After The Storm (30 page)

“
Sally
changed her mind?”

“Yes. I saw her in London and that was when she told me.”

Lacing her tapering fingers together, Sarah brought both hands down to rest on her lap. “She had a change of heart? After so many years of pining for you? Surely, you will understand why I find that a bit hard to believe.”

“Be that as it may, she did and I agreed it was for the best. I am fond of Sally. I always have been. However, I am not so certain I wish to be
fond
of my wife. Apparently, she felt the same.”

“I see.”

He took a deep breath at his mother’s dark expression. “She is as a sister to me.”

“I see.” Sarah pressed her lips together for a long moment before continuing, “I gather, from what you
aren’t
telling me there is someone you feel something other than fondness for? Someone
else
who might have precipitated Sally’s sudden change of heart.”

Hugh paused, the quill still in his hand. “Why do you suggest that?”

Her expression stormy, she replied, “Because I have eyes, Hugh. And because I am not so great a fool as to believe Sally, who has pursued no one else but you, has decided to
end
your courtship. Why, I find that most difficult to swallow, indeed.” Her dark eyes bored into him. “Now, I will ask again, is there a certain someone who you feel more than
fondness
for?”

It was of little use to try and deny it. She’d caught and cornered him. Letting the quill clatter to the blotter, he sighed and nodded. “Yes. In fact, there is.”

A long, low sigh leaked through her lips. “Why do I think I’ll not like this at all?” She closed her eyes. “Miss MacDonough has something to do with this sudden change of heart, doesn’t she?”

“Mother—”

“No. I care not if you make the girl your mistress, but you will
not
make her your wife.”

Sarah jabbed an angry finger at him as she opened her eyes and scowled. Lines creased either side of her mouth as she continued, “She is
not
suitable. In fact, despite Elyse’s greatest effort, Miranda MacDonough is a hopeless cause. The Highlands are all
she
will ever be suited for, and I will
not
allow her to bear our name. Absolutely not.”

“I think that’s a bit unfair, don’t you?” He reached for his cane to rise. “She is not like any other woman I have ever met.”

“And for that I am eternally grateful.”

A small knot formed in the pit of his gut. “Need I remind you it is
my
decision?”

“Need I remind
you
your father wished this marriage?”

“And he is gone, Mother. He isn’t coming back and, even if he did, I doubt he’d want me married to the wrong woman.”

Sarah snorted inelegantly. “Oh-ho, so Miranda is the
right
woman, then? You will excuse me if I find humor in that. The girl is only slightly better than a guttersnipe. And only because of your sister’s help.”

The knot twisted, and then burst to spill heated anger through him. “Enough! That
guttersnipe
, as you so eloquently put it, is more a lady than Sally Hayworth will ever be. It takes more than frilly gowns and invitations to the most sought-after parties to make a woman a lady. Perhaps she’s a bit rough about the edges, but make no mistake, she is no guttersnipe. And even if it
was
true, I’d rather wed a guttersnipe I love, than a princess I do not.”

“So, not only is she the woman you prefer to marry, but now you expect I will believe you’ve fallen in love with her?” A dry, bitter laugh erupted on her lips and she shook her head. “Why, the very notion is utterly absurd.”

“Absurd? Why? Because I refuse to keep lying to myself? I’ve done everything asked of me. And now, when I have the chance to be with someone who will make me happy, I should just push her aside because she’s not suitable enough for
you
?” He rapped the cane against the stone hearth. “I’ve had quite enough of doing for everyone else. Now, I’m going to do for me. Not only will
I
choose my wife, but I will choose the one I love. And to hell with anyone who thinks to stand in my way.”

Her humorless smile faded and her eyes narrowed as her mouth pinched into a frown. “Stop this nonsense. No need exists for such dramatics and we will not discuss the matter any further. Sally Hayworth is perfectly lovely and absolutely acceptable. All that is left now is for you to stop this foolishness and do your duty. It doesn’t matter if you
love
your wife. You may disagree but truly all that matters is that you choose the suitable bride. And that means one of good blood, and good breeding,
not
the one who offers up only a good tumble. That is what a mistress is for.”

