Love Me Forever (9 page)

K
imberly slowly opened her eyes. That her head was still dropped back against the wall allowed her to see Lachlan’s face immediately. He was wearing a tender expression as he looked down at her. That, more than anything else, gave her the strongest urge to slap him soundly.

Of course, she wouldn’t do anything of the sort. Slapping wasn’t the least bit ladylike and…

She moved away from the wall with her arm swinging in the direction of his face. Her palm connected with his cheek sharply, loudly, and it was wonderfully satisfying to see the imprint it left behind. Definitely worth the hot stinging she now felt on her hand.

But she was surprised that she’d done it. Lachlan was, of course, even more surprised. And before he recovered, she almost slapped him again, just because he
was
surprised and hadn’t expected it, when his behavior practically demanded it.

But she managed to restrain herself now, and instead said with all the contempt she could mus
ter, “You are despicable beyond redemption. Stay away from me, MacGregor, or I will not be responsible…”

She didn’t finish. She was about to cry, and as far as her pride was concerned, it wouldn’t do at all for him to witness the emotional state he’d brought her to. So she retreated, running down the hall instead. Running again—she didn’t even notice this time.

When she reached her room, she dropped back against the door, her hands fisted and pressed hard against it. She didn’t want to cry. She wasn’t the sort who condoned self-pity. But she had so much emotion welling up in her. At least half of it was anger, however, and she concentrated on that to hold back the tears.

And then she was shoved forward as the door opened behind her. The gall of him!

“This is my room, MacGregor, not yours! How dare you enter here again without permission?”

His expression was thunderous. He’d obviously recovered fully from his initial surprise, and felt himself undeserving of her attack. In fact, his temper was on the border of exploding.

“Again?” he said in a barely contained roar as he slammed the door shut behind him. “Are you implying I wasna invited in previously?”

“You were most certainly not!”

For some reason, he hadn’t expected that answer, and it had him frowning, as well as lowering his tone to tell her, “Then you’ve a short memory, lass, if you dinna recall your behavior last night.”

“What has my behavior to do—”

“Everything,” he cut in. “You didna refuse my kisses, Kimber, you returned them full measure.
And your eyes fairly devoured me all evening long. D’you think I’m so inexperienced in these matters that I canna recognize an invitation when I receive it?”

She stared at him aghast. “You’re saying you came in here last night and made love to me because you
thought
you’d been invited to do so? You didn’t hear me say the words, you just assumed?”

“You’re denying it?”

“I’m telling you that if I looked at you in a way that could be considered inappropriate, I certainly wasn’t aware of it. And if I accepted your kisses, it was because of the silly notion that you were seriously interested in me, more fool me. Furthermore, I had consumed too much champagne, Lachlan. Couldn’t you tell that?”

“Nay, you just seemed more agreeable,” he said, his frown turning thoughtful now. “And wi’ as agreeable as you were, ’tis possible I may have convinced myself you were experienced in these matters.”

“Experienced! I
never—
”

“Aye, I ken that now,” he cut in curtly, impatiently. “And I dinna take tae well tae champagne either, so I wasna exactly clearheaded myself, at least no’ enough tae think this thing through. You were a beautiful woman who gave every indication of wanting my attentions, and I’m no’ a man tae turn down a beautiful woman.”

The compliment didn’t even come close to touching her. She was simply too furious, and at the moment, too filled with disgust.

“Then you’re as faithless as a barnyard cock,” she said scornfully, “to claim to love one woman, yet be so quick to dally with another.”

Hearing that, he had the audacity to grin at her and shrug. “Och, lass, you’ve a lot tae learn. A man will be faithful when his needs are seen tae on a regular basis. When that isna the case, he’ll be randy enough tae take whatever comes his way and be grateful for it.”

He’d managed to make her blush with such base talk, yet she couldn’t take him to task for it since she’d started it. However, she could point out, “True love should make an exception to that.”

He shook his head at her, even sighed, indicating he was really disappointed in her contention. “Now you’re spouting romantic drivel, Kimber. The body is an amazing thing, and you’ll learn that it has a mind of its own when it comes to certain things—lovemaking one of them. Did you no’ discover that for yourself last night? Or perhaps you’re needing another demonstration?”

She put out a hand to stop him if he thought to approach her, understanding him clearly. And she refused to admit that there was some truth to what he was saying. She did indeed remember her body’s reaction and how her will had succumbed to it.

But it was a moot point. The relevant point was that she hadn’t invited her own ruination. He had forced that on her because he had
misinterpreted
her behavior.

But she’d said enough about that. “I’ve already had a demonstration, for which I’d like to draw and quarter you. If you weren’t aware of it, I am here expressly to find a husband. How am I going to do that now after what you’ve done to me?”

“Is it marriage you’re wanting from me then?”

She should have said yes. She should make him
pay for what he’d done. But her pride reared up, and it was the truth she gave him.

“When you’re in love with another woman?” she said tightly. “No thank you.”

“Och, well, it has been brought tae my recent attention that ’tis possible I dinna ken my own feelings,” he said in a tone laced with disgust. “So if you’ll have me, lass, I’ll be marrying you.”

