Kitabı oku: «Highland Rogue», sayfa 4

To his surprise, she did not look the least offended. She held out the paper to him. “This concerns you, too. By all means read it.”

If the note concerned him, it could only be about one thing. In his haste to read the message, Ewan fairly tore the paper out of Claire Talbot’s hand. Manners and a good impression be hanged!

He scarcely needed to glance at the closing salutation to know the message had come from Tessa’s mother. The florid, swooping script was everything he would have expected from Lady Lydiard.

“‘My dear Claire…’” He muttered the words under his breath as he read, squinting to decipher the words. “‘I fear Tessa and I will not be able to join you and Mr. Geddes on the voyage to Strathandrew, after all.’”

In his mind, he could hear her ladyship speaking those words in a tone of cool, malicious triumph. Gritting his teeth, Ewan struggled through the rest of the note.

“It says Tessa’s ill.” He crumpled the paper in his fist, no longer caring what sort of impression he made on Claire Talbot. “I have to go to her!”

For a moment, Miss Talbot looked as though she meant to prevent him. Something must have changed her mind, though.

“If you feel you must.” She shrugged. “Then by all means, fly to her side.”

For some reason, her willingness to let him go, and her tone of wry amusement, calmed his sense of urgency. “Ye think I shouldn’t?”

“That is for you to decide, of course.” Miss Talbot retrieved her parasol from the fussy-look-ingm middle-aged man who had brought the note. “Thank you for delivering her ladyship’s message, Mr. Catchpole. We will not detain you any longer.”

“Always happy to oblige, miss.” Catchpole regarded his employer with a look that bordered on reverence. “If I may be so bold, I do hope you will enjoy your holiday in the north. You have driven yourself so hard these past three years. It’s about time you had a proper rest.”

Ewan’s clerk had said much the same thing to him on the day he’d made his whirlwind departure for London.

Claire Talbot acknowledged the good wishes with a warm smile. “I do feel the need for a change of scenery. I know I can count on you to keep Mr. Adams and Mr. Montieth up to scratch for me.”

Her shoulders slumped, just a trifle. Beneath her well turned out facade, Ewan thought he could make out subtle signs of fatigue.

Once Mr. Catchpole had departed, she turned to Ewan again. “The note does not say Tessa is deathly ill, only indisposed.” She lowered her voice. “A feminine indisposition, perhaps. I fear you would only embarrass her by making a great to-do about it.”

A scorching blush suffused Ewan’s face, right to the roots of his hair. “Of course…I should have thought…”

“Men seldom need to consider such things, Mr. Geddes.” Her brisk tone soothed his chagrin. “I often wish we women could be so fortunate.”

She nodded toward the note Ewan still clenched in his fist. “Lady Lydiard says she and Tessa will come north by train in a few days’ time. I can ask Captain MacLeod to delay our departure for them, but I doubt they would thank me for it, especially if the sea is rough at all.”

“Not good sailors, are they?” Ewan liked nothing better than the sway of the deck beneath his feet. He’d never been able to work up proper sympathy for poor souls who got seasick.

“The worst.” Claire pulled a face. “It was probably selfish of me not to arrange for us all to travel by rail in the first place. It wouldn’t be the same for me, though, going to Strathandrew without a lovely sail on the Marlet to get there.”

Ewan found himself nodding. He had been looking forward to the voyage over the Irish Sea and through the southern isles. But Tessa…

“I quite understand,” said Claire, “if you would prefer to wait and accompany Tessa and her mother.”

The prospect of a long journey in a tiny railway carriage with Lady Lydiard made Ewan shudder.

Claire strolled back toward the gangway. “Given the circumstances between you and Tessa, I understand perfectly if you would like to keep as close to her as possible until you are safely wed.”

Pride would not allow him to let that challenge pass. Hurrying to catch up with Claire Talbot, he stepped into her path. “Hold on a minute. Do ye think I’m afraid to let yer sister out of my sight for a few days in case she’ll change her mind about me?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Geddes.” She looked him up and down with a shrewd gaze. “Are you afraid?”

“Not in the least.” A faint qualm deep in his belly contradicted Ewan’s emphatic words.

