How to Abduct a Highland Lord (24 page)

 The women were all dressed in the height of fashion, though they’d subtly altered their gowns. Fiona tried not to stare, but with so many flashing bosoms in the room, it was difficult not to. “Heavens,” she said weakly when a lady with a particularly low décolletage walked by. “I don’t know where to look.”

 Campbell chuckled and pulled her arm through his. “You don’t need to look anywhere except at me.”

 Fiona wished she’d asked Gregor or Dougal to bring her instead of Campbell, but she’d known her brothers would never have allowed her to come, no matter how much she begged. Looking around at the drunken crowd, she thought they might have been right.

 Either way, she was here now, and she might as well enjoy herself. At least until Jack arrived.If he came. She refused to think what she would do then.

 “Lady Kincaid—Fiona,” Campbell said. “Let’s find a table and try our hand at bucking the tiger.”

 “Bucking the tiger?”

 He smiled, his eyes twinkling down at her. “That’s what you call it when you play faro. It’s a very simple game but quite swift-moving. I think you’ll like it.”

 She nodded, relieved to have something to occupy her mind. Campbell led her to a nearby faro table and seated her in a plush, gilt-edged chair. “Mr. Chumbly, Lord Penult-Mead, Lady Oppenheim, allow me to introduce a potential partner. This is Lady Kincaid, and she is new here in London.”

 Lord Penult-Mead brightened immediately. “New, are you? Excellent! Excellent! I am the banker tonight, my dear. If you need a line of credit, just say the word, and I’ll open one for you.”

 She glanced up at Campbell, who stood behind her chair. He bent and whispered, “Shall I frank you, my dear? Would that suit you better?”

 She flushed. It wouldn’t suit her at all, but she would rather owe Campbell than a stranger. “Would you mind?”

 He bent low and pressed a heavy coin into her hand. “It’s a pleasure to frank such a beautiful player.”

 “Thank you,” she said. “I will pay you back, of course.”

 He laughed. “As you wish. Just start low in your bidding. When you feel as if you’ve lost too much, then quit.”

 That didn’t sound too bad. “Thank you. I am afraid I don’t know the rules.”

 Lady Oppenheim, who looked very much like a large pug dressed in puce silk and ostrich feathers, waved a bejeweled hand. “Oh, it’s quite easy, my dear. We are playing against Lord Penult-Mead, as he is the banker. The rest of us are called the punters. You purchase checks from the banker”—she indicated some round, coinlike chips that sat on the table before her—“and use those to place your wagers.”

 Fiona listened carefully as Lady Oppenheim explained the details of the game. It did seem remarkably easy, though there was a lot to remember.

 As if reading her mind, Campbell leaned in and whispered, “Do not worry, my dear. I will be here to assist you.”

 His breath brushed her ear, and though it felt pleasant, it didn’t awaken the response she would have felt with Jack.

 It was a dismal thought, and she forced herself to apply her attention to the game, even though part of her was wistfully watching the doorway.

 Fiona played only two hands before Jack arrived, and she knew the moment he walked in. Not only did her body tingle as if touched, but the room grew loud with cries of welcome. Even Lady Oppenheim waved her handkerchief.

 Jack came directly toward her, looking dangerously handsome in his black evening clothes, his dark auburn hair falling across his brow, his blue eyes steady on her.

 She clutched her hand around her markers and tried to calm her racing heart.

 Campbell didn’t seem to notice Jack’s presence until he was almost at the table.

 “Fiona,” Jack said.

 Campbell started, his hands tightening on the back of her chair, yet he said nothing.

 “Fiona,” Jack said. “It is time we went home.”

 Fiona grabbed a handful of markers and randomly placed them on the board.

 Lady Oppenheim shook her head. “My dear, have a care. That is a risky wager, indeed.”

 Fiona kept her head up high. “It’s what I wish to do.”

 “Very well,” Lady Oppenheim said in a doubtful voice. “Just do not cry to me when you lose.”

 Lord Penult-Mead dealt the card.

