The Scot and I (34 page)

“
We Scots always rise to the challenge.
” That was Mahri.

But who was in the vision with her? She’d told him that her father had died of a broken heart when she was still a child. Was that a lie, too?

Gavin’s voice interrupted his train of thought. “I hope we did the right thing, letting those scouts go.”

“They’re not Demos agents,” Alex replied, “but lackeys, locals who were hired by the third man to report our comings and goings.”

He’d decided that he wasn’t going to be burdened by two insignificant yokels, so when they were in the middle of nowhere, he’d turned them loose. It would take them a long, long time to reach the nearest hamlet.

“Lights up ahead,” said Gavin. “We’ve arrived.”

The sun was just beginning to appear on the horizon when they rode in. They stabled their own horses and, after rubbing them down, made for the back door.

Dugald was the only one at the kitchen table, and he was making short work of a beefsteak sandwich. “Help yourself,” he said, indicating a plate of sandwiches.

“Where are the others?” Alex asked.

“Washing the dirt o’ the journey from their faces. They’ve already eaten, so they may go straight to bed.

Alex was disappointed. Though they were all tired out after making an exhausting journey during the night, Mahri had said that she would wait for him.

Gavin grinned. “ ‘Woman, thy name is fickle,’ ” he quoted. “Ah, here comes Macduff. If you want fidelity, Alex, best get yourself a dog.”

“What we’d best get,” Alex replied with a glower, “is a sound sleep and something to eat before we tackle Foster.”

He stomped upstairs in a filthy mood, slammed the door, and lost no time in tearing off his clothes and pouring a pitcher of ice-cold water over his head and naked torso. In the castle, there were servants falling over themselves to see to his comfort. They’d heat the water for his bath, brush and press his clothes, bring him a sandwich on a pretty plate with a tankard of ale to go with it. On Deeside, servants were as scarce as hens’ teeth. They all wanted the glamour of working at Balmoral.

He was drying himself off with a scratchy linen towel when the door opened, and Mahri stepped into the room. She’d brought him a sandwich on a pretty plate and a tankard of ale to go with it. A smile lit his eyes the moment before it touched his lips.

She was staggered by his beauty: his harshly chiseled face; his broad shoulders; his long, muscular legs. When he dropped the towel, she sucked in a breath. It was the laughter in his eyes that made her put down the plate and tankard of ale, then catlike, with supreme confidence, she crossed to him. Going on tiptoe, she wound her arms around his neck.

“I’ve told you before, Hepburn,” she crooned, “I don’t shock easily. In my other life as Thomas Gordon, I’ve seen it all. It’s not the size of a man’s sex that makes a woman go weak at the knees but his capacity for caring. Don’t ever lose it, Alex. That’s what makes you special.”

What had started off as a lighthearted play on words had become something else, something serious, something she meant with her whole heart. He was a beautiful man on the inside, and that’s what counted. His mind, his heart, his scars, especially his scars, made her want to share his burdens. He blamed himself for Mungo’s death and, before that, for the colleagues who had been blown up by a bomb. “
Do you know how many agents I’ve recruited who have met an untimely death?
”

They were more alike than he knew. She, too, dreaded the thought of sending her father and his agents to their deaths. She couldn’t, dare not confide in him. Alex’s avowed mission was to hunt down Demos and destroy it, root and branch.

He sensed the change in her, and he drew her close. “What is it? What put that look on your face?”

“I have a confession to make. I’m in love with you, Alex Hepburn.”

Though she meant every word, she’d succeeded in deflecting him from asking questions that she wanted to avoid.

“Was it so hard to say?” he asked softly.

If they went on like this, she’d break down and start crying like a baby. She said archly, “Don’t you want to know when it suddenly struck me that you’re the only man for me?”

“Maybe. All right. Yes . . . I think.” His eyes were crinkling at the corners.

“When I walked into this room and saw you in all your naked glory.”

With a great whoop of laughter, he dragged her to the bed. It started slow and easy, as though they had all the time in the world, but danger was an ever-present companion. The knowledge that all they could count on were a few stolen hours changed the tone of their lovemaking from playful to torrid in the space of a heartbeat.

