Chapter 2

The next morning, before breakfast, Philip took Sebastian, Henry, and Drake to his favorite fishing spot.

After showing the boys what to do—and landing a nice-size salmon in the process—Philip left them on the bank, studying the deep pool with complete concentration, and joined Sebastian on a fallen tree trunk.

Sebastian handed Philip a flask of whisky to ward off the morning chill. Summer days were warm, but near Loch Rannoch the morning could still be cool.

“They won’t be happy unless their catch rivals yours,” Sebastian said.

“I hope it does.” Philip glanced around, enjoying the morning and the boys’ enthusiasm. “It seems like only yesterday I was here fishing with Father.” And Robert. But he couldn’t bring himself to say his brother’s name.

Sebastian leaned back with a sigh. “I must admit I can’t wait to take my son fishing. However, if Beatrice has her way I’ll be taking his older sister along, too. So much for a quiet masculine pursuit.”

Philip laughed. “Your wife is quite capable of fishing. Why shouldn’t your daughter be?” He took a gulp of the warming whisky—and realized the import of Sebastian’s words. “Wait. Is this your way of announcing Beatrice is with child again and you are hoping for a son?”

“Yes. And no.” Sebastian nipped the flask out of Philip’s hand and took a swig. “My only hope is that both mother and baby survive the birth.” He flashed Philip a look of mingled pride and worry. “When it’s your wife, you’ll understand.”

Your wife. Philip remained silent. How did he tell his friend there was no wife in his future? No sons to fish with? No daughters to rock? “Well, I’m not married yet, so children are a long way off.” He looked over to where the boys huddled and whispered, “Drake, if you keep peering into the water the salmon will see your shadow and retreat.”

The boy obediently moved back.

Sebastian grinned. “Speaking of wives. What are your intentions toward Rose? You must know the ladies are expecting a proposal by the end of our time here.”

What? Philip jerked to his feet. “Why would they expect that?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You’ve been together for more than two years. You didn’t invite her to Scotland last year. This year you did. The ladies thought—and I did, too—that there was some significance to the invitation.”

Philip’s gut went cold and he rubbed his hand over his face. Obviously he had not thought the invitation through. He had not seen Rose for eight weeks, so the prospect of spending a couple of weeks at his Scottish hunting lodge with his friends, where society could not judge him or her, had enthralled him. He did not want to come without her or Drake. He’d grown very fond of the boy. Since he would never have children of his own, he welcomed the boy’s presence. He felt as if he had a family of sorts.

Family? Panic gripped him, and he began to pace.

Did Rose expect him to propose? No, of course she didn’t. Since her disastrous marriage ended, she’d made it very clear she did not wish to marry again. She was safe. It was that safety that made their relationship work.

He glanced back to the boys and lowered his voice. “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.”

Sebastian waved his concern away. “They’re completely engrossed. They need a fish.”

And Philip needed a drink. He turned to Sebastian and beckoned for the whisky flask. Sebastian handed it over.

After a large gulp of the fiery liquid, Philip blew out a breath. “Rose has made it perfectly clear she is not in need of a husband.”

Sebastian laughed and accepted the flask’s return. “Well, not in general terms. But what about you specifically? Her response might be different if you asked her.”

“Why?” Philip knew his face had gone completely blank. Like his mind.

Sebastian was grinning like a fool. “Philip. Even you must know she’s never stayed with any lover for this long. Besides, Portia told Beatrice that Rose has been infatuated with you since she was a little girl.” He frowned. “Is that why you’re holding back? Do you think she would say no?”

Why didn’t one of the boys catch a fish and end this hellish conversation? Philip knew he should have ended his affair with Rose long ago, but every time he spent more than a few weeks away from her he…he didn’t know his reasons, but he could not let her go.

“I’m not ready for marriage yet.” He spoke the lie so easily because he’d been saying it to his mother for the past two years—and she, he knew for certain, would not understand his logic or his choice.

“Tosh,” Sebastian said. “You’re only a year younger than me.” His friend hesitated. “Is it her reputation? Do you hold her various lovers against her? Because if so, that’s unfair. You’ve had more than your fair share.”

Philip shook his head. “No. It is not that. I understand why she chose to live as she did. After being sold like a broodmare to a man old enough to be her grandfather…it’s no wonder she wants the freedom to make her own choices now, including lovers.”

Sebastian nodded. “I’ve heard rumors of Roxborough’s sexual proclivities. Rose is a brave woman to take the risk again after sharing his bed.”

Privately, Philip agreed. Rose had told him only a little but it hadn’t been hard to deduce the rest. A man like Roxborough and an eighteen-year-old innocent. No wonder she had been terrified, humiliated, and hurt.

“Then why not marry her?” Sebastian was obviously not going to let it go. “You need an heir and it’s obvious you’re wonderful together.”

“Unlike you, my friend,” Philip snapped with a slight edge in his voice, “I have three younger brothers. Any one of them would make a superb earl.”

