Rose In Scotland (36 page)

She let herself be mollified, for truth to tell, she
rather enjoyed being carried so in her husband’s arms. A scheme had come to her over dinner, and she was most anxious for them to reach the bedroom so that she could set it into action. It had been too long since she’d known the shattering ecstasy of Hugh’s lovemaking, and she was ready to put an end to the drought. All she needed was to wait for the right moment.

The embers in the fireplace cast a reddish-gold glow, providing more than enough light as Hugh elbowed opened the door and carried her inside. The bed could be clearly seen, the bedclothes already turned down and waiting for them. She waited, biding her time until Hugh leaned forward to set her down, and then she gave a hard tug.

“What the—!” she heard him exclaim, and then he tumbled down on the bed beside her.

“Caroline!” he scolded, glaring down at her with a mixture of irritation and concern. “Mind what you’re doing! I might have landed on you and hurt your poor arm!”

“My poor arm is fine, you thickheaded oaf!” she told him, and to prove her point she gave another tug, this time bringing his mouth down to hers. She kissed him with all the love she took such pains to hide, and with the blazing passion that threatened to consume her alive. She loved Hugh, she desired him, and if it was the last thing she did this night, she was determined to have him. She opened her lips, teasing his tongue with hers in a way which never failed to drive him wild.

“Caroline,
annsachd,”
he groaned, his body
hardening with desire. “Dearest, we cannot. You are yet hurting …”

“Yes,” she said, fear she would fail driving her to greater acts of boldness. “I hurt. I hurt here …” She took his hand and placed it upon her aching breast. “And here …” She lifted her hips until her femininity was cradling his hard male flesh. “Make the ache stop,
leannan
, else I fear I shall die from the pain!”

Whether it was the sound of his language on her tongue or the insistence of her caresses, Hugh ceased his protestations. He leaped from the bed and began tearing off his clothes, with little care for their cost or condition. When he was splendidly nude he returned to the bed, and Caroline trembled with excitement at what she knew would come next. But instead of falling on her and loving her with the ferocity she was expecting, he turned as coy as a young lad faced with his first maiden, taking his own time as he removed each item of her clothing piece by piece.

“A silly piece of frippery,” he announced, tossing her corset onto the floor. “An Englishman must have designed this,” he declared of her stiffened petticoats, before removing them one by one. Finally, when she was as naked as he, he leaned back to enjoy the fruits of his handiwork.

“Mayhap you
are
gaining the smallest bit of weight,” he decided, reaching out to stroke her breasts, noticeably fuller now than they had been even weeks before.

“Beast!” She slapped his hands, feigning indignation lest he guess the truth. “That was most ungentlemanly!”

He raised an eyebrow in mock reproof. “Did I
say I was complaining?” he asked, his fingers teasing the pouting nipples to hard points. “You’re very beautiful, love. And these are like ripe strawberries, begging to be plucked.” He gave them a gentle pinch that had her biting back a moan of pleasure. “I’ve always had a weakness for the fruit,” he said, and dipped his head to gently tug one of the nipples into his mouth. The hot suction of his mouth was all it took to drive Caroline over the edge. She clung to him, sobbing her joy and arching against him with helpless abandon. When he entered her she peaked a second time, calling out his name as he made love to her with a fierce passion that more than equaled her own. The third climax was beckoning when he began thrusting harder and deeper, joining her in shimmering wonder as release shuddered through both of them.

It was the rattle of dishes and the loud whispering of the maids that awoke Caroline late the next morning. She opened her eyes to see one of the maids holding up one of her discarded stockings and giggling. She gave judicious thought to closing her eyes and feigning sleep until the servants left, when she suddenly became aware she was alone in the bed.

“Hugh?” His name left her lips without her being aware of it, and she raised her head to glance around the room.

“Oh, he’s been up and gone for hours, my lady,” the bolder of the two maids offered, bustling forward to smile at Caroline. “An English nobleman, a duke, has arrived all the way from
Bath, and the laird did go down to bid him welcome.”