She tore out of her clothes as if she were on fire. He spread her legs, knelt between them, and wrapped them around his waist. He loved the dazed look that came into her eyes when he joined his body to hers, loved the way her body clamped around his, drawing him deeper as he moved inside her. Each and every shudder from her found an answering beat in him.

He wanted more.

His mouth found one puckered nipple. He kissed it, sucked it, then moved to the other. His mouth and hands were not gentle, but it was exactly what Mahri needed. She nipped at his shoulders with her sharp teeth. Her nails scored his back.

She couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t drag air into his lungs. Their movements became frantic. Their pleasure sharpened, hovered, then soared. At the end, spent, they collapsed into the mattress, just as the sun’s rays streaked across the sky, heralding the beginning of a new day.

 

 

Alex didn’t get up till late in the afternoon. Mahri had gone back to her own bed, and that came as no surprise. The others might have their suspicions, but Dugald, especially, would not tolerate his “wee lamb” living openly in sin. In fact, Alex wasn’t going to tolerate it either. The first chance he got, he would marry Mahri and make everyone happy.

His sense of euphoria did not last long. The only person up and doing was his brother, Gavin. He was at the kitchen table, buttering a slice of toast.

“Where is everybody?” Alex asked.

“They’re still abed, except for Dugald. He’s scouting around outside.”

“I told him to take the first watch,” said Alex. “Now it’s my turn.”

Gavin gave a huge yawn. “I feel as though I rode sixty miles last night, not six.”

Alex’s response was dry. “It’s about half the distance from our rooms on Piccadilly to Richmond Park, and I don’t remember you complaining about that.”

“Ah, but I never ride out to Richmond unless I have a beautiful girl riding beside me. You should try it sometime, Alex. There is nothing like a beautiful woman to make a man forget all his troubles.”

This was an argument Alex knew he could not win, so he speared a slice of toast, bit into it, and went outside to relieve Dugald.

He found Dugald in the stable loft with stubble shadowing his chin and lines of weariness etched on his face. But he was still on duty, still scanning the road for signs of trouble. Alex felt like a sulky schoolboy. Of course Mahri was still in bed. She wasn’t avoiding him. Everyone was exhausted from being up all night. And she had more than a sleepless night to exhaust her.

Over the next few hours, when she didn’t come downstairs, he changed his mind.

“I think she’s coming down with something,” Juliet told him. “Nothing serious. But I’ve given her a powder for her headache.”

When the hours passed and there was still no sign of Mahri, Gavin asked the question that seemed to be on everyone’s mind. “What’s this all about? Have you two had a falling-out? What have you done or said to upset her?”

The sun was setting, and they were in Alex’s room, getting ready to move out. Alex was dressed in the slightly tattered uniform of a captain of the Royal Guard—the uniform that Dugald had worn on the train. He’d had to discard his own uniform at the Feughside Hotel. Gavin was dressed as Gavin.

He pinned the aiguillette denoting his rank to his left breast. “Concentrate on the task at hand,” he replied curtly.

“You mean your tête-à-tête with Colonel Foster?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” And before Gavin could continue the conversation, he left the room.

Mahri came downstairs to see them off and wish them luck. She did look pale, but she would hardly look him in the eye or leave Juliet’s side, and that made Alex deeply uneasy. Was he imagining things, or was she up to something? It was too late to have it out with her. He trusted Dugald to keep her out of trouble.

He managed a few words in private with Dugald. “Don’t let her out of your sight,” he warned.

“Ye canna think she’ll run away?”

“I’m thinking that they may come for her. This may be your last chance to tell me. What does she have that Demos wants?”

Dugald’s expression betrayed his anguish. “I dinna rightly know, but it’s more complicated than ye can guess.”

“How is it complicated?”

“I canna go against the lass.”

Seething with resentment, Alex mounted his horse and urged it into a canter. Gavin followed after him.

