The Scot and I (16 page)

“Uh-oh,” said Gavin for Mahri’s ears only, “I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.” In a carrying voice, he said, “Glad to be of service, Mahri, but I’m not so hale and hearty as I thought I was. I think I’ll toddle off to bed.”

He handed her the bowl of batter, said something in passing to Alex, and pushed out of the room. Alex, silent as a tomb and stripped to the waist, stalked to the sink and began to pump water over his bent head. He stopped pumping, shook the glistening drops of water from his dark hair, and reached for a towel.

Beads of water glistened on his tanned shoulders and broad chest. His waist was rock hard, as were his hips and long, muscular legs. Mahri had to admit that he was a magnificent animal. Her gaze moved to his face. Even the dark stubble on his chin added to his virility.

It was the scowl on his face that brought her out of her reverie.

His eyes narrowed on her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

What
had
she been doing? He’d caught her staring, measuring him like a Thoroughbred she wanted to acquire for her stable. He would get a good laugh out of that.

She tried for a lighthearted air, lighthearted and sophisticated. It was either that or die from embarrassment. “A cat may look at a queen,” she cooed.

“What?” He looked baffled.

She set her bowl on the kitchen table and stirred vigorously. “It’s all right, Hepburn,” she said in the same amused tone. “You’re safe from me. In my role as Thomas Gordon, I’ve seen my share of naked men.” She gave a tiny shrug. “I promise not to run screaming from the room.”

His dark eyes locked on hers. With the grace and stealth of a jungle cat, he crossed to the table. “Are you daring me to do my worst?”

“What?” Now she was baffled.

“Run, Mahri, run!”

He was threatening her, and that got her temper going. The man was a boor! He was also moody. She never knew where she was with him. He’d bathed her hands and found her cairngorm brooch for her. He’d acted as though he wanted to be her friend. Today was a different story. She couldn’t do a thing right. Well, he’d better watch his step, or she’d crown him with her bowl of batter.

She gave what she hoped was a ladylike snort. “Don’t try my patience, Hepburn. You should know by now that I’m not afraid of you.”

“I can change that.”

The menace in his voice mystified her. What had she done now? “What’s your point?” she demanded crossly.

He slapped his palms on the flat of the table and leaned toward her. Through his teeth, he bit out, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that flirting with men could get you into trouble?”

“Flirting?” She felt the angry color rise in her cheeks even as she admitted to herself that he might have mistaken her slow appraisal for something she had never intended. To cover her confusion and give herself a moment to regain her balance, she moved away from him and set her bowl on the sideboard. Now she felt not only foolish but cowardly as well.

She marched back to the table but was careful to keep to her own side. “You conceited ass,” she said. “I never flirt. Men are not that important to me.”

“You were making eyes at Gavin, and don’t think I didn’t see how you were playing up to those soldiers this morning. Have a care, Mahri. You were playing with fire there. And while we’re at it, leave my brother alone.”

“Gavin? What a filthy mind you have! I was talking to him to pass the time of day. He’s an invalid. I wanted to help him; that’s all.”

“You were making eyes at him. Try that on the wrong man, and you could end up on your back with your skirts around your waist.”

For a moment, she was speechless, taken aback by his crudity, then she crouched as though she would spring at him. “Where did you learn your manners? In the bawdy houses in the docks of London, I don’t doubt.”

He showed his teeth. “I think you must be confusing me with Thomas Gordon.” His smile vanished, and his voice rose a notch. “Mind what I say. No more flirting, or suffer the consequences.”

She made a scoffing sound. “I know how to take care of myself, as you should know.”

He moved so fast, she was taken off guard. One moment, he was on the other side of the table, and the next, he was on her side and had grabbed her by the upper arms. She braced for a shaking. Instead, he yanked her against him and covered her lips in a bruising kiss. It was so bruising, it hurt. It was so bruising, she forgot she was holding the wooden spoon, and it dropped from her fingers to clatter on the stone floor. It was so bruising, she forgot to breathe.

He pulled back a little, muttered something harsh under his breath, then he kissed her again and again, whisper-soft kisses this time that confused her even more. She stopped struggling. As those kisses lingered, all her frustrations and anger quietly slipped away. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she went on tiptoe and twined her arms around his neck.

