Oh My Laird!: A Risqué Regency Romance (6 page)

“Nod if you understand, Amelia.”

She nodded.

The tea cups clinked politely as Miss DeVere shared tea with Mr. McPherson.

Knowing he’d rattled her, he hid a grin, and behaved just as he would in any situation such as this.

She listened attentively to his recital of the information he’d dug up on her ruby, and he knew by the slight narrowing of her eyes that she was indeed interested.

“So there
was
a deep dark Ware secret.” She tilted her head to one side in thought. “I am not surprised. That family knew how to keep its own counsel. A more tight-lipped group of—“ she paused, “—well, let’s just say they weren’t given to casual conversations of anything personal in nature. Even within their own walls.”

“This story also reminds me to ask if you’ve ever run into anyone with a connection to India? Either from that long-ago Princess’s family, or a connection to her, perhaps?” Ian pulled out his notebook.

She considered his question, then shook her head. “Truly I cannot recall anyone who immediately struck me as being from that part of the world, although I think I once heard someone mention that my necklace might have come from there.” She replaced her cup on the small table next to her. “There were several officers who had served there during the Gurkha war—those who were awarded various distinctions were much sought-after dancing partners after they returned home. I did dance with some of them but I don’t believe any of them were Indian themselves.”

“Any conversations that might have been out of the ordinary?”

“Not that I can recall. Just the usual sort of thing. Lovely affair, good food, shall we fuck later…you know. Normal conversation at a ball.”

“Ah.” Ian kept his face bland. She was engaging in a little punishment, he knew. It merely showed him how much he’d shaken her equanimity. He was, in fact, quite pleased.

“I know this is hard to answer, but can you remember if you were wearing the ruby at any time during this period? It’s a recognizable piece of jewelry to those who would have either heard about it or seen it at any time.”

“Hmm.” She gave that some thought. “I know I
had
the ruby. My husband presented it to me on our honeymoon.”

He watched a shadow flicker behind her beautiful eyes. “But as to which events I wore it to…and whether there were any Gurkha veterans there? I am sorry. I cannot answer that.”

He waved it away. “No matter. ‘T’was merely a passing thought.”

“Well I appreciate your sharing all this information. It’s really quite interesting knowing the detailed history of a ruby. I had no idea it was anything but a lovely piece.”

The light was fading, replaced by clouds and the threat of rain. Ian watched the sky darken. “Are you happy here, Amelia?”

She snorted. “You can actually ask me that?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Strangely enough I can. This is something new for you. A challenge. One far greater than picking another favorite out of the herd and bedding him.”

She shot him a glance. “Astute observation. And yes, London was getting to be much the same. But this…” She waved her hand around. “This is beyond a challenge. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

As if in response to her words, there was a dull thud from another part of the house.

“What was that?” Ian raised an eyebrow.

“Probably more of the roof. It is shedding tiles faster than a dog sheds fleas. That was my original reason for seeking out Mr. Burnley…to get a new roof.”

Ian stood and walked to the window. “Is it worth it?”

“I have few options. There is funding to repair and upkeep this disaster, I’m told. But not enough for me to move elsewhere.”

“Sell it.”

She considered that. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not? Are you the legal owner?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Well think about it. Because whatever kind of allowance is to hand, it’ll soon be sucked up by trying to repair this place.”

She sighed and rose. “I hate to admit it, but you are correct. Even though I have no idea what I would do if I could sell. I should review the papers that Rigsby had me sign. That might help me see where I stand in regard to disposing of the property.”

She joined him at the window, watching the shadows fade as dusk crept up.

“How do you know so much?”

Her question caught him by surprise. “I think I must have one of those brains. It loves learning new things. And seldom forgets.”

“Handy.” She approved.

“Indeed.” He sighed. “I must go.”

“Must you?” Her question was a breath of promise at his side.

“Yes. I must.” He looked at her. “I have a room in Natherbury for the night. But come into the village tomorrow, meet me at…say, ten o’clock, and we’ll see if there’s a lawyer around who can review your deeds of ownership.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.” She held out her hand, watching as it disappeared into his. “I’m a terrible woman, Ian McPherson. Just so you know. I reel men in for breakfast and throw them back after dinner. I’ve had more of them than you’ve had mugs of ale.”

