensation that made her eyelids droop and her body soften.
Looking down at her, he inhaled a swift breath. The glimmer in his eyes burst into searing flames.
The air crackled and warmed. All around them heat conspired to make them short of breath and wordless. His arms tightened around her body, his head dipped until his mouth was close enough to brush her lips. The soft caress of each exhale tickled her lips, the scent of him, salt and sea air, and something very male filled her senses.
‘It seems we are destined to rescue each other from time to time,’ she said on a breathless laugh. Though it must never happen again.
Without thought, she put her arms around his neck, tipped her head and kissed his cheek, much as she had as a girl. ‘I’m glad I reached you in time.’
A groan broke in his throat. ‘Me, too.’ His hand came to her jaw, cradling her chin, angling her head the better to kiss her back.
His lips firmed over hers, testing and teasing. His lips parted and his tongue licked her bottom lip. Thrills ran amok in her body, making her gasp with shock at the pleasure of such an intimate touch.
Heavenly sensations coursed through her veins and turned her bones liquid.
His parted lips matched hers and, open-mouthed, their lips melded and moved in a harmony she hadn’t expected. Tentatively, she tried a taste of her own. Their tongues met and danced and played, at first gently, carefully, and then with wild fervour.
Dizzy, breathing hard, she lay in his arms. The magic of his kiss took her out of her body. Whereas she’d been floating before, now she was flying, soaring, released from the chains of the world.
Inside she trembled.
Never in her adult life had she lost her sense of self so utterly as now, as if some part of them had fused and become something different altogether. It exhilarated. And terrified.
Fear made her struggle.
He drew back, breathing hard, looking into her face with a jaw of granite, with eyes the colour of midnight, hot and demanding.
‘We must not,’ he said, gravel-voiced.
‘No,’ she agreed, gazing up at his hard expression. Yet longing was there, in the way his gaze devoured her face, in the way his hands trembled where they touched her cheek, light and gentle as a butterfly. Forbidden wanting. Or was it only her fevered blood making her wish it?
She closed her eyes against such traitorous thoughts. She’d made her choice.
When she opened her eyes she saw anger in his. Perhaps even revulsion. Yet it did not seem so much directed at her as directed at himself as he stood up, leaving her cold and bereft.
‘You must be warm by now,’ Ian said, matter of factly.
Warm? She was burning. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ There, didn’t she sound equally calm? Equally unaffected?
‘Here.’ He handed over her skirts and her bodice. ‘These are dry.’ He frowned when her breeches fell to the floor.
‘For riding,’ she said defensively. ‘What about you?’ She glanced at the blanket he had wrapped around his waist and then at the still-steaming mass of his kilt. It would take hours to dry. A small shiver ran down her back at the thought of hours of temptation in this cave.
‘There are spare clothes here.’ He picked up one of the packages and unwrapped it.
Fascinated, she watched him. ‘You would spare your maidenly blushes if you will look away now, Lady Selina.’ The mockery was back in his voice. Maidenly blushes. After that kiss he no doubt suspected they were nothing more than a front.
Her cheeks hotter than the fires of hell, she whipped her face away and fluffed the billowing fabric of her skirts. Yet for all her good intentions, she could not help but cast a glance from the corner of her eye as he let the blanket fall silently to the floor.
At the edge of the firelight the gleam of his skin was like marble. The image of wide sculpted shoulders tapering to lean waist and firm flanks, the swell of firm lean buttocks and strong thighs seared her vision. Her body clenched at his sheer beauty.
So large and so male. Lithe and perfectly formed. Athletic and sure in his movements as he bent to adjust the cloth. So opposite to her small stature and rounded curves and the awkwardness of her halting gait.
The silhouette of his erection made her gasp. Had he heard and guessed she was watching? If so, he gave no sign. She ducked her head and busied herself with her clothes. Swallowing against the dryness in her mouth, she kept her gaze fixed on her task.
The fire was hot and the light cotton fabric dried quickly. She concentrated on holding her breeches out to the flames. She glanced up when he returned bare-chested. Another delicious clench of her insides. He picked up his shirt and held it to the warmth. The trousers were on the tight side and too short and made his thighs look huge. Not that she was measuring. She wasn’t. But a woman would have to be blind not to notice how strong his legs were and that his feet were large, just like his … She forced the thought to be gone.
But never would she forget the image of his body, the way he looked in profile. Different. Glorious.
‘Time for you to dress now,’ he said, ‘if we are to get you home before dawn.’
She jumped at the sound of his voice. He was right. They really should not linger. ‘Turn your back while I dress.’
An eyebrow flickered up—no doubt she had sounded too harsh, but he walked away, went to his horse with clearly no interest in spying on her.
So they’d kissed. A moment of passion after a wild escape. Whatever had happened between them had been the result of shock. Mutual comfort. Nothing more.
She pulled her hair back from her face; it felt matted and still damp, but she didn’t care. She made a rough plait to hold it, then dressed beneath her blanket, not because she feared he would look, but to ward off some of the chill of the cave. Dressed, she turned back to find him rubbing the horse down with the blanket he had discarded earlier.
