4
Theodora bolted to her feet, grimacing as her ankle protested the sudden move, her gaze locked on the man outside. What is he doing here?
It had to be an unfortunate coincidence, since her parents wouldn’t know she’d eloped until next week, when they returned home and found her letter. She couldn’t let him discover her—he’d want to know why she was here, and she had no plausible story to cover her elopement and precious little time to think of one. But he was already striding toward the inn door, the sun limning his shoulders as if the sky were happy to see him. Heart thundering, she looked frantically around the small parlor to find a place to hide—but the sound of his deep, lilting voice in the hallway put that faint hope to rest.
She’d have to face him. Cursing feverishly, her heart sinking, she limped to the mirror, horrified to see the bloodied scrape on her jaw and the way her thick, light brown hair, only partially dry, had curled in a horrifyingly Medusa-like manner. Good God, where is a comb when one needs it?
Before she could do more than pat her curls one quick time, the door flew open and Conner strode into the parlor escorted by the maid, a young lass with red hair who couldn’t stop staring at the Scotsman, her eyes full of longing.
Theodora couldn’t blame the poor girl. The striking Douglas looks were hard to resist. Broad-shouldered and startlingly handsome, with dark brown hair that curled about his neck, a piercing light blue gaze that changed with his moods, and a smile as blinding and wild as a pirate’s, he was the stuff of fairy tales and dreams.
His gaze flickered over her, taking in her wet, muddied gown, her bedraggled hair, and then the scrape on her jaw. His gaze, so bright on seeing her, instantly turned icy. “If that fool has laid one finger on you—”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Her voice was sharper than she meant it to be and she took a second to calm herself, realizing with a sinking stomach that, judging by his comment, Conner must already know of her elopement. At least now I don’t have to hide anything. “We had an accident—the wheel on our curricle broke, and I was thrown out.”
Concern darkened his eyes. “Bloody hell. Are you injured elsewhere, lass?”
She thought of her knee and ankle. “No.”
His eyes narrowed as if he knew she was lying. “You’re soaked. Have you nae dry clothes?”
“My portmanteau was thrown into the same ditch as I. My gowns are being cleaned and dried, but it will be hours before one is ready.”
“What a mull! I’m glad you were nae seriously injured.” His gaze moved over her in a way that felt as intimate as a touch, and she couldn’t hide her shiver.
His expression softened. “Puir lass, you’re cold.” As he spoke he stalked across the room, tugging off his overcoat. He swung it about her shoulders, instantly enveloping her in warm wool and the heady scent of his sandalwood cologne.
She tried to push off the coat. “Please, I don’t—”
“Pssht.” He tugged it back in place. “Wear the damned thing; you’re shaking from the cold.”
It wasn’t the cold that was making her quiver, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. She pulled the coat more snugly about her, and was instantly warmer. While the long woolen coat only reached Conner’s calves, it pooled at her feet.
The soothing warm weight comforted her, and as her shield of irritation eased, the stressful events of the morning hit with fresh vigor. Theodora had to swallow the desire to both burst into tears and throw her arms about his neck.
To prevent herself from doing either, she turned to the maid, who watched with palpable interest. It took several hard gulps, but Theodora managed to say in a voice that only trembled a little, “We would like some tea, please.”
The maid struggled to rip her gaze from Conner, who was oblivious as usual to the attention being paid him. With a lingering sigh, the maid bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, miss. We’ve lemon cakes fresh from town just this morning. Shall I bring some for the squire, too?” The maid sent a secretive glance at Conner to see if he was surprised to hear Theodora was not at the inn alone.
Conner’s scowl deepened the faintest bit.
Thea wet her bottom lip nervously. Why is he so upset? He wouldn’t care if I eloped, I’m sure. She said to the maid, “The squire is seeing to the curricle; I doubt he’ll return anytime soon.”
The girl looked disappointed at Theodora’s aplomb but bobbed another curtsy and, with a last longing gaze at Conner, left.
You poor girl, Theodora thought. He looks like every hero you’ve ever imagined, yet he’s far, far from it.
“You dropped something, lass.” Conner nodded to the floor near her chair.
