Samantha James (6 page)

But for Maura, nothing could disguise the truth. It did not disguise her part in what had taken place.

She was disgraced.

She felt ashamed.

But she could bear it. It was worth anything—everything!—if she found the Circle and brought it home.

Shakily, she got to her feet. Murdoch stretched out a hand. “Please let me be!” she cried.

The baron was up as well. He rounded his desk. “Lady Maura! Perhaps you’d like to compose yourself in the rose garden—my late wife’s pride and joy. Mr. Maxwell, perhaps you’d like to accompany her.”

A footman ushered Maura and her uncle through a set of double doors into the garden.

Alec gazed after them. The baron resumed his seat behind his desk and regarded him.

“I believe, your grace,” Preston stated coolly, “that you are arrogant.”

“Am I?”

“You are. And at the moment—rather reckless.”

Alec shrugged.

“Headstrong.”

“I fully admit, I am used to having my way.”

“Too used to having your way, I suspect. By heaven, if your father had not been my friend, you would never be invited back,” Lord Preston said sternly.

Alec gave a faint smile. “Am I being invited back?”

“That depends on you.”

Alec arched a brow.

The baron’s tone was gruff. “Lady Maura’s mother and my wife were distant cousins. Even if her uncle were not here with her, you know
that, as such, I would be obliged to stand up for her.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed.

“You know Murdoch will demand that you wed her. It is only right. Regardless of what you claim about her conduct, it does not excuse yours. All of us saw the proof, the fact that Lady Maura’s reputation has now been irreparably damaged. She lost her virginity to you, your grace. You can hardly deny your part in it.”

Alec’s teeth were clenched so hard his jaw hurt. “And if we were to query her further, I would lay odds she planted herself in my bed for a purpose. If we were to query her further, perhaps she might admit she set out to catch herself a duke and his fortune!”

“What! And you had no part in it?” Preston scoffed. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you took her to your room. To your bed.” His tone carried a stern admonishment. “As the daughter of an earl,” he continued curtly, “no man of good family will marry her now. She has no prospects—”

“None but a rich Scottish duke! And I didn’t know who she was. But I’ll wager she knew exactly who I was.”

Preston glared at him. “Even if she did, that does not alter or excuse your behavior.”

Alec made a sound of disgust.

The baron ignored it and went on. “It’s entirely possible Lady Maura may well deliver your child. Have you considered that?”

How could he, Alec thought blackly, when he had no memory of ever bedding her!

“A Catholic girl who is no longer a virgin has no future. She and her family will face nothing but shame. It may easily follow them forever. If you do not do the honorable thing, Alec, she might as well go straightaway to the convent. Her life there would not be an easy one with such a taint. Would you subject her to that? Only one thing will restore her honor. Circumstances do not permit your refusal.”

Alec felt like grinding his teeth. It gnawed at him, the notion that something was not right.

“Alec! Would you tolerate any less if a member of your family was compromised in such a way?”

He would not, he admitted to himself grudgingly. He had not. A voice inside reminded him that he had demanded marriage to his sister from his present brother-in-law, Simon Blackwell, for only a kiss—not the deflowering of a lady of respectable family, as he himself had apparently done.

Society’s rules demanded payment, he thought
with a bitter twist. Perhaps it would have set better if he at least remembered it!

Preston interrupted his thought. “Your choice regarding the lady will reflect on you, your grace. Offer,” the baron urged. “Do not make Murdoch demand. I believe it’s the better way.”

Alec uncoiled himself. The baron was right. He was used to having his way, damn it all, and when all did not go his way…

Well, in this instance, at least, he had no choice to blame it on the effects of too much wine.

Murdoch was standing with his hands behind his back when Alec approached a scant five minutes later.

“Your grace?” he inquired coolly.

Alec gave a stiff bow. “I should like a word with my”—his lip curled—“bride-to-be. That is, if it meets with your approval.”

Murdoch stared him down. “Do not give me your airs, boy. I want your word that you will treat her as a lady should be treated.”

“For God’s sakes, man, I am neither a fiend nor a monster.” Alec’s response was terse and tight-lipped. Maxwell’s request prompted in him a faint admiration for the man’s protectiveness, though he was in no mood to admit it just now.

“Your word, your grace.”

“You have it.” Alec’s tone was tight. “Now may I pass? And I would like a little privacy, if you please.”

Murdoch stepped aside. “She is at the end of the path near the fountain.” From the sound of it, he was certain the old man was gritting his teeth. Well, he was gritting his teeth as well.

Alec strode down the winding path. In her blazing gown of red, it was easy to spot her. He knew the exact moment she heard him. She whirled and stared him down every bit as much as her uncle had, he noted with a faint annoyance.

“Lady Maura,” he drawled. He executed a deep, exaggerated bow—

And felt the sting of a slap the instant he straightened upright.

His jaw clenched. He leveled a gaze on her that would surely have made many a man fall back.

“What was that for?”

“For saying that…that I…”

“That you were amenable to my advances?”

“Aye!”

“I fail to see why I should be chastised for speaking the truth.”

She glared at him but said nothing.

