Chapter 14
The wild banging on the door was not unexpected.
That impulsive pounding, which somehow managed to shake the imposing door, could belong to only one person.
Hamish Argyle.
Her brother.
The boy she had loved and who had loved her. The man who wished the worst fate upon her. . . for funds.
She stopped halfway down the stairs. Fear was still not something she was accustomed to. All her life, she’d been safe. Well, as safe as a woman could be, in general, and she’d known love. So the revelation that her brother was. . . well. . . a monster. . . had shaken her to her very core. It had also allowed fear to burrow into her heart.
She hated that.
For being nearly killed did leave its marks upon a person. Even a strong one.
She had not seen him since her flight and it was tempting to turn and run back up the stairs to the security of her room. It wasn’t necessary that she see him. She could avoid him for the rest of her life. She could try. . .
No. It was tempting, but not truly possible. She would not live her life cowering in rooms while her brother roved the world. It was no way to exist. Besides, now she had power. Now, she had influence. Her brother could no longer touch her and she wanted him to know that. Unequivocally.
The butler, Abbot, who had warmed to her considerably, hurried to the foyer without noticing her upon the stairs. Quickly, he opened the door.
There Hamish stood, the Laird of Duncross. His face was red with fury and his entire body was tense as if he wished to beat the living daylights out of someone.
Her, no doubt.
For all the anger on his face, it was impossible to ignore that her brother was a handsome, braw man. But there was a tightness to his mouth now. A petulance, and it caused her heart to sink.
He was not going to be kind or accepting about any of this. She didn’t know why she’d allowed any such secret hope.
` Unlike the butler, Hamish lifted his gaze and spotted her on the grand staircase.
Without thought or kindness for the older servant, Hamish shoved past the butler which pushed Abbot off balance and sent him nearly tottering to the floor.
She let out a cry and rushed down the stairs, ready to help the servant.
Hamish charged in and bolted for the stairs, preventing her access to Abbot.
It was odd, the details she noticed in that moment. Abbot shaking his white head, crawling onto all fours.
Hamish’s gray morning coat was flapping about his tall, lean frame.
Her own breath came in rasps, frightened for Abbot. Yet, she didn’t wish Hamish to see it in her.
Her brother stopped just at the bottom of the stairs and met her gaze. His eyes were wild with fury.
“What the devil have ye done?” he yelled. His voice reverberated through the foyer, bouncing off the marble floor and high ceiling.
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Good morning, Hamish. I take it ye’ve seen the papers.”
“Seen them?” he spat. “Seen them? Ye’re the topic of every scandal sheet. Yer name is on the front page of every bloody publication.” Hamish sneered. “Married to the Duke of Raventon in a secret ceremony, by God! The scandal of it. And people saw that I didna ken about it. Do ye ken how that felt?”
Poor Hamish. . . always seeing his own suffering. It was one of the great tragedies that, despite the love of their parents, her brother had never learned empathy.
She licked her lips, nervous at his erratic behavior, but she kept his gaze. “Is that what worries ye? The scandal? My husband is a duke, after all. I doubt the scandal will last long and we shall, of course, put out our own story of a sudden and romantic love which could no’ be denied.”
Hamish snorted. “Love? Ye’ve never laid eyes on the mon until the last two days. And ye’re both liars. The pair of ye. Ye were here, were ye no’? When I came?”
“Yes, Hamish.” She narrowed her gaze. “I was in the adjoining room.”
Hamish’s face turned a bizarre shade of purple as if rage were strangling him.
“Ye’ve married without my permission,” he hissed.
“I am of age,” she countered coolly, refusing to allow him to bait her into a fury to match his. “I dinna need yer permission.”
“It’s no’ proper.”
“No’ proper?” she scoffed. “Ye’re yelling at me in a duke’s foyer!” She gazed down at him, allowing her disappointment to show. “Ye ken why I married him, Hamish. Ye canna speak of proper.”
He swallowed, the muscles of his throat working visibly. “I dinna ken.”
She blew out a disgusted breath. “Dinna make me say it.”
He blanched, as if he truly had thought she had no clue as to his intentions. But suddenly he shifted on his feet. “I canna understand ye.”
“Ye wished me dead,” she whispered. “My own brother.”
“Mad,” he bit out. “I told His Grace. Ye’re mad. Ye should be locked up.”
She laughed then, though the sound chilled even her own blood. “Mad am I?”
“Aye,” he had the audacity to reply.
“Well listen to this.” He leaned forward and she said evenly, “Ye couldna face debtor’s prison. Ye drove our lands to disgrace. And our departed mother and father kent ye would, which is why they left me with the bulk of the funds.”