A frown crossed his friend’s face, but Sebastian had done no more than open his mouth to speak when Drake let out a whoop.

“I have one!” he shouted. “I have one!”

Quickly, Philip moved to the boy’s side. A big salmon could pull the boy into the river.

With one hand firmly on Drake’s shoulder, Philip spent the next several minutes supporting the ecstatic child, instructing him in the finer points of reeling in his catch while Sebastian helped Henry—who was dancing excitedly and brandishing the net—land the fish.

The look on Drake’s face, Philip decided, was worth every second of the struggle. The child shone with pride, grinning like he’d landed a whale single-handed.

Of course, Henry was now determined to catch one, too. After some argument, he took Drake’s “lucky” rod, and after another half an hour, landed a similar-size salmon.

“We should get these to Cook,” Drake said, importantly, the moment Henry was finished gloating over his prize. “Because there is nothing as good as fresh salmon for breakfast.” And together they raced off toward the house carrying their catch between them in the fishing net.

Much to Philip’s annoyance, Sebastian took up their previous conversation.

“If you love Rose,” he said, “then marry her. Don’t let the past muddy your decisions. You deserve to make a happy future for yourself. Robert would not have wanted you to remain alone. But”—he cleared his throat—“if you are not considering marriage with her, then let her go. It’s obvious that she loves you, and it’s unfair to let her believe something that will never happen.”

“But she doesn’t wish to remarry,” Philip snapped, goaded by both guilt and rising anger. “It’s no secret.”

Sebastian nodded. “That is indeed possible. She has no need to marry—except for love. Kirkwood, however, might force her hand. As Drake’s guardian he will be thinking of Drake and his reputation. After all, he controls her son, and Rose loves the boy. Kirkwood could make her do virtually anything. I suspect he’s waiting to see what becomes of your affair. But if you walk away, I think he’ll insist on her remarrying.”

The very thought of Rose married to someone else made Philip’s stomach clench, and the fiery dragon of possessive jealousy roared awake.

“Well, well,” Sebastian said slowly. “So the idea of her marrying someone else is repugnant to you. Then why are you not already wed and setting up your nursery?”

Suddenly furious, Philip swung around on him. “Because not all of us are like you,” he snarled. “Not all of us want a wife and sons to carry on the name. I have three brothers. Any one of them is perfectly capable of stepping into my shoes. I don’t need a wife. I don’t want a nursery.”

Sebastian had stopped walking. Now he stood still, his narrowed gaze fixed on Philip’s face. “My God. That’s why? Because of Robert? Don’t be a stupid bugger, Philip. Robert would want—”

Enough was enough. “Don’t you dare preach to me about what Robert would want.” Self-loathing fanned the raging fire of guilt and anger, and his very muscles trembled with the need for violence. “My choice is none of your business. Keep out of it.”

For a moment it looked like Sebastian might give him the fight he wanted. But in the end he simply shook his head. “Well, I think you’re a fool. However, if you truly do intend the title to pass to Thomas, then it’s even more imperative that you let Rose go. She deserves the chance to be happy.”

And with that Sebastian stalked off, leaving him in the shade of a large alder tree, fuming.

Slowly, he began to walk back to the hunting lodge, following Sebastian’s stiff, angry strides up ahead of him.

Why did he need to tell Rose anything? Why should he let her go? Weren’t they happy as they were? Why shouldn’t an arrangement to simply remain lovers suit both of them? Sebastian might be right about Kirkwood’s plans for Rose, but he was quite capable of dealing with Kirkwood if he ever became a problem.

By the time Philip reached the house his mood had lifted. He entered the entrance hall just as the boys clattered in from delivering their fish to Cook, and the ladies were descending the stairs.

When Drake saw his mother his face lit up and he ran to her.

“Mama, Mama,” he cried, almost dancing with excitement. “Father helped me catch a big salmon and we’re going to eat it for breakfast.”

“Silly,” Henry said into the sudden awkward silence. “Lord Cumberland is not your father.”

Philip saw Rose’s face infuse with color and the boy’s smile dimmed, his cheeks flushing crimson.

Then Rose hurried forward and hugged him. “It sounds as though you had an exciting morning. Did you thank Lord Cumberland for the treat?”

“Yes, Mama.” Drake, cheeks still flaming, lifted his chin. “I’m sorry, my lord. I made a mistake.”

An excited child’s mistake, but the sense of desolation and loss in the boy’s voice now tugged at Philip’s heart. He said the first thing that came to mind, “That’s all right, Drake. I’m honored that you think of me that way. You’re a son to make any father proud. Now”—he walked over and ruffled the little boy’s hair—“let’s get cleaned up before breakfast so we can sit down with the ladies like gentlemen and eat that salmon.”

He held out his hand. After a moment Drake took it. Then hand in hand the two of them walked up the stairs, the sound of silence trailing after them.