He almost burst out laughing, as Sarah looked as shocked as he was by her outburst. However, his amusement faded as she continued, “That woman is rubbish, Hugh. And you will not
shame
this family by marrying her.”

“Yes, Mother.” It wasn’t easy to force calmness into his voice, but he managed, and he also stuffed down the red-hot fury threatening to devour him. Pivoting on the cane’s head, he faced her. “My duty. My responsibility. I know what I have to do and believe me, I fully intend to do it.”

“Wonderful.” She bobbed her head sharply. “You will see in time. Sally is the wisest choice for you. You have much in common with her. She understands what is expected of her and is skilled enough to take on those responsibilities. As I said, once you’ve married, take the MacDonough girl as your mistress. Tuck her away in Scotland. I care not. But she will
not
bear our name. Is this understood?” She crushed the missive in her fist, then tossed it into the fire where it curled and blackened into ash. “Now, you
will
return to London and put things right with Sally and you will leave tomorrow. I’ll not hear another word of this foolishness.”

She did not wait for his answer, but stormed out of the study in much the same manner as Elyse, only she did not slam the doors. Hugh stood there for a long moment, staring at those closed doors. Yes, he knew what he had to do.

He’d return to London, but Lady Sally would never know he was there.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Wood crackled and snapped as Miranda tossed another log onto the fire. The flames glowed brilliant yellow and orange, and though they warmed her skin, they did nothing to ease the chill within.

With a soft sigh, she turned away from the hearth and moved to drop into her favorite chair. It was an old chair, with cracked dark green leather covering, and the mahogany shine on the armrests had worn away over the years. Fortunately, no animals had claimed it as theirs during the months the cottage remained vacant, and for that she was grateful.

Home. Thankfully, the cousin to whom Angus bequeathed the cottage remained in Glasgow. When she’d happened upon Duncan Chadwick two days prior, and survived his rather over-enthusiastic welcome, he’d told her the cousin had arrived shortly after her departure for London, stayed long enough to take what he’d wanted, and then hurried back to Glasgow. The house had been vacant since.

Having stood empty for some time, the cottage was in need of a thorough cleaning and she’d scowled at finding her cousin apparently wanted all of the silver, and most of the decent furnishing. He’d left nothing but rubbish and a mess behind. True, the house and its contents
were
his, but he might have taken care to make sure nothing happened to it, instead of letting it go to ruin.

“I only hope Arabella is going mad with fury,” she muttered, staring at the fire. She was so tired. Beyond tired, really. Completely drained was more accurate. First, she’d bolted from London in the middle of the night, after thieving the Marchand stables. The stolen horse made it as far as Gretna Greene, where she’d traded up, using the mare and a pair of gold and pearl earrings as payment.
That
horse was now tucked away for the night in the MacDonough’s modest stable, having earned a long rest.

Following her journey, she spent two days sweeping and scouring the cottage, and even chased a family of rodents from the kitchen. Now, her back ached and her muscles were as limp as rain-soaked leaves. All she wanted was to sleep until spring broke through. But the exhaustion provided an escape, for she was too tired to so much as think about Hugh.

Surely he and Lady Sally were married by now. The grocer did not carry the London newspapers, so she had no way to confirm her belief. Not that it mattered. Hugh had made it quite plain Lady Sally was his choice. Perfect, beautiful,
acceptable
Lady Sally.

Wind howled past the windows, and whipped down the chimney to jolt her from her doze. It was time to turn in. Unfortunately, her cousin also relieved the cottage of its bedchamber furnishings, so her bed consisted of a thin blanket laid out on the uneven, warped floor in what had been her chambers. It did little to encourage a good night’s rest.

She started at a gentle knock on the front door. “What the devil?” she muttered, as it grew more insistent.

When it echoed loudly, she could ignore it no longer. Who was at her door at this time of the night?

