Almost a scot, p.11
Almost a Scot, page 11
“Of course not.”
“A child’s memories, no doubt, with no certainty behind it.”
She didn’t answer. Her gaze was on his, and he was lost in the beauty of her standing there. His aunt had dressed her in a rich green, too bold for a debutante, but perfect for her. Such presence she had. Like a queen commanding her knights. Kill him for me. And he fought the urge to do just that.
He ran to logic rather than give in to what she wanted. “I’ve no need to go to war with a Scottish clan,” he said.
She swallowed and nodded, though he knew she was thinking of a way to persuade him otherwise. A moment later, she surprised him. Again.
“Do you know of anyone? Do you have men who would be willing? For five hundred gold coins?”
“You’d have to marry to get it.”
She lifted her chin. “But it should be enough to induce someone, shouldn’t it?”
Several someones, but she’d have to be careful whom she selected. So few men could be trusted. Even fewer would have the skills required. Hell, he had no idea if he could do it. There were too many unknowns.
“You have no idea what you’re asking,” he said slowly.
She didn’t argue with him. She simply folded her arms and stared at him as a queen might look at a recalcitrant boy. And there between the two of them stood his aunt with a canny look on her face.
“You’ve got Jonathan,” Aunt Judy said. “He’s been looking for more work. And he’s built up a good group of men.”
“She’s talking murder. Jonathan and I have never done that. We protect. We escort. We—”
“Took on the highway men for us,” Iseabail said. “You recovered my necklace for me.” The pendant sat clear as day between the sweet mounds of her breasts. “Have you never killed before?”
Of course, he had. He was a man built for the London kind of warfare. He’d been trained in it since his youngest days and had learned to respect the cost of taking a life. In London, he was an undisputed king among his set.
Scotland was an entirely different environment. A very new kind of challenge.
Even as he told himself that he was not equipped to handle a war in Scotland, his mind started categorizing the things he could use. Iseabail was the most obvious asset. She knew the terrain, the people, and was smart enough to be accurate in her descriptions. Then he could add in all that very interesting Scottish superstition about witchcraft. He might see Iseabail as a queen, but he knew others saw her as a powerful witch. He could use that mysticism to great advantage. It was probably why her uncle was so keen to keep her around.
The possibilities intrigued him. He felt a familiar churn of excitement that had been absent from his life for so long. But to embrace that would be to give up on his ambitions here in London. The one where his children would be among the peerage. He might want to harry off to Scotland on a new adventure, but what would that do to his future children?
He would not give up on them. He’d invested too much time and money in his current scheme. And so his decision was clear.
“I’ll send a message to Jonathan. He’s your best option.” Then he added a bit more, though the words choked him. “He’ll make a decent husband as well.”
Chapter Fourteen
Iseabail didn’t want this “Jonathan” to marry her, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Still, she made one last attempt to persuade Mr. Bates.
“You still think you can find an aristocrat to marry you. You’re deluding yourself after today’s fight.”
“I’m sure I can,” Mr. Bates said with a smile. “Never underestimate the ton’s love of money. I didn’t want to buy my way in, but I could. Even after today’s fight.”
Iseabail heard the certainty in Mr. Bates’s voice and felt despair settle deep into her bones. Even though he had suggested a different man to help her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that without him, she was doomed.
Didn’t he understand that she had spent the last decade looking for a man who would stand up to her uncle? She’d found no one in Scotland or England. She hadn’t even been sure about him until she’d seen him fight. She’d never seen someone move like him. Fluid and quick. He didn’t have a weapon, and yet he’d dispatched Hamish’s men like so many children.
And now he was denying her.
She didn’t blame him. His entire life was in London. Family and friends were the least of it. His ambitions were here. What did she have to lure him away from that?
Nothing.
Still, it cut deep. She felt utterly alone.
She felt Sadie touch her arm. “You’ll be all right,” she said. “We’ll find an answer.”
She smiled. Sadie meant well, but eternal optimism blinded the woman. Sadie was confident because she’d been raised with enough protection to stretch her wings in safety. But that hadn’t been Iseabail’s experience. And she knew better than anyone that things rarely worked out for the best. Still, Sadie had bolstered her for a moment. Enough that she could turn to address Mr. Bates. “When can I speak with Jonathan?”
He frowned. “I’ll arrange for him to see you tomorrow first thing. Do you know what you want to say to the watch?”
She lifted her hands in a shrug. “That I’m not married. That I won’t go back to Scotland. That they attacked me.” Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to work. Everyone knew a guardian had the right to drag his charge back home and force her to marry anyone he willed.
She was a fine one to accuse Mr. Bates of self-delusion. She had yet to face the reality of her own situation. If she went back to the countess’s home, she’d be taken by the watch and given over to Hamish no matter what she claimed.
“I can’t go back there, can I?” she said, fear chilling her bones. “I need to run.”
She’d spoken more to herself than anyone else, but Mr. Bates reacted as if she’d shouted. He jumped forward and barely stopped himself from grabbing her arm. His hand touched her, though, then froze as if knowing he was going too far.
“No need to run away,” he said. “There’s nowhere to go that is safer for you. Without protection or help, you’d be like a lamb to slaughter in London.”