“Sometimes a little fear can be prudent, you know. After all, look what happened when Tessa’s last beau had to be apart from her.”

“That was different,” Ewan insisted. “I came looking for her, to renew our…acquaintance. It wouldn’t have mattered if that Stanton fellow had been stuck to her like wallpaper paste.”

Claire Talbot arched one fine eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it?”

“No!” He felt like a lad again, chafing under her gibes. Only now he couldn’t make himself act as though it didn’t matter. “She cared something for me long ago and I for her. That never went away through all the years since. A few days apart now isn’t going to make any difference.”

Miss Talbot did not look as though she believed him. Perhaps because she sensed the doubts he tried so hard to hide from himself.

“I can prove it!” Ewan regretted those desperate words the instant they left his mouth. But pride would not let him take them back.

For he’d glimpsed a flicker of triumph in Claire Talbot’s cool eyes, mixed with vast relief. The kind he’d seen once or twice in the eyes of a gambler whose bluff had not been called. “You have nothing to prove to me, Mr. Geddes.”

But he did, though. To her. To himself. To Tessa’s mother. He had to prove the lass’s love for him was more than some whim that would go away as quickly as it had come, if he were not constantly by her side to fan the flames.

“I don’t want to impose upon yer sister while she’s feeling poorly.” Ewan dredged up every excuse he could think of to convince himself that Claire Talbot had not maneuvered him into doing what she wanted. “And I must admit, I was looking forward to sailing north on the Marlet. I’ve never much cared for trains.”

Claire’s lips twisted into a mocking grin. “Or the continuous society of Lady Lydiard in close quarters over several days?”

“Aye, perhaps.” Another worthwhile reason for making the voyage occurred to him. He would never have a better opportunity to win Claire Talbot over to the notion of him marrying her sister. “Anyway, it’s not fair ye should have to sail all the way up to Argyll without any company.”

“You needn’t feel sorry for me, Mr. Geddes.” She collapsed her parasol with swift, fierce movements. “I have never been a social creature like my sister. I enjoy my own company very well.”

“Strange, Miss Talbot. That’s the second time ye’ve told me not to take pity on ye. Is there some reason I should?”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” She looked half inclined to break her parasol over his head. “Of course there isn’t. It’s just that I get tired of hearing people say what a shame it is I’ve never found a husband. As if I couldn’t have such useless incumbrances by the hundredweight if I wanted them!”

Her vehement tone rocked Ewan back on his heels. And she wasn’t finished yet. “I run one of the most prosperous commercial enterprises in the kingdom, yet there are people who persist in thinking me a failure because I have not snared a husband to sire half-a-dozen children on me!”

Put in those terms, marriage and motherhood did not sound very appealing. Why, then, did Claire Talbot’s voice ache with longing?

Chapter Five

What had triggered that preposterous outburst? Claire would rather have sunk beneath the deck or dived into the foul waters of the Thames than continue to face Ewan Geddes. For someone who insisted she did not wish to be pitied, she certainly sounded pitiful.

Fortunately, the captain of the Marlet came to her rescue before she expired of humiliation.

“Begging yer pardon, Miss Talbot,” he called, “but the tide’s turning. Do we sit tight or do we sail?”

For a moment, Claire hesitated, stealing a fleeting glance at Ewan Geddes.

It had all been going so well. She’d taken a calculated risk in urging him to stick close to Tessa, rather than trying to entice him to come with her. From their younger years, she recalled that he had often been contrary, doing things he was forbidden, while resisting what he was urged or ordered to do.

Fortunately for her purposes, he appeared not to have changed in that regard. She had challenged his trust in Tessa’s constancy and he had taken the bait. Or rather, he had been about to take the bait. Then her pride had reared up, putting her whole plan in jeopardy.

“We sail, Captain MacLeod.” She gave the order in the decisive tone she had learned to use in business to win her way.

She had composed herself well enough by now to look Ewan Geddes in the face. “Will you sail with us, or will you disembark, sir? I beg your pardon for my outburst. It would be most kind of you to furnish me with company on the voyage. I would welcome the opportunity to observe your character at close quarters, to judge whether you might make a suitable husband for my sister, after all.”

