Carnal Gift (25 page)
But he hadn’t even been home to notice her absence. Heddy got a smile on her face that showed she knew a secret. The maid leaned forward. “Freddy in the stables says Master Blakewell spent the night at Turlington’s.”
Turlington’s.
The name was familiar to Brighid, though she couldn’t recall why.
Turlington’s.
The name was familiar to Brighid, though she couldn’t recall why.
Heddy whispered, “It’s a bawdy house, a brothel.” Brighid felt as if the air had been knocked from her lungs. She took several hurried, unsteady steps, sat on the edge of her bed.
A brothel.
Jamie had spent the night at a brothel. He’d kissed her by light of day, aroused her with his hands, his tongue. Then he’d slaked his lust with a whore. A bright stab of pain pierced her heart, nearly made her cry out. The thought of him lying naked with another woman, his mouth and hands on her body, his body pressed against her, sickened Brighid. Why would he do such a thing?
Jamie had spent the night at a brothel. He’d kissed her by light of day, aroused her with his hands, his tongue. Then he’d slaked his lust with a whore. A bright stab of pain pierced her heart, nearly made her cry out. The thought of him lying naked with another woman, his mouth and hands on her body, his body pressed against her, sickened Brighid. Why would he do such a thing?
She had refused him.
But she’d been right to refuse him, hadn’t she? He was English and Protestant. He lived on the other side of the world. He didn’t love her. Besides, how much could his kisses and caresses mean if he shared them with prostitutes? His actions served only to prove how right she had been to flee his embrace. He didn’t care for her one whit. He had simply wanted a woman. Any woman. Through a fog, Brighid realized Heddy stood before her, a worried look on her face. Brighid felt wetness on her own cheeks and realized she was crying. “Pardon me, miss, if I upset you.” Heddy curtsied. “I didn’t know you have feelings for him.” Brighid wiped the tears from her cheeks with her hands, tried to understand Heddy’s words through the empty ache in her chest. “Feelings?” She hopped to her feet, glared at the maid. “I do not have feelings for him!” Even as she spoke the words, she knew she didn’t mean them. She
did
have feelings for him. Feelings that made no sense. Feelings that forced her to question everything she once held true. Feelings that now lay raw and bleeding. “Oh, Heddy, I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you.”
did
have feelings for him. Feelings that made no sense. Feelings that forced her to question everything she once held true. Feelings that now lay raw and bleeding. “Oh, Heddy, I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you.”
The maid said nothing, but smiled understandingly.
“I want to go home.” It was the truth. Or it felt like the truth until Brighid spoke the words. She didn’t know what she wanted. She felt so bleak inside. “What should I do?”
“My mum always said a smart girl makes the best of her situation, whatever it may be.”
Brighid met Heddy’s gaze, considered the maid’s advice.
Make the best of her situation.
She took a deep breath. “Why don’t you show me that soupspoon one more time?”
Jamie passed through the gates at Kenleigh Manor in the early afternoon. He’d had no sleep and found he wasn’t tired in the least. Instead, he felt he could have fought a cougar barehanded and had vigor to spare. He’d spent the night at Turlington’s, thought to spend himself on a lovely bit of skirt. But once there, he’d found he did not want any of the women, beautiful and experienced though they were. He’d spent the evening sitting, drink in hand, spilling out his feelings about Brighid to Lily, a courtesan he knew from his Oxford days. She had listened patiently, refilled his glass. And then she’d said something that left him stunned. “Have you considered the possibility you’re in love with her?” Jamie had leapt to his feet. “I cannot be in love with her! I refuse to be in love with her! Love is for the lucky few, and I have never had luck with women. Besides, she hates me.”
Lily had smiled. “There’s a perilous thin line between love and hate, Jamie dear.”
Jamie didn’t want to think about which side of the line he was walking just now. He suspected that if he were to reflect long and hard on what he’d just done, he’d curse himself for a fool. It was better not to think at all. The carriage drew to a stop in the courtyard, and Jamie alighted at once, gazed up at the sky. It was overcast and gray, a thick blanket of clouds pressing down on the landscape. A chill wind had begun to blow and promised either rain or snow. The scent of wood smoke was in the air.
It was a damned beautiful day.
It was Christmas Eve.
A smile spread over his face. Jamie couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt excited about the holiday. He’d just come from some of the finest businesses in London and had the packages to show for it. He’d also made some special arrangements for the evening. He knew Brighid would be surprised beyond words, and he couldn’t wait to see her face.
