Daring (34 page)

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37

“
T
he trunk is going to break if you keep banging down the stairs like that, Connor.”

“Maggie, the only thing that will break is our necks, and if you don’t hold still, it is a distinct possibility. Please don’t put your hands over my eyes when I’m carrying you. I can’t see a damn thing in the dark as it is.” He kicked the trunk down another step. “What on earth do you have in here anyway? A year’s supply of cannonballs?”

“My wedding trousseau. Robert had it made for me. It’s ever so lovely, all seed pearls and Valenciennes lace.”

“Well, if that doesn’t tickle me pink. I’m killing myself carting the trunk of clothes you were meant to wear to marry the Toilet Count. How long is this staircase anyway?”

“These types of stairs were built originally to repel invaders,” Maggie said conversationally. “They’re made narrow so that an enemy would have a hard time climbing up with a sword.”

“Yes, well, they don’t do much for a man going down with a woman, dog, and trunk either. Did we really have to bring Daphne along?”

“But she adores you.” Maggie grazed his cheek with a
kiss, whispering sweetly, “So do I. Do you have any idea how much?”

He grunted, tentatively hooking his right foot over the trunk to feel for the next step. “Show me later, lass.”

“I love you more than the de Saint-Evremond family code, more than chocolate
é
clairs and champagne, more than—”

“Is that a light I see flickering at the bottom of the stairs?” Connor asked worriedly. “Or is it a pool of water?”

“—pearls and diamonds, more than silk sheets and—”

“Quit licking my ear, lass. It’s getting me aroused. This is no time for loveplay.”

“That wasn’t me. It was Daphne. Aren’t you going to tell me you love me even once while you abduct me?”

Connor leaned his shoulder against the wall to rest his muscles. They had reached the halfway mark, but it was still a dangerous plunge in the dark if he fell. And something kept nagging at his mind. Something about the castle’s history. “Maggie,
I’
m risking my neck to marry you. Hell, yes, I love you.” He raised his voice to a shout. “I love you.”

The shouting startled Daphne. She squeezed upward, paws flailing wildly to escape back into Maggie’s arms. Unfortunately, Maggie had her arms laced around Connor’s neck and couldn’t grab hold of the dog in time.

She gave a horrified shriek. “Connor, I’m losing her!”

He jerked his left arm upward to grasp the poodle’s wriggling posterior. In doing this he caught the dog, but lost his grip on Maggie. The trunk started to bump away from him as he locked his arm around her neck. Connor extended his leg to catch it only to realize there were no more stairs. He was treading air. The trunk was plummeting into a black void, and he was plunging forward to follow it.

Maggie released a shriek loud enough to be heard around the world. “Connor, the staircase is gone! We’re all going to fall!”

H
e regained consciousness to see Maggie leaning over him on the stone cold floor of the garderobe, tears of concern wet on her cheeks. Her features slowly came into focus. “Connor, say something. Let me know you aren’t dead.”

“Non jit raptus propriae sponsae,”
he murmured.

“Non—” She frowned, searching his face. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“Cannon law is quite clear on this point,” he said calmly. “There is no illegal abduction if a woman consents to being carried off by her abductor. I could not be tried in a criminal court. The popular press is another matter.”

“Can you move your feet?”

He lifted his head a few inches and wiggled his toes. “Apparently so. Just don’t ask me to do a Highland reel. Daphne, stop licking my damn face.”

“You sustained no permanent injuries?”

“My pride will never be the same. I do suspect, however, that I will live.”

“Good.” She paused a heartbeat before falling backward with Daphne into the clothes scattered about her. “Then you won’t mind if I have a good laugh at your expense? Oh, Connor, that was the silliest thing I’ve ever seen. One moment you were standing there, and the next—”

Torchlight flared across the garderobe as she burst into a fit of giggles. Connor sat up with a scowl to watch Robert running through the doorway in his dressing robe and silk slippers. “What’s going on?” he called out in panic. “Marguerite, is that you? Do we have burglars?”

Robert lurched to a halt and held the torch above Connor’s head, gasping in shock as he surveyed the garments strewn about the floor. “I should have known. An abduction. This is an abduction.”

Connor sighed. “Yes—no—oh, hell. What does it matter? I had to get caught. There isn’t a lawyer in Europe who won’t laugh his head off when he hears about this.”

“Well, Marguerite,” Robert said, “if you weren’t ruined before, you certainly are now. What shame and scandal you have heaped upon the honorable house of de Saint-Evremond.”

Maggie stood, clutching her wedding veil to her chest. “There doesn’t have to be a scandal if we keep this a family secret, Robert. Please don’t do anything rash. I really love this man.”

“Do you?”

Connor rose unsteadily to his feet. “I would appreciate it
if you’d get that torch out of my face. I have a splitting headache.”

Robert involuntarily retreated a step at the sight of the tall, blond Scotsman towering over him. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to make the best of it,” he said quietly. “I daresay Bernard would have called off the wedding once he learned of her criminal associations.”

Maggie threw down her veil to give him an exuberant hug. “Oh, Robert, you darling. Are you giving us your blessing?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “You’re as incorrigible as your sister. Still, if you are going to marry a Scotsman at least he is a person of position.” He looked up at Connor. “However, as far as abductions go—”

Connor grimaced. “I know. Very gauche.
I
remember now what was bothering me about the west wing as an abduction route. The former occupants turned their own cannons on the turret rather than surrender to the British. They planned to blow the stairs to bits.”

Furtive footsteps crept through the doorway toward them. Three curious female faces peered into the torchlit shadows. “I forgot to tell you about the west turret staircase, Buchanan,” the duchess said sheepishly. “Despite this oversight, everything obviously went well with the abduction.”

