School For Heiresses 3- Beware A Scot's Revenge (4 page)

“No. He vowed never to return and won’t break that vow even for this. I had a hard time even persuading him to let
me
come. That’s why I must return directly toEngland once it’s over.” With a sigh, she swept her hand to indicate the ballroom. “This is as close as I get to the realScotland on this trip.”

“The
real
Scotland ?” He couldn’t suppress a snort.

“This is no more the realScotland than I am the real Charlie. Walter Scott trumped up this daft nonsense for the royal visit, with Lowlanders wearing tartan and half the Highlanders banned from town for being too rowdy.”

He stared out at the dance floor, his gut tightening. The very sight of the lairds dancing away in their kilts sickened him. Their people fled toAmerica in droves to keep from starving, and the chiefs would only dance.

Bitterness laced his words. “Mustn’t frighten the English king with a show of arms. Or alarm the London Scots who want only a taste of the old country.”

She bristled. “Now see here, sir, you know nothing about ‘London Scots.’ If I had my way, I’d be living in theHighlands right now.” Her tone turned acid. “But while you men can do whatever you want, young women can’t go where they please. Not until they marry.”

“Of course not, lass.” Holy Christ, he was no good at cozying up to fine ladies. “Forgive me for speaking out o’ turn. Sometimes my love of home tramples my good sense.”

She accepted his apology, thank God. Then she ruined it by turning the conversation to him. “So you’re from theHighlands , too?”

Damn. But since she’d already guessed it…“Aye. Highland-born and bred.” He changed the subject before she could ask what part. “Looks like yer chaperone is arguing with Colonel Seton.”

She followed his gaze. “I should rescue her. She claims not to like him.”

“Claims?”

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“I think the problem is that she likes him too much.”

Good. That made everything easier. “Then we should give them time to work out which it is.”

Dancing another set was out of the question; he’d barely endured the one. “If you like, I could show you the decorations for the Peers’ Ball Thursday night.” He gestured to a nearby curtain draped from floor to ceiling. “There’s a door hidden back there that leads to the other ballroom, which isn’t being used this evening. Care to have a look?”

A well-bred lass like her would know she shouldn’t go with him, but he could tell from her hesitation that she wanted to. If she did, it boded well for tomorrow.

Mayhap a bit of coaxing was in order. “I’ll understand if those proprieties of yours are rearing their ugly heads. A fine lady like yerself—”

“Not at all,” she said with a breathless little hitch that sent his blood coursing to the wrong places. She took his arm. “Lead on, kind sir.”

Moments later they were in the next ballroom, watching servants drape tartan over chandeliers and position gold damask sofas on the narrow one-step-high stage built to surround the room, so the portly king would have a place to rest between dances.

“What a magnificent effect!” Her green eyes sparkled behind her mask. “How kind of you to let me see it before the room is packed with people.”

She gave him a smile that would light up the barest crofter’s cottage, and he reacted with a swift intake of breath, followed by a swift throbbing in his ribs. “I’m glad the ballroom passes yer inspection,” he bit out over his pain.

His terse tone made her smile falter. “I can’t wait to see it fully lit on Friday.” She toyed with her fan. “I suppose you’re attending that ball, as well?”

“No,” he said baldly.
And neither are you, lassie.

“Oh.”

The sympathy in her voice made him regret his blunt words. Now she thought him too low to be invited, since only peers or those with titled connections had received the coveted invitations. As clan chief he would also have been invited, if they hadn’t believed him dead. His stung pride got the better of him. “I have to return to the north.”

“Where in the north?” she said, suddenly alert and eager.

“No place ye’d ken.” He had to get her off this dangerous subject. His eyes fell on the archway. “They removed the bow windows so guests could pass into the courtyard. Would you like to see what they’ve built out there?”

Her gaze turned sultry. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

His heart began to thud.
Careful, laddie, keep a rein on yer urges. Mustn’t frighten her off.
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Trying not to notice her delicate touch on his arm, he led her into the dark courtyard, where painted wooden pillars supported a tent of rose and white muslin. When they slipped inside, they found themselves in a very small and private space.

