Just in Time for a Highlander (6 page)

She took a step and reached for him. To his surprise, she kissed him hungrily.

With the little part of his mind not focused on the melon taste of her mouth and the dizzying scent of lilacs in her hair, he battled to control his hands. What
she
chose to embark on was one thing. He would not take the role of aggressor. In fact, he was so afraid of overstepping his bounds that when she broke away, he found himself cupping the back of his head with both hands.

“
Och
,” he said, “that was wonderful.”

But the look on her face was embarrassment. “Well, that explains why no one wants to talk to me. That was unthinkably rude. I do apologize, MacHarg.”

Duncan twisted and turned, fingers still laced, trying to find a way—
any
way—to rescue the moment. “I—I—”

A noise in the hall made her straighten. “I’m sorry, but you must leave. I must also ask you not to mention our meeting. ’Twould make things uncomfortable for me.”

“No, of course not.” He was stumbling backward toward the hall, propelled by the sheer force of her will. At the door, he made himself stop and gather his thoughts. He did not want to leave, and he certainly didn’t want to leave her regretting what had just happened.

“Lady Kerr, if you want me to stay the night, I would consider it an honor. And you can be absolutely assured that whatever happened in that bed would stay strictly between you and me.”

He heard a giggle and turned.

While he’d been making his impassioned plea, the young maid who’d interrupted them in his room earlier in the evening had appeared in one of the doorways beside the bed, holding a large tin jug. She eyed Duncan with amused interest. The noise Abby had heard hadn’t been in the hall; it had been in the bathing area.

“Your bath is drawn, milady.”

Abby cleared her throat. “Thank you, Mr. MacHarg,” she said quite formally, “for the honor of the offer, but I think you understand why I cannot accept it.”

Duncan, you
imbecile.

He reached for the knob. “I wasn’t lying when I said it was my trademark. You can count on it to pop up at the most inopportune times.”

Nora snickered, and Duncan’s heart dropped sixteen stories. “No, no, no! That’s not what I meant. I meant my—”

“I know what you meant,” Abby said, smiling. “I wish you a good night.”

Duncan retreated, his cheeks burning like fire. But no matter how embarrassed he was, the glow from those seconds in her arms would outshine everything for many, many hours to come. He could endure a lifetime of Nora’s snickers for a reward like that.

Happily whistling “Walking on Sunshine,” he picked up the candle he’d put down earlier and walked all the way to the end of the hall before he realized he didn’t remember which room was his. He turned and spotted something he hadn’t on the first pass. His wooden sword was leaning against one of the doors—the door, he had to assume, that was his. He gazed at the carefully burnished wood and shook his head. Neither potent nor artful. A perfect metaphor for him in the eighteenth century. On the other hand, who had just been kissed by the most enchanting woman between John O’Groats and Lands End? Duncan MacHarg, that’s who. Perhaps if Duncan were very lucky, he could extend those few seconds of happiness to an hour or even a particularly glorious eight in the time he had left here, assuming, of course, there would be an end to his time here.

He opened his door and set the candle on his bedside table, where he discovered a decanter of what turned out to be very fine whiskey. With a freshly poured glass, he returned to the doorway. He could see the faint light emanating from the space under Abby’s door and smiled. Was it candles or just her enchanting glow? He would have said angelic glow, but there was definitely a streak of something other than the temperament of angels to her. And that made him smile even more.

Abby’s door opened and Nora emerged, jug in hand. Then Abby herself appeared, in a diaphanous slip, half-hidden by the door, to relay some instructions. Nora listened, curtsied, and headed for the stairs. Before closing the door, Abby looked down the hall. Her eyes, unsteady, met Duncan’s, and his heart quickened. A footman making his rounds crested the stairs and looked surprised to see Duncan in the doorway. In explanation, Duncan pointed to the mists off the loch visible through the window at the end of the hall. “Quite a sky.”

The footman nodded politely, turning in the opposite direction, and when Duncan looked for Abby again, the door was closed.

Duncan stared at that door for a good five minutes, debating. At last, he came to a decision. With a deep, uncertain breath, he swallowed the rest of the whiskey and placed the glass on the table just inside the room.

When he looked up, Rosston was tapping lightly on Abby’s door. Duncan ducked back inside and watched, unseen. Abby’s door opened and Rosston slipped inside.

