Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy) (28 page)

“You’ll be whistling a different
tune when I tell Lady Aytoun how you seduced me and then mistreated me. I’ll
tell her you forced me. You’ll be thrown out of that job and run out of this
village when I tell people how you raised your hand against me. You are a low,
insolent dog, and they’ll see you for what you are. You’ll never get work
anywhere around here ever again when—”

Ned drew back his fist to strike
her again, and Violet cringed, covering her face with her arms. Smirking, he
lowered his hand.

“And d’ye think all these folk,
including yer precious Lady Aytoun, are going to listen to yer bloody whinin’
and not ask why ye came here tonight? Why ye keep spreading your legs for a
married man?” He laughed in her face. “I didn’t force ye to come here, ye
stupid chit. You came willingly. Like a bitch in heat.”

He continued to berate her, but
Violet’s mind had snagged on the words “married man.” A knot the size of a fist
rose into her throat.

“You’re lying,” she said brokenly.
“You couldn’t be married and come courting me the way you did.”

“Courtin’?” Ned snorted derisively
and yanked her roughly toward the door. “This is all the courtin’ ye’ll be
gettin’ from now on. Just ye get out of here, for I’ve a lass waitin’ who knows
what’s what with a man. An’ ye best not be spoutin’ off back at the Hall,
neither, if ye know what’s good for ye.”

He shoved her so hard through the
door that Violet went sprawling onto the filthy floor.

“An’ don’t ye come back to my door
again, slut, or ye’ll have more than a bloodied lip to show for yer trouble.”

Before Violet could reply, he
slammed the door in her face.

****

Millicent nestled her face into the
crook of Lyon’s neck and nuzzled and tasted the saltiness on the stretch of
taut skin below his beard. Her body still hummed with the sweet after-effects
of their lovemaking, and although they were still connected in the most
intimate way, she had no desire to move or go anywhere, but simply to stay
right here.

Lyon’s hand roamed over her back,
and she heard a soft laugh rumble deep in his throat. She immediately raised
her head and looked into his face.

“What?”

His blue eyes were filled with
tenderness when they met hers. “I was thinking that in all my adult life
nothing has ever approached what I just experienced. It was like the first
time.”

Millicent couldn’t tell him how
much his words meant to her. “I know what you mean. What you gave me just
now…well, never in my life...” Her words trailed off.

“Will you tell me someday about it?
About your life?”

Millicent didn’t want to think about
any of that. “Those years have ceased to exist,” she replied softly.  She moved
carefully, disengaging their bodies, but Lyon’s hand wrapped around her waist,
keeping her from moving away.

“I am not demanding any answers,
Millicent. I am only trying to get better acquainted with my wife.”

“I know,” she said, laying her hand
flat on his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat. “We never removed this.”

“I’m a very modest fellow.”

Millicent laughed, her fingers
trailing down to the hem of the nightshirt, which was still bunched up around
his waist. “I see how modest you are.”

“But I am quite warm. Perhaps we
could remove it.”

“It will be a challenge.”

“I’ve seen you at work before,” he
said, grinning mischievously.

“Very well.” She undid the two ties
at the neck and then pushed up the linen fabric as far as it would go—which
wasn’t far. Stretching her body on top of him, she shifted his weight from one
shoulder to the other, managing to pull up the shirt to around his broad chest.

“Almost there.”

“Hardly,” he responded.

Glaring at him with mock
fierceness, she sat up, straddling his stomach and pulling his right arm out of
the wide sleeve. That worked. Before she could reach for the other arm, though,
she found it straying.

“You are a miracle.” 

He ran his fingers gently across
her nipples and down over the curves of her belly, and Millicent felt the rush
of liquid heat coursing through her middle again.

“Why do you say that?”

“A month ago, the only plan I had
for the future was to find a way to put an end to my miserable life. But now I find myself deliberating on tactful ways of getting you to make love to me again.”

“Is that so?” Millicent said,
inching backward. The feel of his fully aroused manhood nestling against her
body spread another wave of heat through her. Lyon’s fingers trailed lower, and
Millicent took hold of his hand. “First, I have to remove your shirt.”  