She looked down and saw her glass lying on the rug. Irritated, she scooped it up. “It must have fallen when I stood. The coach ride made me ill, and I was trying to soothe my stomach.”
His blue eyes, as changeable as the weather, flickered over her, resting for a long moment on her face. Without a word, he took her chin between his fingers and turned her cheek. He tsked and pulled a kerchief from his pocket and gently pressed it to her wound. “Och, Thea, what have you done to yourself?”
He murmured the words more to himself than to her, and his use of his pet name set her heart aquiver. The agony of the day, her disappointment in an event she’d secretly hoped would prove romantic, and her frustration with the squire not heeding her advice, along with the plethora of aches and pains stabbing her, threatened to overwhelm her.
She desperately longed to lean into Conner, but she wasn’t so foolish as that. I must remember why I’m here; I’m starting anew. Putting wasted feelings behind me while eagerly embracing my future. She straightened her shoulders and forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I’m quite all right, as you can see. Just wet and chilled, but the fire is quite warm.”
He took in the grass stain on her skirt where it showed between the folds of his coat, concern darkening his gaze. “You said you were nae injured elsewhere.”
She started to shrug, but the ache on her left side forbade it. “A few scrapes and a sore ankle, that’s all. A soak in some hot water and a good sleep, and I’ll be as good as gold.”
“Or too sore to walk.” Conner’s brows lowered. “Had you been seriously injured by that fool’s ham-fisted driving, I’d have killed him.”
“How do you know he was driving?”
Conner’s expression softened. “Over the years I’ve seen you drive many a cart and curricle. You’d never take a corner on a wheel like a greenhorn.”
She had to agree. “Though I’d never admit it to the squire, he’s a sadly wretched driver.”
“And you’re an exceptionally guid one.”
There was no ignoring the admiration in Conner’s gaze. Warmed by it, she found herself smiling. “I was much more ill from the swaying of the curricle than I was bruised by the fall. Which is why I helped myself to the whisky.”
“Did it help?”
“It was beginning to.” She eyed him curiously. “Why are you here?”
“Ah, yes. That. I’ll tell you, but first return to your chair. ’Tis closer to the fire and will burn away some of that chill.” He tucked a hand under her elbow and assisted her to the chair she’d left.
Her ankle already protesting how long she’d been standing, she sat down with a grateful sigh and placed her empty glass back on the table.
Conner pulled a chair close to hers. “Your boot is off. Let me see that ankle.”
“There’s no need. Lance—Squire Fox offered to send for a doctor, but I didn’t think it necessary.”
Conner bent, lifted the edge of her skirt, wrapped his hand about her calf, and lifted her foot so that it rested on his knee.
He did it so quickly, all she could do was gasp. “Conner! I said—”
“I heard you.” He kept a firm grip on her calf so she couldn’t move, his fingers strong but gentle. “I’m going to move your ankle. Tell me when it hurts.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned her ankle in a circle.
“It’s fine, just a little— OW!”
He stopped. “ ’Tis only a sprain. But you should have it oop.” He pulled the footstool closer and gently rested her foot on it. “There. Now dinnae move it.”
Her ankle was instantly cool where his warm hands had left it, and she tugged the coat more closely around her. “How did you know I’d—” Eloped. The word stuck in her throat like a two-day-old piece of toast.
His clear blue gaze rested on her face, questions lurking. “I stopped by your home earlier today. Your family had just read your letter.”
“Family? Derrick was there, too?” When he nodded, she grimaced. “My parents were supposed to be in Edinburgh until Friday. They must have returned early.” She bit her lip. “I hope they weren’t too upset. I take it they sent you after me.”
“Nae one sent me. I came on my own.”
The blackness of his gaze made her say sharply, “You shouldn’t have bothered. It’s a good match. The squire is kind and good and—”
“Do you love him?” Conner asked abruptly.
She blinked. “That’s not—”
“Do. You. Love. Him.” Conner’s gaze locked upon her face with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
Don’t mistake friendly concern for love. You’ve done that far too many times before. “Love has nothing to do with it.”
