The Laird's Forbidden Lady (29 page)

‘Drive carefully,’ he warned the coachman. ‘Or deal with me.’

The coachman touched his hat with his whip. And the carriage moved off. He watched the dust rise behind it until it was only there in his imagination. He was doing the right thing for her. She could change her mind any time she wanted. He’d always be here, waiting.

He smiled wryly. Love was a very strange thing. It made you do the one thing you didn’t want to do, so the one you loved could be happy. And it hurt like hell.

Now he knew how Drew must have felt when he’d forced him to get on that ship for America. Loss. Despair. Anger. Unending loneliness.

Just deserts, then.

Chapter Twenty-Two

S
elina had been at Hawkhurst for two weeks and was sitting with Alice in the drawing room dandling her friend’s four-month-old son and heir, David, on her lap.

‘He is such a good child,’ Selina said.

‘At the moment he is.’ Alice, her freckles more noticeable than ever, smiled her quiet smile. ‘At three in the morning, he turns into a hungry monster and reminds me of his father.’

Selina tickled the satin-soft cheek and he smiled sleepily. So adorable.

‘You must marry again as soon as you are divorced from that dreadful Highlander,’ Alice said. ‘You should have children of your own.’

The note of censure in her friend’s practical voice caused her to stiffen. Words in defence of Ian hovered on the tip of her tongue.
She kept them behind her teeth. Alice was only reflecting her own anger. The hurt she’d poured out into her friend’s ears when she’d arrived at Hawkhurst’s front door.

The anger had gone, but the hurt still remained at being his dupe.

But did she really want to sever all ties? Her marriage to Ian hadn’t caused much of a stir. It seemed that Dunstan had said little or nothing about the end of her understanding with him and nothing about Ian’s criminal activities had come to light so far.

She and Ian wouldn’t be the first married couple to live estranged, each going their own way. It wasn’t as if he needed an heir. He had his brothers for that.

The thought reminded her of something. ‘Oh, I meant to tell you, Chrissie is expecting a happy event. Perhaps my father will finally get his son.’

Alice, like the good friend she was, let her change the subject. ‘Please give her my congratulations when next you write. How is your father?’

‘In alt. Very proud of his accomplishment, according to Chrissie. She asked me if I would like to visit them.’

Alice looked at her sharply. ‘With your father’s agreement?’

‘Apparently so.’

‘That is good,’ Alice said with a smile. ‘Families belong together.’

And Ian wasn’t family, was he? He was her inconvenient husband. She just wished she didn’t miss him.

She held back a sigh. Ian had his own family. They also only wanted Dunross. They were welcome to it. She just wished she could be rid of the ache in her chest.

Time. It would take time for the wound to heal.

She just wished she didn’t have the feeling that she would never feel whole again.

The door swung back. A tall dark-haired man strode across the room to kiss Alice on the lips.

‘Back so soon?’ Alice said fondly.

‘I invited Jaimie to tea,’ Hawkhurst said, greeting Selina, then taking his son from her arms and lifting him high above his head. ‘And how is my feisty son?’

Two more men entered the room at a more leisurely pace. Alice’s father, Alex Fulton. He wasn’t a well man, but there was joy in his eyes as he watched Hawkhurst kiss his grandson. The other man was Hawkhurst’s cousin, Jaimie, Lord Sanford. Fair haired, slender and impeccably dressed, he spent most evenings with the Hawkhursts when he wasn’t in town, Alice had explained.

‘That child is ready for a sleep,’ Alice scolded her husband.

‘Let me take him,’ Alex Fulton said.

Hawkhurst handed the child over to his grandfather and watched him leave the room. ‘Your father is having a good day today,’ he said to his wife.

Alice’s expression became sad. ‘They are few and far between these days, but he seems happy.’ Alex Fulton had suffered badly from his overindulgence of alcohol, but in the last few years he hadn’t drunk a drop of liquor. It was only that abstinence that had prolonged his life.

Simpson, their butler, who had once been Hawkhurst’s steward at sea, carried in the tea tray, set it beside Alice and left, his rolling-seaman’s gait still in evidence.

Jaimie brought Selina her cup and sat down beside her, balancing his cup and saucer precariously on his knee.

‘May I say how ravishing you are looking today, Mrs Gilvry,’ he said. His green eyes were warm with admiration. He’d been engaging in a mild flirtation with her ever since she had arrived. He was quite the rake, according to Alice, and Selina had felt just a little flattered by his attentions.