He squeezed her hand hard. “So ‘t’is said. I know who you are. And I know who I’m attracted to. I’ll let you know should any of that other stuff matter, if it ever does. Right now, I’m simply enjoying some time with the new owner of Natherbury Fell. Let’s leave it there, shall we?”

“Very well.” She tried to withdraw her hand. “Until tomorrow then.”

Obeying a foolish urge, Ian raised it to his lips and dropped a light kiss on her knuckles. “Until tomorrow. Ten o’clock in the marketplace.”

He left her standing alone in the doorway of a building that might collapse around her ears overnight. He hated to do it, but things had developed too fast for him to successfully control, and he was floundering.

He needed distance, and time, to sort out what was happening in his head. Not to mention other places. The short ride to Natherbury village was uncomfortable, and he arrived with a frown and a set of sore balls, not to mention an erection that refused to take a nap.

He predicted that this would be a familiar state of affairs from now on, until he finally managed to put his cock where he knew it belonged. Inside Amelia DeVere.

*~~*~~*
 

There was a storm that night.

Amelia felt it was appropriate, since her emotions roiled like the thunderheads flying over Natherbury Fell.

The wind howled and the lightning flashed, far more violently than she could ever recall while in London. It was as if being banished from town had forced her to start seeing again, noticing things other than the newest eligible bachelor or the latest gossip in the Society pages of the Times.

She was discovering that there was a certain amount of pride to be gleaned from accomplishing a practical task, even one as trivial as cataloging the Natherbury china. What there was of it.

The lists and documents on her desk were efficient and accurate. That, in and of itself, was quite something for a woman whose writings hitherto had been thank you notes or invitations to tea.

As she completed her evening’s toilette and dismissed her maid, she stood for a moment or two looking out at the almost bare forests, seeing the leaves flying in the flashes of brilliance that darted down from the skies.

It was turbulent, not unlike her thoughts.

So much was new, troubling, exhausting and—
exciting
. That last word could only apply to the Scot in her life, one Ian McPherson, who had shaken her to the soles of her boots with the first touch of his lips.

She shook her head and drew the curtains against the constant lightning. There was no way that she would let her attraction for a man dominate her dreams. Instead she would ponder the problem of the roof, think about hiring another servant, and decide when to go and see the estate manager—something she had yet to do.

So many things, important things, upon which her future depended so heavily.

And yet, even knowing all that, she simply could not banish a tall red-haired Scot from her mind.

Sliding beneath cold sheets, she shivered. Partially at the brush of chilly linens against her warm legs, but more at the thought of her body against Ian’s heat.

Just that wisp of a notion was enough to turn her insides liquid. He would be hot and strong and hard for her, she guessed. Would he touch her gently, or would he take what he wanted, fast and savage, making her lust for him as he rode her?

She ached, deep inside, empty and craving the intimacy that would complete her.

It was strange, this yearning creeping over her body. In the past, she’d had an urge and fulfilled it. The whys, whos and wherefores hadn’t really mattered much. Yes, she had been indiscreet and indiscriminate, she knew. But each liaison, each new man, had given her those few moments of joy. The ones where she was wanted and needed and desired. The ones where she felt
alive
. Where she felt that she
mattered.

When Ian had taken her in his arms and kissed her, she’d been swept away in so much more than a quick flash of pleasure. His embrace had ignited something different, something hotter and more intense than she could ever have imagined.

Why? Who the devil knew. She certainly didn’t.

Why should his lips feel
right
against hers? Why was it that she could remember his taste, his scent and the way his hands had held her so tightly against him, while the memories of all her other lovers had faded away within days of their affairs?

She wished he was there beside her, right at that moment. He would learn how to touch her breasts, how to tease the nipples with tiny rubbing touches until they hardened into exquisite sensitivity.

Then perhaps he would kiss and lick and nibble his way down her body to her pussy, where his tongue would play and flick its way through her hot honey to the tiny bud of her desires.

He would suck her, thrust his face hard against her and perhaps even carefully let his teeth graze the most sensitive parts of her sex.

