Thirteen

Jamie pushed open the door and ushered her inside. Unlike the dining room, the library had the warmth and character of a place that was lived in and valued as somebody’s home. It was a sizable room, paneled in oak, with elegant mahogany bookcases lining the walls from floor to ceiling in numbered order. A great fireplace, well situated to ward off an evening’s chill or provide a soft light for reading, was surrounded by a sturdy settee and several comfortable chairs. It was a comfortable and welcoming room, and clearly, a great deal of thought and care had gone into it. He might be scrimping and saving in other parts of his house, but not here.

“This is a surprise, Sinclair.”

“I’m full of surprises, mouse. It’s part of my charm.” Pleased with her reaction, Jamie escorted her to a small table by the fire where a simple supper had been laid. She ate like a soldier. He chuckled as she tore into the cold mutton and bread, whatever she’d been about to say forgotten.

He lounged on the settee, watching her. The shock of seeing her so unexpectedly had rapidly turned to acute embarrassment, but now that they were alone he felt curiously lighthearted. “I was annoyed with you when I first came home,” he ventured, “but it didn’t last long. I’m seldom bested at games of strategy or chance, yet you did so twice. A fellow can’t help but admire that. You needn’t feel bad about it. I had every intention of binding you hand and foot, slinging you over my saddle, and carrying you home. You simply beat me off the mark—which begs the question, why are you here?”

“Perhaps I’ve come to give you your annulment.”

“Have you indeed? Well, that’s damn noble of you, I dare say. A little late though. Since you cruelly cast me out, my life has been ripped asunder, and what little reputation I had left, damaged beyond repair. I’ve been styled deserter, coward, both Papist and Protestant sympathizer, and an ungrateful and disloyal bastard. The ladies decry me as a rogue, jilt, and despoiler of women, and worst of all, I’m everywhere accounted a pauper and a cheat at cards. No one will have me now. If I let you go, I’ll live out my days worthless and alone.”

“Based on my own experience you’re certainly no coward, and though you can be an arrogant oaf, you’re no despoiler of women, nor do I believe you cheat at cards. Who accuses you? Perhaps I can help.” She glanced at him curiously, as she plucked the last mouthful of mutton from her plate and finished with a sip of wine.

Jamie watched her delicate fingers, wrapped firmly around the fluted stem of the glass, and raised his gaze to her lips as she spoke. They were full and inviting, shaped in a natural pout that seemed to invite a man to kiss them. Best be careful. A man might easily founder on that shore.

“Sinclair?”

“What? Ah! Yes, my accusers. One was my fiancée, of course. I mentioned her to you, if you recall. Her family was prepared to sacrifice her on the altar of my lust in return for a title. She’d overlook my bad behavior, and I her evil disposition. A most convenient marriage, if you will. She thought I’d thrown her over for a Scottish strumpet. So did the rest of the court. Needless to say she was deeply embarrassed, as were her family and the king.”

His hand tightened around his own glass. He didn’t like to think about it. The girl had borne the brunt of months of gleefully malicious gossip, becoming a favorite topic for the vicious lampoons and satires of the court wits. She was the only innocent in the whole affair and he’d never meant to hurt her, though he doubted that was any consolation.

“My would-be mistress was an altogether different tale. Suffice it to say, when she discovered that my disinclination to worship anything included her, she was mightily annoyed. She matters little and is no fault of yours.”

“How is any of it my fault?” Catherine asked defensively.

“Because you, my pet, denied me an annulment when I needed it, though now it seems you wish to grant me one when I don’t. I mean you no disrespect, but you’ve been a most inconvenient, dare I say a most useless bride. I’ve not even had the pleasure of fuck—er, making love to you.”

Catherine rose from her seat so quickly she almost jumped.

He regarded her flushed face quizzically. “Is something wrong?”

She walked slowly along the shelves of books, pretending to examine the titles, as she regained her composure, banishing heated images of their coupling in the cave. “No. I’m just tired of sitting still after days spent in a carriage.” She turned to face him. “I can see why your friends were so fascinated. We’re quite the couple, are we not? A lowbred Scottish camp follower and a well-bred penniless lout.”

“Who sells his loyalty, ravishes young women, and lies and cheats at cards. What with Buckingham’s tattling, Sir Percy’s complaining, and Sidney’s execrable verse, we shall be gloriously notorious within days.”

“And this pleases you?”

“Gambling, drinking, and recreational bed-hopping are among the favored indoor sports of the leisured classes, my love. Most of the sins ascribed to me are easily pardoned in this enlightened age, but being penniless and cheating at cards are decidedly not. Gossip is currency, boredom feared more than the plague, and being interesting buys one indulgence from a multitude of sins, even those.”

“I’m aware of that, Sinclair. I spent two years at the French court. Does it mean so much to you, to be accepted by those you speak of with so little respect?”