There, she had swallowed her pride, and given Ewan Geddes a further inducement to accompany her. Claire hoped it would be enough. She also hoped she had managed to conceal how desperately she wanted him to come…for Tessa’s sake and Brancasters’.

Ewan gave a stiff bow. “I welcome the challenge of convincing ye of my worth, Miss Talbot. I always enjoyed the zest of yer company in the old days.”

“Liar!” Claire struggled to subdue the intoxicating sensation that his cordial words set bubbling inside her. “I was horrible to you and you were horrible to me.”

The captain must have been following their conversation, for he bellowed, “Raise the gangway! Weigh anchor!”

“Come.” Claire beckoned Ewan toward the galley way. “I’ll show you to your cabin. If you like, you can rest before you change for dinner.”

He followed her down the steep, narrow stairs that led below deck.

“I apologize for going so slowly,” she said. “These steps are quite treacherous to negotiate in full skirts and petticoats. I often envy men your attire. It is so practical and designed for ease of movement. Sometimes I think the design of ladies’ fashions are contrived to hobble us.”

Ewan laughed. “I wouldn’t have agreed with ye when I first went to America and had to wear trousers. For the longest time, I felt like I’d been bound—” he stumbled over his words “—down below.”

His indelicate confession sent a rush of heat through Claire even as it made her nearly double over with laughter. But corsets were not designed for doubling over.

To make matters worse, the Marlet gave a sudden lurch as it slipped from the quay. Already unbalanced, Claire might have tumbled down the last few stairs had Ewan not brought his arm around in a swift, deft movement to catch her…just below the bosom.

As he pulled her toward him, the bracing masculine scent of his shaving soap enveloped her, making her light-headed.

The instant she was no longer in danger of pitching forward, Ewan slid his arm from around her. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to take liberties with ye, Miss Talbot!”

Claire managed to right herself, though her limbs had never felt less steady.

“You have nothing to reproach yourself for.” She hoped he would attribute her breathless tone to the shock of almost falling, and the pressure of his arm around her chest. “In such a situation, one must act decisively, not dither about propriety. You saved me from a nasty spill and I am grateful.”

“Then ye have changed a good deal in ten years, Miss Talbot.”

Claire fixed all her concentration on descending the rest of the stairs without another mishap. Once she had reached the bottom, she risked a glance back at Ewan. “I beg your pardon?”

His wide, mobile mouth crinkled at one corner and in the shaft of sunlight streaming down the galley way, his eyes twinkled. “I recollect one time I took yer arm when we were walking over some rough ground. Ye yanked it away as though ye’d touched a red-hot stove. Then ye said, ‘Unhand me, lout! I’m quite capable of making my own way.’”

Her proud, foolish words, parroted back to her in his exaggerated falsetto, left Claire torn between laughter and cringing. How he must have detested her to have remembered the incident and her exact words after all these years!

She longed to offer him a belated apology and some excuse for her conduct. But what could she say? Admit she’d burned for him with the fierce desire of youth? Confess that the sudden touch of his hand had made her fear she would burst into flames?

Thank heaven she had outgrown such passionate nonsense!

“As I recall…” Claire savored the tart tone of her voice, which had always served to keep Ewan Geddes at arm’s length and prevent him from guessing her true feelings. “…you came back with some sort of pithy reply to knock me flat. You always did.”

“Me!” He affected a look of comic outrage. “Sass his lairdship’s daughter? I’d have been skinned alive for it!”

Seen from his side, it must have felt like a very unfair fight. Claire had known the opposite was true. Her secret feelings for him had always given Ewan Geddes the advantage.

“Oh, you never did trespass into outright insolence,” she reminded him. “But you always managed to get the upper hand, somehow. Your answer would have a double meaning, or it would sound so horribly polite, when all the time it was obvious you were mocking me.”

Ewan mulled over what she had said for a moment. “Perhaps I did come off best now and then. I reckon ye put me in my place often enough, though. Ye had a tongue like a wasp in those days, lass.”

“And you had a hide as thick as a Highland steer,” Claire countered, “or pretended to.”