She was not sure which one, exactly, but one of her accusations hit bone. His entire demeanor changed. He all but snarled at her, an anger and resentment so deep and old came forward that she nearly recoiled.
“Ye always stole their love,” he accused. “Always. There was none left for me.”
The passion in his words shook her to her core. She had not expected this. For in his statement, there was absolute conviction. Whatever the truth was, Hamish actually believed that their parents had not loved him and that it was Diana’s fault.
The anger that had been in her burned away as she looked at the man who should have loved her as her brother.
“Och, Hamish, it breaks my heart to hear ye say it.”
“Ye havena a heart to break, Diana,” he said simply. “Ye wouldna help me if I was the last man alive.”
She gasped. “That’s no’ true.”
He took a step forward, his hands flexing into fists.
It was then that she noticed she was alone with him. Abbot had disappeared.
And as he took the first step, her skin crawled. For though her heart broke for him that he felt so completely unloved, she now understood his hate for her and how it might drive him to do the unspeakable.
“Laird Duncross, you’ve not been invited upstairs,” a dark voice growled from the adjoining hall.
Hamish froze and whipped towards the sound. Despite his own breadth and strength, he paled. “Yer Grace.”
“Yes, Duncross.” Max stepped out of the shadows, his face a mask of danger. “And you’re upsetting my wife.”
Hamish did not back away immediately but he shifted on his feet. “She’s my sister.”
“Yes. But the position of wife is the most important,” Max pointed out coolly. But there was a warning in his words. “She’s under my care now. Thank you for ensuring her welfare until now. But I think it’s best you leave until you can offer us congratulations.”
“Congratulations?” Hamish stared for a long moment then ground out, “Ye lied to me.”
“It seemed wise.” Max took a step forward, a frightening smile parting his lips. “You also lied to me. There isn’t a mad bone in your sister’s body. But you? I do think you might be as mad as a March hare, though.”
Hamish’s jaw tightened. “Wait,” he warned. “Ye wait and see. She’ll destroy everything ye care about. Just as she did to me. And then ye’ll lock her away.”
Her husband strode to the center of the foyer. “I think it best you leave now, pup. My solicitors will be in contact with yours posthaste.”
Hamish winced. For despite his youth and strength, even he seemed to know he was no match for the duke. “But—”
“Yes?” the duke asked with eyes so decidedly tigerish that Hamish nearly stumbled as he stepped away from the staircase.
“Fine,” Hamish rushed, raising his hands in supplication. “I’ll await yer. . . communication.”
Max gestured a hand towards the door, but then he stopped. “Oh, one more thing, Hamish. If you ever ruffle one of my servants or upset even a hair upon Diana’s head again, I’ll have you sent to the bottom of the Thames. My range of associates is far wider than yours. . .” He raked Hamish up and down with a dismissive glance. “And when I set out to task, I succeed.”
Diana nearly gasped at the clear allusion that Max knew Hamish had tried to kill her and that, unlike Hamish, Max would not fail if he attempted such an act.
Hamish had the intelligence to pale then give a firm nod before he retreated out the still-open door to the pavement.
Quietly, Max closed his own front door, a shocking thing to do, then turned to face her. The distance between them, since she still stood frozen on the stairs, seemed strange.
“Are you well?” he asked carefully, clearly concerned the experience had left her fragile.
Somehow, she managed to nod, barely hearing his inquiry.
“It must have been upsetting,” he offered.
“Upsetting,” she agreed, unable to move, her slippers firmly planted into the Oriental runner.
“He’s unhinged,” Max said firmly, crossing the foyer calmly. And yet, his entire body crackled with his concern for her.
“Yes,” she whispered as she fingered the concealed dagger she’d placed in her sleeve.
Max strode quickly up the stairs, his gaze dropping to her sleeve. “You have my present?”
She nodded, barely able to believe what had just transpired but at least it was over now. Over. Would it ever be over? Or would she dream of this for the rest of her life? The way he had looked at her. . .
Gently, Max took her hand in his, their fingers twining.
It was the gentlest and most comforting gesture she’d known in years.
She began to shake.
“Could you have used it?” he asked softly.
“On my brother?” she breathed. “I. . . I suddenly do no’ ken.”
“That not knowing?” he replied, his lips close to her temple. “It is what makes you a good person, Diana. I know you are strong but you are also good. Come.”
And he led her down the rest of the stairs and into one of his studies.
He tucked her into a chair before the fire then quickly poured out two large brandies.
“I’m glad that is done,” she said, amazed that she was still shaking. She hoped he wouldn’t think less of her for it.
He wrapped her hands around the carved crystal snifter. “Yes, the first encounter is done,” he agreed. “And I will do everything in my power to ensure it was the last.”