She picked up her shawl, still saturated from the sea, and folded it up. A blanket would make a better cloak and be warmer, though heaven knew what her maid was going to say. She wrapped it around her shoulders and tied it behind her waist as peasant girls did, then gathered up his kilt, folding it to give her hands something to do while she waited for him.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, leading the horse towards her.
She nodded. It was a lie. A knot formed in her stomach. The thought of returning home made her feel the way an escaped prisoner must feel about the return to prison. A prison of her own making. Which didn’t make a bit of sense, not when she was about to marry the man she had chosen for herself. She held out his kilt. ‘You will want this.’
He used one of the ropes to tie it, then rested it across the horse’s withers. ‘We’ll mount up outside.’ He picked up a bucket and emptied it on the fire. Choking smoke filled the cave.
Selina coughed and rubbed at her streaming eyes. ‘You idiot. Couldn’t you wait until we had left?’
He chuckled. The next moment, he was behind her, lifting her onto the horse. ‘We need to make haste, now.’ He jerked on the bridle and led the big black into the tunnel, holding a torch up so they could see ahead of them. They climbed upwards through the narrow space. Sometimes, when the surf was quiet, she could hear running water—what was left of the stream that had carved its way through the rock and out to the sea, no doubt. And then they were out in the cold night air.
He doused the torch, tossed it over the cliff and continued leading the horse, back towards the road.
She clung on to the stallion’s mane and prayed they would make it home in time.
A good few yards from the keep’s entrance, Selina directed him across country. ‘There is an outcropping of rock on the back side of the hill,’ she murmured quietly.
‘I know it.’ Why had he never suspected it might hide an entrance? As lads, his brothers would have been delighted. The thought of the trouble they might have caused made him shudder.
They needed to hurry. Dawn was already changing the eastern sky from black to grey. Beau shied as a figure rose out of the heather. Ian jerked the horse to a stand.
‘Angus,’ Selina cried.
‘Shh,’ Angus hissed. ‘What by all that is holy are you thinking, Ian Gilvry?’
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.
Ian had a sinking feeling in his gut. Who else knew to expect Lady Selina?
Angus shot a glance up at the keep. ‘Do you think I don’t know every nook and cranny of my master’s house, my lady? So it is true.’
‘What are you insinuating, Mr McIver?’
Never had Ian heard her sound so haughty. So much like the stuck-up noblewoman Andrew had described on his return from London.
‘What is happening, Angus?’ Ian asked, jumping clear of Beau.
‘That young lady has been missed from her bed and her fiancé is crying foul, that is what is happening.’
‘Fiancé?’ His gut slipped sideways. He glared up at Lady Selina. Had she been playing some sort of game with him back there in the cave, the sort of flirtation engaged in by ladies of the ton, according to what Andrew had told him?
‘Nothing has been formally announced,’ she said, sounding defensive. She slipped down off the horse and stood at his side.
‘It may not be official,’ Angus said, ‘but he is verra angry. Threatening to ruin your reputation and that of your father. Interfering in official business makes you an accomplice under the law.’
‘He can’t know for certain,’ she said heatedly. ‘No one saw me.’
Ian had the feeling she had her fingers crossed when she said the last. ‘Did someone see her?’
‘I’m no privy to that information. I do know that young Dunstan is beside himself with anger. No doubt he expected a bit of glory out of tonight’s affair. Instead …’
She winced. ‘Father knows I knew what was planned for tonight and he thinks I betrayed him.’
‘Well, you did, didn’t you?’ Angus muttered, his deep voice turning into a low growl of frustration. ‘Lady Albright is in tears, speaking of ruin and disgrace. Your father …’ He shook his head.
Ian stiffened, but for all the anger he felt, he had to acknowledge that if word of her escapade got out Lady Selina would be ruined. Helping a Gilvry escape the gaugers would not be seen as heroic by her people. They also might ponder why she had helped him, and not to her credit.
‘I’ll just have to face the music,’ Lady Selina said in a small breathless voice. ‘It is no one’s business what I was doing tonight and so I will tell him. Father will forgive me, eventually.’
‘I advise against such a step,’ Angus said, his voice as dry as dust. ‘That young man won’t be satisfied until you admit where you were tonight and give evidence against the Laird. If he persuades your father he is right, you’ll have a hard task standing up to them.’
Ian’s fists clenched at the thought of her being bullied.
‘And once they have what they want,’ McIver continued, ‘the Laird will be convicted.’
‘But what else can I do?’ she said.
He gave her a sharp look. ‘According to that maid of yours, it wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone off on a whim in the middle of the night. All you have to do is disappear for a while and turn up somewhere else safe and sound.’
‘So Mary has been gossiping, has she?’ she said icily.
‘Mary is worried out of her wits that she will get the blame.’
Lady Selina’s shoulders sagged. She shook her head. ‘Surely, Father would not blame a servant for my actions? Besides, he knows I don’t do that sort of thing any more.’
‘Who’s to say what maggot gets into a woman’s head?’ Angus said. ‘There has to be somewhere you could go, some friend you could visit who could vouch for your whereabouts?’
