The Beauty of the Mist (23 page)

“Let me guess, your distress has to do with a man. You have done something you think is wrong or you are about to do something you think your father might think is wrong.” Isabel paused. “Am I close?”

Janet nodded, blurting out her words. “Aye. It’s true. I am in love. But my father...my father, never...”

“Let’s forget about your father for now. Tell me again about this love of yours. Do you think you are in love or...”

“Nay, I
am
in love. I am certain of it. He is all that I think of. He is all that matters. And we haven’t done anything wrong. But...but the way we feel for each other, I am afraid...”

“You are afraid that it’s simply matter of time before you do something wrong. Is that it?”

Janet just stared. She had been ready to give herself to him the night before, but he’d somehow put a stop to their passion. David had said they could not make love. Not until the time when she could stand in his arms with no guilt and sorrow over whatever consequences might follow.

“Does he love you, as well?” Isabel asked gently.

“Aye, much more than I deserve.” Her hands entwined in her lap. “He is a good man, and an honorable one. He is a hard working man, and he has earned his place in the world by dint of his own talent and not by any title or wealth passed on from his ancestors.”

“Then he has the means to support you. But will he marry you? Provide you with a home and, more importantly, the happiness to furnish that home?”

She nodded tearfully. “Aye, all of that...and more.”

Isabel placed her hand on the young woman’s arm. “Then what is holding you back?”

Janet wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. Turning her gaze toward the open window, a corner of her mind cleared, and all of the torment, all of the confusion suddenly came into focus. Life at court amid her father’s noble friends meant nothing to her. Never in her life had she coveted–or even longed for–the finery that accompanied her family’s rank. Perhaps David couldn’t provide those things for her, but she didn’t care. Those were things she’d never sought.

There was one thing, though, that did matter.

“My father’s blessing,” Janet said quietly. Her gaze was steady and her voice calm as she looked back at Isabel. “I wish I could have his blessing.”

Isabel had first thought–for the briefest of moments–that perhaps she shouldn’t open her big mouth. Without question, she had already single-handedly uprooted her own niece and destroyed any chance of continued respectability within the courts of the Holy Roman Empire. But then, recalling the sight of Maria–bright and happy as she’d left their cabin this morning, Isabel knew that it was all worthwhile. In her twenty three years of life, Maria had never looked more beautiful or more at ease than she had looked today.

Oh, forgive me, Virgin Mother, Isabel prayed as she returned Janet Maule’s gaze. This young woman needs happiness as well.

Isabel nodded. She would do everything in her power to make sure Janet received her father’s blessing.

Honorable intentions be damned, John thought.

Nay, he argued, continuing the silent debate. You can’t just take her, after giving your word. Though that injured aunt of hers was certainly no one’s keeper, still–John reminded himself–he had given his word. And Isabel, in return, had kept her end of the bargain by arranging their little dinner. He would not be standing here–looking at Maria–if it had not been for the trust Isabel had bestowed on him.

“Perhaps you’d care to let me in on the argument,” Maria suggested with a wry smile. She sat with her back straight in the chair, her eyes studying every detail of the handsome commander pacing before her in the room. The changing expressions of his face, especially around his eyes, showed the internal battle being waged. “Perhaps I can help.”

John stopped his restless pacing and, leaning back against the open window casing, he gazed at her. Her hair was now tied loosely in a black, silken knot at the nape of her neck. The skin of her throat cried out for his touch, his lips. It only took one look at her and John’s blood was again roaring in his veins.

This was going to be difficult. Very difficult.

When they’d left the upper deck, John Macpherson had every intention of taking Maria to his bed at the first moment they reached his cabin. She was willing, he knew, and when she’d told of how she’d felt the night before–how he’d made her feel–his loins had caught fire. He wanted her.

But their journey below had been interrupted by fifty...no, a hundred trivial matters as his officers, the whole of the noble delegation, even the drunken sot of a physician had found it absolutely essential to waylay them, carrying on endlessly. Frustrated, he finally had pushed past the last of them, storming below with Maria in his wake.