Mustering up the last reserves of her strength, she shoved up from her chair and padded to the front door. “Who goes there?”

“You do realize it’s raining out here, don’t you?”

Her heart pounded wildly at the deep, elegantly flowing voice she knew so well. But it wasn’t possible, was it?

With shaking hands and uncooperative fingers, she grasped the bolt to throw it, and then pulled open the heavy wooden door.

Hugh Thorpeton swooped down from the darkness, raindrops dripping from his dark hair, shucked his sopping greatcoat, and caught her in his arms. He spoke not a word, but his mouth seized hers, his arms wrapped about her, and he crushed her close.

A million questions spun through her mind, yet she gave herself up to his kiss, parted her lips as his tongue plunged forth between them to caress hers with a silky heat. Her heart soared, and warmth spilled through her. Dampness from his clothes seeped into her, but she paid it no heed and instead pulled him even closer.

He lifted her easily, and groaned into her mouth as he clasped her backside with both hands to pull her into him before he booted the door closed with one foot. Her head spun as she wore only a linen chemise, and his erection ground up into her sensitive flesh.

His fingers pressed into her. His mouth searched hers. His manhood tortured her through her own clothing. She tried to pull away, but he had none of it. Rather, he carried her down the short, dark corridor, as if he knew where to go. Giving up her fight, she sank into him as he devoured her lips, suckled sweetly at her tongue, and scorched her with the ferocity of it all.

The heat on her back intensified and she pulled away to blurt, “Stop. You’re about to set us both on fire. And I mean that literally.”

His laughter was husky. “Too late. I am already on fire, love. Tell me, where are your chambers?”

“My chambers are a blanket on the floor.”

He pulled away to regard her with smoked-emerald eyes. “Why?”

“My cousin, the rightful owner, took it all back.”

He smiled then—a slow, roguish smile that set her blood to nearly boiling. “It matters not, Randi. Here is fine.”

“No. Wait—”

He didn’t let her finish, but seized her lips again, as he spun her about. Cool wood skimmed her bare legs, and a piece of crockery smashed onto the floor as he pressed her down against the tabletop. Her chemise rode up to mid-thigh, and he pulled back, his eyes gleaming as his gaze moved over the pale expanse of her legs. He loomed above her, dark hair wet and dripping to create large, dark patches on the shoulders of his pale blue lawn shirt. A shadow of black beard darkened his jaw, and his eyes were heavy lidded and sensual.

His palms came to rest at her knees, warm on her skin. With a wicked smile he slid them upward, tugging the linen to bunch at her hips.

The heat scorching her now had nothing to do with the fire. “What are you doing?” she gasped, as he bent over her, and one of his hands disappeared between her thighs. “Hugh!”

“Hush, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingertips warm, but rough against her sensitive skin. “We will talk, I promise. You can yell at me to your heart’s desire later. But now…oh, love, I need you.”

“Need me? Have you gone completely mad? Hae ye—” she sucked in a painfully sharp breath as he slid a finger inside her and in one fluid motion, stroked an unbearable lust to life.

“I’m not mad, Randi,” he growled and gazed down upon her as she fought to keep her eyes open. “I assure you, I am perfectly sane.” He leaned close, caught her in a long, deep, lingering kiss that touched her very core. He pulled away and his lips brushed hers as he murmured, “But I have missed you terribly…”

Her head buzzed, spun wildly as delectable pleasure burned through her. She should be angry, but it could wait. She should brain him with something. But that, too, could wait. His fingers worked a most exquisite magic, and she wanted only to feel him buried deep inside her, for them to come together and love each other as they had that night in the cottage.

But they were on her table! Her hands braced against his shoulders, she tried to push him away, even as bliss swirled through her. She didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want the delicious feelings to end. But still…

“Hugh, wait…”

Another thrust of his finger and the protest died on her lips. Bloody hell. Did it really matter anyhow?

