The Laird Who Loved Me (6 page)

Ah. So that’s how it is.
A flash of irritation ripped through Alexander. “Dervishton, are you waiting for someone?”

The lord flashed a wolfish grin. “Aren’t we all? In fact, I believe our lovely hostess is breathlessly awaiting
your
arrival in the sitting room right now.”

“I doubt it. Georgiana and I ended our tryst months ago.”

“Really? I was under the impression she—” Dervishton’s gaze went past Alexander, his mouth freezing half-open.

Alexander could tell from the glazed look on the man’s face exactly what had occurred.

Alexander turned as a faint rustling noise approached, and just as he’d expected, Caitlyn Hurst walked toward them moving with that damnably mesmerizing grace. Dressed in a gown of the softest blue trimmed with tiny white flowers and a wide, white sash beneath her breasts, her blond hair piled upon
her head, small pearls shimmering on her creamy earlobes, she looked innocent and ethereal.

She paused and curtsied, a smile curving her soft lips. “Good evening.”

Dervishton—usually the most calm and urbane of men—stepped forward and said in an eager tone, “Miss Hurst, may I say how lovely you look this evening! You quite outshine all of the other beauties here at Balloch Castle.”

For the love of God, must the man gush like a fool?

Caitlyn sent a sly glance at Alexander before she bestowed a soft smile on Dervishton. “Thank you, my lord.”

Encouraged in his foolishness, Dervishton lifted one of her hands and pressed a fervent kiss to it. “I’d be honored if you’d allow me to escort you to the dining room. This house is confusing and I doubt you were furnished with either a map or compass upon your arrival.”

“Unfortunately, no. I’d appreciate your assistance.”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.” Dervishton beamed as if someone had handed him a trunk of newly minted guineas. “I am doing myself as much of a favor as you. Walking into the sitting room with such a beautiful woman on my arm can only increase my own worth in the eyes of our company.”

Alexander crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the railing. “Dervishton, you don’t need to assure Miss Hurst of her beauty. She carries that knowledge with her like a thief carries a pick.”

Caitlyn stiffened and locked gazes with him, fury sparkling in her fine eyes.

For a long second, they looked at one another. In that short time, Alexander remembered other, more private moments—moments when he’d foolishly allowed himself to be lured into tasting those sweet lips and had captured her moans in his mouth, moments when he’d slid his hands over those lush curves and felt her shiver with need, moments when the world had been lost because of the exquisite taste and the feel of her moving restlessly against him, separated by nothing but silks and satins.

He clenched his teeth. That was the past, and now the tables were turned. He’d never again trust her.

Alexander forced a wolfish grin and remained blocking the stairs as he boldly regarded her up and down. He allowed his gaze to dwell in places it shouldn’t and was immediately rewarded when her cheeks pinkened and she started as if to snap out a sharp retort, but then visibly swallowed it.

Satisfaction warmed him.
Oh, yes, Hurst. I know exactly how to push you into doing something rash.

Dervishton, looking uncertainly from one to the other, stepped forward. “I can see that you two have met before.”

Caitlyn sniffed. “Lord MacLean’s brother is wed to my sister.”

“What?” Dervishton frowned. “Ah yes. Didn’t I hear rumors that—” He sent a glance at Alexander before
he smiled uncertainly at Caitlyn. “I’m—I’m sure that’s all in the past.”

“More than you know,” she replied coolly, and placed her hand on Dervishton’s arm, smiling up at him in a way that made Alexander’s jaw tighten painfully. “Lord Dervishton, would you please escort me to where we’re to gather for dinner? I was to walk with Miss Ogilvie, but she ripped her lace on her heel and she had to return to her room. She asked me to let the duchess know she would be down as soon as she could.”

“Poor Miss Ogilvie! We’ll let Georgiana know right away; I’m sure she will hold dinner.” Dervishton placed his hand over hers. “Allow me. The stairs are a bit steep.”

Alexander regarded the wide, sweeping staircase with a raised brow. It was definitely grand, but had little in the way of steepness. “Miss Hurst, pray cling to Dervishton’s arm, for I know how unstable you get once you’ve had too many glasses of sherry.”

Dervishton blinked. “Sherry? Miss Hurst, I didn’t realize you’d been—”

“I haven’t.” Caitlyn snapped a glare at Alexander. “I haven’t had any sherry this evening
at all
.”