After giving the servants explicit instructions about the parcels in the carriage, he strode through the front doors, spied a letter waiting for him on a silver tray on the sideboard. He recognized the handwriting at once, and some of his good mood vanished. Ripping through the seal with a finger, he opened it, read it, crumpled it in his fist. Sheff had returned to London.
Jamie had expected this, planned for this. There was nothing to do now except play his cards to the end. Though he longed for a bath and a shave, he felt compelled to find Brighid, to see for himself she was safe. He tucked the crumpled letter in the pocket of his waistcoat and went in search of the woman who had occupied his thoughts all night, all morning.
He heard her before he saw her. Her melodic, lilting voice came from the drawing room ahead.
“The lame woman bathed her crippled legs in the lake as her doctor had told her, but nothin’ happened. They were as crippled as ever. But the great water horse who lived at the bottom had heard her splashin’ about.” . Jamie stopped in the shadows of the hallway to listen. “Fierce and angry it was. It rose from the waters, bellowed like a bull at the poor woman, and charged. And do you know what she did?”
“Do tell!” Elizabeth sounded just as entranced as Jamie felt.
“She stood up and ran all the way home! So the doctor was right. There was a magic cure in the water.” Both Matthew and Elizabeth laughed at the tale. Jamie stepped out of the shadows, saw that Brighid was taking afternoon tea. Dressed in lilac silk, her hair swept up into a knot that spilled soft strands down her nape, laughter in her eyes, she was a vision of feminine loveliness. She was the first to notice him. She stiffened almost imperceptibly, and the laughter in her eyes died. She shifted her gaze back to Matthew and Elizabeth as if he were not standing in the doorway.
There’s a perilous thin line between love and hate. Thin and razor-sharp.
He walked the razor’s edge, strode into the room. Brighid felt her pulse quicken the way it did any time he was near. Only this time, her heart felt an unfamiliar twinge of pain. He sported a day’s growth of beard on his strong chin, and he was wearing the same clothes he’d worn yesterday in the library. On his face was a look of… happiness.
The pain in her heart swelled.
“Jamie, dear! Brighid was just telling us the most delightful tale. You are such a wonderful storyteller, my dear. Isn’t she, Matthew?”
“Quite captivating.” Matthew smiled.
“Indeed.” Jamie walked to where Brighid sat, forced her hand from her lap to his lips, kissed it. His gaze met hers, and he smiled. “Our Brighid is a most charming
seanchai.”
Brighid snatched her hand away, fought the urge to hit him. How dare he prattle in
Gaeilge!
Did he think to charm her? How dare he smile! He flaunted his satisfaction before her, looked every bit like the cat who’d licked the cream. How dare he touch his lips to her skin! Those lips had touched a whores lips—and who knew what other parts of her body!
seanchai.”
Brighid snatched her hand away, fought the urge to hit him. How dare he prattle in
Gaeilge!
Did he think to charm her? How dare he smile! He flaunted his satisfaction before her, looked every bit like the cat who’d licked the cream. How dare he touch his lips to her skin! Those lips had touched a whores lips—and who knew what other parts of her body!
That last thought made Brighid’s blood steam. She would have cursed him and walked from the room were it not for Matthew and Elizabeth. They had been so kind to her, and she had no wish to embarrass them. She sat still, hands clenched in her lap, said nothing. “Would you like a cup of tea?” Elizabeth reached for the teapot.
Jamie shook his head. “No, thank you. I think I shall retire to my room for a shave.” He ran a hand over the bristles on his chin, grinned.
Matthew grew serious. “There was a letter waiting for you in the hall.”
“Aye, I found it.” He exchanged a look with Matthew that made Brighid’s stomach flip. “We should discuss it when you have a moment.”
“Very well.” Matthew used his cane to rise. “Shall we discuss it now? Elizabeth and I are preparing to leave for a few weeks and—” “Leave?” Brighid found herself on her feet.
“Yes, love.” Elizabeth stood, exchanged a conspiratorial
look with Matthew. “We’re spending Christmas with our youngest daughter and her husband and children in Kent. Hadn’t we told you? We shall be leaving in little more than an hour.”
Brighid struggled to maintain her composure. Matthew and Elizabeth were leaving, and that meant she’d be stuck here in this house with Jamie—alone. “I-I see. A merry Christmas to you.”
She turned and walked from the room as calmly and quickly as she could.
“Does she know?”
