Chapter 12
What the bloody hell had he been thinking, agreeing to her mad scheme? John charged across his estate, eating up the heather with long strides. The glorious Highlands stretched out before him in their eternal glory. Point of fact, the terrain was the only thing keeping him from railing against the lunacy of it all.
What the devil was happening? He was an earl. With an estate. In Scotland. Which he loved and was feeling more and more compelled to stay on and improve. Then there was. . . Her.
She was going to be the death of him.
Once, Meredith had seemed like a kitten. Something easy to manipulate in her thirst for life. She’d played easily, though unplanned, into his revenge.
Now? He hadn’t been exaggerating. She was a lioness. A glorious, powerful creature who knew exactly how to hunt. She was taking to it like a natural and he supposed he should be relieved and thrilled.
He was neither.
Perhaps, he’d worry about her less once he let her go.
If she could, indeed, look at others as she had looked at him in his salon this morning then walk away as if she were the greatest goddess the world had ever known, she would not only rule the ton, but keep every single damned rakehell in absolute check.
Oh, they’d all pursue her. But she’d be able to tell them to go to the devil.
The passion that crackled through her. . . Well, it had intoxicated him. No one ever had such an effect on him. Truly, in his entire life and existence, growing up with women of the night, he had never experienced the sort of siren call that he’d felt with her.
He was merely supposed to be offering his brother’s help to her. He was not meant to become utterly obsessed with the turn of her head, the lush locks of her hair, or the elfin smile which seemed to constantly play at her devastating mouth.
Damnation.
He stopped his brutal pace and was tempted to shake his fist at the skies. Dramatics were not something he was generally prone to, but this was an entirely new situation. Always, always, he was the one in control, the manipulator in this particularly case, the teacher. . . That wasn’t how it had felt those last few moments.
Every sinew in him had longed to pull her against his body and kiss her. Kiss her until she could no longer breathe, or think, or consider a future without him.
Which was lunacy. For her entire future was to be without him.
“No,” he growled aloud. He would never have her. As she said. She was meant for a good life and that was something he could never give her. For he was born in shadows and in shadows he would stay.
Though he had ventured into the light in the last year, he was a creature of the night and he could not change his nature. No matter how much. . .
No. He could never deserve her. He was. . . He was the son of a whore. And the things he’d done to survive, never mind in pursuit of revenge? A man like he could never deserve a woman like her.
He swallowed back the burning hate he suddenly felt at the man who had given him life then left him to grow and twist in a cesspool.
For all he’d turned a leaf, he knew that his heart was not a whole one. It was a twisted thing incapable of proper love or true kindness. Everything he did was calculated. He loved to manipulate people. It was his reason for living. Once, it had been for revenge. Lately, he’d channeled the ability into the betterment of the lives of people near him.
He’d veritably arranged two marriages in the last year.
He’d arranged half the lives around him.
Wasn’t that what he was attempting to do now? Arrange her life?
It was exactly what he was doing. It was what he thrilled at, moving the pieces on the board. He was never one to be a part of the game. No, he dictated the movements. To be a part of the game, itself, was far too dangerous.
So, why did it suddenly feel as if he were a pawn and she were a queen, sending him about the board?
No. Meredith Trent was not going to tempt him to a life of sunshine and flowers and hope and happiness. Such things could be too easily seized away.
And despite her brief dalliance into error, she was a lady who deserved to bask in the light of a good life. Yes, he’d find a man who would care for her, fulfill her. Any bloody man attempting to break her shining, adventurous soul would find himself buried in the Thames mud.
Balling his hands into fists, he strode up to the edge of the rocky promontory that looked out over the sea loch and drew in a deep breath of salt air. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel momentarily transported. Peace. Brief, wondrous peace filled his soul in a way that apparently only the Highlands could give him.
“Och, man, ye’re not about to jump are ye?”
He snapped open his eyes and whipped towards that saucy voice.
“Can I be of assistance?” he asked flatly, taking in the stunning woman before him.
The woman, with dark hair and almond eyes, was as tall as a Valkyrie. She stood, unafraid, her scarlet walking cloak waving about her body like a flag of war.
“I was about to ask ye the same question,” she challenged, her rich burr traveling on the wind. “Do ye ken what would happen if ye slipped?”
“Thank you for your concern but you needn’t trouble yourself.”
“Ye’d crack yer head open and then the lads would have to climb down and collect ye,” she continued as if his assurance meant nothing. “Are ye as agile as a sheep or just a bumble-brained Englishman?”
He sighed. “Madam, who are you, exactly?”
“Lady Andromeda, sister to the Duke of Clyde.”
Of course she was. The Duke of Clyde wouldn’t have a milksop for a sister.
“Andromeda?” he queried.
“Indeed.” She arched a brow. “My father had a fondness for the Greeks.”
He scowled. “You’ve come to stay at the castle?”
“Aye.”
“But you're his widowed sister?”
“He only has the one sibling, me.”
He stared at her. John wondered if the fates were conspiring against him in some mad, unforeseen way.
She laughed. An audacious sound. “Och, ye were expecting a lady several years my senior were ye no’?”
“I was,” he admitted. For the lady before him couldn’t have been five and twenty. She certainly acted with the self-assurance of an older woman. A widow. But from her black hair flying in the Highland wind and her violet eyes dancing with amusement, there was no denying her youth.
But there was a hardness to her that made him think she’d seen the sort of darkness he was accustomed to. . . Try to hide it though she might.
The sister and brother seemed to be quite the damaged pair. She gave him a warning look. “I enjoy being unexpected. Ye’re a handsome man, my lord.”
He said nothing. It wasn’t a compliment the way she said it.
“My brother told me of yer unique care of Miss Meredith Trent,” she said, as if she were throwing down a gauntlet.
“Did he, indeed?” He contemplated the strange woman, wondering if she was his enemy or ally.
“Oh, aye.” Her stunning eyes narrowed. “And I’m telling ye now, I ken the likes of ye. Just from a look. I’ll no’ be letting ye ruin her.”
It was tempting to throw back his head and laugh, but she was no fool and he couldn’t help but acknowledge it with respect. “You make rather large assumptions about my intentions,” he pointed out.
“Perhaps,” she begrudged. “I hope ye prove me wrong. . . But Mooreland. . . Ye canna trick me. Ye’re a slippery devil. I ken them on sight.”
For a long moment, he made no reply as he searched out the source of her hardness. It wasn’t hard to find. “You were married to a devil, weren’t you?”
She blanched, a barely visible tension pulling at her mouth. “Aye. And he was as clever and observant as I’m sure ye are. Now, I’m off to yer castle to make friends with the lady ye’ve been so kind as to help.”
“I’m glad you’ll be looking out for her,” he said abruptly. “Because you’re absolutely right, Lady Andromeda. I’m not a good man. But in regards to Miss Meredith, I have no untoward designs. I only wish to see her happy.”
That seemed to take her aback for a moment. But then she replied, “We shall see. Are ye coming with me? Or do ye need to stare out to sea a while longer? That wind will never cleanse yer soul. I ken the longing for it, myself. The darkness always comes back, my lord.”
“Yes, it does, Lady Andromeda.”
With that final exchange and truth, he turned his back on the silvery loch and kept pace with the young woman who, like he, had clearly been to Hades and back and wondered. . . What the devil was he going to do now without Merry to himself?