When his tongue entered her mouth, she thought she would faint with the pleasure of it. Heat spread from her lips to her loins and all the way to her toes, then licked along her spine, melting her as though she were a little wax doll.

As suddenly as he had grabbed her, he wrenched himself away. With his back to her, shoulders hunched, he tried to even his breathing. “I apologize,” he said finally. “The fault is mine, not yours.” He did not turn to look at her. “It won’t happen again.”

It took her a moment to realize that she had been rejected, that what had been a wondrous experience for her was to him nothing but an error in judgment. Her lips were still burning, her breathing was uneven, and her legs were refusing to obey the commands of her brain. She had to lean against the table for support.

What a fool she had made of herself. But if she was a fool, he was a rogue.

“Ah, Dugald,” said the rogue, “I thought I heard your step.”

Her gaze jerked to the door. Dugald was there, looking suspiciously from one to the other. How long had he been watching them? To cover her confusion, she picked up the wooden spoon and wiped it off with a dishcloth.

The rogue was not in the least embarrassed by Dugald’s presence. In fact, he seemed relieved to see him. With a man-to-man grin, he said, “Keep your cub on a leash, Dugald, or the next time she provokes me, I may be tempted to put her over my knee and wallop her backside.”

The suspicion in Dugald’s expression instantly vanished. Smiling ruefully, he walked to the sink and poured himself a cup of water. By the time he had finishing drinking it, Alex had gone back to work.

Shaking his head, with a wry twinkle in his eye, Dugald said, “Lass, lass, what tricks have you been up to now?”

“None! I didn’t do anything. It was a misunderstanding; that’s all. Why are you taking his part?”

Dugald had wrung out a cloth and was wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’m no taking anyone’s part,” he said. “I’ve more sense than to come between a man and his maid.”

Mahri had no patience with this kind of talk and no wish to prolong the conversation. “Dugald,” she said, appealing to him, “we have to get away from here. There’s nothing to stop us from leaving, is there?”

Dugald’s brows beetled. He said slowly, “The Hepburn would stop us.” When she started to protest, he clicked his tongue. “Mahri, Mahri, have we no enough enemies without bringing the Hepburn’s wrath down upon our heads? Be patient. He means you well. And things have changed since we first set out. The woods and hills are crawling with soldiers. There are only two of us. The Hepburn would be a good man in a fight.”

“Fight?” She said the word as though it were a profanity. “I don’t want to fight. I want to run. I want to escape. We’re prisoners here, don’t you see that? Who knows what the Hepburn has in store for us?”

He regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. “I’ll talk to the Hepburn,” he allowed, and that was all he would say.

 

 

With no servants to wait on them, they ate at the kitchen table, with the exception of Dugald, who always took the first watch. Mahri need not have worried about the awkwardness between herself and Alex or what she would say to him. There were enough people there to take up any slack in the conversation, and Alex wasted no time on small talk but began to question Juliet and her mother about their visit to Mrs. Dickens before they’d taken more than a few bites of her vegetable pie.

At one point, in answer to a question from Gavin, Juliet said, “The locals know you too well, Gavin, to believe you murdered Mr. Dickens.” She flashed a smile at Alex. “Alas, they don’t know you, so no one rushed to your defense. However, Mr. Stevenson from the bank whispered in my ear that everyone in Ballater thinks that it’s another of Colonel Foster’s cock-ups, and it will all be sorted out in due course.”

Gavin stirred himself and replied with a smile, “It’s more than a cock-up; it’s a conspiracy. Foster has witnesses. Who are they? That’s what I’d like to know.”

Mahri was struck by how tired he looked, yet he’d been resting for most of the day. She couldn’t see him riding a horse or tramping over the moors to safety. No wonder his brother was in no hurry to leave. Gavin needed time to heal, but time was something they did not have. She was certain of one thing: Alex wouldn’t leave without Gavin. That was one thing she’d learned about the Hepburn. He was loyal to his friends. Gavin was both brother and friend. Lucky, lucky Gavin.

The conversation had moved on to Colonel Foster, who, it seemed, had also come calling on Mrs. Dickens to offer his condolences.

