03 - The Wicked Lady (15 page)

The whole scene reminded Kristen of two roosters getting ready to fight, but she wasn't about to back down
now. "I'll do as I damn well please, yer highness.  Ye need tae get yer bloody nose out of the air and see how people really live!"

"Why, I never! You ill-bread Scot! Trevor speak to her at once," Constance demanded in a shrill voice.

"Don't bother."  Kristen glared at Trevor, her annoyance increasing when she found that her hands were trembling. "I'm leaving." Kristen left the room without saying another word.

Trevor turned to his grandmother,
unsuccessfully trying to hide his smile. "Did I fail to mention that Kristen has a slight temper?"

"I will not tolerate her speaking to me like that!" Constance said firmly. "Just this short outburst has set my heart to fluttering." Constance placed a hand over her heart and sank back down in the chair.

"Calm yourself." Trevor reached over and patted her hand. "Kristen is just a little nervous. After all, she is in a new home surrounded by strangers. You would probably feel the same way if you were in her place, surrounded by Scots," he added.

"Precisely my point, Trevor," Constance shot back. "She is an interloper that we know nothing about."

"Believe me, Grandmere, I know all that I need to." Trevor clenched his jaw and told himself to stay calm. "Should I remind you again that marriage was your idea, not mine? Besides, if I remember correctly, you didn't know grandfather very long before you married him."

"But she is a Johnstone!"

"I was taken back when I heard the name, too. But Kristen was raised in London, so she could only be a distant relative, at most. Furthermore, she told me herself that her father died a long time ago."

"All Johnstones are related," Constance persisted in a grudging voice. "Have you not forgotten what they did to your poor grandfather?"

"No, I haven't." Trevor slid his chair back. "I want you to promise that you'll try and get along with Kristen."

His grandmother ignored him. "Did I tell you that Charity Fullbright is coming to stay for a few days?"

Trevor tried to look into her crafty eyes even though she turned her head quickly. "What are you up to?"

"I don't know what you mean."
Constance glanced down quickly, under Trevor's sharp gaze. "Her mother wanted to visit, and I suggested that they both come. I knew you'd enjoy the company. Charity is such a lovely girl."

Trevor stood and looked at his grandmother. "It won't work, Grandmere
.
I am
marrying Kristen a week from Saturday." He'd had his fill of being nice, and his shoulder was beginning to throb, which didn't help his mood in the least. "I suggest you accept the fact, and be happy for us."

Constance merely stared at her grandson in stony silence. Just when he was getting ready to leave, she said, completely out of nowhere, "Do you love her?"

Trevor swung around and stopped, looking as if he'd been turned to stone. He was surprised by the question. After all, what did love have to do with anything?  How could he love somebody he'd just met?

"Love her?" he repeated as hundreds of thoughts ran through his mind. "I care a great deal for Kristen. More than I have for any other woman. But love? Do any of us really know what love is?"

Constance looked at Trevor, studying him. She caught a strange look in his eyes. One she hadn't seen before. There was also a calmness she sensed in Trevor instead of that restlessness that always seemed to plague him. She knew she'd surprised him with talk of love, but she didn't want Trevor to make a mistake. She had seen too many marriages suffer from lack of love.

"Love is truly a gift that few of us get to experience," she said in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off. "And believe me, son, you will know when you're in love."

"How is that, Grandmere?"

His dark eyes showed the tortured dullness of disbelief. What else could she expect?  Trevor hadn't had a normal childhood. When he had come to her, he had been fully grown at ten years old instead of a child, and she could vividly remember the lackluster expression in his eyes back then. He'd wanted his parents' love so badly he'd tried to be the perfect child. Of course, he had never succeeded, but that hadn't been his fault. How she wished she'd realized what was going on, and that she'd rescued Trevor sooner.

"Love is special and hard to explain, but I shall try," Constance said, taking a deep breath. "When you can think of nothing but that one person. When they block all others from your mind so that when you're not with them, you find a part of yourself missing. When the first thing you do is look for them as you enter a crowded room and think of them when you are eating, and dream of them when you are sleeping. When you forget about pleasing yourself and think only of pleasing them. And suddenly the moon and stars are brighter when they are standing beside you, and turn dull when they are gone . . .

"That's when you'll know a love so powerful that it will bring you to your knees," Constance finished in a whisper, wiping a tear that had slipped down her wrinkled cheek.

Trevor looked at his grandmother. He'd never heard her speak like this before. She usually never showed her emotions and he really couldn't picture her and his grandfather in an intimate embrace, but evidently she had another side he'd never seen.

"You loved Grandfather very much, didn't you?"

"I did love," she said sadly and looked away. Someone, she thought to herself.

Trevor reached over and pulled the older woman into his arms, giving her a hug the way he used to do when he was a child.

"I know you miss Grandfather. Trevor sighed and moved away. Perhaps, one day, I can tell you I've experienced all the things you have just said. But I doubt that kind of love will exist for me." He held her away from him. "For now, I can tell you that I want Kristen for my wife." He didn't add that he wasn't sure why, other than the reason he'd told Kristen. "I pray that we will be as happy as you and grandfather were," Trevor added, though he doubted that statement. After they were married he'd probably see Kristen every couple of months to check on her. After all, he had a business to run and work to do. He couldn't be tied down in one place for very long.

"I wish that for you, too." her v
oice had a compassionate tone. "But she is a Johnstone."

"Yes, but in a week she'll be a Claremont." Trevor smiled at his speechless grandmother.

