Fascination -and- Charmed (21 page)

There was too much she did not know. In particular, had she experienced
all
that could occur when a woman spent time alone with a man? Or was there more?

“Grace!” A male voice carried clearly in the stillness. “Grace! Wait!”

Hatless, Calum Innes caught up. His thick, dark hair fell over his forehead. He was handsome, but, and definitely not for the first time, Grace compared him to Niall and knew her preference was for the dashing tail at the nape and green eyes—and a smile that was at once charming and wicked.

“Are you well?” Calum asked.

She started. “Perfectly.” It seemed that at Kirkcaldy she was frequently mistaken for an invalid.

“Florence came to me. She said Mrs. Moggach was less than helpful to you when you visited the kitchens.”

Grace considered how to answer. “She said that?”

“Exactly.”

“That and nothing more?”

“What else should she have said? Tell me, please. Florence is a good girl, but understandably, she would be cautious not to make her position difficult with the housekeeper.”

“Mrs. Moggach was inhospitable, nothing more.” She must not be seen as a complaining miss.

Calum leaned against the trunk of a willow. A striking figure indeed. “Would you tell me if there had been something more serious than inhospitality?”

Would she? “I ...” Grace made up her mind. “Yes. Calum, I have a serious problem, and I scarcely know what to do about it. In fact, I have
not the slightest idea about it at all,” she told him in a rush.

Calum regarded her intently. “I shall be delighted to offer whatever advice I can. You appear disconcerted, Grace. Shall we walk whilst
we talk? It might relax you.” Bowing, he offered his arm,
and
when Grace took it, he strolled with her, leading her carefully around tree roots.

“You are very kind, Calum.”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, yes. Very kind.”

“No more than I should be.”

She should not have said she had a problem. “I am beginning to think Scotland the most beautiful place.” True, but not at all what she had intended to say.

“Then we are agreed upon something very important.” He grinned, and his face became young and animated. “Now, share your dilemma.”

Grace lowered her lashes. “You are not married?”

“No.”

“But you are experienced as a, er, man of the world?”

He stopped walking. “What a very odd question for a girl to ask.”

“I am not a girl.”

“Excuse me. A
young lady.
”

“There are occasions when there is a female of mature years who is quite without sources of wisdom in some of the more ... delicate areas. Apart from my mother, I have never had any female relatives—or friends—to turn to. And my mother’s sensibilities are exceedingly delicate. Have you ever ...” She simply
had
to have answers. “You are clearly a man of the world. Therefore you must have Sat with a woman. At least once.”

Calum raised one dark red brow.

“Oh, fie!” Grace pulled her hand from his arm and turned her back. “I am in need of advice, sir. Of information.”

“Do not distress yourself,” he said gently. “I know that you have had some ... stressful experiences?”

“Most stressful. But you cannot possibly know about them. I mean—” A pox on her silly careless tongue. “I mean that I need guidance. I need information of a technical nature on what exactly passes between a man and a woman.”

“A man and a woman?”

“In ... moments of
intimacy.
”
Her voice rose to a strangled squeak. “I need to speak frankly with someone of experience who will tell me what I need to know.”

Calum didn’t answer.

“It is so annoying to wonder about such things.” She faced him again. “What exactly
does
a woman do when she’s being a Vessel for Sin? And when she does it, what does she cause a man to do? In the most extreme instances? That is, when the situation is carried to its fullest extent?”

Grace didn’t remember seeing a man blanch. Or grow red. Calum did both in turns. Then he clasped his hands behind his back and raised his face to the sky.

“You see,” Grace said, touching his sleeve. “If I knew what one does, and if I’ve already done it, then I might be able to avoid doing it again ...
if
I’ve ever done it before, that is.” This was dangerous. “Which I probably haven’t, of course. Only I should like to be certain because, unlike so many people, I believe it’s good for a person, including a female person, to be as informed as possible on all things.”

He coughed.

“Then there is the matter of love. Love is truly confusing, and I was wondering if you—”

“Are you religious?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Religious,” Calum repeated.

“God?”