The news brought Caroline bolting upright in bed, the bedclothes clutched protectively in front of her. “Grandfather is here?” she exclaimed, delighted at the prospect of seeing him after all these weeks. “Why was I not told?”

“The laird said you were nae to be disturbed,” the second maid said, clearly not willing to be left out of the conversation. “But he did leave word to join him and the duke in his study once you had awakened and had breakfast.”

The mention of breakfast made her always-uncertain stomach twist, and Caroline decided to forgo her morning meal until later. Besides, she didn’t want to wait another moment to go and greet her dearest grandfather.

She rushed her maid through her morning ablutions, fidgeting with mounting impatience. A small skirmish ensued when she refused to let her stays be completely laced, but she was able to overcome the maid’s fashionable sensibilities by explaining she was still hurting from the wound. She knew that the truth would be obvious in a few weeks, but until then she was determined to keep the matter secret. The moment the maid pronounced herself satisfied, Caroline bolted from the room and ran down the steps to find Hugh.

She was about to start down the long corridor leading to the study when she remembered the shortcut Hugh had shown her their first few days in the castle. It led through a confusing array of rooms and ended in a small anteroom on the other side of his study, and on impulse she
decided to take that route. Not only would it save considerable time, but it would allow her to pop in on her grandfather and Hugh by surprise, an idea she found childishly pleasing.

The rumble of male voices greeted her when she walked into the anteroom, and she was about to open the door when she heard her grandfather say, “Charles has ever been a liar and a coward, but he’s not foolish enough to lie to me when I am threatening to disinherit him. He swears by all that is holy he had naught to do with the attack on Caroline, and damned if I don’t believe him. Besides, he was in London when it happened.”

“Men like your son, General, dinna sully their hands directly with something so base as murder,” Hugh’s voice was filled with icy disgust. “But as it happens, I have cause to believe in his innocence. For the moment … at least.”

Caroline hesitated. Loath as she was to eavesdrop, this was her first chance to learn the full truth of what had happened on the day she was shot. Hugh refused to even mention the matter to her, and she strongly suspected he had instructed everyone else in the household to be equally as tight-lipped. This might be the only opportunity she would have to learn something of import. Her curiosity battled her conscience, and her conscience promptly lost. She leaned closer to better hear what was being said.

“It sounds interesting, Sergeant Major, and I shall certainly expect a full report before Captain Dupres joins us. But in the meanwhile, tell me how our other little mission is coming along. Is everything proceeding accordingly?”

‘Other mission, General?” She thought Hugh sounded a trifle strained, and wondered if he had forgotten some favor he had promised her grandfather.

“You know full well what I mean, Sergeant,” her grandfather responded with an indulgent laugh. “I kept my end of the bargain by arranging the release of your father and brother, and now I am inquiring if you have kept your end as well. Am I to have the great-grandson I want? Is Caroline with child as yet?”

“S
ergeant?” General Burroughs was scowling at Hugh with marked impatience. “Did you not hear what I asked? I asked—”

“I heard you, General,” Hugh replied, the familiar taste of betrayal and dishonesty foul in his mouth. Since the first time he’d made love with Caroline, not a day went by but he didn’t bitterly regret the offer the general had made at the Gillmore’s ball. Telling himself he’d had no other recourse did little to remove the taste, nor did the knowledge that when he made love to Caroline, his agreement with her grandfather was the farthest thing from his mind. He loved Caroline passionately, endlessly, in ways that had nothing to do with bargains or agreements, and he felt as if he had betrayed her in the cruelest way there was.

“Well?” The general was all but hopping up and down on his chair like a lad waiting for school to be out. “Tell me! Is my granddaughter breeding, or is she not? It’s one or the other.”

“I don’t know,” Hugh blurted out, deciding that was close enough to the truth to suffice. “After
the doctor had removed the bullet I asked him about the possibility of a babe, but he said he couldn’t be certain. I know I was hoping she was not,” he added, remembering how pale and still she’d been on the long ride back to the castle. “I feared a babe would be too much for her after … after what had happened.”