Conner’s expression eased, and he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Which means ’tis a marriage of convenience.”
“What else could it be?” she asked crossly. “If you spoke to Derrick and my parents, then you must have heard I’ve only known the squire a short time.”
“Aye. Why did you do this, lass? If ’tis nae love, then what did you hope to gain?”
“I’m ready for a change, and this seemed the best one available.” She was seeking more than a mere change, but she couldn’t tell him the truth—that she wanted her own home; one where she was free from the constraints of being an ambassador’s daughter whose every word was weighed for meaning. But even more than that, she wanted freedom from the hopes she’d held out for winning his love.
But she could say none of that to Conner, so instead she shrugged. “I wanted an adventure of my own.”
“Adventure? You’ve done naught but travel your whole life.”
“Which was more of a chore than else. I’m done with changing houses as if I were changing into a fresh gown. I want—” She looked down to where her hands were clutched together in her lap so tightly, her fingers ached. She loosened them and said carefully, “I want my own life, my own adventure.”
“You are tired of your family and their travels. That’s understandable, to be sure. ’Tis boring as hell to be tied to the same people, the same faces, all the time.”
Her heart sank, although she wasn’t surprised to hear him utter such an inane stupidity. It was further confirmation she’d made the right decision in attaching herself to the squire. “I fear our ideas of adventure differ.”
“Perhaps.” His gaze flickered over her face, and he stood so suddenly that she blinked up at him. “We need whisky.” He went to the sideboard and poured himself a generous measure of whisky, then returned with the decanter and refilled her glass. “You’re still pale, and nae wonder. You always get squeamish when you travel. Dinnae your mon know that?”
My man. She’d never thought of the squire in those terms and it made her oddly uncomfortable. “He’s aware of it now.”
Conner grinned with the mischievous expression that always made her want to flash an answering smile. “I’m glad you’re nae holding back with your intended.”
She had the glass halfway to her mouth, but at this, she lowered it. “Holding back?”
“You’re too polite, lass, and have a tendency to nae say what you think. Nae with me, of course, but with others.” He placed the decanter on the table and settled back in his chair, unaware he’d left her gaping. “Your thoughts always show in your eyes.”
And all this time, she’d thought she’d hidden herself and her thoughts from him. Good God, what had she revealed? She wished she could ask, but was afraid she wouldn’t like the answer. Besides, whatever he thinks he’s seen in my expression, it hasn’t made any difference. More dispirited than ever, she took a generous sip of whisky.
He watched her over his glass. “I was shocked to find oot you were eloping. It dinnae seem like something you’d do.”
She fought the urge to tell him that he didn’t know what was or wasn’t something she’d do. “The squire is kind and a gentleman. He’s well established and has much to offer. And I’ve no wish to spend the rest of my days doing nothing more exciting than organizing for yet another move to a state post, or sitting at some dull function, pretending I am enjoying myself. And I’d like to have a family if the fates permit it—”
A shadow crossed Conner’s face, so dark and nakedly painful that she blinked. What had caused that? She’d said something about the fates and family— She caught her breath, then leaned forward and gripped his hand. “Oh no. What’s happened?”
Conner had spent the last month and a half trying to get used to life without Anna. Until she’d gone, he’d had no idea how much he’d relied on simply knowing she was there and would always be there. Thea’s concern, so genuine and unexpected, hit him like a hammer, shattering his thin hold on his composure.
His throat tightened into a noose and wouldn’t let a single word slip free. Bloody hell, how did she know? I spent a half hour with Derrick and her parents, and they never noticed a thing.
Emotion pressed against him until he couldn’t breathe, so Conner took a large gulp of the whisky, forcing the fiery liquid down his throat. After a long moment, he managed to rasp out, “Anna.”
“She—no!” Thea’s eyes filled with tears and her hand tightened over his. “Oh, Conner, no.”
He nodded, fighting a swell of emotion as big as the inn itself.
“I’m so, so sorry. What—when—”
“Six weeks ago.” And two days, three hours . . . He clenched his jaw against the tears.
Thea’s soft sigh washed over him. “Anna was expecting a child. Was that . . . was that what happened?”