“Save that for later,” he said,
gently pulling his hand free and continuing to caress her belly. As he reached
the soft mound, Millicent rose up slightly to meet his touch. “It may take any
number of tries to get this shirt off.”

“These accusations are quite
serious,” the dowager said sharply to her physician.

“I am not making accusations,
m’lady. I am simply passing on information that has been brought to my
attention, information that I felt you should hear. Before conveying it to you,
I considered the seriousness of the matter as well as the source—in this case,
Dr. Parker—and I decided that Lord Aytoun’s health necessitated my speaking to
you. I did not believe ‘twas in anyone’s best interest to allow his lordship to
fall victim to any evildoers.”

“Evildoers, is it?”

As Doctor Tate waved his assistant
out with his medical bag, the dowager motioned to one of her maidservants and
whispered instructions to her. The woman hurried out of the room.

“When was the last time you spoke
with this Parker?”

“Two days ago.”

“And what exactly did he have to
say about my son’s condition?”

The thin shoulders of the physician
straightened. “He was quite concerned. In fact, if I might be perfectly candid,
m’lady, he feared that you could be receiving disheartening news any day about
his lordship. Without proper medication and regular examinations by qualified
physicians, Dr. Parker believes Lord Aytoun is at great risk and may be endangering his life.”

“And he was able to tell you this
with certainty after only one visit to Hertfordshire?”

“A qualified doctor sees beyond the
condition of his patient on a specific day.”

There was a knock at the door, and
Sir Richard appeared.

“Come in, Maitland.” She motioned
to another servant to put some pillows behind her back. Propped up in the bed,
the old woman turned to the physician. “Can you, sir, in just a few words,
summarize all this for Sir Richard?” 

Dr. Tate bowed stiffly. “The
information I have concerns a slave woman who resides at present in Lord
Aytoun’s new residence, Melbury Hall.”

“The information you have is
outdated,” the dowager interrupted. “The woman you refer to is no longer a
slave but a free woman.”

“I beg your pardon, m’lady.” The
doctor turned his attention again to the lawyer. “I have come upon some
distressing information regarding this same woman. She is suspected of having
murdered the physician whom she served as a servant for many years. What
originally was assumed to be a death by natural causes is now suspected of
possibly being caused by poison.”

“Suspected by whom?” the dowager
cut in.

“Well, I assume by the man’s
family.” The thin man ran a hand nervously down the front of his jacket. “By the proper authorities.”

“So you do not know,” Lady Aytoun
snapped. “Is that it?”

“M’lady, as I am certain Sir
Richard will tell you, even with Sir John Fielding’s Bow Street Runners looking
into it—”

“Which they are not,” she retorted
scoffingly.

“Even if they were looking into it,
these matters take time.” The doctor turned to Maitland for help. “Sir,
consider the severity of the charges. If Dr. Dombey did not die of natural
causes, but rather because of the actions of this slave expediting his end with
diabolical brews and potions, what difference does it make if she is officially
charged with the crime?”

“The difference is a matter of
making false accusations,” the lawyer replied calmly. “At her age, having
nothing as a former slave, she has enough trouble without respectable people
slandering her. Terms such as ‘diabolical brews and potions’ imply witchcraft
in addition to murder, sir. Is that what you mean?”

“I only mean that if one considers
the strong likelihood of this African woman murdering her master—and we all
know that this is common in the islands—then the dowager’s first priority
should be to remove her son from this woman’s clutches before she murders
again.”

“My son is
not
in this
woman’s clutches.”

“But he is, m’lady. ‘Tis clear that
your daughter-in-law put an end to Dr. Parker’s visits to Melbury Hall as a
means of giving free rein to this woman.”

“Are you now accusing the younger
Lady Aytoun of wrongdoing?” Maitland asked.