Juliet said, “I asked Colonel Foster about the witnesses, but he just smiled knowingly and said that all would be revealed in good time.”

Mrs. Cardno interjected, “He’s not an easy man to like. He’s so full of himself.”

“Mother, you’re too kind. The man is a horse’s arse, and I got that from Dugald.”

When the laughter died away, Alex said, “What else did Colonel Foster say?”

Juliet replied, “He told Mrs. Dickens that he had arranged for a guard of honor to be present at her husband’s funeral, and that he would be at their head. It was embarrassing. He looked as though he expected us all to applaud.”

“A guard of honor?” said Gavin. “What about the castle? Won’t that leave the queen open to an attack? It’s a big castle to guard.”

He and Alex exchanged a veiled look. Though everyone was under the impression that there had been an attack on the queen, not one word of the decoy had got out, and that was how Alex wanted to keep it. It was what had been decided by Whitehall even before the attack took place. As long as Demos thought that the queen was still in Balmoral, the safer the real queen would be.

“True,” replied Juliet, “but since the colonel believes that you two are the villains, and you’re on the run, he may think that he has nothing to fear.”

At this point, Mahri interjected, “Was anything said about Dugald or me? Is the colonel hunting for us, too?”

“Not specifically.” Juliet thought for a moment. “They know that a girl and a man helped Gavin and Alex escape from the castle, but that’s all they know.”

“A girl?” She remembered, then, that she had tricked the jailer by pretending to be one of the maids. She might fool the authorities for a little while, but not the one she feared most.

Juliet’s gaze rested on Gavin. “You look all in.” Her voice held a trace of annoyance. “You should be in your bed.” To Alex, she said, “He really should see a doctor.”

Gavin gave a snort of derision. “Stop fussing, woman. I don’t need mothering. What I need is a tot of whiskey to ease the pain.”

Juliet’s brows rose. “Whatever happened to mind over matter? You said that—”

“I know what I said.” His chin jutted. “I get distracted; that’s all.”

Juliet said something under her breath, but everyone heard it. “Horse’s arse.”

Gavin’s straight lips gradually turned up. Finally, he laughed. “Your point, this time, Ju, but I’ll have my revenge.”

Mrs. Cardno entered the conversation with a sly smile. “Henry Steele was there, too. Such a gentlemanly man, and so considerate of an old woman’s foibles. He is still single, you know. Some lucky girl is bound to snap him up before long.”

Mahri said, “Who is Mr. Steele?”

“Oh,” replied Mrs. Cardno with a sideways glance at her daughter’s bent head, “he is the proprietor of the estate on the other side of the river. I’m sure Dugald must have worked for him at one time. He has turned his grand house into a hotel.”

“Mother,” said Juliet. There was a distinct edge in her voice. “Mr. Steele may not be a horse’s arse, but he lacks something essential in his character.”

“Yes,” replied her mother placidly, “I believe you’re right. He is human, isn’t he, and has failings just like the rest of us.”

Mahri took a quick inventory of everyone’s expression. No one was embarrassed or offended. Everyone seemed to find this banter between Mrs. Cardno and Juliet amusing. She wasn’t sure that she was amused. For a moment there, she thought she’d detected a flash of pain in Juliet’s eyes.

Smiles faded, and now it was back to business.

“Anything else you can think of?” asked Alex. “Anything at all?”

“Tell him about the trains,” said Mrs. Cardno.

“They’re running again,” Juliet said. “They cleared the tracks of all the trees and debris that the flood caused, so we’re not completely cut off from the outside world.”

Alex rested his hands on the table. “You’re sure about the trains?”

“Oh, yes. We saw the train from Aberdeen. When we left Mrs. Dickens’s house, we heard the whistle blowing. There was great excitement in the village. People came out of their houses and made for the Station Square. Mother and I did, too. When the passengers alighted, a cheer went up.”

“Were there any strangers among the passengers?”

“Not that I noticed. Why do you ask?”

Alex shrugged. “I was hoping that someone from Aberdeen might take over my chief’s job, at least as a temporary measure, but I don’t suppose that word of the attack on the queen has reached them yet.”