Alexander drawled, “I recall an evening when you’d had far, far too much and you told me you’d always wanted to—”

“Lord Dervishton, may we continue?” Caitlyn broke in hastily. “Miss Ogilvie is counting on me to deliver her message.”

Dervishton looked disappointed to be cheated of Alexander’s story. “Of course.”

Caitlyn sent Alexander a fulminating glare and swept past him, as regal as a queen.

Alexander grinned. They’d been at the Lingefelts’ supper ball and it had been inordinately stifling and airless, and the lemonade—the only beverage available for the younger ladies—had run out. Thirsty from dancing, Caitlyn had sipped her way through several tiny glasses of sherry. Before the night was over, she’d stumbled at the top of the long flight of stairs that led from the ballroom to the dining room, and Alexander had caught her just in time to stop her fall.

Holding her to him, her breasts pressed against his chest, he’d been inflamed with the desire to taste her. She’d been similarly affected, and in an unsteady voice she’d confided that she wanted nothing more than to be kissed—hard.

Over the years, Alexander had been with many experienced courtesans who’d requested sexual favors, and he’d given them willingly. He’d also been with other women—most of them married—who’d wished to experience raw passion, and he’d obliged. But he’d never had a woman request something as simple as a kiss in such a husky, passionate voice, one that inflamed him as none of the other requests had.

He’d immediately led her to an alcove hidden by long silk curtains, and he’d kissed her mercilessly. She had kissed him back with a fervor that had set his blood aflame. It was the first time he’d realized how
his friend Charles had succumbed to the winsome, coldhearted woman he’d wed. It had been madness of the worst kind—heated by passion, fed by excitement and blinding desire, and foolish because of the belief that it was controllable—no wonder Charles had succumbed.

That kiss was the first of many risky encounters between Alexander and Caitlyn, each one taking them a bit farther down a path she’d planned with perfection. He hadn’t even realized he was being led until much, much later.

Damn it, I knew better; I’m not a green youth just out on the town! But somehow she wormed her way into my life, and … I just
let
her.

A slow, simmering anger rippled through him, and he was vaguely aware that in the distance a rumble of thunder answered his anger. “Miss Hurst,” he called down the stairs, “a word of warning. The Roxburge cellars are famous for their variety. Perhaps you should request lemonade with dinner, as anything stronger might send you tumbling into someone’s arms.”

Caitlyn’s brown eyes sparkled with anger, her expression tight. “Thank you for your
concern
for my safety, Lord MacLean, but I will not imbibe more than is prudent. I never do.”

“Never?” he asked softly.

He and Caitlyn locked gazes, and to his utter consternation, a slow, simmering heat began to thrum through him, building every time her breasts rose and fell, pressing against the fine silk ball gown. Many
women did not look so beautiful when they were angered. Somehow he’d forgotten exactly how sensually gorgeous she was and it was a bit disconcerting to face her again. His body was anything but immune to the sight of her.

Dervishton cleared his throat. “Miss Hurst, should I—”

She yanked her gaze from Alexander and smiled blindingly at Dervishton. “Let’s continue down to where the duchess and other guests are waiting, please.”

“Of course,” Dervishton murmured, sending Alexander a bright, curious look.

Alexander watched them go, his hand so tightly clasped on the railing that his fingers grew numb. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Caitlyn glanced back, her eyes sparkling with fury. Alexander had the impression that with very little more goading, she would pummel him with her clenched fists.

Which was exactly what he wanted. The thought made him relax. He simply needed to remain more removed and keep his passions at bay. He already knew her weakness: vanity. All he had to do was keep pressing, keep taunting, and she would do the rest. God, he would enjoy this battle! Enjoy waging it and savor winning it.

Still, he had a momentary feeling that something had changed since the last time he’d seen her three months ago. Had she been so obviously goaded before, she would have responded in kind. Her quick passion was what had attracted him to begin with. So
many London misses were mild lemonade and stale cake; Caitlyn Hurst was spicy mulled wine and rich, delicate pastry.

He watched her walk toward the drawing room holding Dervishton’s arm, her hips swaying beneath her flowing gown. To the casual observer she appeared unaffected by their conversation, but he knew better. He could tell she was upset, for as Dervishton escorted her into the drawing room, her shoulders were lifted and her movements had lost some of their innate grace.