“Anything else you wish to say, Lady Maura?”

“As a matter of fact, yes! Was it necessary to…to…”

“To defer to you regarding the details of our night together?”

“Yes!” she hissed.

“I thought it only appropriate, since in all truth I remember quite well what we did with our clothes on…but not off.”

The way she swallowed didn’t escape his notice. He was right, he decided blackly. He was being played like a pawn, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

“Ah. I see you do remember. Indeed, I recall quite vividly hearing you moan when I bared your breasts. It came the instant you felt my mouth on your—”

Her hand shot up. Alec caught her by the wrist, thwarting her. His other arm banded around her waist. He shook his head. “You should cease your hostilities, I think. After all, I came to tell you the news.”

He could feel the way her chest rose and fell, the way her breathing quickened. He held her fast.

Little by little her eyes inched up to his. “What news?” she asked, her voice very low.

He bent his head so his lips just brushed her ear. “Congratulations, Irish. I came here for a bit of angling and caught myself a bride. And you—well, you’ve just snared yourself a Scotsman.”

On her wedding day, Maura woke to the sweet sound of birdsong. She lay very still, listening as the birds trilled and whistled and sang to each other just outside the window. A faint wistfulness swelled within her.

The Irish considered it lucky to be wakened by birds singing on the morning of the wedding. But she was afraid she would be forever damned in hell for her actions over the past few days.

With a sigh, she pushed the coverlet aside and walked to the washbasin.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. It was Pansy, wife of the innkeeper, Jack. He was a stoop-shouldered man of perhaps Murdoch’s age. From the day Maura and Murdoch
arrived, Pansy and Jack had treated them with warmth and generosity, seeing to their every need. It was almost as if they were friends, not guests.

Maura reminded Pansy of her eldest daughter. She’d told her as much that first day. Maura recalled that now, as Pansy helped her into a silk, blue and white striped gown. She had purchased it on the way, for just this purpose—to serve as a wedding gown.

Maura was tempted to wear the crimson gown she’d worn for courage two days earlier, almost in defiance of Alec. She had a strong feeling he would neither have liked it nor approved of it. He’d done nothing but show his disdain for her since his proposal—if one could call it that. She, on the other hand, had done her best to keep her distance from her impending husband. It was partially out of anger for his behavior that day—and partially out of fear. What if he should look her in the eye and realize what she had done? What she was about to do? If he discovered the truth, it would jeopardize her plan.

No, whispered a voice in her mind, it would obliterate her plan!

And she might never find the Circle.

She hated to admit it, but she needed the duke too much.

Pansy offered to curl and arrange her hair, but Maura declined, winding it into an almost severe knot on her crown and donning a cap. Pansy fussed because she had no veil, but Maura replied that there had been no time to shop for one.

Besides, she didn’t particularly feel like a bride. Everything had happened so fast, her mind was still whirling. The procurement of the special license; the local parish priest had refused to marry them in light of that very haste.

She had anticipated that. Indeed, she and Murdoch had planned for it. Oh, yes, she had counted on the priest’s refusal to marry them. And indeed, everything had played out exactly as she hoped—and Murdoch continued to perform his part amazingly well. When the priest refused to marry them, Murdoch advised both the baron and Alec that he would take upon himself the task of finding an officiant to preside over the marriage.

A marriage that would take place in the baron’s beautiful gardens.

Before the hour was out.

When she was ready, Pansy held the door wide and Maura stepped through. But as she did, her gown caught on a splinter in the wooden floor, ripping a small tear in the hem.

“Rats!” she muttered.

Pansy, however, clasped her hands in delight.
“Oh, no, Lady Maura, you should rejoice! Do ye not know it’s the best o’luck to tear yer wedding gown on yer wedding day?”

Maura did know, which was precisely why she was so annoyed.

“You and yer new husband will surely have much happiness together.”

If luck would come her way, she thought, she and the duke would not be together for long at all. But for the sake of appearance, she turned and thanked Pansy.

Murdoch waited for her downstairs. Her trunk was loaded onto the carriage, and off they went to Lord Preston’s home. The ceremony was set for eight-thirty in the morning. Alec had made clear his intent to leave for Scotland as early as possible after the ceremony was performed.

The baron was waiting for them near the entrance to the garden, as well as Deacon O’Reilly, whom Murdoch had arranged to preside over the ceremony.

“I thought the fountain would be a lovely place for a wedding.” The baron presented her with a bouquet of white and yellow roses.

Touched, Maura gave him a quick hug. He and Pansy seemed the only ones happy at the impending nuptials.

Certainly Alec was not.

One glimpse of the harsh set of his jaw tied her stomach in knots.

He looked directly at the clergyman. Baldly, he said, “I wonder what price they paid you to hurry the wedding.” His gaze swiveled to her. “And what price have I paid for you, I wonder?”

Maura felt as if she’d been slapped. Her cheeks flamed. Behind her, she heard Murdoch suck in a breath as well. She was both furious and fearful. Had he guessed the truth? He was already suspicious, she knew. He might call her bluff. Faith, he might call the authorities!