Dugald didn’t seem to understand that she came first with him. He didn’t give a damn about whose side she was on. He would always be on her side, and he expected the same from her.

He wished to God that he had never met her.

It wasn’t true. But it was humiliating to admit that she thought she could run rings around him just because he loved her. She would soon see how wrong she was.

If she lived that long.

God, he hoped he knew what he was doing.

Gavin caught up to him. “What’s your hurry? I can hardly keep up with you.”

Alex slowed his mount. Frowning, he said, “You don’t have to come with me if you’re not up to it. I can manage on my own.”

“Not up to it? I’ve never felt better. It’s you that is acting like a crazy man. What’s got into you, Alex?”

Fear. Doubt. Resentment.
Trust your instincts, Alex.

“We don’t have much time,” he said. “That’s what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re thinking of the shoot to kill order?”

“No one is going to shoot us, Gavin, unless they take their orders from Demos.”

“I was thinking along the same lines. Foster will want to take us alive. If he thinks that
we
are members of Demos, he’ll try to break us into betraying our friends. Why
are
we going to see him, Alex?”

“To clear up a few points that have been bothering me.”

There was a pulse of silence, then Gavin said, “I’m a big boy now, Alex. You don’t have to protect me. We’re in this together. So tell me!”

Alex heaved a sigh. With some reluctance, he told his brother about his suspicions, and afterward, much to his surprise, felt as though a yoke had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Then what are we waiting for?” cried Gavin. “
En avant!
”

Alex shook his head. “You were always the reckless one,” he said, but he laughed and followed Gavin’s lead.

Because of the dark, it took them two hours to reach the castle. As though their mission was of the highest priority, they galloped up to the side door with no attempt at concealment. While Gavin held the horses’ reins, Alex ran up the steps and presented the guard on duty with a letter.

“From Commander Durward to Colonel Foster,” he said, spitting out the words like an officer of the Guard. “He is to come with us.”

He hoped to God that Durward had meant what he said, that he wouldn’t stay at the castle because he couldn’t stomach Foster. He didn’t wait for a response but quickly marched to the side of the entrance, where his face was hidden in shadow.

From the side of his mouth, Gavin whispered, “Why isn’t Foster out looking for us?”

“You’ll have to ask him that.”

Foster appeared at the steps, buttoning his tunic as he came. “Commander Durward wants to speak to me?” He quickly descended the stairs.

“Yes, sir.”

“Where is he?” He was blinking up at Alex, whose back was to the lantern on the wall.

“This way, sir.”

All unsuspecting, Foster followed them to the rotunda where Alex had persuaded Mungo to help them escape by train. The colonel stepped inside. “I don’t see anything.”

He turned to face Alex, and that was when Alex slammed his ironclad fist into the beefy part of Foster’s belly. The colonel gasped, sank to his knees, and began to retch.

“Now that
that
is out of the way,” said Alex pleasantly, “we can talk.” He waited until Foster had control of his breathing. “You can begin by telling me where I can find Mr. Ramsey. You remember Mr. Ramsey, don’t you?”

The colonel blustered, he fumed, but point by point, he answered each of Alex’s questions. He wasn’t a coward. He didn’t mind taking a beating. What shocked him was Alex’s conviction that Demos was still active in the area and was plotting to kill the queen. No one had informed him of such a thing.

As the mills of Foster’s brain slowly began to grind, he looked up at Alex. “Why didn’t you go to Durward with your suspicions? You’re old school chums, aren’t you?” He made no attempt to keep the sneer from his voice.

“Haven’t you figured it out? Durward is the power behind the throne. Now here’s what I want you to do.”

 

 

Mahri reined in her pony and looked back the way she had come. Below her, the lights of Ballater were almost completely extinguished. She was on the other side of the river, on her way to her grandparents’ house. Mile-End was her house now, she corrected herself. She thought of her father and steeled herself against him. She was past giving him any more chances to redeem himself. The stakes were too high. The queen was returning to Deeside on Saturday. She had no doubt that Demos would be waiting in the wings to do its worst.

Not if she had anything to do with it.