 “Excellent!” Campbell said. “You won, my dear!”

 Good. Then perhaps she could pay Campbell back before the evening was over. Her Scottish soul detested the thought of owing money.

 Jack had crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you through yet?”

 Actually, she was. She didn’t like the smoke or the hubbub or the quality of people. She’d much rather go home or have a quiet evening with friends, but she was not about to admit that to Jack.

 “I am just beginning to enjoy myself.”

 He reached for her arm. “We are leaving.”

 She freed herself. “No, we are not.You may leave, but I am staying.”

 He glowered down at her, his powerful hands opening and closing. Her partners at the table watched with interest as he leaned down until his eyes were even with hers. “Fiona, it’s time to go home,now .”

 She didn’t flinch. “As you said before, we are completely independent of each other. You may do as you wish, and I may do as I wish.”

 “That is not acceptable.”

 “It’s all you’ll get,” she said in a heated tone.

 Campbell had remained quiet throughout this altercation. Fiona wasn’t even certain he was still standing with her.

 “Very well,” Jack said. “If you wish to stay, then stay. I will do the same. Just don’t expect me to change my behavior because you are present.”

 “I expectnothing from you.” She waved a hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you are interrupting our play.”

 He glowered, then turned on his heel and left.

 Within seconds, he was surrounded by a bevy of attractive women and a group of rather dissolute-looking men.

 Campbell’s hand came to rest on Fiona’s shoulder. “Forgive me for saying this, but your husband is a hothead.”

 Campbell didn’t know the half of it. “He has had a bad day.”

 “Are we ready to begin?” Lord Penult-Mead asked.

 “I hope so!” Lady Oppenheim huffed. “I am quite determined to win back my markers. Lady Kincaid, I believe it’s your turn.”

 Fiona quickly placed her wager.

 The next hour was pure hell. Campbell stayed by her side, whispering advice in her ear and paying her overblown compliments. She pretended to be interested in what he was saying, but she was painfully aware of Jack across the room, looking dangerously handsome as he played at another table.

 She simply could not help peeking at him, noting the way his breeches clung to his thighs. The way he quite eclipsed everyone else in the room with his broad shoulders. The way his hair fell over his brow, shadowing his eyes until they looked black instead of dark blue. The way every woman in the room was doing exactly what Fiona was doing: watching Jack.

 Blast it all, what were they thinking? He washer husband!

 “Ah, I wondered when she’d arrive,” Campbell said softly, looking at the doorway.

 Fiona followed his gaze and saw Lucinda Featherington cross the room to Jack’s table. She stiffened. “I didn’t know that woman came to places like this.”

 Campbell shrugged. “She goes anywhere she thinks she might find Jack.”

 Lucinda spoke to Jack. Fiona watched closely, catching a flash of emotion on Jack’s face. It came and went so quickly she couldn’t tell what it meant, but Lucinda laughed and took the chair next to his.

 Fiona fumed. Who did that woman think she was? Hadn’t she learned her lesson yet?

 Fiona caught Jack’s eye. Slowly, their gazes locked, and he reached his arm along the back of Lucinda’s chair.

 Lucinda needed no more encouragement. She leaned toward Jack, pressing her bosom against his arm, gazing up into his eyes with open invitation.

 “Lady Kincaid.” Lady Oppenheim’s rather strident voice cut through the air. “It’s your play again. Please pay attention!”

 Flushing, Fiona smacked markers on various cards without paying the slightest heed to what she was doing.

 “Careful,” Campbell said.

 “I am tired of being careful,” she said, unable to keep her eyes on her cards.

 Campbell looked at her face, then glanced back to Jack’s table. Fiona’s gaze followed Campbell’s. Lucinda was whispering in Jack’s ear. He was listening with an absent smile, his gaze locked on his cards. As Fiona watched, Lucinda looked across the room, directly at her. A cool, triumphant smile flickered over Lucinda’s lips.

 Fiona rose from her chair, but Campbell’s hand pressed her back into her seat. Thunder rumbled outside.