“I know,” she said miserably. “That’s why I asked for your help.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. What was she going to do? Hamish wasn’t going to stop. Neither was her uncle. “I have to get married to someone who will stop him.”
“Don’t be rash,” he snapped. Then he modulated his voice. “Let’s get you back to the countess’s home. She has a great deal of influence.”
“But won’t the watch be there?”
He shrugged. “She can handle the watch. They won’t take you in tonight.”
One night’s reprieve? That wasn’t long enough, but what else could she do?
She let him guide her back down the stairs and into a hackney. She dropped onto the squabs and stared at her hands while Sadie climbed in across from her. He sat beside her, and she had to keep herself from sinking into his body. Despair was winning as she found fewer and fewer places to turn. She’d thought her most desperate time was when she ran across half of Scotland to find Sadie. Now it seemed everything was for naught.
Her uncle had won.
“You’re not done yet,” he said. His voice was low as he squeezed her arm, but the comfort she found in his voice was short-lived.
“Will your friend fight for me?”
He sighed. “For the right price.”
She didn’t have any money except for the dubious promise of her dowry. “I’ll marry anyone who will kill my uncle.”
“Don’t be rash—”
She turned to him, anger strengthening her body. “I’m not rash. I’m never rash. I will never be free as long as he is my guardian.”
“You won’t be free with a murderer as your husband either.”
Sadie held up her hand. “Let’s talk about other options.”
Sweet Sadie. She had no idea how many times Iseabail had gone through them. “What do you have in mind?”
For the rest of the ride, Sadie discussed people or clans who might come to her rescue. None of them would work. Her uncle and the marketplace he controlled were too powerful. The Spalding market was the only place for many clans to sell their goods. Without it, they’d quickly starve. As for the other clans, each one had troubles. After Culloden, none wanted to go to war with anyone, much less a fellow clan. Worse, every whisper of witchcraft worked against her. It took a brave Scot indeed to marry the granddaughter of the most infamous witch in Scotland.
Which meant they arrived at the countess’s home without finding a solution. She would have hidden in her bed then, if she could slink into her bedroom. But she didn’t because of what they did find upon arrival.
Half the ton was walking their street. Apparently, everyone wanted to see the murderous Scotswomen, and she was very grateful Mr. Bates had had the foresight to take them somewhere to change. But it also emphasized just how much trouble she was in. She had no doubt the watch was inside waiting for her, and whatever happened could not be hidden.
Her reputation was lost.
So she made one last attempt to grab Mr. Bates. She touched his arm before he swung open the door, then waited until he gave her his full attention.
“Can you not see? Look at all the greedy gossipmongers on the street. The ton will never accept you after this.”
Rather than becoming dismayed, his expression lifted into a grin. “That makes the challenge all the sweeter when I win.”
Good God, was everything a game to him? “You don’t strike me as someone who ignores reality.” She gestured to the walkers who were not walking by. Every single one had stopped to gawk at them. “They will never accept you or your children.”
He appeared to think about that. His expression sobered, and he looked at her closely. She had no idea what he saw, but his inspection was thorough, and her skin tingled the longer he looked at her. And then, as if to further imprint himself upon her, he touched her face.
He wore gloves, as was appropriate, but the calfskin had warmed to his body. He stroked across her cheeks and then down to her lips. She didn’t want to surrender to his caress. Indeed, with what she was about to face in the countess’s parlor, seduction was the furthest thing from her mind.
But his touch was gentle, and no man had ever touched her so sweetly.
“You may be right,” he conceded.
Then he pressed his lips to hers.
Hope surged within her, and though she knew she should not allow it, all her defenses dropped away. She had picked this man. If a kiss would help to sway him, then she would do everything in her power to seduce him.
He swept into her mouth, fire burning into her with the power of his thrust. He stroked her in ways that surprised her—the top of her mouth, the edge of her teeth—and that startled her out of desperation and into need. She no longer thought about how to seduce him. Instead, she felt the solidness of him as he supported her face, the passion in him as he pushed deeper and harder into her. One of his hands stroked her neck and she angled her face to feel that tingling caress.
And as her head tilted, he had more freedom to move within her mouth. She dueled with him. How could she not when he stroked her with such ferocity? A twisting push of tongues while her skin burst with fire. She felt her nipples tighten as she made a mew of surrender.
He was everything she wanted, and—
He broke off the kiss.
He tore himself backwards as if dragged. Then he looked at her while she searched for something—anything—to say. He found words before she did.
“Maybe,” he whispered. “You would be worth it.”
She wanted to grab him. She wanted to make him stay in the carriage until he promised to help her. But after that kiss, she was too dazzled to react quickly. Then he shoved open the door and hopped down before she gathered her wits.
Meanwhile, Sadie whistled under her breath. “He would be worth it,” she murmured. “If you can catch him.”
Iseabail swallowed, her gaze still pinned to Reuben as he tipped his hat and lifted his chin in the same moment. Damn, he was handsome, especially when his lips curved in that dare-you smile. He challenged everyone who looked upon him to disparage him, dismiss him, to do anything but worship his prowess. And with the last of her pride gone, she tumbled faster than she thought possible.