“Thank ye,” she murmured, dismayed to see the brandy jump ever so slightly while her hands continued to tremble.
“I hope you understand,” he said, crouching slowly before her, “but I am going to hire you a permanent guard for the time being. A man who knows how to handle himself.”
She blinked then frowned. “Ye deem it necessary?”
“After seeing your brother today?” He cupped her cheek in his palm. “Yes. I’d be a fool not to take precautions. And that’s all it is. A precaution. Besides, you’ll like O’Malley. He’s a good man.”
She nodded, barely able to take it in. She allowed herself to ease her cheek into his palm and closed her eyes, savoring the safety of that feeling. Still, she refused to be controlled by fear.
Slowly, she opened her eyes and lifted her head. “Ye canna be with me every moment of the day.”
“Alas, no,” he agreed.
“I wouldna wish such a thing,” she declared passionately. “I ken ye’re a powerful man, and ye must run the country.”
“Now it is you who flatter to assume I run the country.”
She arched a challenging brow at him. “Dinna ye?”
“I suppose I do.” He touched her snifter, gently helping her raise it. “Now, drink that. It will steady you. May I ask; were you and your brother close once?”
She was still for a moment before taking a long drink. The intense flavors of the brandy slid over her tongue and burned straight down to her stomach, warming her.
Close? Once, they had been inseparable. She’d held his hand and they had wandered the estate like wild things. Always wishing to be together. Always adventuring together. Even curling up to sleep together when one of them had a nightmare. The distance between them was a gulf she could scarce understand now.
But she couldn’t ignore it or pretend it wasn’t there. She never was and never would be that kind of fool.
Something had happened to Hamish. And it was something that neither of them could come back from.
“Aye,” she said firmly. “Once, there wasna a closer brother and sister. But he hates me now. He blames me for all his misfortunes.”
“He has a good many of them, Diana.” Max stood and crossed to the fire. He took up the poker and stoked the fire, sending embers wafting upward. “The moment you arrived, I arranged his investigation. And, already, the picture I’ve received is quite bleak. Sadly, some men cannot accept the responsibility for their own misdeeds and their only recourse is to blame others.”
She nodded, but even as she tried to be strong, her eyes burned with tears. “Och, forgive me. I’ve turned into a watering pot.”
“I’m glad,” he suddenly said. “I’d be most worried if you continued in your stoic behavior.”
She shifted uncomfortably and took another long drink. “Well, I am most unaccustomed to tears.”
“Because you hold them in or you have little reason for them?” he asked with what seemed to be genuine curiosity.
She considered his question carefully, wishing to give him an honest answer. “Sometimes both. Ye see, I had little reason for them until my parents passed. My aunt died. And then, since my brother’s changes. . . well, I havena cried. No’ really. For I didna see the use for tears.”
“They do a tremendous job of releasing emotion.” He hung the poker back on the stand. “Admiral Nelson was known to shed a tear or two, you know.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “And ye? Do ye shed a tear or two?”
“Certainly,” he replied easily. “It is most good for the soul.”
“I dinna ken if I believe ye.”
“You shall see one day,” he protested, smiling. “I’m not truly a great believer in this new line of manhood where men aren’t supposed to feel. No, I prefer Nelson and the men who appreciated the importance of expression. Mind you, not all my friends adhere to my thinking. But I do.”
She could not hide her smile at his kind words. “I shall have to remember that.”
“Indeed you shall, Wife.” He cocked his head to the side, oh-so-serious. “No recrimination of manly tears, if you please.”
“Never,” she promised.
“Good.” He folded his arms across his chest, which caused his coat to tighten ever so slightly along the breadth of his wide shoulders. “We shan’t reproach each other for feeling.”
“Ye are most unexpected,” she said without thinking.
He laughed. “What did you expect?”
She shook her head, astonished she’d been so bold as to say such a thing out loud. But now that she was in for a penny, she might as well go in for the pound.
Diana cleared her throat. “I thought ye would be someone formidable, which ye are. . . but no’. . . so kind.”
“It costs little to be kind,” he observed. “The only reason I can see that people are not kind is because they are afraid of suffering. They’re afraid of feeling pain. Pain is a part of life. It cannot be escaped. So why not spread kindness which, in my experience, is the only antidote to pain in any case?”
She blinked. “I’d never thought of that.”
“I confess to having thought on it a great deal.” His face grew serious, his gaze shadowed. “I have seen enough cruelty for a thousand lifetimes. I will not add to it.”
“Nor I, if it can be helped.”
“Good.” He blinked away his dark thoughts. “We are in accord.”
And, she realized, they were. They might still know each other very little but, with every passing moment, she found that he was a man that matched her heart, her soul, her mind. Now, she could only hope that he would wish her to match his.