 “Easy, my sweet. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction of making a scene.” He glanced at the window as lighting flashed, a thoughtful look on his face.

 “‘Making a scene’ doesn’t even begin to describe what I wish to do.”

 “Do as you wish, of course. I just thought you’d rather have your dignity than revenge,” Campbell said.

 It was a pity she couldn’t have her dignityand slap Lucinda Featherington silly.

 “It would hardly be wise,” Campbell said coolly. “People will forgive a dousing but not an out-and-out attack.”

 Her face flushed. “I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud.”

 “You didn’t. I guessed at your thoughts.”

 “Was my expression so revealing?”

 His blue eyes twinkled at her. “You do have a tendency to wear your thoughts on your sleeve.” He looked pointedly at the window, where the panes were rattling from the sudden wind. “Much like your brothers.”

 Fiona didn’t know what to say. Many people in Scotland knew of the curse, but few actually believed it.

 “Perhaps there is a way we can turn the tables on your husband.” Campbell caught her gloved hand and lifted it to his lips, his breath warm through the cotton.

 It was a proper gesture, but the insinuation in the length of time he held her hand, the way he let his fingers slide from hers when she pulled free, the manner in which he stared into her eyes—all of it smacked of seduction.

 Fiona glanced to where Lucinda leaned against Jack, the two of them deep in conversation. Lucinda’s breasts were pressing against his arm, their fullness quivering with each breath.

 Fiona’s jaw tightened, and, instead of setting Campbell in his place, she leaned toward him and smiled. “Thank you.”

 His eyes widened, an odd flush entering his cheeks. He pressed her hand meaningfully.

 From the corner of her eye, she saw Jack’s hand fist on the table, and she knew she’d won a point. Without removing her hand from Campbell’s, she tossed her new wager onto the table.

 Jack scowled. Then, with a narrow look, he picked up Lucinda’s hand and kissed it exactly the way Campbell had kissed Fiona’s.

 Wind rattled the front window, and the first smattering of rain slashed across the glass.

 Jack smirked.

 Fiona looked around. Damn him! She had to find something else to irk him.

 She watched as he took a drink from a glass on the table, smiling absently when Lucinda spoke.

 A drink! All of the footmen were on the other side of the room, so she grasped Campbell’s arm. “I need a drink.”

 He blinked. “Of course. Someone will be by soon, and—”

 “No, I need onenow,” she said breathlessly. “Should we go to one of the footmen and fetch one?”

 “They will bring it here. Wait a moment.” He lifted a finger, catching the attention of a footman, who obediently rushed to their side.

 Campbell took two shimmering glasses of champagne from the tray and handed one to her. “Here you are, my lady. To what shall we drink?”

 Sparkling bubbles rolled up the side of her glass, gathering on the surface. The candlelight reflected through the glass. “It’s almost too pretty to sip.”

 Campbell’s gaze darkened. “All the more reason to do it quickly.”

 Fiona glanced past him to Jack.

 He paused, his own glass halfway to his mouth, and frowned when he saw the champagne in Fiona’s hand.

 Never breaking his gaze, she lifted the glass. And drank it all.

 At first nothing happened, but then a slow, lazy flush moved up her breasts to her neck. “Oh, my!”

 Jack’s brows lowered. Lucinda, realizing she’d lost his attention, glowered at Fiona.

 Campbell laughed. “I see you enjoy champagne.”

 “I love it.” She tossed her head. “In fact, I will have another glass.”

 Jack’s frown grew as Campbell ordered another glass.

 Fiona took the second glass and looked directly at him. His expression hardened; he lifted his glass and tossed back his drink, every move a challenge.

 Fiona steeled herself, then lifted her glass to Campbell. “Here’s to the end.”

 “The end of what?”

 “Of everything.” She lifted the glass and quaffed it as she’d done before, but this time, the champagne refused to go the way it was intended. She sputtered a moment, then sneezed so violently two pins dropped from her hair, a thick tress falling to one shoulder.