Kilgannon (13 page)

The next morning I sat alone over my breakfast and looked out the dining-room window at the third day of rain, enjoying one more cup of tea and the fact that Alex was in London and I'd see him soon. This morning a note from Robert had arrived and I held it in my hand, but I had little interest in his invitation for us—Will and Betty as well—to visit his estate for his annual Yule parties. Robert's family would be gathering for Christmas in Kent, and they always entertained beforehand. Last year we had attended before retiring to Mountgarden for Christmas. I'll think about this later, I thought, and put the note on the table.

"Mary," said a voice I remembered, and I whirled around. Alex filled the doorway, his bonnet in his hand. He wore a Kilgannon kilt and a wide smile, and my heart leapt. "Mary," he said again, and I was out of my chair. He met me halfway across the room and enveloped me in his arms. "Mary, Mary," he whispered into my hair, then kissed me. I had forgotten how soft his lips were and how hard and lean the rest of his body was. I stroked my hands from his shoulders to his waist, feeling the solidity and strength of him, and when I leaned even closer I felt his body respond to mine as before. His kisses intensified when I arched my neck to receive more, and he laughed deep in his throat as he bent to his task, "I forgot how good it feels to touch ye," he said, and stepped back from me. "How I have missed ye, lass." "And I you, Alex," I said, and reached for him again. Several moments later, breathless and disarrayed, I withdrew. "A warm welcome, sir. You have quite recovered."

"No, lass, I have the same illness I've have for months now."

"Alex," I began, suddenly worried, "is it your stomach?" I searched his face while he grinned at me.

"Oh, no, my stomach's fine. It's other parts have been aching." I felt my cheeks redden and he laughed, then sobered and watched me. "I've missed ye every moment since I saw ye, lass. I canna bear to be away from ye that long again." He brushed the hair back from my cheek. "Yer even more beautiful than I'd remembered, Miss Lowell. Did ye miss me?" he asked in a husky voice. I kissed him as an answer. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes," I said, and threw my arms around his neck.

He kissed my forehead and unwound my arms from him. "Lass, we'd best stop now or I'll not answer for my actions. Talk to me and perhaps I'll listen."

"Thank you very much," I said primly, and he laughed. "Alex, why are you here? Why did you not tell me you were coming? How long can you stay? How are Angus and Matthew? And your sons?"

He grinned down at me. "Did you speak?"

"Tell me," I said, leading him to the table. He was properly seated at it when Louisa and Randolph entered. Thank God she had not arrived five minutes before, I thought. I'd be back at Mountgarden before luncheon. They greeted each other cordially. We talked for some time and I watched them, remembering the inquisition of three months before. What a difference. Louisa had an appointment that morning and soon left us, and shortly after that Randolph's agent arrived and he withdrew to discuss business. At last Alex and I were alone. We roamed the lower floor, stopping in the ballroom where I'd first seen him. He opened one of the doors to the balcony and looked at the rain.

"Five months ago, Mary, I stood there and thought ye'd send me away for being too direct."

"Five months ago, Alex, I enjoyed your company."

"And I yers." His eyes met mine. "Lass, how have ye been? I'm sorry I was not here to protect ye from the inquisition."

I laughed. "I did not need protection, Alex. I needed common sense. I've been fine. Truly. Just lonely."

"As I have been, Mary." He closed the door and faced me. "I still canna believe ye came to the brig. Why did ye do that?"

I searched his face. "Did Angus not tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

I took a deep breath and wondered if I would be wise to tell him.
But, Mary, I asked myself, when have you ever been wise? "When I got Angus's note I thought it was one of two things.
Either you were indeed ill and perhaps I could help, or you were trying to avoid seeing me again. I wanted to know which it was."

He looked at me, eyebrows raised. "No, Angus dinna tell me that. How could ye think that I would not want to see ye again? I told ye I'd see ye when we landed."

"Men often say things.... that they do not mean later."

"I do not."

