Rogue of the Highlands: Rogue, Book 1 (26 page)

“Whoever is at the door at this hour?” Delia came to stand behind the butler and peered around him, her eyes widening at the sight of Jillian. Then she smiled in a way that only another woman would recognize as a baring of fangs and said sweetly, “Really, Smythe, I’m surprised at you for keeping Lady Newburn standing on the step. Won’t you come in?”

The butler stepped aside and Jillian followed Delia to the front parlor. After the door closed, Delia waved a well-manicured hand and indicated that Jillian should sit. “I can’t imagine why you are here.”

For a moment, Jillian was tempted to come up with an excuse for coming to see Delia rather than her husband. But that would accomplish nothing and she only had this one chance.

“Actually, I needed to speak to Lord Sherrington. Will he be back shortly?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Delia replied. “He was a bit put out with me.”

A bit? Enough to demand a duel that might end in death? Jillian took a deep breath. “It’s about that, actually.”

One of Delia’s perfectly arched eyebrows lifted. “Really? However would what happened concern you?”

Jillian tried to choose her words carefully. “I believe that Lord Cantford made a mistake last night.”

Delia laughed outright, sounding more like a doxie than a lady. “I should say so. The man tried to seduce me all evening, and when he caught me near the stairs, he practically forced me up to that bedchamber. Thank heavens, my husband intervened in time to prevent too much from happening.”

Too much? Jillian felt a queasiness in her stomach. What state of disarray had they been in? Had Ian given Delia those hot, searing kisses that kindled Jillian’s whole body into flames? She didn’t want to think about his body covering Delia’s or where his hands might have touched and stroked the woman.

But maybe Delia was lying about that. She was definitely lying about how what had taken place had happened. Ian would never force a woman into bed. Jillian was sure of that. Even if he did think that Delia had been Jillian.

“Is that what your husband thinks happened?”

Delia widened her eyes. “Well, of course. It’s just that we’re lucky Wesley—that is, Lord Newburn—happened to see me being practically abducted and informed William. My husband is most grateful to him.”

Jillian pressed her hands together in her lap to keep from balling them into fists. Wesley again. He was a troublemaker. She began to wonder if he had instigated the whole thing. Delia was his lover. Could he have persuaded her to dress and act like Jillian to lure Ian into a trap?

She pasted a smile on her face. “I’m most grateful that he was able to intervene before anything more disastrous occurred with you.”

“Are you?” Delia’s slanted eyes studied her thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose you would be. Tell me, dear, is Lord Cantford as good in bed as he looks to be?”

Jillian felt the betraying heat crawl up her face. Twenty-four hours ago she could quite truthfully have said she didn’t know. Now… She opened her mouth to retort and then closed it again, not knowing what to say.

Delia almost purred. “
That
good? Perhaps my husband arrived a bit too soon.”

The fact that Delia would so callously want to play cat-n-mouse with Ian while she had Wesley as a lover made Jillian want to be ill. The woman had absolutely no scruples. Lord Sherrington certainly didn’t deserve to die or even be wounded over the likes of his wife. Nor did Ian.

Jillian lifted her head. “I’m quite content to be a widow, Lady Sherrington. The question is, are you?”

A strange look passed across the other woman’s face and her smile flickered slightly. “Is Lord Cantford that good a shot?”

Delia didn’t need to know what Ian’s intentions were. “He’s an excellent shot,” she said, “but blood does not need to be shed. That’s the reason I’m here. I wanted to ask the earl if he would accept a public apology instead of taking the field.” No need to tell Delia about the confession that Jillian intended to make.

“Lord Cantford sent you to intercede for him?” Delia asked. “How manly.”

Jillian’s temper flared. “He has no idea I’m here! The stubborn fool thinks taking the field is the only honorable thing to do.”

Delia shrugged. “William feels the same way, of course. Men are stupid.”

“But it doesn’t have to happen,” Jillian insisted. “If Lord Sherrington would be willing—”

“I doubt it,” Delia interrupted. “After all, some barbarian nearly dragged me off by my hair. Naturally, I would expect my husband to champion me.”

Jillian stared at her. “You want your husband to put himself at risk?”

Delia tilted her head and slanted a look at Jillian. “I think I rather like the idea of his being willing to champion me. It reminds me of one of those Arthurian knights—Lancelot, was it?—going to defend the queen.”

Lancelot again. Had all of Society suddenly become enamored with all things medieval? And yet, Jillian could almost picture Ian in armor, riding to challenge anyone who would harm the queen—or the king—because it was the honorable thing to do. With a sinking feeling, she realized that Ian would never back down. Not because he was afraid of being called a coward or was too proud to apologize for something he didn’t do, but because if he did, he wouldn’t respect himself again. Nor would Lord Sherrington. That was what Ian had tried to explain to her.

“Are you planning to witness the duel?” Jillian asked.

Excitement gleamed in Delia’s eyes for a moment before she masked her face into indifference. “Of course. I would hardly deny my knightly husband that. And Wesley—Lord Newburn—has assured me he will be there to lend me support.”

I’m sure he will
. Feckless Delia certainly didn’t deserve someone as honorable as Lord Sherrington. Not when she was welcoming Wesley into her bed. A wicked idea began to manifest in Jillian’s mind. She couldn’t keep the wanton woman from being unfaithful, but perhaps she could put a rift in that relationship.

“Should I decide to attend Lord Newburn will, no doubt, be at my side.”

Delia narrowed her eyes slightly. “Why do you say that?”

Jillian smiled brilliantly at her. “Why, he’s asked me to marry him. Didn’t he tell you?”

The smile remained in place, but Jillian saw a muscle twitch in Delia’s cheek. The other woman shook her head.

“I don’t believe he did.”

