The Devil Wears Plaid (22 page)

E
MMA FELT THE EARL’S
slight form stagger beneath her overly enthusiastic embrace. “Oh, my dearest,” she crooned, suppressing a shudder as she leaned down to press her cheek to his dry, papery one. “What a joy it is to be back in your arms! You can only imagine my distress when I thought I’d never see you again!”

He stood frozen in her embrace like a mummified corpse for several awkward moments before finally lifting one bony hand to give her back a feeble pat. “There, there, dear. I was just explaining to your family that it was far too soon to give up hope for your return.”

“My baby!” her mother sobbed, running forward to wrest Emma from the earl’s arms.

Even though her healing shoulder throbbed a sharp protest, Emma was only too happy to trade the earl’s embrace for her mother’s. As she was
enveloped in the familiar scent of rice powder and lavender water, genuine tears stung her eyes. It made her feel as if she was a little girl again. Her mother had no way of knowing she was a woman now. Jamie Sinclair had seen to that.

Her mother held her at arm’s length to study her, her eyes still brimming with tears. “Why, just look at your poor hair! I do believe it’s more impossible than ever. Have you been carrying a parasol to protect your complexion from the elements? No? Well, I didn’t think so. You’re more freckled than a brown egg fresh from the henhouse. We’ll have to send one of the earl’s servants to the village immediately for a new jar of Gowland’s Lotion. And I do believe you’re even scrawnier than before. No man is going to want you if we don’t put some meat back on those bones.”

Emma had to bite back a secret smile as she remembered Jamie cupping the softness of her breasts as if they were the most exquisite treasures he had ever been allowed to touch.

As her mother’s gaze returned to her face, her plump bottom lip began to quiver anew. “Oh, my precious girl!” she cried out, fresh tears spilling from her eyes. “You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen!”

As she snatched Emma back into her embrace, Emma became aware that someone else was gently stroking her hair. She opened her eyes to find her papa standing beside them. Although his face bore all
too clearly the ravages of recent drink, his eyes were clear and his hand steady.

“Hello, pet,” he said, offering her a shy smile. “We’re glad to have you back.”

Then all was chaos for several minutes as Emma’s sisters descended upon them, chattering like a flock of magpies.

“So what was it like to be the captive of such a dastardly villain?” Edwina asked.

“Did he tie you up and insist upon having his way with you?” Elberta inquired, ignoring their mother’s scandalized gasp.

“Repeatedly?” Ernestine added hopefully.

“In truth, this Sinclair fellow hardly paid me any heed at all,” Emma lied, beset by memories: Jamie kissing her for the first time on that moonlit bluff; Jamie carrying her through the snow at Muira’s cottage, the glittering flakes catching like diamond dust in his lashes; Jamie kneeling naked before her, no longer able to hide his desperate hunger for her. “Whenever he looked at me, I’m sure all he saw was the fat purse of gold he hoped to win by selling me back to the earl.”

All three of the girls looked woefully crestfallen.

“Did he at least
threaten
to ravish you if you dared to defy him?” Elberta ventured.

Emma sighed. “I’m afraid not. I spent most of my confinement tied to a tree, watching Sinclair and
those savages who ride with him swill whisky and make ribald jests at my poor bridegroom’s expense.”

The earl ground his porcelain teeth.

“We’ve been positively ill with worry, child,” her father confessed. “Only last week the earl’s men returned with word that you’d been shot when they were delivering the ransom. He’s had men out combing the mountainside ever since. Just how were you able to make your escape?”

The earl swallowed, looking as if he was on the verge of being ill. “Yes, I’m sure we’d all love to hear how you managed to slip through the clutches of those scoundrels.”

“Oh, I owe it all to your courageous nephew here!” Emma reached back to twine an arm through Ian’s, drawing him into their joyful little circle. “It was his astonishing reflexes and quick thinking that saved me.”

Ernestine claimed Ian’s other arm, blinking up at him like an adoring rabbit. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. From the first moment we met, I could tell that Mr. Hepburn here had a heroic nature.”

“You are too kind, miss,” Ian gritted out. He tried to retrieve his arm but Ernestine dug her nails into it, refusing to release him.