The general frowned, his blue eyes growing grim. “Aye, there is that,” he muttered, looking troubled. “And I know you to be too much a gentleman to importune her while she is recovering. Ah, well, mayhap in a month or two. Only mind you do not dally overly long,” he warned with a waggling finger. “I’ve not a great deal of time left, you know.”

Another person he had failed, Hugh thought bleakly. It would seem he had made a sad job of things since returning to Scotland. He was also glad the general could not read minds, else he would know that he’d done a great deal more than importune Caroline last night. She might have initiated their lovemaking—a boldness which, if he thought about it, would have him grinning like a moonling—but he had been the one who’d been without a shred of control. Even when she’d lain weak and exhausted in his arms, he kept touching her and kissing her, offering his love to her in the only way he dared.

“… would be the sensible thing to do, eh, MacColme?” the general concluded, gazing at Hugh impatiently.

Hugh flushed slightly, embarrassed at having been caught paying such poor attention. “My apologies to you, General,” he said, shifting uncomfortably
on his chair. “I fear I was not attending. What did you say?”

The general peered at him reprovingly. “Civilian life has made you weak, Sergeant,” he reproved. “You used to pay far better notice at our briefings.”

Hugh’s flush deepened. “I am sorry, sir.”

“Never mind, lad, I shall overlook it this time. What I said was that what was needed here was a board of inquiry, such as we hold in the army. No better way to learn the truth of what occurred, and ferret out the guilty party. I will help you.”

“That is all right, General Burroughs,” Hugh said, although he thought the suggestion a good one. “As it happens, I already have a good idea as to the guilty party’s identity. Unfortunately I fear he has already left the country.”

“The devil you say!” the general exclaimed, incensed. “And who let him get away, I should like to know? I cannot imagine you being so derelict in your duty as that.”

Hugh didn’t know how to answer that, for he greatly feared he
was
to blame. Had he paid more mind … His head snapped up as he caught the sound of the door to the anteroom being closed. He shot out from around his desk, his dirk in his hand as he rushed toward the door. The general also leaped to his feet with surprising nimbleness, considering his advanced age and poor health. A deadly-looking pistol was in his hand, making it plain the older man was still every inch the seasoned campaigner.

Hugh motioned him to one side, carefully wrapping his fingers around the door’s handle
and gently easing it open. His field of vision encompassed most of the small room, and when he saw it was empty he eased further into the room, his eyes scanning for any sign of an intruder. There was nothing.

“What is it?” General Burroughs asked, peering around as well. “Enemy spies, do you think?”

“Perhaps.” Hugh kept his dirk at the ready as he moved on to explore the withdrawing chamber next to the anteroom, only to find it empty as well. “And perhaps I was only imagining things.”

The general gave a loud sniff and pocketed his pistol. “Never known you to be the imaginative sort,” he said, his expression glum. “Always did have ears as sharp as a hound. Well, what’s next? You’ll be posting sentries, I’ll warrant?”

Hugh nodded, thinking it a wise precaution, and one he obviously should have employed before now. He tried to think if either the general or himself had said anything of a sensitive nature regarding the attack, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized they had not. He was about to suggest they return to the study when he suddenly froze in horror.

What if whoever had been lurking in the anteroom had heard the general’s remarks about Caroline? he thought, an icy feeling of sickness settling in his stomach. On the surface it didn’t seem so incriminating, but dear God! The damage it could do should Caroline ever hear of it!

“MacColme?” The older man was regarding him with anxiety. “I say, lad, are you all right? You look dashed queer, if you don’t mind my
saying so. Is there something you’re not telling me?” he added with a suspicious scowl.

“What?” Hugh stared at him blankly for a brief moment, and then gave himself a mental shake. “No, sir,” he said, taking a firm control of his wild emotions. “I was but wondering if Caroline was awake. I know she will be delighted to see you.”

“As I will be happy to see her,” General Burroughs said, a fond smile softening his features. “But it’s doubtless best to let her rest. Gunshots can be the very devil to recover from, you know. I recall back in sixty-three when I was fighting my way out of an Iroquois ambush …” And he went on reminiscing about one of the bloodier battles of his illustrious career.