“I am relating what I have heard,” Tate
responded defensively. “There are witnesses from a nearby village called
Knebworth, I was told, who claim the black woman is referred to, unbelievably,
as a great ‘healer.’ Apparently, upon arriving at Melbury Hall, this slave
woman was given the best room in the manor house. There are reports of agents
of this same woman visiting an apothecary in St. Albans. If your ladyship’s
daughter-in-law has fallen under this woman’s spell and has become blind to—”

“Enough,” the dowager ordered
angrily. “You are obviously operating under some deluded notion of loyalty to
your brethren, Dr. Tate, rather than any loyalty to my family—”

“M’lady, I have been your physician
for quite some time now.”

“Indeed, sir. Too long, perhaps. But to make you understand where I stand on this matter, I do not believe the gossip of
scoundrels. Nor do I suspect every old woman with a wrinkled face, a hairy lip,
a squinty eye, or a scolding tongue to be a witch.”

“M’lady—”

“Perhaps because I fit that
description myself. Now, I suggest that you take your leave, sir, before I lose
my temper. See him out, Maitland.”

Beatrice Pennington, Dowager
Countess Aytoun, glared imperiously until the physician, mumbling apologies,
backed out the door under the stern eye of Sir Richard. Dismissing her
maidservants with an impatient wave, the old woman stared darkly at the
window.  

She didn’t want to believe any of
this nonsense. All the reports coming from Melbury Hall indicated Lyon was improving. For the first time in months, Beatrice had begun to hope that things
might turn out well for her son, after all. She had allowed herself to let go
of the past. It appeared that Millicent was good for him.

With a soft knock, Sir Richard reentered
the room. From the droop of his old shoulders, the dowager guessed something
was wrong.

“Don’t tell me you believe this
foolishness.”

He shook his head.  

“Then don’t stand there like a
tongue-tied block of peat, man. Tell me what is on your mind.”

The man sat down in his customary
seat by the window. “I received a letter from your son this morning.”

“From Lyon?”

“Indeed, m’lady.”

“This is good news.” She shot an
angry look in the direction of the door. “And more proof that this one and the
rest of them, too, know little of what they dwell upon. This is the first time Lyon has corresponded with you since his marriage, is it not?”

“Indeed, m’lady.”

“A great sign of improvement in
itself.” She leaned back against the pillows. “So what the devil is bothering
you, Maitland?”

“Before I heard Dr. Tate’s
accusations, nothing. But now, the more I think of it…” His voice trailed off.

“Speak up.”

“In his letter, his lordship has
requested that I send up a few of the Aytoun heirlooms to Melbury Hall.”

“What does he want?”

“He mentions specific pieces of
jewelry that are here in London.”

“And what of it? They are his. He
can do as he wishes with them.”

“He also directs me to hire and
send a secretary up there to him, as his man, Gibbs, has been given the
position of steward at the Hall.”

“All well and good. Time enough that Highland beast started using a bit of his brain.”

“Perhaps we should not take this
matter too lightly, m’lady,” Maitland commented. “The change—dare I say the
improvement—in Lyon has been remarkable. I do not discount the fact that these
doctors appear to be overly keen about bringing us damaging reports. But perhaps our wisest course is for me to go personally to Melbury Hall to check on your son’s
condition. I can go up under the pretext of delivering what the earl has
requested in person. And while I am there, I can assess his lordship’s
improvement and snuff out another potential scandal before it spreads through this
idle London
ton
.”

The old woman’s response was
immediate. “There is no need for you to go, Sir Richard. I shall be making the
journey myself.”

“M’lady, I do not believe the
urgency of the matter will allow us to wait until you are well enough—”

“I shall go this week.”

“But m’lady!”

“No arguments.” She waved a
dismissive hand. “The only person who can put an end to all this foolishness is
I.”

“But you are not well enough.”

“Who says I am not?” she
challenged. “Millicent has already invited me, and I have told her I would go
there to visit sometime. The only difference is that now we shall be arriving
without prior warning.”

“Then allow me to come with you, at
least.”

“As you wish, Sir Richard. Besides, getting out of this dreary city might be good for both of us. Make the arrangements.” 

*****