“It didn’t hurt that Sinclair has wretched aim,” Emma said. “Fortunately, his shot only grazed my shoulder.”

The earl cast a murderous glance at the beefy man standing behind him with hat in hands, making a noise in the back of his throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl.

“After he saw me fall, Ian here managed to whisk me away to safety when the other men opened fire and keep me in hiding until he thought it would be safe for us to make our way down the mountain.” Emma gave Ian’s arm a fond squeeze. “Who would have thought a gentleman like Mr. Hepburn here would have such a gift for surviving in the wilderness?”

“I’ve often said my nephew is a man of many talents,” the earl murmured, refusing to meet Ian’s eyes.

Abandoning Ian to Ernestine’s clutches, Emma returned to the earl’s side. She beamed down her nose at him, deliberately emphasizing the discrepancy in their heights. “The whole time I was having my little adventure, all I could think about was getting back to you so I could take my rightful place as your bride.”

“Perhaps we should delay our nuptials until you’re fully recovered, my dear. I’m thinking a thorough examination by a physician might be in order to ascertain the
full
extent of your injuries.”

Despite the warmth of her bridegroom’s smile, the cold light in his eyes betrayed the fact that he was talking about far more than just her shoulder.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” she replied cheerfully. “
It was naught more than a scratch. Tomorrow morning there will be nothing—and no one—to stop us from standing before that altar and making our pledges to each other.”

The earl took one of Emma’s hands in his, lifting it to his ice-cold lips. “Welcome home, my dear,” he said stiffly, offering her a formal bow. “I shall be looking forward to our wedding with great anticipation.”

“As will I, my lord,” Emma replied, spreading her skirts to sink into a deep curtsy. “As will I.”

I
AN WAS LOUNGING ON
a leather settee before the fire in the drawing room that night, enjoying a much needed cigar and a goblet of brandy, when a footman appeared in the doorway.

“The earl wishes to see you, sir.”

Ian sighed, almost wishing himself back in Jamie’s humble cell. At least there he hadn’t had to pretend to be free while bound by invisible chains. He stubbed out the cigar but drained the goblet in one swallow before following the liveried footman to his uncle’s study.

For once his uncle wasn’t standing in front of the massive window on the north wall, gazing out over the mountain. Instead, he was sitting hunched over his desk, looking like a spindly old spider in the flickering firelight. Now that he was no longer in any
danger of being caught in the old man’s web, Ian felt an odd calm steal over him.

As the footman closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone, his uncle nodded toward the chair on the far side of the desk. “Sit, sit,” he barked impatiently. “I haven’t all night.”

Tempted to agree that his uncle’s time was growing ever shorter, Ian crossed the plush Aubusson carpet and settled himself into the chair, propping one shiny black Hessian on the opposite knee.

As was customary, the earl didn’t squander any time or breath on pleasantries. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

Ian cocked an eyebrow in surprise. In all the years since the man had been his guardian, he couldn’t remember his uncle ever asking anything of him—short of keeping himself out from under his feet so he could forget about Ian’s existence for extended periods of time.

“Just what can I do for you, my lord?”

“I would have approached you sooner but I had hoped the
situation
might resolve itself. Especially after a new opportunity came to light. But alas, due to the flagrant incompetence of nearly everyone around me, that stroke of good fortune has been squandered.”

Only his uncle could manage to sound utterly convincing when referring to the attempted murder of his own bride as a “stroke of good fortune.”

The earl picked up an ivory-handled letter opener from the leather blotter on the desk and turned it over in his hands, gazing down at the silver blade. He actually seemed to be struggling for words. “It pains me to confess that along with age can come certain… infirmities. One is not entirely the man one used to be.”

Ian leaned forward in the chair, fascinated against his will. He’d never known his uncle to admit to any deficiency in either health or character. And he certainly hadn’t noticed his uncle being any less of a petty tyrant than he’d always been.

“As you may have observed, there is a slight age difference between my bride and I.”

“It hadn’t entirely escaped my notice,” Ian said dryly.