“No. I don’t want to frighten her.” Jamie leaned against the mantlepiece in Matthew’s study, watched Sheff s letter bum.
Matthew nodded, straightened papers on his desk. “I understand. Still, if she knew, it might decrease the anger she feels for you and help her realize exactly what you’ve done for her.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that.” Jamie reached for the poker, stirred the embers a bit more forcefully than was necessary. If only it were Sheff’s skull. “I don’t want to give her nightmares. If you had seen the fear in her eyes . . . I doubt she’d sleep at night if she knew he was back in London.”
“Still, she ought to know the extent of her peril.”
Jamie knew Matthew was right. “Aye. I’ll think on it.” Matthew folded his hands on his now immaculate desk, frowned thoughtfully. “And what of Parliament?”
Jamie slid the poker back onto its hook, faced Matthew, met his gaze. “Sheff is not without enemies. I’ve sent a few dispatches off to peers who might welcome an opportunity to cause him trouble, enemies he made while at Oxford.”
Matthew’s eyebrows shot up. “How ruthless are you prepared to be?”
“As ruthless as I must be to guarantee Brighid’s safety—and the success of this mission.”
Brighid sat on a cushion, stared out her bedroom window into the darkening world beyond. A single candle sat on the sill before her, cast a circle of light against the glass. Her brothers and little Aidan were out there in the world beyond. Did they miss her as much as she missed them? Were they on their way to County Clare? Were they warm? Were their bellies full? What were they doing now?
Tears slid unheeded down her cheeks.
Nollaig Shona dhaoibh. Merry Christmas, Fionn, Ruaidhrt, sweet Aidan.
She sent the wish winging skyward with a prayer for their safety, crossed herself. She’d never been away from them on Christmas. She’d never been away from them at all. Somehow the holiday made the distance seem so much greater. She remembered the globe in the library and how small both England and Ireland had seemed, two tiny islands side by side in a vast, endless world. Someone knocked on the door.
“Miss Brighid?” Even Heddy could pronounce her name now.
“Tell him I’m not comin’ down.”
“Begging your pardon, miss, but he sent me up with your supper.”
A twinge of regret passed through her. He hadn’t even
asked her to join him. Which was fine, because she would have refused. “Very well, Heddy.”
Brighid didn’t bother to look when Heddy entered. Her gaze remained focused on the dark world outside. Tiny snowflakes had begun to fall, driven against her window by a brisk wind.
“I’ll just set it down over here.”
“Thank you, Heddy.”
She heard the door shut, caught the first scent of her supper, realized she was hungry. She stood, pulled her gaze from the snow-swirled darkness, turned from the window, gasped.
He stood leaning against one of her bedposts, arms crossed over his chest. He had shaved and was clad in breeches of deep midnight blue and an ivory linen shirt with lace at its cuffs. No waistcoat. No frock. “No one should dine alone on Christmas Eve.”
The rush of joy she felt at seeing him took her completely by surprise. She caught herself about to smile, frowned. “I would rather sup with pigs than dine with you
, Sasanach.”
, Sasanach.”
She started to turn away from him, but he was quicker. In an instant, he had her wrist in his grasp and had pulled her to him, not roughly, but insistently. With his other hand, he cupped her face. His thumb wiped the tears from her cheek. “My poor Brighid. Tell me what troubles you.”
She tried not to meet his gaze, felt his green eyes pierce her, steal into her thoughts. He was so near, too near. “You. You trouble me.”
“I ascertained that much myself.” His thumb continued to caress her cheek, her tears long since wiped away. “Tell me why you’re angry.”
She tried to pull away, tried to end the maddening contact of his hands against her skin.
He held her fast. “Tell me.”
She made the mistake of looking up, met the staggering force of his gaze. “Y-you lied to me.” It was all she could manage. Her thoughts were scattered, broken into useless fragments.
“I never lied. I told you what I planned to do. You simply forgot.”
“You misled me, misled my brothers.” “Aye. You refused to be sensible, and I was forced to impose my better judgment.”
Other books
The Sacrificial Daughter by Peter Meredith
The Inn at Laurel Creek by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson
Camp Rock by Lucy Ruggles
Death of a Cozy Writer: A St. Just Mystery by G.M. Malliet
The Islanders by Katherine Applegate
Radio Hope (Toxic World Book 1) by Sean McLachlan
Fourteen Days by Steven Jenkins
El oscuro pasajero by Jeff Lindsay
Beautiful Souls by Mullanix, Sarah
On the Loose by Jenny B. Jones