He looked at her as if she had two heads. “I have but two ways of making a living, Catherine, on the battlefield or at the gaming tables, and both are seriously curtailed by my current circumstances. I need to be accepted in society and at court if I wish to pay my servants, feed my horses, maintain my properties, and clear my debts. Unless, of course, you’re here to offer an alternative? An annulment, is it? Too late for me to marry a fortune, but just in time to confirm the rumors? I can hear it now,” he said, mimicking the clipped phrases, lengthened vowels, and malicious drawl of court gossip. “‘Even his savage Scottish bride lives in fear of him! Ravaged her too, poor thing, then tried to steal her land, but the chit escaped him and the Pope himself intervened to grant an annulment.’ Frankly, my dear, I fail to appreciate how that will be of any benefit to me.”

“I believe there’s another avenue open to you that you’ve neglected.”

“And what’s that, my dear?”

“Why, the stage, sir.”

“You’re a perceptive child, but I assure you pretty compliments won’t turn my head. I’ve been far too accommodating already, much against my better judgment, and I’m still paying the price. It’s not a mistake I intend to repeat. Whatever it is you’re wanting, there’d best be a substantial benefit to me.”

Catherine was having difficulty finding the man underneath the performance. She’d thought herself perceptive, but the Englishman was nothing like her blunt, straightforward Scottish brethren, and she found him impossible to read. She suspected that if she succeeded at stripping one layer away she’d only find another, and then another, peeling until he was gone like smoke, and there was nothing left to find. She found herself following his lead more often than not, forced into communicating through glib repartee and barbed wit when she wanted to shake him and ask, Are you as confused and anxious as I am? Are you glad to see me? What are you thinking? What do you feel? Instead, she pointed to the settee. “Do you mind if I sit by the fire?”

“No, of course not. This is your home, after all. Would you care for a whiskey?” A tray with a whiskey decanter and two crystal glasses sat on a low table in front of the fire. He picked up both glasses and sat down next to her, crowding her into the corner of the settee. Leaning forward companionably, he put one arm around her shoulder and handed her the drink. “Now then, little wife, suppose we have a talk, you and I? You spoke of an annulment. Has that hard heart of yours finally softened? Do you now long for your beefy Irish lover? You wish to join him in connubial bliss?”

“No,” she said shortly, shifting so that her elbow lodged firmly against his ribs, and giving a hard shove. “It’s my family that longs for him, not I. Have a care, Sinclair. You’ll make me spill my drink.”

“Then it must be me you long for,” he said huskily, ignoring the sharp point of her elbow and pulling her into his lap.

“Damn it, Sinclair, attend me if you please!” She slapped at his hands, struggling to free herself, spilling her drink in the process. “I appreciate you’re angry with me, despite your words to the contrary. I wish you’d just come out and say so instead of playing these games.”

“You’ve never seen me angry, love. It’s not something you’d soon forget. I was merely ascertaining that you’re solid and real and not some figment of my inebriation. I remember what a hefty armful you were,” he added, giving her a slight squeeze.

His warmth surrounded her, and she could feel his arousal pressed firm against her bottom. His mouth, just inches from hers, smelled of whiskey, and she wondered if it would taste like it, too. He’d kissed her three times, once on her wedding night and twice in his delirium. Each time she’d felt a mix of guilt and pleasure and a giddy sense of expectation. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him as a lover, as a wife kissed a husband. She relaxed against him for a moment, and then elbowed him sharply when his fingers began tracing her décolletage.

He grunted and let her go. “What? No kiss? After more than a year of cruel separation this is your greeting once we’re alone? I’m very disappointed, Catherine. This is hardly the reunion I’ve been dreaming of.”

She rose abruptly, tired of sparring with him. “You are angry with me, whether you admit it or not. I can see there’s little point in trying to discuss anything with you right now. When you’ve done amusing yourself, my lord, do you think you might direct me to a bedchamber?”

He wasn’t angry, though. At least he didn’t think he was. Shocked and surprised to see her, yes. Confused and wary, certainly. Curious, intrigued, and decidedly unsettled. She’d seemed so cool and collected, walking back into his life out of nowhere with God knew what on her mind. She’d been nothing but trouble so far. And now here she was, back as if they’d parted only yesterday, an aristocratic stranger as cool and sparkling as one of her blasted highland burns. It was a relief to provoke a reaction and find the hellcat dwelled there still. Now that she’d shown herself, he wasn’t ready to let her go.

“You’re a cruel and merciless overlord, madam. You beat and bit me, left me bruised and bloody on my wedding night, tied me hand and foot and tossed me to the mercy of the sea, and now that you’ve ruined my reputation, you are seeking to abandon me. Surely it is I who am the aggrieved party here. Pray sit down and tell me what I’ve done to deserve your ire.”

She sighed, exasperated. “I’m actually quite wealthy, you know. You didn’t strike such a bad bargain. Moreover, my family and I are on friendly terms with the king. Indeed, I’m invited to court to discuss matters of trade. It’s part of the reason I’m here.”