“How self-sacrificing, but unnecessary, since I won’t have you. I won’t have a man who’ll always be pining over another woman. My mother had just such a marriage, so I know exactly how intolerable that can be.”

“You’re sure?”

“Oh, I’m most definitely positive. And I’ll thank you to vacate my room, Lachlan, and don’t step foot in it again. And just in case you misconstrue any more looks of mine, let me assure you now, you will never be welcome here again—not that you ever were.”

His expression turned mulish as he demanded, “And if I insist?”

She gasped. “On coming in here?”

“On marrying you.”

Her eyes rounded. “Why ever would you do that, when you don’t
want
to marry me?”

He didn’t answer at first, just stared at her, but after a moment more he growled and raked his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “I dinna ken what I’m wanting just now.” And then his light green eyes pinned her to the spot and there was a wealth of meaning in them that she couldn’t begin to understand, until he added, “But I usually pick up the gauntlet when ’tis tossed down.”

“Don’t—” she began in a choked whisper, but he cut that short.

“I’ll be seeing you later, darlin’.”

She was so flustered by what his previous remark implied that the door had closed on him before she managed to shout, “And don’t call me that anymore!”

It was another moment before she actually realized that she was alone and leaped for the door to lock it. And locked it would stay from now on when she was behind it. The gall of that Highlander. The brazen impudence to suggest that she had challenged him to change her mind.

She snorted to herself. As if he could.

T
he socializing continued apace, with several more events in London, including a night at the theater. Kimberly was actually able to enjoy that, since it allowed her to step away from her own worries for a while to become immersed in those of the actors.

There was also a ball their last night in London, where she was able to further her acquaintance with Lord Kent and Howard Canston, who both informed her that they had received invitations to Sherring Cross. They both seemed thrilled, it apparently being quite a social coup to claim an acquaintance with the Duke of Wrothston.

There had been several other gentlemen of interest at that ball, one of whom became completely intoxicated and actually proposed to Kimberly on the dance floor. She had not taken him seriously, of course, considering his condition, but she had been quite flattered.

Her first proposal—actually, not her first, though the other two she wasn’t counting. Her
first betrothal had been arranged when she was a baby. And Lachlan had said he would marry her, not exactly a proposal that, but she supposed it was somewhat the same thing—except there was a world of difference between “would” and “want to,” and she hadn’t heard any “want to” in his proposal.

As for Lachlan, it was impossible to avoid him altogether, though Kimberly gave it her best effort. Dinners, formal as they were and at a set time, were still the one time of the day she was required to see him. Also, he went to each social gathering that she did, but now she understood why. He also had come to Sherring Cross for the express purpose of finding a spouse, and as far as everyone
else
knew, that was just what he was doing.

It was too bad his pursuit of the duchess had gotten in the way of that, too bad also that Kimberly had known about that from the very beginning. Otherwise, she would definitely have been more agreeable to him, and to hell with her father’s antipathy toward Scots. Lachlan would have been well worth facing that problem. And he did seem to have
some
kind of interest in her, or he wouldn’t have kissed her on more than one occasion or made love to her.

But unfortunately, she did know where his true affections lay. And even if Lachlan came to his senses and gave up on Megan, even if he tried to find an available and willing wife, which he apparently needed to do for financial reasons, that wife would be his second choice. He’d always be pining over his first choice, and Kimberly could only pity his wife because of that.

Sherring Cross had quite an assortment of
guests by the end of their first week back, not counting the usual crop of daily visitors. John Kent and Howard Canston had both settled in. And included among the newcomers were three young women who, like Kimberly, had entered the marriage mart this season and had been invited for an extended visit by either the duchess or Lachlan’s Aunt Margaret.

Kimberly disliked them instantly. They were each younger than she, and prettier in her opinion. And if two of them hadn’t brought handsome, unmarried brothers along as their chaperones, Kimberly might have packed up her bags and returned to Northumberland, because she certainly had no chance of drawing a fair share of the gentlemen’s attention with those three lovelies around.

Lady Monica Elgar was blond—and a very light blond at that—and blue-eyed. She was also very petite, had a droll sense of humor that kept everyone around her laughing—especially the gentlemen—and she had John Kent’s undivided attention from the moment he laid eyes on her.

Lady Edith Winestone, vivacious, auburn-haired, with lovely light grey eyes, was a bit loud, but so pretty no one seemed to notice except Kimberly. The young lady didn’t have a shy bone in her body either, and thought nothing of jumping into any conversation with her own differing opinion, though half the time Edith was proved to be wrong. She wasn’t all that intelligent, actually, and often made ridiculous remarks, but the gentlemen certainly didn’t seem to mind that.