“My goodness, he mentioned it to all his friends at the club several weeks ago. Did the earl not mention it either?”

Delia hesitated, then said slowly, “Now that I think about it, I believe William did say something about having heard that Wesley mentioned you might be part of the package.” Her eyes grew dark. “Like the rest of the property he inherited.”

Jillian stood and pulled on her gloves. “Well, Wesley put the question to me in quite another way. In addition, he offered me quite a lovely gift.” Her beloved Andalusians, she thought wistfully and then pushed the thought away. “Of course, I haven’t said yes…yet.”

She gave Delia another falsely bright smile and moved to the door. The butler immediately materialized and she wondered if he had overheard the conversation. She turned as she left.

“Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Delia bared her teeth in a smile. “Have no doubt about that, my dear.”

Ian was waiting for her when she got home, his face set in stone. Jillian sighed. She would much rather have retreated to her bedroom to gather strength for this meeting, but obviously, she wasn’t going to have that chance. Mari looked worried, and Givens conspicuously disappeared after having let her in. At least it appeared that Wesley was still asleep. She walked to the library, Ian treading noiselessly behind her like a black panther stalking its prey.

She went to stand by the fireplace and Mari crowded up against her. She gave her sister a weak smile.

“Leave us, lass,” Ian said quietly.

Mari shook her head, her sausage curls dancing. “You’re angry. I’ll not leave my sister alone with you.”

Ian raised a brow. “I wilna hurt her. Ye have my word on that.”

“No,” Mari said stubbornly.

“It’s all right, dear,” Jillian cut in, her eyes meeting Ian’s. “Lord Cantford and I need to talk.”

Her sister looked uncertain and Jillian nodded. “I’ll be all right.” Mari gave Ian one more defiant look and moved toward the door.

“If you hurt her, I swear, I’ll shoot you before the Earl of Sherrington can.”

“Mari!” Jillian was shocked. Her little sister was not a violent person.

Ian smiled. “Mari, if I harm your sister, I deserve to be shot. Now run along.”

He waited while she threw Jillian one more worried look and then retreated. Ian closed the door behind her.

“You went to him.”

It wasn’t a question and Jillian sensed there was danger in that soft, low voice he used. She would almost prefer that he shout at her so she could return fire.

“I did.”

He paced over to her and she instinctively took a step backward and then another until she bumped against the wall near the fireplace. Ian stopped mere inches from her and braced his hands on the wall beside her head, effectively closing her in.

“I thought we had this discussion this morn,” he said. “I told ye not to do it.”

Jillian wasn’t sure if the heat radiating from him was due to anger or just being male. Her female parts reacted to it anyway, her nipples budding and her womb tightening. She tossed her head, trying to ignore his closeness.

“I didn’t agree with you.”

He arched his eyebrow again. No doubt he was used to being obeyed in Scotland. Maybe he expected her to become a slobbering fool once he’d made love to her. Jillian narrowed her eyes. Maybe that was
why
he had taken her to bed. So sure that he could bend her to his will once he’d titillated and awakened every single nerve ending in her body. Her temper began to sizzle along with the rest of her.

“What right did you have to tell Givens not to let me leave?” she demanded.

His dark eyes penetrated hers. “I dinna want ye to see the earl. I thought I made it plain enough that I must fight him.”

His gaze pinned her to the wall as surely as the cage he’d made with his hands and body did. An image flashed into her mind of him sitting on a dais in full Highland regalia, making decisions for his clan. He was a man who wasn’t used to having his orders ignored. Yet she also saw something else in his eyes. Almost a pleading that she understand what this meant to him. And, in a way, after her conversation with Delia, she did. She felt her anger fade away.

“I didn’t want you to be hurt,” she said.

His face softened and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips parted and she licked her bottom one nervously. He reached over and traced it slowly with his thumb, sending wild sensations pulsing through her.

“Ye worry about me?”

She stared up at him, trying not to tremble as he softly brushed the side of her face with his fingers and then let his hand drop to her shoulder. She had an almost irresistible urge to arch her back and thrust her achy, needy breast into his palm. Good Lord, he was mesmerizing her with his slow, gentle touch, yet making no move to kiss her.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she managed to say.

“Nae?” His fingers traced the outline of her mouth again, and before she realized what she was doing, she closed her lips around them, sucking his fingers into her mouth.

His body stilled and he closed his eyes. Then, with a low growl, he crushed her to him, his mouth ravaging hers, his kisses hot and demanding. Jillian melded into him as his hands stroked over her back, pressing her closer, then ranging lower to cup her buttocks and lift her against his erection. She twined her fingers through his hair, her tongue warring with his, needing to be closer, to be a part of him. They both broke away, panting. Ian sighed heavily, dropped his hands and moved away.

“Doona think ye can trick me to forgive ye, lass, by using yer body.”

Jillian widened her eyes, indignation returning. “I would never do that. What do you think I am? Some common whore? Like Delia?” Too late, the words were out.

His head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “Doona compare yerself to her.”

He shook his head as though to clear it. “What’s done is done,” he said in a resigned tone. “What did the earl say to ye?”

“Nothing. He wasn’t in.”

Ian looked relieved. “Promise me, lass, that ye’ll leave it be.”

“I don’t want to,” Jillian said and took a deep breath, “but I will. Every bone in my body tells me that violence is not the way to solve anything, but I also think I understand what you’re doing. You’re allowing the earl to regain some respect.”

“Aye. Sherrington is a good mon.” Ian moved closer to Jillian and drew her into his arms. “Thank ye, lass.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed,” she said.

Ian grinned. “I’ll have to stay alive so we can continue what we’re starting here.”

He slanted his mouth over hers, giving her a deep, penetrating kiss that left no doubt as to what he meant. His hand moved to cup her breast, kneaded it while his thumb flicked against her nipple.