Kristen had left in such a hurry and with such a full head of steam, she hadn't paid attention to where she was going. When she did slow down, she had no earthly idea where she was or what part of the house she was in. The place was so big she needed a map!

She spotted a doorway to the right. If she were lucky, it would lead to a vacant room. Kristen hadn't made a good impression on the
dowager duchess, who could very well make Kristen's life miserable. At the moment, she really didn't give a fig as she tested the doorknob to see if it opened.

Luckily, the knob twisted, and she didn't see any reason why she shouldn't wander inside and look around, if only for a little while. The worst that could happen was someone would start yelling at her all over again.

The room was of medium size and on the back part of the house. It had windows across one wall with little seats under each one. A plush yellow cushion perched on each seat. Kristen stepped closer to look out. She couldn't control the small gasp that slipped out as she marveled at how beautiful the back of the house appeared.

To her left lay a garden of bright red and yellow tulips and there were green shrubs everywhere. Surely, this must be paradise. She'd be sure to take a walk later and enjoy the beauty she'd seen only in books. There was nothing about the docks in London that were pretty and the only thing colorful had been the language. She now had the ability to swear in several languages. A giggle escaped her before she could stop it as she wondered whether the duchess would care to hear a few of the words she'd learned.

Looking around the room, she found the decor of yellow and green a cheerful indeed. It was very comforting. This room seemed more like a home and didn't have the formality of the rest of the house.

There were pictures everywhere. One especially caught her attention. Kristen moved over to take a closer look at the child's portrait.

The artist had been good, for he'd caught the rare mixture of color that made up Trevor's unusual eyes. She bent closer. She could even see the small brown fleck near the center of his eyes.

"Amazing," she murmured.

"Do you like my portrait?" A voice came from the door, catching her attention.

She glanced over her shoulder.
"Very much," she admitted. "You were a handsome child."

"Thank you." Trevor smiled at her praise. "There is something
special about this painting." He moved up behind her. "Stand here." He pointed. "And look at the child's eyes. What do you see?"

"Green.
Very vivid at that."

"Good." He nodded his approval. "Now, stand over here." He took her by the arms and positioned her on the other side of the painting. "What do you see now?"

"Why the eyes are blue!" She turned and looked at him with her astonishment clearly showing. "How did he do that?"

"I'm not sure."  Trevor smiled and inclined his head. "I was around ten years old, and I remember the artist complaining about painting my eyes. The first time he painted them green, and then he rubbed that out and painted them blue." Trevor's smile widened as he told the story. "To tell you the truth, I believe he'd wished h
e never taken the commission." He chuckled. "Grandmere said he couldn't leave until he got the painting exactly right."

"Of course, everything would have to be perfect," Kristen said before she thought. "That sounds like her." She frowned.
"This time, I must admit, her persistence paid off."

"Listen." Trevor rubbed his chin as he figured out how to explain his grandmother's behavior. "It's going to take Grandmere a while to adjust. But she will come around. I'm sure of it. She'll accept everything when you stand beside me next week."

Kristen twisted her lips into a cynical smile. "Ye wanna bet money on that?"

"I see you gamble, too." He grinned. "Let's just say under that hard crust, the woman loves me, and she'll come to love you if given time."

"As in a hundred years."

He moved closer.
"Who couldn't love my little thief?"

"Yer a bit tae close." She took a step back.

"Not as close as I'll be a week from now." He shortened the distance.

"But that's in a week." She placed a hand on his chest. "Ye could be disappointed 'cause I-I dinna--"

Trevor caressed her cheek with his fingers. "I will not be disappointed." His voice softened. "You have been full of surprises so far. I can't imagine you changing in a week."

Kristen felt the warmth spread through her like melting butter on hot bread. But she wasn't comfortable in this house, and she didn't want him to think that every time he touched her, she would fall into his arms. She needed to show him some resistance instead of melting at his feet. But he didn't need to know that.

She pulled away. "I thought you were going to take Hagan riding." She tried not looking at him, knowing she'd go straight back into his arms with very little encouragement. She was addicted to this man for sure.

She was doomed.

Trevor went from deliciously warm to ice cold. In less than two seconds. What was the matter with him? He couldn't keep his hands off her.

"Yes, I was," he answered, his tone a little irritated. "And I believe the seamstress has arrived to start fitting you for your dress."

"Then ye'll have tae show me the way." She started for the door.  Do ye have a map of this place?"

Trevor chuckled. "No, you'll find your way around in due time."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

Chapter Nine

After three days of fittings, Kristen grew tired of standing on the small stool while three woman pinned and poked her. Every time she moved, a pin stuck her somewhere, and she felt that she'd been patient long enough.

Kristen looked down at the yards and yards of beautiful white, pearl-drenched satin and French lace that draped across a solid white skirt
, then swept up in the back and blended with a long train down the back. She ran her hand across the smooth material.

The satin felt cool.

She felt numb.

The women chattered around her, talking about how fine the material felt and how expensive the tiny pearls cost, but they were not speaking directly to Kristen. It was as if she didn't exist except as someone to hold the garment off the floor. That was one of the problems. Since she'd come to Chatsworth, she felt absolutely useless. Before, she'd had to provide food for H
agan, and take care of him, and had always been on the move. Now all that was done by someone else.

She had no purpose for her days. And Trevor most certainly didn't need her. He seemed to
always be busy, and dowager duchess wanted no part of her, which left Kristen alone most of the time.