Her hands began to mimic her imagination as she yearned for Ian’s caresses. Her nipples were indeed taut and alive to every brush of a finger, and her legs parted wide to allow the intimate and sensual press of her own hand.

She sighed and moved as her mind wove an erotic fantasy around a Scot with dark blue eyes; eyes that watched her as she drove herself higher up the cliff of passion and finally let go, tumbling into ecstasy as the thunder crashed outside. Storm matched storm for furious intensity, and the house rattled and shook from the onslaught, just as her body rattled and shook with her release.

Lying sated, panting, Amelia managed a weak chuckle at herself. That was the first time in a long while that the thought of a man had so inflamed her desires.

Perhaps it was the Scottish accent. Perhaps it was the red hair or those eyes. Perhaps it was the rest of him, most of which she hadn’t seen yet, but some of which she’d felt pressed against her.

And there were some good parts hiding beneath his clothes. That she could attest to.

To do him credit, he’d refused her in the barn. He wasn’t a man who took sex lightly, and she found she rather liked that. Along with the comment about all night and maybe longer…well, this might well be a man with whom she could dally for more than a week or two.

Which brought her thoughts back around to the rather depressing view of her future, struggling to keep Natherbury Fell going.

She sighed and turned into her pillow. That was for tomorrow, a lawyer and a review of her papers.

For tonight, she’d sleep well, her body content and her mind drifting around the thought of Scottish pleasures…

The following morning, Ian made the rounds of the village, lucking upon a lawyer who had retired from the madness of Edinburgh for a quiet country cottage and the odd bit of legal business that came his way.

He assured Ian that he’d be happy to review Miss DeVere’s documents with a view to disposing of the property, but felt that they were most likely written appropriately given the family’s reputation. There shouldn’t be any impediment if her name was on the bottom line.

With that out of the way, Ian was free to wander through Natherbury, which he did with his usual enthusiasm and curiosity. He found nothing untoward in jumping off his horse and helping a woman with two large buckets of milk as she made her way back to her house from the farmyard.

In exchange he was treated to a glass of that milk, declaring it above anything he’d tasted lately. That glowing compliment earned him a fat slice of fresh bread liberally spread with local butter. Thus fortified he wandered on, following his nose, and chatting with almost everyone he met.

As the church clock chimed the three-quarter hour, he turned his horse and headed back toward the Marketplace, eager to meet Amelia once more.

It had been a restless night as he battled his male urges and tried to think rationally and logically about the entire situation. It had all been for naught, since this morning his focus was entirely on her and seeing her again.

Bloody hell
. He wanted to kick himself and find his equilibrium. He was out of balance thanks to a woman with a reputation many would find odious, and it didn’t matter a damn. Because it wasn’t
that
Amelia DeVere that enticed him. It wasn’t the extraordinary beauty or the amazing eyes. It was the fiery and independent woman beneath. And it was also the little lost girl lurking behind all of them.

It was the riddle, the puzzle of her, the odd mix of sophisticated sensualist, intelligent mind and outrageous body. Then there would be a moment where the fear flashed in her gaze and she immediately concealed it with a smile of insincere silk that fooled everyone.

Except him.

“Hallo…”

A gloved hand waved at him from a side road and he wheeled around to see Amelia in a small gig that had seen better days. As had the poor beast pulling it.

“Good lord. I hope you didn’t use that whip. He might have dropped on the spot.” He eyed the long length standing in a holder beside the reins.

“I was afraid to.” Amelia looked rueful. “Poor thing wasn’t quite sure what to do, but he did get the idea after about a ten-minute stroll.”

Ian dismounted with a grin and walked to the vehicle, taking the reins from Amelia’s hand and tying them off at the nearest post along with his horse. Then he helped her down. She looked charming in her simple navy dress and matching jacket. He admired the tiny little pin she’d affixed to her lapel. Some kind of miniature. Very pretty. “You look fresh as a daisy and twice as lovely.” He chuckled as he paid her the compliment, and continued “I’ve been fortunate this morning.”

“Really?” She glanced at him as she straightened her skirts.

“I had a fresh country breakfast and found a good legal mind, all within the same village.”

“My goodness.” Amelia gave him an approving look. “I’m most impressed.”

He took her hand and placed it on his arm. “Allow me to be your guide.”