Connor drew Maggie back against his chest, laughing in triumph. “Everything is fin
e, Morn
a. Please don’t shoot anyone.”

T
he wedding was performed at midnight by the village justice of the peace. The sleepy magistrate blinked in the candlelight and yawned through the ceremony. He wore a kilt over his nightshirt and apologized for forgetting his spectacles.

Robert acted as best man and even managed to strike up a friendship with the duchess, who accepted an invitation to visit the chateau sometime next spring.

Claude served Highland whisky and Mag
gie’s collapsed mushroom soufflé
.

Ardath served as maid of honor and was on her best behavior.

Connor wore a hunting coat and several fresh bruises from his fall down the staircase. He supposed he should be
grateful he hadn’t killed himself. His eyes were riveted to his bride during the impromptu reception that followed. For once his celebrated eloquence failed him. He’d always assumed that this sort of personal happiness was an illusion that people chased but never found.

But suddenly his life was complete. He couldn’t imagine a future without Maggie. With her, he felt capable of conquering the entire world, which was a good thing since he would soon be returning to a murder trial and this tangled mess with Sheena. He would have loved to press charges against her husband, but as he’d told Maggie earlier, a woman can’t be abducted if
she goes willingly with her ab
ductor. His feelings were still hurt. He wasn’t sure he could forgive his sister.

Connor knew the fine points of the law. He had quite a few things left to learn about love, though, and after all these years, he still found himself unsettled by the women in his life.

“I have brought you a birthday present, Connor,” Ardath announced as the tired but cheerful party began to disperse.

He slipped his arm around Maggie’s waist, impatiently controlling the urge to drag her out of the room. Nobody was going to stop him from taking his bride to bed. “My birthday was in August.”

“In that case, it’s a wedding present.” She motioned to Mo
rn
a and Rebecca, who dragged a large rectangular object out from behind the sofa.

The present turned out to be a beautifully woven tapestry of the lion dancing with his princess at the
ir
wedding; it was the last in the sought-after series. Robert removed a monocle from his pocket to examine it and declared it genuine. His scarred face looked soft and faintly sad in the candlelight.

“I wish you a lifetime of peace together, and I envy you for finding each other.” He kissed Maggie gently on the forehead. “You have my heartfelt blessing. Be happy,
ma
petite.”

T
he tapestry was hung in a place of honor in the bedroom of Connor’s Edinburgh town house, where an angel had
taken on the devil and come away with quite a lot more than she’d bargained for. In fact, they both had.

The priceless tapestry looked down on the two figures lost in each other on the bed below. Tangled sheets. A masculine growl of aggression. A woman’s sigh of delight. The Lord Advocate of Scotland making love to his abducted bride, so engrossed in pleasuring her that they would be late to host the party that was already in progress.

He didn’t care.

He strained over her, his head thrown back in fierce absorption. He lost track of time when he was with her. She made him forget that a world beyond her mischievous smile had ever existed.

He collapsed on the bed with a loud groan of satisfaction. Maggie smiled, tingling all over, and prodded his foot with her big toe. “I hope no one heard that. Don’t fall asleep again, your worship. We have to get dressed. Everyone in Edinburgh is here.”

“Give me five minutes.”

“Connor, you’ve been saying that all day.”

“Have a heart.” He grinned, his hand stealing up her rib cage to her breast. “The Balfour case is opening tomorrow. According to rumor, my ‘activities’ the night before determine my degree of success.”

Maggie studied him for a moment. “If one were to go by your ‘activities’ you should win every case for the next seven years.”

He winked at her. “Shall we try for a nice even eight?” They were quiet for a moment. They both knew that this might be the last night for a long time when Connor would be free to enjoy himself.

“Two reliable witnesses have finally come forth to testify against Lord Montgomery,” he said in a subdued voice.

Maggie released a sigh. “Who?”

“Montgomery’s former secretary and a prominent apothecary who remembers seeing him walking past his shop shortly after the time of the murders.”

“What about the men who attacked Donaldson?” Maggie asked worriedly.

Connor laughed. “The Chief found them—let’s just say that Arthur used his own, not entirely legal, methods to make them admit they worked for Montgomery.”

“I think Thomas works too hard,” Maggie said.

Connor only smiled. The minute Donaldson began to recover he had tracked down the letters that proved Montgomery was being blackmailed for his past sins. As a reward for all his dedicated work, Connor had appointed his
protég
é
to the prestigious Faculty of Advocates.

Connor himself could hardly wait to confront Montgomery in court. The newspapers predicted that the newly appointed Lord Advocate would stalk justice like a lion in the jungle.

It was true. The scent of victory tantalized him. He would win this case as a tribute to his wife.

He had just trapped her beneath him again and was kissing her senseless when Ardath knocked quietly at the door.

“I know you’re both in there,” she said. “Nobody is going to believe that tired cravat story again, Connor. Tear yourself away from your lovely wife and hie it downstairs before I run out of excuses. There is a limit to even my charm.” Her voice faltered. “Donaldson is here with his mother, he looks well, and Sheena just arrived, as big as a ba
rn
and weeping like a waterfall. Be kind to her, won’t you?”

Connor fell back on his forearm. “The hell I will.”

Maggie scooted to the edge of the bed before he could stop her. “You’ll have to forgive her eventually. After all, you’re going to be an uncle to her child. Who are you to deprive our baby of its little cousin as a playmate?”

His eyes met hers in the mirror, shocked, hopeful. “Our baby?”

“Yes. Sometime at the end of the summer.”