The baron issued a firm reprimand. “Your grace, please! May I kindly remind you this is a wedding ceremony? Your wedding ceremony?”

“Aye,” stated Murdoch in as threatening a voice as Maura had ever heard. “You would do well to remember it.”

Maura discovered her hands were shaking. She felt Alec’s gaze on her, but she couldn’t look at him. She didn’t dare.

“Get on with it, then,” growled the duke.

Just as Maura stepped up beside him, the sun emerged from behind a cloud. The sky had been gray when they left the inn, but by the time they arrived at the baron’s home, it began to clear. Now, the sun shone directly down on her; she could feel its warmth.

A part of her longed to laugh hysterically. Happy is the bride whom the sun shines on. Yet another sign of marital good luck! Another part of her longed to turn around and run, for surely it would never be so.

Alec McBride looked far more ready to murder than to marry.

All at once Maura’s pulse was racing. Alec was a shrewd man. His bearing was that of one who would not be deceived or easily persuaded. Lord help her if he discovered the truth now.

The deacon cleared his throat. In a haze she heard his voice. “Dearly beloved, we have come together…to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman…”

Under his breath, Alec muttered a foul word.

Maura’s head jerked up. Her body turned to stone, her blood to ice.

The deacon must have heard as well. He stumbled over the words, paused, then began again, this time in a rush. When it came time for Alec to say his vows, he bit out, “I do.”

Those same words clogged in Maura’s throat. But she remembered what she had to do, remembered her promise to her father. “I do,” she whispered. But, in truth, the oath was to her father—and her clan.

Alec slipped a plain gold ring on her finger,
and then it was done. Finished. Dimly, she heard the deacon pronounce them man and wife.

Slowly she let out her breath. Relieved beyond measure, she started to turn away. Alec caught her elbow.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?”

A devilish little smile curled his lips.

Maura’s lips parted. She did not trust that smile, oh, not a whit!

“I’ve yet to kiss my bride.”

Her eyes widened. Why, the wretch!

And there was no escaping it. One hand on her back, the other curled around the nape of her neck, he kissed her with breath-stealing boldness, long and hard. He used his tongue, curling it around hers. Though she longed to squirm away, pride held her immobile. When he finally released her, his expression was one of blatant satisfaction.

Maura pressed her lips against the back of her hand. It was a travesty, that kiss. She wanted to level a jab at that squarely shaven jaw; at the very least, a slap upon his cheek.

But he still held her. Maura didn’t try to jerk herself away. Something in her sensed he would snatch her back, so what was the use? Aware that the others had turned away, she released her anger in the only outlet left to her. “Why did you kiss me like that?”

“What! You did not like it? I thought you would be pleased that I showed my…” There was nothing but mockery in that small, deliberate pause. “…ardent adoration for my new wife.”

He released her. The oaf! Did he think he was such a prize that he must gloat? Her body stiff, her shoulders rigidly erect, Maura clenched her jaw so tight her teeth hurt. She started to turn, but he tucked her hand into his elbow.

A brief wedding breakfast followed. Alec was polite throughout, but she knew he was chafing, ready to leave.

The baron accompanied them as they walked outside, where a carriage awaited. He offered his congratulations. Alec acknowledged it with a brief handshake.

The baron turned to Maura. “You’ll come back soon, won’t you?”

Maura’s smile was shaky. “Soon.” She wouldn’t, of course. And though she had known him briefly, she liked him. She truly did, and it left an awful taste in her mouth that she had so misled him.

She waved to the baron from the carriage as she and Alec left for the dock, just a few miles away. Murdoch accompanied them. But soon they would be alone.

She and her husband.

The atmosphere within the carriage was sti
fling. Murdoch watched the countryside. Maura looked down at her plain wedding band. Unbidden, she found herself twisting it on her finger. Alec said nothing, but she could feel the oppressive weight of his gaze on her.

Very soon they stood on the dock. Maura watched as her small trunk was loaded onto the vessel that would take them to Scotland.

Scotland…and the Circle of Light.

All too soon it was time to board. To leave Murdoch. To leave Ireland. Oh, God, it was like tearing a part of her heart out.

Murdoch said something to Alec, then came toward her. Maura flung herself against him. Her eyes squeezed shut. Tears leaked.

“Don’t, child!” he whispered on hearing her ragged half sob. “I will see you soon. Very soon.” He touched her hair.

Maura nodded, swallowing hard, waiting until she was dry-eyed before she walked to where Alec stood waiting near the gangplank.

On board the ship, she stood near the stern for long, long minutes. She stood until her homeland disappeared from view.

Only then did she turn, her throat achingly tight. Alec stood halfway down the deck, unsmiling, watching her stonily. The sight of him was jarring. How long had he been there?

All at once uncertainty churned in her breast and she could not stop it. God would surely smite her down someday for what she had done. Had she led herself into a trap of her own making? No. She refused to believe it. Her sacrifice was worth the cost. Worth any cost if she found and returned the Circle of Light, home where it belonged. She would barter with the devil himself if it would gain her the Circle. A shiver went through her at the thought.

Perhaps she already had.