Her words made her think of something she’d never considered before. Was it possible Ewan had only pretended not to care what she’d said to him back then? Might he have taken her barbs to heart, nursing a deep resentment over the years? Now he gave every appearance of looking back on their old squabbles with wry amusement. Could that be only a pretense, too?

“Do ye reckon we’ll be able to get all the way to Scotland without tearing one another to pieces?” he asked.

Claire gave a little shrug. “Anything is possible. We aren’t a pair of beastly youngsters anymore, though time has not blunted my waspish tongue as much as I would like.”

Not that she had wished it to, especially. Her tart tongue and pose of cool indifference had been her only weapons against Max Hamilton-Smythe and men of his ilk.

Ewan did not look as though he grudged her that. His forceful features seemed to soften in a most appealing way. “Aye, well, I’ve been told I haven’t lost the chip off my shoulder. So I reckon that sets us even.”

Her hand prickled with the urge to rise and caress his rugged cheek. Suddenly, Claire realized how close they had been standing, and for how long, with their gazes locked. Had she already let this man charm her into forgetting who he was and what he wanted?

Heavens above, the Marlet had barely slipped its moorings! What state would she be in by the time they reached Strathandrew? Ready to stand as Tessa’s bridesmaid, perhaps, and to hand over half her shares of Brancasters to the happy couple as a wedding present?

“I do beg your pardon.” She hoped her tone would not betray the swift reversal of her feelings. “I fear I am neglecting my duties as a hostess. We have days ahead of us to talk over old times. For now, I must show you to your cabin as I promised.”

What could he possibly have said or done to vex Claire Talbot? Ewan pondered the matter as he followed her a short distance down the narrow, wood-paneled corridor.

True, they’d been discussing the hostility that had once bristled between them. But they’d been doing it with tolerance and restraint born of maturity, each willing to own a share of the fault.

Then, in less than the flicker of an eye, a change had come over Miss Talbot. A very subtle one, to be sure, but unmistakable for all that. It was as if a balmy west wind had suddenly veered, to whistle down from the north. Or some invisible door, held invitingly ajar, had been slammed shut in his face.

If she’d been vexed with him for taking hold of her in such a bold way to keep her from pitching down those steep stairs, he could have understood it. She hadn’t turned a hair over that, though.

Ewan wished he could forget the bewildering instant he’d pulled her close to him. The feather on her hat had tickled his nose, while the pressure of her bosom against his arm had tickled him…elsewhere. The notion that his old nemesis could affect him that way had staggered Ewan. Clearly, he’d been far too long without a woman.

A wee rest before dinner might do him good. Or a wash up with very cold water.

“These will be your quarters for the voyage.” Claire stopped in front of a door.

Following so close on her heels, absorbed in his own thoughts, Ewan almost bumped into her. Quick reflexes rescued him, but only just. When his hostess turned toward him, she started and gave a little gasp to find him hovering so near.

She took a step backward. “I hope the accommodations will suit you.”

The unexplained stiffness of her manner rasped against his vague sense of confusion. “I made the long voyage to America in steerage, don’t forget. I reckon a guest cabin on the laird’s private yacht will do better than suit me.”

Claire flinched at the gruffness of his tone, but otherwise ignored it.

“Dinner will be served at seven.” She pointed down the corridor. “This opens into the dining room. In the meantime, if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to ring for one of the stewards.”

Ewan struggled to recover his manners, for Tessa’s sake and for his own pride. “I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable, thank ye, Miss Talbot. I’ll see ye at dinner.”

With that, he ducked into his cabin and closed the door behind him.

He stood there for a moment, listening to her brisk footsteps continuing on down the corridor, wondering if this voyage to Scotland with her had been such a wise decision, after all. Whether it was or not, he concluded at last, there wasn’t much he could do about it now except make the best of the opportunity it presented.

His gaze swept the generously proportioned cabin, which smelled of lemon oil. The highly polished wood and brass fittings gleamed softly in the light that filtered through a curtained porthole. The place had an air of understated masculine elegance. It would suit him very well.

His trunk had been safely stowed on a low platform, the rim of which would keep it from sliding in heavy weather. The bed, the dressing screen, a compact wardrobe and a small writing desk had all been bolted to the cabin floor for the same reason.