“A theater owner is having sets painted with pictures of theHighland countryside.”Lachlan gestured to one end. “Then they can draw back the muslin to show the scenes.”

He felt her gaze search his face. “You seem to know a great deal about the plans for the ball. Are you a friend of the theater owner?”

“I know people enough inEdinburgh ,” he said evasively.

Her voice turned sly. “I suppose you made many friends in the army.”

He tensed. “I told you, I was never in any regiment.”

“Nonsense.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I’d swear that you adapted that costume from a regimental officer’s uniform.”

Devil take the lass. “I borrowed it from a soldier friend.”

“I see.” She snorted. “And that’s why the coat fits you to perfection. Did you borrow your military bearing from your soldier friend, too? And your tendency to pepper your speech with talk of skirmishes and inspections?”

Mo chreach,
he hadn’t realized how he’d betrayed himself. Best turn the tables before she pieced together who he really was.

“I know why you’re so eager to make me into an officer.” He stepped closer. “Because you can’t make me into a peer, and only an officer or a lord can be fit company for a lady of yer breeding.”

She thrust out her chin. “I never claimed to be a lady of breeding. For all you know, I might be a milliner.”

“If you say so, lassie.” With a chuckle, he mimicked her earlier attack. “That’s why you carry yourself like a queen and spend your days collecting ballads, the way milliners do.”

A shaky laugh escaped her. “You’ve caught me, sir. I’m no milliner. But I could still be a gentlewoman of little means and fewer prospects.”

“Which is why you’re attending the Peers’ Ball.” He smiled. “Come now, why not just admit you’re a lady of rank?”

“Not until you admit you’re a soldier,” she said primly. Then she caught her breath. “
That’s
why you remind me of Lachlan Ross! He went off to join a regiment, too. I used to imagine him in his regimentals—”

He kissed her, a brief, soft kiss to shut her up. What else was he supposed to do, damn it? He had to keep her from making comparisons.

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When he drew back, her breath came quickly. “I…I…what do you think you’re…doing, sir?”

“Proving that you’re a lady of breeding.” He slid his hand about her waist to draw her close. “Because there are certain liberties a lady would never allow me.”

“How do you know what a lady might allow?” Her warm, spicy breath teased his senses. “Some are more reckless than others, especially when they’re held in the arms of a strapping soldier—”

He kissed her thoroughly this time, sealing his mouth to hers, drinking in her hot breaths, enjoying the fine tremor of her body against his.

He’d been aching to do this all night. Not because she was Duncannon’s daughter or because she held the key to his clan’s future, or even because she’d grown into such a bonnie lass. It was because she’d dressed as Flora MacDonald, even though it meant wearing a simpler costume than the other ladies. Because she collected Scottish ballads, of all things. Because she’d had the daring to hint that gentlemen should go bare-arsed under their kilts. It was impossible to resist such a female. Especially knowing that once she found out he was her enemy, she’d only look on him with wild and furious hatred. So before that happened, he had to taste her…touch her…see how far he could tempt her.

Even if he suffered for it later.

Chapter Three

Dear Cousin,

I’m sure you are right about Lady Venetia’s safety. Lady Kerr is a responsible lady, so I am
probably worrying for nothing. I shall let your assurances ease my mind.
Your grateful friend,

Charlotte

D
uring her years on the marriage mart,Venetia had endured the occasional kiss. But none like this. Lord save her, so
this
was what Mama had meant by rousing her senses. They felt assaulted from every direction…the faint rasp of his whiskers against her skin, the woodsy scent of heather, the surprisingly soft lips that played over hers, molding, testing, tasting, until she thought she might die if he didn’t stop. Then he did, and she wanted to die even more. “Ah, lassie, that
is
sweet,” he murmured against her lips, sending her into a frenzy of need beyond her experience.