He nodded and echoed, “God,” sonorously.

“Absolutely! My father was a very pious man, and that did not always ... Well, I do think one should practice one’s faith with those closest, don’t you? Rather than ... Father was a good man, but not always an easy one.” He was staring at her. “Yes, Calum. I am religious, and I find that fact a great comfort.”

“Good. I have the perfect solution to this problem of yours.”

“You do?”

“Definitely. A man of God is what you need. One practiced in listening to many of life’s troubles—from the troubled. Come, we have a task for Father Struan.”

Struan forbore to remind Calum that Arran was unlikely to be pleased if he discovered his private walled garden was being used as a confessional!

“There she is,” Calum said, indicating a stone bench amid Arran’s beloved rhododendron crescent.

“This is the very devil,” Struan muttered.

“I fear she thinks she may be.”

Struan stopped. “She thinks what?”

“That she may be the devil,” Calum remarked without a trace of a smile. “Hence I steered her in your direction. You being the expert on such conditions.”

Struan shook his head. He’d known Calum as long as he could remember—and liked him—but he’d always been an obscure fellow. “She’s a charming-looking little thing. Quite unlike anyone I’ve ever known Arran’s attention to be caught by.”

“If one is to believe his allusions—and hers—they are quite caught by one another.”

“Except that she doesn’t know Arran is Arran,” Struan pointed out.

“Niall is Arran, you mean.”

Struan cast his eyes heavenward. “May the saints preserve us.”

“I’ll take help from anyone,” Calum said.

“Have a care,” Struan warned. “The saints can be quite contrary on occasion.”

“So I’m told.”

“Arran always preferred
dramatic
-looking women,” Struan mused. “Miss Wren is, um,
ethereal,
wouldn’t you say? Not that I’ve any experience in such matters.”

“In this case I couldn’t agree more. Ethereal. And engaging. That’s why I chose her. I think she is
exactly
what Arran needs and what will bring him out of his damnable hiding.”

“The golden brown eyes and pale hair are unusual.” Struan kept his voice down, but Miss Wren appeared to be transported to another place, apparently one that caused her deep concern. “Arran’s previous females have all been more, um, buxom?”

“Voluptuous.”

Struan blew out a breath. “Whatever. This creature is small but perfect, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would. When I first saw her, I wasn’t sure. Subsequently I decided she’d have the kind of body that might drive Arran wonderfully mad. Appeal to his sense of beauty. Lithe. Slender. Her skin is so pale. And her breasts are ...
pert.
“

Struan threaded his fingers together.

Calum gave every impression of being oblivious to his companion. “A man of Arran’s strength and sensibilities would undoubtedly be driven quite
marvelously
mad in conquering her. She’d be a supple wand. One could easily imagine that naked she’d be ...” Calum caught Struan’s eye and ducked his head. “Ah. I forget myself, Father. Looking for a wife for your brother was a heavy task, one I took with great seriousness. I tried to see her through his eyes, and that is why I have analyzed her so thoroughly. Please be assured that I have no personal interest in the lady.”

“I need no assurances of that nature from you. I know you too well. It is time you found your own wife, Calum.”

“We both know that is unlikely to occur.” The downward jerk of Calum’s mouth told of bitterness. “We will not speak of it.”

Not
now
, Struan thought.
But one day.
“As you

say. So I am to hear Miss Wren’s little troubles.” Please God let him be equal to the task.

“Be patient,” Calum whispered. “I believe I shall leave you now. She’ll be more comfortable with you alone.”

Before Struan could protest, Calum walked swiftly away.

The little figure on the bench didn’t stir until Struan approached and stood directly before her. Then she raised her face with its large, intelligent eyes, its charmingly tilted nose and full mouth—and she blushed. And leaped to her feet.

“Sit down,” he told her, and she sank back, but her spine remained board-straight. “You wanted to see me? To talk to me?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, probably not, but Calum said you were exactly the man I should speak to, so I agreed.” Between parted lips, her teeth were small and even and very white. “Calum said that since I find religion—God—such a comfort, I should most likely find talking to you about my dilemma quite comforting, too. Because you are a man of God.”