When Ewan pulled out the leather upholstered chair, he found it had been weighted in the legs. He glanced behind the screen to discover a washstand with a brass-framed shaving mirror mounted above it. Might this have been Lord Lydiard’s cabin back when the family used to take their annual late summer holiday in the Highlands?

Tossing his top hat onto the bed, Ewan tugged off his coat and unbuttoned his high collar. He flashed a jaunty wink at the prosperous gentleman who stared out of the mirror at him. “A fancy billet for a humble gillie boy, eh? Not much question ye’ve risen in the world, laddie!”

Folk who knew him back in America likely thought he took this kind of life for granted. They’d be wrong, though.

There’d been a short while, as he’d first begun to amass his fortune, when he’d been tempted to spend it on luxuries. But that had only made him feel wasteful. So he’d gone back to frugal living, and invested most of his earnings in the company, which had responded by becoming even more profitable.

That would all have to change once he married Tessa. He would buy her a fine house, or perhaps have one built, designed to accommodate her every fancy. He’d shower her with splendid clothes and jewels and every comfort she’d enjoyed in her life so far.

Would she be willing to return to America with him? he wondered. Or would she want to settle in England to remain near her family?

While he continued to plan his new life, he stowed his coat and hat in the wardrobe, then unpacked a few clothes from his trunk. For a while after that, he roamed the cabin, not certain what to do with himself.

It was too early yet to dress for dinner, and he saw no reason to wash or shave again, having made an adequate job of both earlier. Sleeping during the day went too much against the grain of a man used to working from dawn till dusk and often later.

He toyed with the notion of sitting down at the writing desk and composing a letter to Tessa. He could explain why he’d decided to go on to Strathandrew ahead of her, then he could wish her a swift recovery and safe journey on the train. How would he ever post it, though, from out at sea? And even if he managed that feat, could he trust Lady Lydiard not to keep the message from her daughter?

Though he’d had a good solid education at the village school, writing was still enough of a chore for him that he didn’t fancy going to the trouble of it for nothing.

When a cautious knock sounded on the cabin door, Ewan jumped to answer it, welcoming a potential distraction, even for a few moments. “Aye, what can I do for ye?”

“That’s what I came to ask ye, sir,” replied a small wiry man a few years Ewan’s junior. “Any clothes ye need laundered or…”

The steward’s gaze rose from Ewan’s chin to look him full in the face. “Hang me! Ewan Geddes, is that ye in those toff clothes?” He thrust out his hand. “Jock McMurdo. Rosie’s nephew from Strathandrew.”

“Wee Jockie, aye!” Ewan grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously. “How’ve ye been, man? It does me good to see ye again!”

No word of a lie, that. His restlessness had eased all at once, as if a fresh sea breeze had just blown down the galley way.

Jockie stared at Ewan, shaking his head. “Auntie said ye’d made yer fortune in America. What brings ye back home again—as a guest of Miss Talbot, no less?”

What would Jock and the rest of the folk at Strathandrew say when they discovered he might soon be more to Miss Talbot than a guest?

“It’s a bit of a long tale, but I promise ye’ll hear it by and by. About what ye asked before, my gear’s all still as clean as when I left the hotel. The only thing I need is a bit of something to do. I’m not used to hanging about idle. I don’t suppose ye could put me to work?”

Jockie laughed until he saw Ewan meant it. “Peel taties in the galley, ye mean? The captain’d have me keelhauled!”

“Would he, now?” Ewan tried to hide his disappointment. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

“Ye could come up and take a turn around the deck,” Jockie suggested. “I could introduce ye to the rest of the crew. At least ye’d get a breath of air and have folks to talk to.”

The notion tempted Ewan, but…“Miss Talbot said we should come below to get out from underfoot of the crew.”

“The Marlet’s slipped her moorings now.” Jockie shrugged. “It’s pretty quiet on deck. Besides, ye look like a man who’s sharp enough to get out of the way when he needs to.”

Not always, Ewan admitted to himself, even as he nodded to Jockie. He’d never been wise enough to keep out of Claire Talbot’s way when she had her temper up.

Was it possible he hadn’t wanted to?