He nodded miserably, his gaze dropping to where Thea’s hand covered his. To distract his mind from his painful thoughts, he looked at her hands—really looked at them. They were surprisingly beautiful—long and slender with tapered fingers, like an artist’s. Somehow, he’d never noticed them.
“Oh Conner, if only there was something I could do. I know this is hard for you.”
He ran his thumb over her soft skin, wondering when it would feel normal to say aloud that he’d never see Anna again. He still couldn’t say it, his soul obstinate and aching and refusing to accept his loss. The thought beat him into yet more of a bloody pulp each time he faced it.
“The baby?” Theodora asked softly.
“A beautiful lad. He’s well.” But Anna will never see him grow up. Conner took another desperate gulp, determined beyond all else that he would not weep. Not in front of Thea.
People assumed that her brother Derrick was his closest friend, and at one time that had been true. But after Derrick married, Conner found himself seeking out Thea more. She was delightfully levelheaded, had a dry wit, and was always honest, at least with him—he valued her opinion more than anyone else’s.
Of all the women he knew, Theodora was the easiest to talk to. In some ways, she was the only woman he trusted.
Which was why he was here now, he reminded himself.
He freed his hand from hers under the pretext of refilling his glass, unable to handle more sympathy.
As if understanding, she pulled back. “I know how much you loved her. Is there anything I can do?”
Conner replaced the decanter on the small table, and sent her a straightforward look. “You would help me if you could?”
“Of course.” Thea’s clear gaze met his, questioning but unflinching.
“Thank you, for I’ve need of you. It’s why I came.”
Her brows rose. “Oh? This . . . isn’t about the baby, is it? I’m not certain I’d be able to— But if there is need, of course I’d—”
“Nae. Anna’s husband has hired a squadron of wet nurses. ’Tis something else. ’Tis the reason why I went to your house to begin with.” He rubbed his chin. Where to begin? “ ’Tis a bit complicated. There’s some history I must explain first.”
She cupped her glass with both hands, her eyes locked on his face, a hint of wariness now in her gaze. “Yes?”
“You know my parents died when I was but a lad, but I dinnae think I ever mentioned the Douglas lands and fortune.”
“Lands and fortune?”
“ ’Tis a guidly parcel in the north—over a thousand acres, and quite a bit of gold and silver, as well. It was placed in my sister Anna’s care until my brothers and I were ready to assume our responsibilities. She turned it into far more than it was; she has a knack for such things.” He stopped short. “Had. I cannae seem to remember that.”
Thea’s warm brown eyes darkened. “It will take time.”
He rubbed his neck, wishing his throat weren’t so tight. “Anna watched over our inheritances, waiting for the time when my brothers and I were ready to claim them.”
Thea frowned. “You say that as if none of you have done so.”
“Aye.” He didn’t like the disbelief in her eyes.
“For the love of heaven, why not?”
“We do fine withoot it. Besides, Anna got to be such a stickler over it. She said that in order to take our portions, we had to prove our worth and settle doon. None of us wished such a thing, so . . .” He shrugged.
“Fools, the lot of you!”
He raised his brow, astonished to hear her speak so sharply.
She didn’t flinch from his surprise. “Your brother Declan is besotted with horses and racing, which is hardly a firm foundation for running an estate. As for Jack, they don’t call him Black Jack for nothing. He’s even more of a pirate than you.”
“I’m a privateer, love. ’Tis nae the same as a pirate. I’ve a letter of marque that spells it oot to anyone who might claim otherwise. I’ve made a guid living at it, too, so I’ve nae apologies to make.”
“Anna didn’t think so, or she wouldn’t have put stipulations upon you claiming your fortune.”
“You think I should claim it, then.”
“Of course. I don’t understand why you haven’t.”
“Guid. Because that’s why I’m here today.” He finished his drink, oddly hesitant to continue, now that the time had come. Which was ridiculous, because he knew Thea, and knew she’d help him. She’d just said as much. “According to Anna’s will, I and my brothers must marry, and soon, or the Douglas fortune will go to the Campbells, our blood enemies.”