For many moments, Duncan stared at the door, walloped to his core. Only when Grendel bounded up the stairs, wagging his tail madly, with Nab half a staircase behind, did he break his gaze.

Nab looked at his benefactor with curiosity.

“Is Lady Kerr in love with Rosston?” Duncan asked without preamble.

“I should hope so,” Nab said. “They are betrothed. The wedding will be at Michaelmas.”

Abby cut through the gurgling water like a bird extending her wings, and the cool of the liquid balanced the warmth of the sun on her naked back. The loamy smell of the river filled her head, and she could feel the grit and disappointment of the day before slowly being washed away.

“I am in love with the sea,” Serafina said, coming up for air, “but I must admit swimming in such placid waters, with the larks singing overhead and the early morning sun sparkling among the reeds, is quite lovely.”

“It’s called Candle Pool. It is one of the most magical places in the borderlands—or so Undine says.” Abby turned on her back to float, putting her hands behind her head. Their clothes were heaped under the boxwood overhanging the bank, and a bountiful breakfast of boiled eggs, sausage, and buttered bannocks sat wrapped in a basket awaiting them after their swim.

“Do you believe in Undine’s magic?” Serafina asked.

“Indeed I do,” Abby said, snorting.
I
shall
be
dealing
with
the
effects
of
it
for
many
days
to
come.
“If you are worried about her ability to help you, you mustn’t. She is very good at seeing the truth, sometimes even better than one wishes. She’ll be able to guide you.”

“’Tis not the truth I need,” Serafina said sadly. “Far from it. I need someone to pretend to be my former fiancé so that I may collect cargo that, when sold, will repay the money he stole from me. I was hoping Undine might give me a spell that would help conceal the identity of whomever I hire.”

Abby smiled and ran her arm over the surface of the water, sending ripples in all directions. “I have no doubt that will pique her interest. She is at least as fond of concealing secrets as she is of exposing the truth. Her magic, it seems, can be quite potent.”

Serafina’s face softened. “Did her magic have something to do with Mr. MacHarg?”

Abby started. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, my powers are nothing compared to hers, but it took nothing like magic to see there was something going on between the two of you at dinner.”

Abby dove under the water to hide her reddening face. The memory of MacHarg’s lips on hers had stirred her half the night. Even Rosston’s quarrel-filled late-night visit had not erased the memory. She’d been sorely tempted to accept MacHarg’s awkward but well-meaning invitation. She smiled to think of the intriguing sparkle in his sapphire eyes and those arresting calves. If only Nora hadn’t been there….

But dallying with an outsider was a risk she couldn’t afford. Rosston was pressing her to announce their agreement to marry. He’d already told the men closest to him the ceremony would be at Michaelmas, which had only made her feel even more coerced. She dreaded the thought of marrying him, but a clan chief, especially a woman without the full support of her men, does not always get to marry whom she chooses. If she had to marry Rosston, she would, but if she could get the canal financed before the money was gone, she wouldn’t have to depend on an alliance with him to save her clan.

She surfaced, flipping soaking strands of dark hair over her shoulder.

“I am inclined to take your silence as an affirmation of my suspicions,” Serafina said, smiling.

“You are as much a fortune-teller as I, then,” said a voice behind them.

Abby turned. Undine stood on the high bank, having apparently emerged from the rosebush-lined path the rise hid from view. Her face glistened with the perspiration that always comes with a summer carriage ride.

“You’ve returned!” Abby cried. “I trust things went well?”

“Well enough, I think.” Undine threw down her bag and began unbuttoning her gown. “I spoke to my contact, who was eager to discuss his own troubles as well. He promised to do what he could to settle the army’s agitation and send a private message.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“And I stopped at the castle before coming here. William is doing better.”

“Thank you, Undine.”

“But for now, I think I must examine your face. Something has changed.” Undine’s dress dropped at her feet and she skimmed off her chemise. With a trim dive, she entered the water, her limbs as lithe and powerful as a mermaid’s tail.

In an instant, her head cleared the water directly in front of Abby. She examined Abby’s face with bladelike sharpness. Abby knew protestation was futile.

“You kissed him!” Undine declared. “Great skies! You
kissed
him!”

“Keep your voice down.” Abby fought the smile that appeared, uninvited, on her face.