"I know that now. I wanted to see if you were. ..." I had an all-too-vivid image of him naked in that berth, and I lost my train of thought. Those shoulders and that chest were under that shirt.

His eyes were very dark blue. "And was I?" "Very," I said breathlessly.

His tone was tender. "If ye choose next time to go to a man's bed, Mary Lowell, try to pick a time when he's not quoting Latin."

"I did not go to your bed, Alex." "Actually, lass, ye did. So remember." My cheeks flushed, but I met his gaze. "I will."

He shook his head. "Yer a one," he said, then wandered around the room while I watched him, admiring his grace and the lines of his body. He turned midway across the room. "How could I not want to see ye again?"

"Alex, there must be many women in your life."

"There are not."

"There must be."

"Wait, let me think on it." He appeared to ponder as he walked back to me, stopping halfway. "Oh, aye, Mary, yer correct, hundreds. But I dinna think on them. There is one, though, that I think on often, with dark hair and dark eyes that show me what she's thinking and a body waiting for teaching in other areas." He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"There must be others, Alex."

"Areas?"

"Women," I said. He shook his head. "You were married. Do you miss your wife?"

"Sorcha?" His expression sobered. "Lass, ye dinna understand. I dinna choose Sorcha and she dinna choose me. It was an agreement made when we were children. I was six when she was born, and we were promised then and both raised with the idea."

"Did you love her?"

"I was fond of her. Sometimes. Sometimes I quite disliked her, and sometimes she disliked me verra much." "Did you love her?"

His eyes met mine. "No." The one word was said quietly, without emotion. We stared at each other before he continued. "I was faithful. So was she. In time perhaps we would have come to terms with each other. But I never loved her." He shook his head. "She said I was rough and unrefined." Of all the descriptions I could think of for Alex, rough and unrefined would not be among them. He was big and he was direct but graceful and courteous.

"What happened to you two?" I asked.

He wandered to the side of the room and fingered the draperies on the windows. "After Jamie was born she told me that she had given me two sons and that I would not come to her bed again. Angus's Mairi had just died in childbirth, and I thought Sorcha was afraid. I could understand that, so I stayed away. My mother told me to give her time and we'd be
a’ right
again. But we never were, and after a while I stopped even noticing how distant we were." He moved farther from me, stopping at the next door to look out.

"After my mother died I traveled more, and when I was home I kept myself verra busy. Sometimes I forgot Sorcha was there. And then half the crew came home ill from a trip, and the fever spread throughout Kilgannon." His voice grew quieter and I had to strain to hear him. "The crew got well quickly and so did most everyone else, but Sorcha did not. She was not terribly ill, ye ken, just not completely well. When the invitation came to go to France I dinna think I should go, because of her health, but she told me to go. She said I'd done enough damage to her life and I should leave.

So I went. And while I was gone she died." He looked at me then, his face expressionless, and then back at the window as he continued. "My aunt Deirdre—that's Angus's mother—told me there was nothing I could have done even had I been there. There was nothing she could do. That helped, but I always wondered." He straightened his shoulders, lifted his chin, and looked at me again. "We were not suited. She loved another, Ian MacDonald, and he loved her, but they could not marry because our parents had promised us to each other. She said she'd begged her father to release her from marrying me. She was a faithful wife and a good woman, but she never loved me." He shook his head. "It's a system that enlarges fortunes, but no one seems to think, about the ones living the arrangement. My sons will have none of it. And that's why, Mary Lowell, I am here. This time I will choose my own woman, and she me. No woman will ever be forced to be with me again."

I moved to him then and he took me into his arms. "She was a foolish woman, Alex," I said to his chest. "You're worth ten Ian MacDonalds."

He kissed my hair. "Thank ye for that, lass, but ye dinna ken the man." He shrugged and his tone lightened. "Nor do I, for that matter. I've seen him. He isna much like me."

"I don't need to know him." I looked into his face. "You're not unrefined. But you are direct, sir."