“Why would Anna do such a thing?”
“Because she knew us weel. Had she left our estate to charity, we would have gladly let it go. Who needs the burden? But the Campbells? That is nae acceptable.”
“I see.” Thea’s gaze never left his face. “So . . . you must marry. All of you.”
“We’ve only a few months to do so. And it must be to a lady of quality.” Conner rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “And that, Thea, is why I came. As soon as I found oot aboot the will, I thought of you.”
“Of me.” She said the words flatly, as if she couldn’t believe them herself.
“Of course you,” he said impatiently. “You know me, and you’re a sensible sort, so we’d do well together. We’d have reasonable expectations of one another, with nae silly drama. Surely that is a guid foundation for a marriage.”
“No. You can’t be—” She stopped, took a deep breath, and placed her whisky glass at the table at her elbow. Then she said in a slow, calm voice, “Conner, you’re not proposing to me while I’m eloping with another man.”
His smile slipped. It sounded rather poor when she said it that way. “Lass, I’m nae disparaging your decision. I’m sure this mon is a fine choice, for a squire. But I am making you a better offer, a step oop from your current path.”
She stared at him as if unable to grasp his meaning.
With an impatient sigh, he took her hand where it rested on her knee and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Come, love. Say aye, and let’s have a wee dram in celebration—”
“No.” She tugged her hand free and stood, pulling his coat from her shoulders and dropping it onto her chair. Bedraggled and damp, her hair curling about her face in a thousand rebellious curls, she glared at him.
Conner stood. “Wait, lass. I was a bit overbold, I know it. Let me explain.”
“No. I don’t want to hear another word.”
“But—”
“Not. Another. Word.” Theodora turned to leave.
Conner grasped her wrist and turned her back so he could explain himself, but her wet skirts became tangled around her legs and she fell.
He caught her against him, her chest to his. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her mouth parted in surprise.
Because it seemed the most natural thing in the world, and because he wanted more than anything to keep her from leaving, Conner kissed her.
It was a gentle, because you are here kiss, the kind he’d shared with a hundred women before. But the second his lips touched hers, a blazing shock of passion shocked his entire body to life, his senses floundering in surprise.
She must have felt it, too, for she went still in his arms, her hands tangling in his lapels where she gripped him as if suddenly afraid of falling from a great height.
Her passion ignited his own, but he moved slowly, as it was obvious she had little experience. She was awkward and uncertain, her lips pressed together, her eyes tightly closed, her expression tense with yearning. Gently, he kissed her, tracing the captivating line of her lips, feathering soft nips until she gasped with want. He instantly captured her mouth and deepened the kiss. She stiffened, but he continued, stroking her back, holding her close.
Slowly she softened, accepting his kiss, and when his tongue brushed hers, she moaned in pleasure. He released his passion, plundering her mouth, teasing her tongue as his heart thundered in his ears.
She was so warm, so soft in his arms, her body fitted to his as if made for it. God, why had he not kissed her before? He slid his hands down her back and held her closer—
She turned her face away, breaking their kiss. “No,” she gasped, her sweet breath brushing his cheek.
He almost groaned, and he rested his forehead against her temple, struggling to find his own breath, his body stiff with desire.
“We cannot.” She pulled away.
Though it cost him greatly, he released her. “Thea—”
“No.” She turned and limped toward the door as quickly as her injuries allowed.
He took a step toward her. “Wait!”
She stopped, although she didn’t turn to face him.
His mind still whirling from their stupefying kisses, he managed to say, “I’m sorry. I should nae have kissed you; I did nae think. But . . . I asked you a question, lass, and you’ve nae answered. I asked you to marry me.”
Thea stiffened, her hands at her sides tightening into fists. After a second, she faced him, her face pink, her mouth set in a mutinous line. “No.”
“But you havenae thought aboot it! We’re perfect for one another—even more than I’d realized, judging by the passion of those kisses.”
“We’re not even close to perfect for one another. And even if we were—” Her eyes blazed anew. “I would not marry you, Conner Douglas, were you the last man on earth.”
With those damning words, she turned on her heel and limped out of the parlor.