She bit down on her bottom lip as he reached for the laces of her chemise with his free hand. Heat flooded her as he tugged the ribbon and the linen split to spill from her body. She looked up and her toes curled as Hugh gazed down at her.

A slow smile lifted his lips. Dear God, the man could seduce her with only his eyes. Her skin tingled as if his gaze warmed her. Tightness in her belly dropped lower, and she gasped as he thrust his finger inside her again.

“Hugh…” Why was he staring so hard? She was afraid she’d melt away, if he didn’t avert his eyes soon.

Instead, he leaned forward and flicked out his tongue to caress the very tip of her nipple. She groaned. She couldn’t help it. The pleasure was delightful, and his breath warm as he murmured, “Perfect, love,” and licked again, and then captured her nipple with his lips, and drew it into the wet heat of his mouth. She let out a long, soft moan. Another flick of his fingers, and pleasure engulfed her from the inside out. Her senses hummed, her body tensed, and her desire erupted into a blaze of heat and need.

It was too much. She had to touch him. His tongue scraped over her nipple and she let out a soft cry, reaching one hand down between them to wrest open the falls of his breeches.

He was hot and hard, sleek and wonderful, as her fingers first brushed his length and then curled about him. Hot breath exploded in a puff against the curve of her neck and he shuddered against her, a low moan wafting up to tease her ear.

“Randi…” Another shiver, a nip of his teeth against her neck. She sucked in her breath as he snatched her hand from him.

“Hugh?” Perhaps she’d done something she ought not to?

A muscle bulged in his jaw as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. “You have me very near embarrassing myself, love. I’d rather
not
finish this way. I want to be deep inside you when the glorious moment arrives.”

Heat stung her cheeks, but faded at once as he straightened up and gripped behind her knees to tug her close to the edge of the table. Her chemise bunched above her hips and he smiled again. This time, it was heavy with the devil, and he knelt between her knees.

Horror seized her when she felt his hot breath close to her core. “Hugh! No!”

She tried to sit up, to clasp her chemise back down over her thighs, but he wouldn’t allow it. Her strangled, “Oh,” echoed through the entire cottage as his tongue teased her most sensitive of areas.

A starburst of desire erupted and she fell back as the white hot embers pulsed through her, teased every nerve with wicked delight. Her head spun, her body tensed, and when the star exploded before her, it was all she could do to hang on and savor the sweetly sinful pleasure that scorched her entire body. Wave after wave of pure bliss threatened to engulf her, and as Hugh rose up between her thighs again, she whispered, “Oh…oh…”

Then she gasped as he entered her and thrust deep. Going still against her, Hugh fought for breath as he murmured, “I love how you feel around me, Randi…and I’ve never missed anything as much as I’ve missed you. This is where I belong.”

“But…what about…oh, you feel heavenly…no…” She shook her head, finally able to push him far enough away to look up into his heavy-lidded eyes. “What about—”

His kiss, hard and serious, cut her off as he thrust again. Her questions forgotten, she savored the ripples of sweet pleasure flooding her body as he found his rhythm. Fire tore through her as she hit another blinding climax, the strength of it threatening to rip her to shreds.

He arched into her, peaked with her, and growled his utter pleasure into her neck as he crushed her against him, and then sank into her. Tears pricked her eyes as she trailed her fingers through the silver streaking his hair and murmured, “What are you doing here?”

Lifting his head, he regarded her with tender eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “I am an ass, Miranda. It is that simple,” he murmured, rising onto his forearms to curve both hands against her cheeks. “Or, perhaps I should say I
was
an ass. Something right before my eyes and yet, I did not see it until it was almost too late.”

She was quite certain her heart ceased to beat as she stared up at him, unable to believe she’d heard him correctly. “What?”

“There will be no betrothal between Sally and I. It took a bit longer than it should have, but I ended it.” His fingers stroked her cheeks. His lips skimmed hers and she forgot how warped the tabletop was beneath her. “You were right. I was too afraid…I did not wish to dishonor my father’s wishes. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew what I needed to do.”