She’d enjoyed their verbal sparring. It stopped her from thinking about Ian. At least for a few
hours in the day. Her nights were a very different story.

She missed him all the time, but at night, when she was alone with her thoughts, she felt the full force of her misery.

‘You are very kind to say so, Lord Sanford.’ She gave him a brilliant smile. ‘Is that a new way of tying your cravat?’

‘Don’t encourage him,’ Hawkhurst said. ‘He’s already far too dandified.’

The sound of someone pounding on the front door echoed through the house.

Alice glanced at her husband, who rose to his feet.

‘What the devil?’ Hawkhurst said.

Jaimie went to the window. ‘I don’t recognise the horse, but it’s a fine bit of blood and bone. Probably some irate shipowner from your past,’ he said to Hawkhurst.

The butler scurried in. ‘There is a barbarian at the door, my lord,’ he said, all out of breath and mopping at his brow. ‘Shall I fetch your shotgun?’

The pounding started again.

‘Are you saying you left this man on the doorstep?’ Sanford asked.

‘He looks ready for murder,’ Simpson replied.

‘What do you mean, a barbarian?’ Hawkhurst asked frowning.

‘He is wearing some sort of skirt.’

Heart pounding, Selina rose to her feet. ‘What does this barbarian look like?’ She found she could hardly get the words out, she felt so breathless.

‘As to that, my lady, it is hard to tell, for he has a black beard covering most of his face.’

A beard. That didn’t sound like Ian, then. Her heart dipped. Perhaps he’d sent one of his men with a message. Perhaps he was in trouble. ‘What colour is his kilt and plaid?’

‘My lady?’

‘His skirt.’

‘I didn’t notice the colour, my lady, but he was demanding you come to the door if I wouldn’t let him in.’

It had to be someone from Ian. Her mouth dried. ‘Perhaps we should at least find out what he wants?’

“Tis a good thing your doors are solid,’ Jaimie observed, returning to his seat beside her. While he seemed insolent enough—indeed, he seemed very much the fop—there was a lethal quality about his movements that occasionally made her wonder if he wasn’t more than the man milliner his cousin often called him.

The butler looked to his employer. ‘Shall I set the dogs on him, then?’

‘Certainly not,’ Alice said, her gaze on Selina. ‘Send him up.’

Hawkhurst’s brow lowered and he sent his wife a considering look.

She shrugged and he said nothing, but walked to the hearth and leaned one elbow on the mantel, watching the door.

Selina clasped her hands together, sure it couldn’t be Ian and praying nothing had happened to him. Like being arrested. Or deported. Or, bile rose in her throat, hanged.

If so, she hoped his people were suitably grateful, she thought with a surge of bitterness.

The door burst open.

She gasped. The man towering in the doorway indeed looked like a ruffian. ‘Ian,’ she choked out.

Never had she seen him look so dreadful. A beard covered his jaw beneath gaunt cheeks. Purple smudges beneath sapphire eyes snapping with fury made him look as if he had not slept for days. His blazing gaze honed in on Sanford.

‘Are you the lordling trifling with my wife?’ he asked in a dangerous voice.

Jaimie aimed a brief glance at Hawkhurst, who hadn’t moved, and shrugged, his mouth mocking. ‘Since we haven’t been introduced, I’m not sure which one of the ladies I’m trifling with is yours.’

Ian clenched his fists. ‘She is sitting beside you, you little cur. Outside with you, so I can teach you some manners.’

‘How very rustic, old chap.’ Jaimie pushed to his feet.

Selina leapt in front of him. ‘Ian, stop it, this instant. No one is trifling with me. Where on earth did you get such a notion? And besides, if they were, why would you care?’

His gaze left Jaimie and focused on her. ‘Because you are my wife.’

‘Dear Lady Selina, did you really marry such a dreadful boor?’ Sanford drawled. He raised his quizzing glass and inspected Ian from head to toe.

‘Enough, Jaimie,’ Hawkhurst commanded, moving into the centre of the room.

Ian turned and looked surprised, as if he hadn’t seen Hawkhurst until that moment. And then he took in Alice. Some of the rage in his face lessened. ‘I beg your pardon. I was under the impression that this … this dandy was alone with my wife.’

Jaimie picked a piece of lint from his sleeve and watched it drift to the floor before meeting Ian’s gaze. ‘Does that mean you don’t want to engage in fisticuffs on the lawn?’