Now, thinking a bit more clearly, John Macpherson thanked God for the interruptions. If there hadn’t been for those delays, he decided, his promise to Maria’s aunt would have been honored more in the breach...in a manner of speaking.

Maria continued to watch him as he folded his arms over his broad chest.

Though awkward at first, it had immediately become quite interesting to stand behind John and watch him attend to his duties as master of the
Great Michael
. She knew he was impatient to go below–as was she–but the manner in which he dealt with his men, and with the Scottish noblemen was fascinating for her. This was a world of men, a gruff and plain speaking world in which the pleasantries of courtly language and manners held little weight.

John Macpherson ran his ship with a firm hand and a mind so obviously well skilled in the art of the seafarer. He was so competent, so clear-thinking in everything he said. She’d seen the looks in the men’s eyes. The looks of conviction, the looks of belief in the man that stood before them. Just accompanying him, she herself had felt the strength, the power that surrounded him. Maria knew why his men followed him.

There was something about the life at sea that infected a person with a sense of independence. Perhaps, she thought as she’d watched him give his orders with such confidence, it was the knowledge that the only thing standing between life and death, between safety and the danger inherent in the sea, was a person’s own ability. If you were a competent sailor, then you had good reason to be proud and confident. And you had good reason to feel lucky. Moving behind John through the ship, Maria too had felt strong and confident, even happy with herself. She knew she was living for today. And the sense of freedom she was feeling sent her spirits soaring.

But now they were alone, and she felt as if her heart was in her throat. She had tried a bit of humor to dispel the intensity that surrounded them, but that had apparently failed. Every time he directed her a look, she could feel the heat of his gaze, and her chest pounded with anticipation. The expectation of what was to come, the tension, the undeniable need that burned within her body, causing her brain to whirl.

Maria paused and gazed at the chart that lay open on the work table. She didn’t know how it had happened or even when, but she knew somewhere in the past twelve hours, a new threshold had been crossed. She was no longer simply attracted to him. No longer could she think of him simply as the most handsome man she’d ever met in her life. Now, her heart now swelled for him. At the very center of her being, Maria ached for him. There was enchantment, anticipation, passion. Maria looked down into her healing hands. There was love.

John walked over and came to a stop before her.

She looked up into his face. His deep blue eyes were boring into hers. He hadn’t said a word since they’d entered the cabin, but she knew he was ready to now.

“Maria, you don’t know me.”

She could hear the strain in his voice. His furrowed brow made her heart tighten in her chest. He was going to end this, she thought with a start. That was it. They were finished. What else would he be trying to do? Virgin Mother, Maria thought, panic stricken, what did I say on deck? What did I do?

She stood up and faced him. “What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t know enough about me. Who I am.”

“I know more about you than you know of me.”

“That’s so. But I’m talking of different things now,” he protested. “What I know of you is sufficient, for the moment.”

“How so?” she argued softly. “How is it that the little I’ve told you of myself is ‘sufficient,’ but all that I’ve seen in you is somehow lacking?”

John glared at Maria, at the stubborn set to her jaw, at the flash in her eyes. He had wanted to speak his mind and just be done with it. To tell her the things that lay heavily on his heart and his conscience. He had no patience with deceit or trickery. He wanted her to see him for who he was before she gave in to their hot-blooded passion he knew lay in store.

“I am waiting for your answer,” she challenged, facing the Highlander, her chin raised in the air. For a moment she wondered how well her bravado would hold up. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know if disappointment lay ahead, but this new Maria would not allow defeat without a fight.

“Maria,” he began haltingly. “I have spent a lifetime at sea. It is difficult...I have lost the ability...well, women are...”

John cast about, searching for the words. Turning toward the window, he placed his palm on the smooth wood of the casing.

“Maria. I am a third son. This is something you don’t observe, but that you must know.” He looked for a change in her, a reaction, but none was apparent. “Do you know what that means?”