She wanted him. She might even love him. She certainly adored him whenever he smiled in that cheeky way.
You would be worth it.
His words echoed in her head, and she grabbed onto them as her lifeline. She had one night, didn’t she? There had to be some way to convince him.
But there wasn’t time to make a plan. She had to get out of the carriage. So she squared her shoulders and grasped his outstretched hand. She descended into the sunshine with a serene expression and firm jaw. Then she waited as Sadie took his other hand and joined them on the street.
“And now,” he said with a happy chuckle, “we enter the lion’s den.”
Chapter Fifteen
Reuben had expected that the countess’s home would be the center of the ton’s attention, but he didn’t anticipate that the lady’s house would be bursting to the gills with all manner of visitors.
The butler threw open the front door the moment the three of them descended from the carriage. Reuben could hear the whispered speculation about them on the street and see the ugly expression of the butler as the three of them approached. The man clearly did not approve of the situation.
Damn it, why had he kissed her? Now his body was burning from the memory, and he had to focus all his wits on the situation at hand.
Once inside the door, they busied themselves with setting aside gloves and hats. All the business of a peer arriving home while Reuben covertly surveyed the situation. The most immediate problem was the watch. Two men stood in the foyer looking both angry and uncomfortable in escalating degrees. Fortunately, he knew the name of one. That might help. Next was the countess who was busy chastising the watch for making outrageous accusations. He’d have to adjust her fury. A little bit of anger at her charges would help soften the attitude of any authority. Too much and she’d help send them all to prison. And lastly, a profusion of ladies all peering through the parlor door at them.
Finally, the countess turned her attention to her charges.
“Thank God you’re safe. Girls, I have been worried sick!” She grabbed Iseabail first, scanned her from head to toe, then embraced her. Reuben was close enough to hear her whisper into the girl’s ear. “Don’t say anything. Let me handle this.”
Then she repeated the gesture with Miss Allen.
Next, it was his turn. He smiled and bowed to her, but her expression hardened into anger. “I am very cross with you Mr. Bates. Very cross indeed,” she stated loudly. “What nonsense have you involved us all in? The watch at my door. My girls frazzled. I insist you leave immediately and take these odious men with you.”
It was clearly a ploy to lay everything at his door while the women were cast as victims. Unfortunately, everyone here—including the men of the watch—knew that Iseabail was the center of this problem, not him.
Mr. Otto Gibson stepped forward. He was the oldest of the two watchmen, and he was distantly acquainted with Reuben. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but it’s not Mr. Bates we’re looking for. By all accounts, he stepped in to save the miss—”
“That ain’t true!” cried another man of the watch, this one unknown to Reuben. “He’s in the midst of it all. Jes’ ask Sammy Watts. It were a lawful getting of an errant wife.” He pointed hard at Iseabail. “And he interfered where it were none of his business.”
“Put that finger down,” Reuben growled, “or I’ll see that you never use it again.”
Growling at the watch was not the way to act. Indeed, it was the opposite of his usual charm. And yet, he did not like anyone pointing a dirty finger at Iseabail, and he found himself standing between her and the offending man without even a conscious decision to move. Damn it! He needed to get control of himself.
“Now, now, no need to insult a lady,” Otto said. His words were for everyone, but his focus was on Reuben as his bushy eyebrows drew together into a frown. “Reuben, you and me have seen a thing or two. We’ve got witness statements—”
“And what have they said?” Reuben interrupted. “These witnesses?”
Lady Rebecca abruptly pushed through the growing crowd in the foyer. “I did. I saw it all, and you were magnificent, Mr. Bates!”
He looked at the girl, seeing her rosy cheeks and wide brown eyes. Her mother stood protectively behind her, but there was a thoughtful look in the matron’s eyes. One that said she could turn this situation to her advantage. But it was Lady Rebecca who caught his attention the most as she kept talking.
“Those horrible men came for Miss Spalding. They were truly frightening, and I couldn’t understand a word they said. Savages, really. Mad savages.” She pressed her hand to her bodice as if terrified, but he saw the delight of a woman who loved a good gothic tale, the more outlandish the better. “I was terrified, you understand, but Mr. Bates saw me to safety. He made sure no harm would come to me, and then he…” She gasped in true dramatic delight. “Oh, he saved us all!”
Even though she and her mother stood at the entrance to the parlor, Reuben could clearly hear the gasps from the other ladies within. There might even have been a lower voice from a few gentlemen, it was hard to tell. Either way, it was clear that thanks to Lady Rebecca, the tide of opinion was flowing in his favor.
“I only did what any gentleman would do,” he said as he winked at Lady Rebecca. She blushed bright pink, and he knew he had gained an admirer. Several if he played his cards right. So he turned to his acquaintance on the watch and tried to make him a friend. “Otto, I know this is a difficult business. Blood in Hyde Park, upset ladies, and two innocent debutantes caught in the middle, but I assure you, I can explain it all.”
“Can ye explain wot ye did to Sammy?” cried the younger watchman. “He said yer friends. If that’s wot you do to yer friends—”