That was probably why, when he covered her mouth again, she let him do the unthinkable. She let him plunder her mouth with his tongue like some ballad highwayman stealing her gold. And oh, how strangely delicious it was, far better than what her married friends had described. No man had ever dared be so bold, and if he had, she’d have put him right in his place.

But with this fellow, she wanted it to go on and on…the reckless plunges of his tongue, the silky strokes that launched her heart into a feverish pounding. The champagne she tasted on his lips made it feel as if she’d shared his glass and was now drunk on the heady libation. Oh, such glorious madness.
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Mrs. Harris’s strictures whispered in the back of her mind: never kiss a strange man, beware fortune hunters, always keep your head about you in the dark. She ignored them, counting on her mask to protect her.

She ached to be a ballad heroine, sneaking out to meet her lover in the secret night, stealing kisses, rousing the wildness that had clamored in her breast for so long she was sick with the need to set it free. So she let him drive his tongue deeply, tangling it with hers before withdrawing, only to thrust again over and over.

Then he began to touch her, too, skimming his large hands up and down her ribs with shocking possessiveness. How thrilling! How dangerous. Oh, she would regret this later, but for now…

Her knees grew wobbly, so she flung her arms about his neck and arched up against him—only to steady herself. That’s all. Truly. No other reason.

He knew better. “Have a care, lass, or you’ll tempt me to be more reckless still.”

More
reckless? She wanted to know what
that
might be, wanted to see exactly what she’d been missing.
Hussy!
she chided even as she tightened her arms about his neck. “I thought you officers had too much discipline to be reckless,” she breathed.

He trailed hot kisses along her chin and down her neck. “Still trying to figure out who I am, are you?” He tongued the hollow of her throat. “Can’t leave well enough alone.”

Never.
“I’ll tell you who I am if you tell me who you are.”

“I already know more about you than ye ken.”

“You do?” She jerked back. So she
had
met him before! She
knew
she’d been right about that!

“I do.” His eyes glittered through the slits of the mask. “You’re a canny young lass who hasn’t been kissed well enough or often enough to keep you from seeking out trouble. That’s who you are.”

The evasive answer sparked her temper. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You, sir, are a teasing coxcomb.”

She whirled on her heel, but he snagged her about the waist, drawing her back against his muscular form with a laugh. “I thought you decided I was a soldier, my lady.”

“Plenty of soldiers are also coxcombs,” she said loftily, trying to ignore the heat of his body plastered against her back. “And you continue to assume I’m a lady of rank when I’ve neither confirmed nor denied that assumption.”

He chuckled against her ear. “No? Stalking off in a fit of temper is what a lady of rank does when she can’t get her way.”

The implication that she was some coddled aristocrat annoyed her. “Don’t assume you know what I’m like simply because I let you kiss me.”

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His hand caressed her throat as his mouth brushed her ear, warming it. “I know this much about you—you enjoy taking chances.” He hauled her back around to face him and lowered his head to hers.

“So do I.”

This time he kissed her with a fierceness that she more than matched. Dear Lord, what was happening to her? Some strange Highlander assaulted her with kisses, and she threw herself into it like a dockside tart. She should return to the ballroom. She mustn’t let the rogue think he could do with her as he pleased. Except that he could. She wanted him to. And this magical muslin room seemed so unlike the real world that it felt right to indulge just this once. To enjoy herself just this once. Let him plunder her mouth just this once.

“Lady Venetia?” came a sharp voice from the ballroom. “Are you out here?”

She broke from the Highlander with a gasp. Lord save her, someone had found them. Should she stay silent? She wasn’t sure she could, with her breath coming in furious gasps and her heart beating like a kettle-drum.

She was still hesitating when her Bonnie Prince Charlie stepped back and lowered his arms. Just in time, too, for the person who’d spoken pulled aside the muslin to look in, then lifted a candle. Light flooded the man’s face.

Oh, fudge, it was Colonel Seton. At least he hadn’t discovered them embracing. The colonel glared at her companion, then settled a stern glance on her. “Lady Kerr has been looking for you.”