Jane Carlyle, now, personified the ideal lady in every respect. Slim to the point of emaciation, at least in Kimberly’s opinion, she was also blond
with amber eyes, a truly fashionable beauty. And her decorum was impeccable. She ate correctly, spoke correctly, followed every social etiquette rule to the letter, and was sweet-tempered besides, or so her overbearing mother kept assuring everyone who cared to listen. No one in their right mind would doubt that indomitable lady. Though what gentleman in his right mind would want that lady for a mother-in-law…

Besides Hector Carlyle and Christopher Elgar, new to their growing group, there was also a widowed marquis who had come to see the duke on business and had accepted Devlin’s suggestion that he take a holiday and stay on to enjoy some of the festivities Megan had arranged for the coming weeks. James Travers was his name, and in his early forties, he was a bit older than Kimberly had been hoping for. Yet no one could deny he was a splendid catch.

Rakishly handsome in appearance with his black hair and blue eyes, James was also disgustingly rich, according to a whispered aside from Lucinda. And although not in the market for a wife, having two young sons from his first marriage, he wasn’t avoiding the matrimonial state either. Megan had assured her he just hadn’t found the right woman to replace his departed wife yet.

Kimberly came to like James in the days that followed. Her conversations with him were always lively and never lagged, which was nice. Long, shy periods of silence were always embarrassing for both parties, but she never encountered one with him. And once he’d noticed her smile and remarked on it, he made a concerted
effort to make her laugh frequently, which he accomplished with ease.

Yet Lachlan was always somewhere near at these gatherings, and she was
always
quite aware of him, no matter who she was speaking to at the time. Avoiding him was one thing, ignoring him completely when he was in the same room was quite another. And there were times…

She passed him in the hall once before their return from London, and in one breath he said to her quite formally, “How fetching you look today, Lady Kimberly,” and in the very next, “D’you ken that bairns are a possible consequence of what we did?”

That she had started to blush from the compliment only added to the mortified color that spread clear to her roots. And he’d sauntered away before she could even think how to respond. So his intention had been merely to apprise her of that fact if she hadn’t been aware of it.

And she’d thought that was a really rotten thing for him to do, adding one more thing to her worries if she
hadn’t
already known that little fact. Except that apparently wasn’t the reason he’d mentioned it to her. He’d just been giving her warning of his next outrageous remark, delivered again out of context.

They’d been at a dinner with a good thirty other guests, yet somehow he’d managed to get the gentleman on her left to leave the room. She couldn’t imagine how he’d accomplished this, yet he had proceeded to take the man’s seat, apparently assured the fellow wouldn’t be returning. And although Kimberly had done an excellent job of pretending he wasn’t there, the conversation
around them had centered so they were all involved in it.

And between one comment and another, Lachlan had leaned toward her to say, “You
will
tell me if you’re going tae have my bairn, Kimber. I would be extremely angry if you think tae keep something like that from me.”

She’d been delighted to find him and tell him a week later, “I won’t be having any babies, MacGregor, until I’m properly married.”

Incredibly, he hadn’t seemed relieved by that news as she had expected. She certainly was, since it at least put her back on a normal time schedule for finding a husband, as well as precluded her from having to tell her father about what she’d done. Not that she could procrastinate for long over her choices, with her father so eager to have the matter settled. Nor did she want to impose on the St. Jameses indefinitely.

But the fact that Lachlan hadn’t been relieved confused her. He had given nothing away, really, of how he felt about her news. And Howard Canston had come upon them before anything further might be said, and had invited her to go riding, it being one of their nicer winter days.

Kimberly was pleased that Howard still showed a marked interest in her, despite the arrival of the “three lovelies.” John Kent, however, she could scratch from her meager list.

As for Lachlan making an effort toward finding a wife, well, he didn’t seem to be making any effort at all. Edith he barely noticed, though she did her fair share of batting her eyes at him, and although he did show some attention toward Jane, it was cordial at best.

Kimberly wondered, more than once, if he
hadn’t been devastated by what she had inadvertently revealed to him at that last ball they’d attended in London, and had been brooding about it ever since. She’d chanced to pass him near the refreshment table, and had noticed that he was staring at Megan and Devlin dancing, and a kernel of resentment had bubbled up in her that he was still mooning over the lady and undoubtedly always would be. If that weren’t the case, she might have allowed herself to fall in love with him.

Her resentment had gotten the better of her and prompted her to say to him, “You really think she’d leave her adoring husband and her baby for you?”

He’d swung around to face her and had nearly shouted, “Her what?”

She’d frowned at his incredulous expression. “You didn’t know they have a baby son?”

“Nay, how could I know? I’ve never seen her wi’ any bairn.”

“Then I’m sorry—at least, that you learned of it from me.” And then she’d added gently, because she was regretting more the reason she’d told him, “All of England knew, Lachlan. It was in every paper, and just about all the gentry was talking about it for a while. I thought you knew, that surely your aunt would have mentioned it at sometime or other, but it just didn’t make a difference to you.”

“No difference that ’tis no’ just the tae of them, that they’re a blasted family?”

He’d laughed, but it was a hollow sound, and then he’d walked away. And she hadn’t seen him again that evening. But she’d been disturbed, because the look he’d given her before he’d disap
peared could have implied that she’d insulted the hell out of him with her last remark, or that he found her contemptible for pointing out what he felt was trivial. And she really wished she knew which it was.