“I am the fifth child,” she answered. “And nay, I don’t know what that means.”

John stared at her. She hardly reached his chin, but the way she addressed him–she had the presence of a giant. “It means that I am in no position to inherit titles. I have wealth, it’s true. But no position. I will never be laird of my clan, I will never be lord of any region...”

“Is that important to you?” she asked quietly, interrupting him. “It bothers you that you’ll have no kingdom to call your own?”

“It’s no kingdom that I am after, lass. And it is not a lairdship nor earldom that I desire. None of these things mean a straw to me.”

“Then why do you bring it up?” She gazed steadily at him. “What does it matter?”

John scowled at her. “Because though you’re a widow, you’re still a highly marriageable young woman. I know these things mean a great deal to you.”

“To me?” she cried out in shock. Now her frown matched his. “Why should titles mean anything to me?”

“For God’s sake, Maria, though you don’t say so, it’s obvious you are a woman of family and rank. A bonny lass, at that. I’m a man past his prime, and your family, I’m certain, has much better prospects in mind for you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. For someone who didn’t know anything about her family, the Highlander certainly had a clear picture of her brother and his plans. “We are discussing you and me, not our families.”

“You’re still a noblewoman,” he pressed.

“And?” She raised an eyebrow and continued on, not waiting for an answer. “Is that to be held against me? Would it have been better if I’d been something else? Perhaps I should only have pretended to be low-born. A peasant girl. How would that have altered your feelings for me?”

John shook his head. “Maria, what I feel, I feel for
you
. And you could pretend away your life–pretend to be the Queen of Hungary, if you like–it wouldn’t change who I know you to be, nor how I feel about you.” He took a deep breath. “But this is not why I began all this talk. I needed you to know...I didn’t want my lack of worldly titles...”

Maria put up one hand, interrupting him again. “Just look at the person who is standing before you. See
me
, John. It’s me.”

The words vanished from his lips, blown away by the fresh, spring breeze he felt sweeping through his soul. Her sparkling green eyes encompassed him, drawing him in with their beauty and with the goodness they reflected from within her.

John Macpherson stopped. The woman before him was not Caroline Maule. Gazing at her, the Highlander realized that he was seeing this woman for the first time, and his heart leapt at the sensation. He had been so focused on himself, on his own shortcomings–his age, his position in life, his failure to live up to the expectations of...whom? John rubbed his chin with his knuckles. He had prepared himself to face the same complaints he had heard from Caroline. About his lack of position, about his unworthiness. He realized he was expecting from Maria the same charges that Caroline had leveled against him. Against his pride. Against his very manhood. He stood, gazing at this lass he’d found floating in the mist, and felt completely lost for words.

Maria saw the lines around his azure eyes soften. The heavy clouds that had darkened his mood lifted, and Maria took a step toward him.

“Nothing you’ve just said changes the man I know. Nothing. Rank, power, and all the wealth in the world–I can turn my back on these things without a moment’s hesitation.” She paused and dropped her gaze to her hands. She was in love with this man. He was the only one she didn’t want to turn away from. But how could she tell him this, declare herself, when she would be walking out of his life forever the moment they reached Antwerp. Maria lifted her eyes to his and smiled. She was not prepared to confess her artifice, but something within her drove her to share a piece of her past. “Anyway, you’ve confessed your life. But you still haven’t answered how is it that you’ve been content knowing so little of mine?”

As she looked up at him from beneath her thick lashes, John felt the stirring in his loins once again. She looked more enticingly beautiful than ever. She was a vixen...no, she was an angel. As she lifted her chin, and her eyes flashed like emeralds, the Highlander thought her more ethereal than any time he’d seen her. John thought back on what she’d just said, on turning her back on all that other women sought in men. His hands lifted to gather her close, but then he stopped. He had to finish what he’d started.

“What is important about you, lass, I already know,” he said quietly. “But I want to know more about you.”