Undine turned to Serafina. “What happened at dinner? What did I miss?”

“There was a palpable cloud of attraction hanging over the table,” Serafina said, grinning. “’Twas hard to see the food, the air was so thick with it.”

Abby sputtered. “That’s…that’s outrageous. ‘A cloud of attraction’? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Serafina laughed. “I cannot account for the hours after dinner, however.”

“The hours after dinner were spent bemoaning Sir Alan’s refusal to negotiate a loan,” Abby protested.

“Sir Alan will change his mind,” Undine said with her usual certainty. “And that is all the ‘bemoaning’ you will admit to?”

Abby squawked. “For heaven’s sake! I barely know the man.”

“And yet…” Undine tilted Abby’s chin with a finger. “And yet ’tis quite clear you kissed him.”

“I…well…a
kiss
.” Abby shrugged, the thump of blood in her ear.

Serafina squealed. “He is very handsome. And
big
!”

Undine chuckled. “If only we knew. I suspect he casts a noble shadow.”

“Undine!”

Serafina clapped her hands. “Perhaps that’s what changed Abby’s mind,” she said. “I believe until she escorted him to his bedchamber, she was quite against him joining us at dinner.”

Undine smiled. “’Tis astonishing what the sight of a deftly prepared joint does for one’s appetite.”

“Ha. Ha.” Abby sent a spray of water in their direction. “You two should be on the stage. Surely, some Covent Garden theatre is looking for entertainers. I shall have my fastest carriage prepared.”

Undine added with a flash of sympathy, “’Tis a shame Abby is betrothed to another.”

“Betrothed?!” Serafina said. “No! To whom? Can’t your magic help her, Undine?”

“I’ve tried. I’m afraid my magic is powerless against Abby’s brand of determination.”

Abby sighed. “I do not wish to marry, believe me. But if I cannot fund the canal, the only way to hold the clan together will be through an alliance with the leader of another, wealthier clan.”

Serafina gasped. “Rosston.”

“Aye,” Abby said. “But you do not need to gasp. He is a good enough man—though a wee bit bullheaded at times.”

“A wee bit?” Undine did a backflip and disappeared under the water.

Serafina’s face grew serious. “Oh, Abby, forgive me for offering unasked-for advice, but you mustna marry a man you don’t love. I should have never said ‘aye’ to my fiancé. I had my reasons, ’tis true. But it turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. I was very independent. I had an inheritance from my father. It wasn’t large, but it was enough for me to live on and run his small shipping business. Then I met Edward and, well, I think I was overcome by his kindness to me and the breathtaking blue of his eyes. ’Twas like standing atop Ben Cleuch and staring down into the loch below.”

Abby thought of Duncan’s shining eyes. “Oh?”

“And then each day, he did a little more and a little more. ’Twas just to take some of the burden of running the business off my shoulders, he said. But soon enough he made me feel as if I was unnecessary, and soon enough after that, I
was
unnecessary. ’Twould never happen with a man who truly loved you, of course, but with anything short of that…” Serafina paused, then added with a note of concern, looking at the spot where Undine had disappeared, “How long can she stay under?”

“A long time.” Abby smiled, but Serafina’s story had left her vaguely unsettled. “They say her mother was a naiad.”

Serafina’s eyes widened. “You’re joking?”

“No family is without its dark secrets, I suppose.”

Undine surfaced with hardly an intake of air. Her wet, blond curls clung to her back like scales on a fish.

“The bottom is especially clear today,” Undine said. “And there’s a spectacular school of shad down there, all blue and shimmery.”

“Ooh!” Abby swam toward the steep outcropping on the opposite bank. “I’m going to dive.”

Undine swam in a slow circle around Serafina. “When we finish here, the two of us must adjourn someplace quiet for a talk about your cargo.”

“Thank you. I don’t know when the ship is expected. It could be anytime between now and the end of the month. I just hope to be prepared.”

Then, in a louder voice for Abby’s benefit, Undine said, “But tell me, Serafina, do we think this nobility of Mr. MacHarg’s is ever going to be tested?”

Abby, who had been too busy weighing the bone-tingling excitement of MacHarg’s kiss against the risks of succumbing to that excitement to be bothered by a bit of teasing, sniffed. “I have no doubt I’d find it unwavering,” she said and dove into the water.