He stroked my cheek. "Aye, lass, I'm working on it."

"Don't." "Don't?" His chest rumbled with his laughter. "First ye say yea and then ye say nay?"

"Direct is simple to deal with." "So I'm a simple man?" "No, Alex, you're a
darlin' man
."

"I am that." He kissed my hair again and released me. "And now, lass, this
darlin' man
must go. I have my own agent to see. One of the brigs is overdue, and I must find what information there is about her." We crossed the room, pausing at the door. "Can I assume ye'll appear at my lodgings later?" He grinned at me, clutching his chest. "I've been verra ill."

I laughed. "No, Alex, I will not appear at your lodgings."

"I'm devastated, Mary." He grinned and was gone.

A short note came from him the next day, saying that he had some business matters to attend to and would contact me soon. Two days passed, but Louisa and I were busy with Christmas preparations and the hours flew by. We dined at our Fairhaven cousins', where we discussed politics and gossip, and with the Duke and Duchess, where we discussed the same. And more. At each event someone had pointedly told me that Alex had been seen gambling and carousing with a string of beautiful women, including Rowena. None of the gossips had actually seen him themselves, but they'd each heard of him from a very good source.

"And I've heard he's considered marrying again," my Fairhaven cousin Matilda said without malice. "He's been linked to some Scottish woman with a strange name, Morgan or Morna—"

"Morag," I said, remembering Angus pacing in Louisa's foyer, telling Alex to seek Morag's company. Matilda nodded.

The third morning came and went, beautiful and cold, brilliant with brittle sunshine. I wandered the house alone, wondering why I had heard nothing from him. We would be leaving to spend Christmas in Warwickshire soon. Where was he? I knew he sought my company, but he had never said he loved me. If he did not care, then why had he returned? Why had he written for months? He might not feel the same about me as I did about him, but what he'd said in the ballroom made me think he did. What if I'd misinterpreted his words? Was he fond of me, as I was of Robert, but no more? Were his feelings mixed with pity for this girl so obviously smitten? And where was Morag in all this? It was a long day, and I spend it pondering my future.

I prepared slowly for dinner with the Mayfair
Bartlett’s
, my spirits on the floor. I had investigated and found Alex's poet Andrew Marvell and his 'To His Coy Mistress," which was indeed a poem of seduction. I considered whether Alex was telling me something indirectly. Or, in this case, quite directly. Well, I decided, I would have none of it. I had been foolish long enough. Alex MacGannon would have to look elsewhere for his mistress. I would play the fool no more. But of course I did.

T
HE DINNER WAS WORSE THAN I COULD HAVE IMAGINED. I felt quite incapable tonight of dealing with the gossip and political discussions and sat woodenly as the lively guests chattered around me. Rowena was here, just to make the evening complete, and Janice as well, but she did not help. It was a disaster. Before dinner Edmund
Bartlett
approached me with his usual oily manner.

"Ah, Miss Lowell," he said, bowing over my hand and studying my clothing. "I am so surprised to see you here unaccompanied."

"I am with my aunt and uncle, sir," I said, taking my hand from his and resisting the urge to wipe it on my skirt.

"But of course I meant your Scotsman, or I should say, one of your Scotsmen. You seem to have a strong affinity for our northern neighbors." I forced myself to smile. Of all topics, this was the one I least wished to discuss. "I hear that Lord Campbell has been quite displeased," Edmund continued, tilting his head.

"Has he?" I smiled, no doubt looking like a gargoyle. "So I hear. But, of course, you would know that."

"What would she know?" asked a voice from behind me. It was Rowena, looking more beautiful than ever.

Edmund smiled and stepped back to allow Rowena to join us. "She would know that Lord Campbell is displeased that the Earl of Kilgannon pays so much attention to Miss Lowell."

"Or" —Rowena smiled like a cat—"is it that Miss Lowell pays so much attention to Kilgannon? No wonder Campbell is annoyed."