Ian’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Selina. ‘It means I’m reserving judgement, so don’t be going anywhere just yet a while.’

He sounded so very Scottish when he was angered. The sound of those rolling
r
s and the lilting cadence made her feel weak inside. Not
to mention the way he was looking at her as if he wanted to eat her whole.

‘I believe introductions are in order,’ Hawkhurst said mildly. ‘Followed by an explanation.’ Once more his gaze drifted to his wife, who was looking suspiciously innocent.

Selina stared at her. ‘Alice?’

Alice shook her head.

Hawkhurst continued on as if Selina hadn’t spoken. ‘I am Hawkhurst.’ He stuck out a hand. He was as tall as Ian, but nowhere near as broad, but he didn’t look the slightest bit intimidated, whereas Selina could feel her knees wobbling in the strangest way.

‘This is my wife, Lady Hawkhurst. We don’t tend to stand on formality, so Michael and Alice will do.’

Ian bowed over Alice’s hand and did it with such grace and charm that Selina felt proud.

‘This young reprobate is my cousin, Jaimie, Lord Sanford,’ Hawkhurst continued. His lips curved in a hard smile. ‘I can assure you he would not be welcome in this house if his manners to my wife’s guest were anything but impeccable.’

Ian shot a glance at Alice. ‘It is not what I am hearing.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Hawkhurst said in a tone that did not brook argument, ‘it is the case.’

Jaimie raised a brow and held out a languid hand.

Ian glared at it, then clasped it with his own. ‘Sanford.’ Then he grinned. ‘You’ve a firmer hand than I expected.’

Jaimie bowed very slightly and made as if to return to his seat beside Selina. Ian glowered and he smothered a laugh and strolled to the chair at Alice’s right hand.

‘How can we be of service?’ Hawkhurst asked.

Ian looked blank.

‘I am assuming,’ Hawkhurst drawled, ‘you came with some purpose in mind?’

‘I would have conversation with Lady Selina.’

‘By all means,’ Hawkhurst said, gesturing to the sofa.

‘Alone,’ Ian said. ‘If you don’t mind.’

‘That is up to the lady, surely?’ Hawkhurst said.

All eyes turned on her. Heat crawled up her neck and into her cheeks, where it stung painfully.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I am not sure there is anything to say.’

‘I have something to say,’ Ian said. And he sounded very determined to get it off his chest.

‘Very well. I will hear it.’

He glared around the room. ‘What I have to say does not need an audience. I would like to be alone with my wife, if you do not mind.’

‘I, for one,’ Jaimie said, ‘fear for the lady’s safety. What assurance will you give us that you will not try to bully her when we are gone?’

‘Or trick her,’ Alice added.

Ian flushed.

Selina winced. He might not be pleased to learn she had been so frank with Alice.

‘I give you my word,’ Ian said, his gaze fixed on her face.

She didn’t actually have the right to refuse him. He was her husband, but she was glad to see he did not force that issue. Though she had the feeling he might, if she turned him down.

‘It is all right, Alice,’ she said. ‘Mr Gilvry has given his word. If he has something of a private nature to discuss with me, I am quite willing to hear it.’

Hawkhurst bowed and brought his wife to her feet. ‘We will be in the library, just down the hall within calling distance, should you have need of us.’

‘Such a pleasure,’ Jaimie said, with a slight inclination of his head. ‘Lady Selina, I look forward to seeing you at dinner tonight.’

Ian looked ready to strangle him as he followed his cousin Hawkhurst out of the door.

‘Well, Ian,’ she said, glad that the thump of her heart in her chest did not affect the calm of her voice. Or at least she hoped it did not. She was shaking much too hard to be sure.

He gestured to the sofa. ‘Please, sit down.’

She sat. He did not. He towered over her, looking down with narrowed eyes as if he wanted to assure himself she was still in one piece.

Heat travelled up from her belly. Answering heat flared in his eyes.

But that had always been the best part of their marriage.

She took a quick breath. ‘You wanted to speak with me. What was it you wanted to say?’

He straightened his shoulders. ‘Did you want a divorce?’

Pain seized her heart and twisted it cruelly. She lowered her gaze to her hands, kept them fixed on her fingers so he would not see how his words wounded.

She forced a smile before she looked up. ‘Is that why you came? La, sir, surely a letter to your solicitor or even to me was all that was necessary?’