Calum would hear more about this. “If I can help you in any way, I will.” Arran’s manipulating best friend had certainly chosen a lovely creature. The girl’s face held an innocence that twisted Struan’s heart. “Please don’t look so troubled. There is very little in this world that is worthy of deep regard. Except honor and kindness—and loyalty and honesty and a simplicity of spirit. I’m certain you have all these qualities in great measure.”

An expression of purest misery filled her eyes. Tears welled along her lower lids. “Those qualities have always meant a great deal to me.” She spoke softly. “But I fear I have ... compromised ... all of them in my desire to accomplish certain earthly requirements.”

Damn Arran for his thoughtlessness. “No, no, no.” Struan hoped he sounded reassuring. “You could not possibly be guilty of any such thing.” He also hoped for an early opportunity to give Calum and Arran his opinion of their behavior with this fragile creature.

“There are certain things I wish to ascertain in order to decide exactly what I have done—or not done. And then I must find a way to deal with
feelings
I have for someone. I have no knowledge of the intimate side of relationships between men and women.”

Calum should
roast
for this. “There is no need for you to know such things.”

“Oh, but I think there is. How can I decide if I have ... I do not agree with the old-fashioned notions that a woman should be foolishly ignorant of matters concerning her bodily reactions.”

He drew in a breath.

“To men.”

He puffed up his cheeks.

“When they ...
Sit Together.
”

Struan exhaled noisily.
“
Sit
together?”

“I know you are shocked that I should speak of such matters, but who can I speak to if not to a priest? I am not a Catholic, but I appreciate that your vows cause you to be exposed to many confidences.” She shook her head. “I should not at all care for that. Anyway, since you are a priest and the marquess’s brother, Calum thought you would agree to enlighten me.”

There were trials no man should suffer.

“I have experienced ...
unsettling
sensations. Completely new sensations.”

Struan regarded his boots.

“They are difficult to describe. Sort of—”

“No need at all to be precise,” he said hastily.

“Of course not. I expect a man such as you has heard these things in detail many times.”

Pistols at dawn would be too good for Calum.

“Are these sensations the usual sort of thing one should expect when with ...? Well, in truth, I’ve been having them all by myself. I expect that’s unnatural?”

He used to be as good a shot as Calum. “Not at all unnatural. Not at all.”

“Oh, what a relief.” Her eyes brightened, only to cloud again. “However, that does not enlighten me in the other matter.”

Men of the cloth did not duel.

“You are so patient with me.” She smiled a little. “Could you please tell me exactly what happens?”

“What happens? In what regard?” As soon as he’d spoken, he guessed his sickening mistake.

“The entire thing. All of its ... parts? You see, I think what I’m really wanting to find out is how I will know when I have experienced everything there
is
to experience.”

God was merciful. Even a man of the cloth could commit a grave sin and be forgiven. For murder.

“Would it make it simpler if we considered the question in relation to a wedding night?” Grace asked. “It would seem so to me. That does appear to be the event that everyone considers ...
eventful?
”

Through gathering gloom, Struan settled his gaze on the garden wall behind her head, on the espaliered cotoneaster, on the stones behind the shiny dark green leaves. Please let him find inspiration.

“Miss Wren—Grace, you are about to be married. Trust that your husband will make these things clear to you at the, ah, appropriate moment.”
Trust a cad. Trust a heartless monster who deserved to be horsewhipped, and his best friend with him.

Footsteps on the path behind made him look over

his shoulder. At the sight of Calum Innes, he pulled back his shoulders and glared.

Calum approached, passed Struan without a glance, and stood before Grace. He offered a hand and she took it, allowed him to help her to her feet.

“What is it?” She frowned, and Struan saw what she had seen, the stiff tension on Calum’s face.

“Calum?”

Calum waved Struan to silence. “Everything is perfectly fine. We understand your Cuthbert relatives are presently arriving at Kirkcaldy.” He aimed a level stare at Struan. “Perhaps you should entertain them awhile. The marquess wishes to meet Grace.
Now.
”