“While she is young and fertile, I fear that age has robbed me of my ability to produce an heir, if not the desire. That’s where you come in.” He cleared his throat, his hesitation betraying just how much it was costing him to take Ian into his confidence on such a sensitive matter. “I was hoping I could impose upon you to pay a visit to my bride’s bedchamber on our wedding night. And every night thereafter until I can be assured that Hepburn blood will run through the veins of my heir.”

Ian felt his own blood chill to ice. “Let me make sure I understand you. After you make Miss
Marlowe your wife on the morrow, you want me to visit her bed nightly until I can be entirely certain that I’ve succeeded in impregnating her?”

His uncle’s nostrils flared in disapproval. “There’s no need to be so crude. We are all gentlemen here. But yes, that’s exactly what I am asking of you. Miss Marlowe seems to have developed a certain inexplicable
fondness
for you. I’m sure she won’t object too strenuously.” His uncle shrugged. “But if she does, there are ways to ensure her cooperation. I can instruct one of the more discreet footmen to assist you. Or there’s always laudanum to dull the senses and cause confusion.”

“Yes, with enough laudanum, I’m sure she could easily mistake me for you.”

Deaf to his sarcasm, the earl chuckled. “She’s a comely girl if not a beautiful one. I’m sure you won’t find your duties overly taxing. Of course once I’ve achieved my goal of installing a new Hepburn brat in the nursery, I might be forced to call upon your services once more. At my age, it would behoove me to have both an ‘heir and a spare’ as it were.”

Ian settled back in the chair, stunned into silence by the depths of his uncle’s depravity. The man wasn’t a spider. He was a monster, willing to allow his nephew to systematically rape his bride just to make sure no one would question his own virility or the lineage of his heir.

“You won’t inherit, of course, but I’ll reward you richly for both your service and your discretion. I’m thinking that property right outside of Edinburgh might be to your liking. If I throw in a healthy annual income, you’ll be able to settle down, find a suitable wife, and father a few whelps of your own perhaps.”

Ian had no doubt that once Emma had provided his uncle with his heir and a spare, she would be equally expendable. But she wouldn’t be offered a healthy annual income and a property outside of Edinburgh. She was more likely to be offered an overdose of laudanum and a cold, stony bed in the churchyard of the abbey next to the earl’s previous wives.

If Jamie had been present to hear the shocking proposal, the earl would be sitting behind his desk right now with the blade of the letter opener jammed right through his scrawny throat.

His uncle scowled at him. “What are you smiling about, lad?”

“I was just thinking that this might be one of the more pleasant obligations I’ve been asked to fulfill.”

His uncle nodded in approval. “I knew I could count on you. Despite our differences, I’ve often suspected that you were cut from the same cloth as your dear old uncle.”

Ian rose, sketching the man an elegant bow. “I am, as always, my lord, at your humble service.”

As he strolled from the study, heading back to the drawing room to finish his cigar and pour himself another goblet of brandy, Ian was still smiling.

E
MMA STOOD AT THE
window of the luxurious bedchamber the earl had provided for her, gazing toward the north. The mountain was a mighty shadow against the night sky, crowned by a shimmering slice of moon and a sprinkling of stars. She could feel its irresistible tug on her heart as surely as she could feel Jamie’s presence.

Even though he and his men had been forced to part company with her and Ian before reaching the border of the earl’s lands, she knew he was out there somewhere. Watching her. Watching over her.

If he had his way, she would be returning to Lancashire with her family as soon as they brought down the Hepburn. He was determined not to make the same mistake his parents had made. To him, the rewards of love would never be worth its risks. Not when risking everything might mean ending up with nothing.

When their party had ridden away from his grandfather’s keep, the old man had stood on the balcony to watch them go, his broad shoulders unyielding and his loyal deerhound standing by his side. Ramsey Sinclair must have known it would be the
last time he would ever see his grandson. And even though Jamie had to have known his grandfather was there, he hadn’t glanced back, not even once. Emma wondered if he would be able to cut her out of his heart with such devastating precision.

She touched her fingertips briefly to the cool glass of the windowpane as if to a lover’s cheek. Left with no recourse but to seek the lonely comfort of her bed, she started to turn away from the window only to gasp with shock when the reflection of the man standing behind her came clearly into focus.