“I have been to Natherbury before, you know.”

“Hush. I’m enjoying this…a stroll in the autumn sunshine with a lovely lady on my arm.”

Amelia sighed.

“Yes, that was doing it too brown, wasn’t it?” he chuckled.

“Much too brown.” She lifted the bag she carried over one arm. “I have some of the deeds with me, by the way. I believe these are the important ones. There are others that require other signatures before finalization, so if I recall correctly, Rigsby will have those sent on when they’re complete.”

“Excellent. That will make T. Mulcraig, Esquire, a happy lawyer.”

She slanted a look up at his face from beneath her bonnet. “You think I should sell, don’t you?”

“’T’is not my decision, Amelia. But I will say that Natherbury Fell requires a big influx of capital to put it to rights.”

She thought about that. But before she could answer, a hum began to seep through the market day crowd, and it turned into a buzz as both Amelia and Ian looked around to see what was going on.

People began to move, hurrying past them. Ian caught one farmer’s sleeve. “What’s to do then?”

“Fire, man. Fire. See the smoke?” He pointed and then rushed away.

“Oh God.” Amelia stopped dead.

“The Fell. That way, isn’t it?”

She nodded, her throat moving as she gulped in a breath of air.

“Come on.” He swung her around, threaded them both rapidly through the crowd and grabbed the reins of his horse. “Can you ride pillion?”

In answer she held up her hand as he threw himself into the saddle and he took it, pulling her up until she could step on his boot and sit behind him on the horse’s rump.

“Hold tight.”

He spurred the beast, unable to gallop because of the mass of villagers now streaming down the road to Natherbury Fell. But the nearer they got, the slower they went.

The fire had a good hold and was hungrily tearing through the old rotted wood.

“The Treadways…” Amelia coughed as a gust of wind blew smoke in their direction.

“Over there. I see them. And the maid too.” He pointed to his right where there was a huddle of people. “They’re sitting down, but I think they’re all right.”

Amelia had already slid from the horse and was hurrying toward the little knot of villagers. “Excuse me, let me through. Mr. Treadway, Mrs. Treadway…are you all right? Please tell me you’re both unharmed…”

Ian was right behind her, relieved to see everyone looking a bit dirty but otherwise in one piece.

“So sorry, Ma’am.” Treadway shook as he looked up at her. “So sorry. ‘T’were that chimney in the third guest room. Never did get fully clear of soot and I reckon there were a bird or two there and with the storm last night…It went up with a boom sort of sound and once that happened—we couldn’t stop it…”

His voice was filled with anguish and Mrs. Treadway clung to his hand, sobbing tears that trailed down over sooty cheeks.

“Hush now,” soothed Amelia. “No fault of yours at all. And do not worry about a thing. I shall notify my brother immediately and make sure you will be taken care of until this mess is settled.” She turned. “Isn’t that right, Mr. McPherson?”

“Of course.” He added his mite. “As you know, Lady DeVere is the current owner. If she says all will be well, you can trust her to make it so.” His voice was slightly louder than it needed to be, but there was a reason and Amelia understood. She shot him a grateful glance.

“I’m sure that everyone here will be happy to assist you,” she patted Treadway on the shoulder.

“That we will, Ma’am.” A woman spoke up. “We stick together in times of need.”

“Aye…” Several voices chorused this generous opinion.

“Wonderful.” Amelia smiled sweetly, making several men color up and a few women give her a bit of a suspicious look. “Please make sure you keep a record of your expenses and I will ensure that everything is covered by the DeVere household. It will just take a little time.” She nodded, sealing the deal. “Now if there is a posting house near, with some kind of coach service or a stable boy who could ride south with a message…”

A short while later the Treadways were housed with Mrs. Treadway’s sister’s second cousin and the maid had gone home. A lad was headed south to the nearest DeVere property, from whence a proper messenger would hasten to London and Rigsby DeVere. The lawyer held the paperwork, and agreed it was very lucky she’d brought the documents with her. It would make life a lot easier for the DeVere representative when he arrived.

Ian hoped Rigsby would honor his sister’s promises, but couldn’t find a reason for him not to. So he remained optimistic as he walked Amelia back to her cart. “Now that you’ve cared for the needy, we have to decide what’s to be done with you.”