“Mark me, the gentleman won’t be able to take his eyes off you at dinner, miss.” Claire’s new maid, a bouncy little Welsh girl, brushed one last curl around her forefinger.

Claire did not need to stare at herself in the dressing table glass to know that a fierce blush burned her cheeks. “It is a matter of total indifference to me whether Mr. Geddes so much as glances in my direction.”

“Just as you say, miss.” The girl chuckled to herself as if she did not believe a word of it. “Though I think he’ll be a fool if he doesn’t. I suppose you don’t care whether you look at him, either.”

Before Claire could stammer an answer, Williams prattled on, “You’ll be missing something if you don’t. For I caught a glimpse of him and I wouldn’t mind a few more. He’s as fine looking a gentleman as ever I saw.”

“I suppose he’s well enough looking,” said Claire, “if you like that type.”

“And do you, miss?”

Far too much.

Claire shrugged. “I suppose.”

If only she could make herself feel as calm as she sounded! Now that she was about to put her plan into action, a host of misgivings assailed her, and she began to doubt her ability to carry it off.

Her brief encounter with Ewan in the galley way had opened her eyes to a difficulty she had not foreseen. If she hoped to lure the man to abandon Tessa in favor of her, she must pretend to put their contentious youth behind them and make a fresh, more amiable start. But she must not let herself truly fall under the spell of his charm, or he would break her heart all over again, the rogue!

Never, since she had come of age and taken the helm of Brancasters, had Claire faced such a challenge. At least then, despite her youth and her sex, and the prejudice of the commercial world toward both, she’d felt better equipped for the task she’d set herself.

After all she had strong organizational abilities and a head for business. Her father would have laughed himself ill at the thought of her as a seductress!

She forced herself to look at her reflection. “You’ve done a fine job, Williams. No wonder Lady Cunningham treasures you so. It was good of her to lend me your services, and most kind of you to oblige.”

The way in which Williams had dressed her hair looked fussier than Claire liked, but it was probably the sort of thing men admired. The maid’s artful use of cosmetics gave her face more color without looking painted.

“I was glad to, miss, for the chance of a holiday in Scotland. I’ve heard it’s lovely this time of year, but her ladyship doesn’t care to travel. It’s no great chore to make you look beautiful. You have such a lovely complexion, and fine eyes.” She hesitated. “Do you mind if I offer a suggestion, though, miss?”

“By all means. You are the expert.”

“Perhaps I should just hold my tongue, but I did wonder, miss, whether you needed to wear quite so many jewels?”

Indeed she did, though Claire did not dare confess why. “Do you think they are unbecoming? There are some very valuable pieces here.”

She had emptied her own jewelry box of many that had never been worn since her mother’s death. Lady Lydiard had contributed several more of distinguished pedigree from the family collection. “Why, this sapphire necklace alone is worth thousands of pounds.”

“And lovely it is, miss. It goes well with your eyes. But the earrings are a newer style. Do you think they go together? And the bracelets—do you need them on both wrists?”

Claire would have preferred none at all, and a plainer gown, come to that. Heavy with diamonds and pearls, the bracelets were awkward things. And the weight of the earrings was already challenging the tightness of her corset to see which could inflict the most discomfort upon her. She hoped one day Tessa would appreciate the sacrifices she had made!

She was not so far gone in taste as to dispute Williams’s opinion about the necklace and the earrings, either. But the point of wearing these jewels was not to enhance her questionable beauty, but to advertise her unquestioned wealth.

“I appreciate your interest and your suggestions, Williams.” Claire rose from the dressing table. “But I get so few opportunities to wear my jewels, I hate to forgo one when it arises.”

“I understand, miss.” The Welsh girl bobbed a curtsy. Servants knew better than to contradict their masters, no matter how foolish their actions.

Claire held out her hand. “Now, if I might have my fan, please?”

It was a costly item as well, each delicate slat of ivory elaborately carved in an identical pattern. And it might well prove useful for more than impressing the extent of her fortune upon Ewan Geddes.

“There you go, miss.”

Claire snapped it open, then gave a practice flutter to cool the tingling warmth that swept through her whenever she contemplated what she was about to do.