As they disappeared, Alexander pushed himself from the railing and followed his quarry down the stairs. For Caitlyn Hurst, dinner would be a long, long affair.

“Heavens, I’m exhausted! I can barely lift my feet.”

Miss Ogilvie tucked Caitlyn’s hand into the crook of her arm as they reached the stair landing. “It’s no wonder you’re tired; it’s after midnight and you were traveling most of the day.”

“We were on the road before dawn, too. Then, dinner went on forever.”

“There must have been ten courses.”

“There were twelve! I counted.” And each had been delicious. The food Cook prepared at the vicarage was good country fare and none went hungry, but oh, the delights offered at the duchess’s table tonight were beyond extraordinary. Caitlyn would write Mary first
thing in the morning and share the details of her first night at Balloch Castle. Between the sumptuous meal, the luxurious setting, and the exalted company, there was plenty to entertain her family as they gathered to read in the evening.

Naturally she’d eschew any mention of Alexander MacLean or the duchess. Some things didn’t fit on mere paper. Pushing her thoughts aside, Caitlyn smiled tiredly at Miss Ogilvie. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had such a delightful dinner. The food—ah!” There weren’t adequate words for the roasted salmon, delicate poached fish, stuffed quail breast, or the other amazing treasures that had arrived on the dinner table.

Miss Ogilvie grinned, her lovely pale skin just touched with a scattering of freckles. “The lobster was divine. It is my favorite dish.”

“I wished for more, but it was gone.”

Miss Ogilvie sent Caitlyn a sly smile. “Lord MacLean noticed when you took a second helping.”

“Yes, he did, didn’t he?”
The arse.
He’d mocked how full her plate was, then remarked again when it was empty. To the rest of the company, his words had seemed like gentle teasing, but Caitlyn had felt the sting behind the words, had seen the dark, humorless look that had accompanied them.

She sniffed. She wouldn’t allow MacLean to ruin her evening. “However I might have felt about the lobster, Lady Elizabeth was quite enamored of the crème cakes.”

“She must have eaten five! She’s quite a hearty specimen, isn’t she?”

“They say Lord Dalfour would have married her but that her father disapproved, so she refuses to have anything to do with another man.”

Miss Ogilvie sighed. “It’s so sad. They have stayed together despite her father’s feelings by attending house parties like this. It’s very romantic, but for me, the true romance at the table tonight belonged to the Treymonts.”

“The marquis and his marchioness certainly seemed absorbed in one another. They reminded me of my own parents.” One day Caitlyn would have a relationship just like that, too.

Miss Ogilvie glanced at the footman who walked several paces before them and leaned over and whispered, “Miss Hurst … don’t you think the duke is a bit odd?”

Caitlyn nodded and whispered back, “He hardly spoke a word throughout dinner. And what was that object he kept fiddling with?”

“His snuffbox. He loves that thing more than life, I think.”

“I suppose if I had a wife who flirted the way his does, I’d feel the same.”

“She was
horrid
during dinner, was she not?”

“I couldn’t tell which she preferred more—Lord MacLean, Lord Dervishton, or the footman serving the soup!”

Miss Ogilvie grinned, but it faded quickly. “And the things she said about your hair, saying it couldn’t be a true shade and suggesting you had— Why, I was never so angry in all of my life!”

“Me, neither. Fortunately I had my revenge.” Caitlyn smiled. “I ate
two
pieces of the fondant and there was none left for her.”

Miss Ogilvie giggled. “I’m glad you’re not angry with me!”

The footman stopped at Caitlyn’s door and Miss Ogilvie waved him on. “Thank you very much but we can find our way from here.”

He bowed and left. Miss Ogilvie waited until he’d disappeared down the stairs before she said, “Miss Hurst, I hope you don’t find me forward, since I just met you today, but I do feel as if I’ve known you for much longer and—”

“Call me Caitlyn, please.”

Miss Ogilvie beamed. “And you shall call me Sally.”

“I’d be delighted.”

“Excellent! I have to say that at dinner tonight, I couldn’t help but wonder if Lord MacLean might have a bit of a tendre for you!”

Caitlyn could only stare. “Why on earth would you think
that
?”