She frowned. “I shall have to return to London, of course. Rigsby can’t disown me over something like this. It’s an accident.”

“Are you willing to take that chance?” Ian looked at her somberly. “From what you’ve told me you’d be risking everything.”

“But…” she paused.  “I have no other options. Every single thing I had burned in that fire. My jewelry, the little that’s left of it, is still in London, thank God. But all my other belongings are now ash. I cannot go anywhere else.”

“You can come with me.”

“What? Where?” She blinked in surprise.

“I am on the trail of a clue. A rumor about the auction of a certain ruby…”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yes. Really. That’s why I headed north. The tip came in not long ago. I didn’t realize you were here until I got near enough to hear of the beautiful woman from London who now lived at the Fell.”

“Well.” She stared over the hedgerows. “I’d need a few things. A change of clothes. And a horse…”

“Yes.” He watched her expression as it changed from uncertain to intrigued.

“It would be an exciting chance to be part of discovering who stole my ruby.”

“It would indeed.”

“And Rigsby would cover expenses for this as well, I’m sure.”

“He’s a man with plenty of resources.”

She turned then. “Yes, Ian. Yes. I want to come with you. I want an adventure. This will be different. Fun. Exciting.” She smiled, a look of such joy that it did terrible things to his heart. Not to mention other parts of his body.

But he betrayed all that by not a single word. He simply held out his hand and she mounted behind him once more.

“Then let’s be on our way. Adventures await.” He clicked up the horse and headed back toward the village.

*~~*~~*

Amelia found herself on the back of a pretty chestnut mare almost before she could turn around. She wasn’t in her own riding habit, but the one she wore would have to do, since she had no other.

A local woman had been more than happy to take the gig, promising to keep it in good shape against Amelia’s return. The horse would have a good home too, thanks to her short time in Natherbury. The DeVere name had already begun to work effectively.

It had even procured her a change of clothing—a habit that looked a bit out of date and frayed around the edges. Since it fit, and the haberdashery didn’t have anything else that came close to being useful, she was glad to sign her name to the receipt promising ten shillings would be paid in due course. A few other items of clothing had been added—an extra chemise and a warm cloak—it wasn’t much, but it doubled her wardrobe since she’d begun with almost nothing.

While she took care of those essentials, Ian had been procuring her a mount and had done a fine job. He had folded everything into her large bag and now had it up and lashed to the saddle while she became acquainted with the other end of the horse. Strawberry was friendly, well-behaved and a perfect ride for a lady.

“I haven’t ridden a lot, you know.” She stroked the smooth nose and glanced at Ian as he did things with leather bits and pieces.

“Can you stay on the saddle?”

“I said I haven’t ridden a
lot
, not that I couldn’t ride.”

“There we are then.” He finished. “Are you ready?”

She looked at the horse. “I don’t know. What do you think, Strawberry? Will you give me a smooth gait on our journey?”

The mare whuffled softly into her hand.

“That’s a yes.” Ian came to her side. “So let’s be off. We’ve a few miles to travel today and I’d as soon get started as early as we can.”

She let him give her a boost up into the saddle and he secured her stirrup as she settled herself. Riding sidesaddle was familiar, even though she’d learned in the genteel environment of St. James’s Park, rather than the wilderness of Northern England. Glad of the habit, she wriggled her way into a sort of comfortable position.

However, even finding the right position didn’t guarantee a perfect ride, and she guessed that she might well have a few aches and pains at the end of the day.

“Well, what do you think? Can you travel like this?”

He seemed a little worried and she realized she’d been staring into the distance silently for a few moments.

“I’ll be fine, Ian.” She smiled down at him, that smile that usually brought men to her side. “Don’t ask me to gallop for hours on end, but otherwise yes, I can certainly travel like this.”

To his credit, he didn’t melt or slobber over her boot. He simply gave her an assessing look and mounted his own horse. “Ye’ll have a sore arse at the end of the day, I’m thinking.”

“Then you’ll just have to rub some liniment on it, won’t you?” She flashed him her under-the-lashes wickedness look…the one she’d practiced for more than a few hours. It never failed.

Until now.