“Tell me more, my dear,” he said, patting the place beside him.

“Will you behave yourself?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’ll put the angels to shame, my love. I give you my word.”

She eyed him warily, motioning with her hand for him to move farther to the right. He did so, then poured them both another glass of whiskey, handing one to her and putting his booted feet on the table as she settled down beside him.

“A toast, my dear? To new beginnings?”

“To new beginnings.” Catherine watched him toss back the fiery liquid, and not to be outdone, she did the same.

“You drink like a soldier, little wife.” He reached for her glass and refilled it.

“I drink like a Scotsman, English.”

He held out his glass to her again. “To old acquaintance renewed. I thought we’d agreed you’d call me Jamie?”

“To old acquaintance renewed,” she said, clinking her glass with his and downing her drink in two swallows. “I’ll try and do so, Sinclair, if you speak to me as yourself and not some prancing courtier.”

“But I am a prancing courtier, love.”

“No, you’re not.” She pulled up the edge of her skirt and rested her own boots on the table. “I’ve seen you on the battlefield. I’ve seen you on the scaffold. I’ve seen you as a mercenary and a tinker. I’ve seen your scars and I’ve seen you fight. I don’t know what you are, but I do know what you’re not. I suppose you have your reasons for the games you play, but if you want me to call you by your own name, then don’t play them with me.” She held out her glass for another refill, and though he raised an eyebrow, he complied.

He tilted his head on an angle, his lips quirked in amusement as he watched her curiously, enjoying the view of petticoat and leather clad ankle. “So we’re to be honest with one another, are we? It’s a novel idea, my dear, but I fear overall a dangerous practice. Why don’t you start? I’ll observe from a distance and see if it’s safe.”

She couldn’t stop a quick smile in reply.

He tapped his boot against hers and gave her a gentle nudge. “Did you worry about me at all, mouse? Did you think of me when the nights were cold and long and the wind rattled at your door?” His voice was soft, insistent. “Did you miss me, Cat? I missed you. I dreamt of you. I dreamt I held you in my arms, wrapped in furs, as the sea pounded at my door.”

Her heart stuttered and she blushed in the dark, wondering how much he remembered. The silence was relieved only by the popping and hissing of the logs on the fire, and she watched the flames dancing and pulsing in the crystal goblets, strangely beautiful in the hushed room. His thigh rested warm and solid against her own, sending a shiver coursing through her veins that had nothing to do with the cold. She’d miscalculated the state of her nerves, and the strength of the whiskey. It had gone to her head, and she waited, in fear and anticipation, for him to press his advantage. As the minutes ticked by and he didn’t, she began to relax against him.

“No answer, love? Or has my honesty put you to sleep?”

The spell broken, she rallied instantly. “I do apologize, English—”

“Jamie… Please.”

“Jamie… I have had a rather long day and I’m feeling just a bit unwell. I’d prefer to leave our discussion to tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”

She rose unsteadily to her feet, waving him away when he moved to aid her. “I’m quite capable of standing, walking, and other mundane tasks without the help of a husband, thank you.” The sudden movement unsettled her balance and she tottered precariously to her left. When he scooped her into his arms, she clutched his neck to keep from falling. She was unusually tall for a woman, but he held her easily, making her feel dainty and ladylike, much to her amusement. When he stumbled and cursed, catching his toe on the corner of a bookcase, she gave a snort of laughter.

“It amuses you to have me trip and fall like an underfed slave boy?”

“I was merely reflecting that I’m more of an armful than you imagined,” she replied primly.

“You’ve always been an armful, mouse.” He shifted her in his arms and used his foot to nudge open the door.

“You’d do well to consider that before you decide to keep me. I’m a brawny hoyden, sharp tongued and opinionated, better with a sword than a needle, and not the least bit biddable. I’d make a terrible wife.”

“You’re a lovely Amazon, my dear, long muscled and sleek, yet smooth and rounded in all the right places. You must trust me in this. I’m a connoisseur of such things. Ah, here’s Sullivan. Sullivan, have we a room ready for my wife?”

“Indeed, sir, this way.”

Jamie followed Sullivan down the hall, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. He felt it when she slipped into sleep. He laid her on the bed, waving Sullivan and the servants, including some squawking Scottish lass, from the room. He pulled off her boots, his hands lingering over supple calves and circling slim ankles, and then he covered her with a soft lamb’s wool blanket. He took a step back and looked at her warily. He’d never expected to see her again. What did she want from him? What trouble would she cause next?

He touched the bridge of his nose and a slow smile spread across his face. He was going to have to be careful. The sight of her had set his heart to racing and momentarily stilled his breath. She brought out the worst in him, his lovely Highland lass. She made him reckless and impulsive and set him to craving, so he forgot all his best-laid plans, but he’d no intention of letting that happen again.