In the Heart of the Highlander (8 page)

Chapter

9

I
t was not hard to feel pale and nervous. Mary entered the dining room quite alone, after another put-up public row with Oliver in the lobby. There were a few sympathetic glances, but she had doomed herself socially by appearing twice with Alec and was now under suspicion and worthy of her brother’s scorn.

She knew her dinner gown was exquisite, a glove-tight column of ecru satin dipped low and accented with spangled bows at her cleavage and shoulders. A bib of cobweb-fine ecru lace stitched to the bodice reached to and ruffled her throat, covering her freckles yet projecting an air of nudity. She had paste yellow diamond clips in her hair, and a mother-of-pearl fan, which she used to fend off the heat from equally elegantly dressed bodies in the room. Mary looked like an heiress, and only she knew she’d purchased the dress at a secondhand clothing shop. The train had been stained, but it had been a matter of minutes to chop it off and hem it.

Tomorrow night’s dress was even better. Likely she would not be wearing the fourth dinner gown she’d brought—she’d be on a train on Sunday, heading back to black territory.

Now that she had her Mary Arden trousseau, she wanted to find a use for it. Perhaps Oliver could be persuaded to escort her to concerts and plays. He was good company when he wasn’t being paid to fight with her.

She took a seat near the end of a table, placing her fan on the charger next to her, saving the seat for Dr. Bauer, if he didn’t think she was a Bedlamite and kept their tryst. She drooped her shoulders and stared moodily into the flickering candle on the table. The room echoed with laughter and conversation, making her feel truly left out. She kept her gloved hands on her lap so she wouldn’t be tempted to touch her hot cheeks and remove any of the white makeup she’d used to appear delicate.

The young waiters began streaming from the kitchen with the first course, and still Mary sat in isolation. Bauer wasn’t coming after all. She’d overplayed her hand—Bauer must think she was off her onion and not worth the effort. She’d failed Lord Raeburn—she, who prided herself on performing the impossible, just as the agency motto boasted.

A waiter took pity on her and dropped a platter of prawns with Marie Rose sauce in front of her. As she reached for the serving spoon, a hand came down on hers.

“Let me, Miss Arden. Mary.”

Mary looked up into a completely unfamiliar face. Pale blue eyes. Blunt nose. Sensual lips. His lightly accented words gave him away, however.

“D-Dr. Bauer?”

“It is I, Mary.” He gave her hand a predatory squeeze. “Do you recognize me?”

“What happened to your beard?”

“A little birdie told me that you did not care for them. To win you over, I would do anything. You are the Delilah to my Sampson.”

She must not laugh. Men did not like to be laughed at, even when they knew themselves to be ridiculous. Bauer did have an anxious look about him, as well he should, since his cheeks were scraped baby-pink and his chin appeared less than chiseled.

“Oh! How romantic for you to do that for little old m-me. I do hope you don’t think I am the sort of female who wants to rob a man of his power. A m-man is s-superior in every way above a woman,” she choked, crossing her fingers in her lap. “Except, of course, for my brother.”

Bauer nodded, his chest puffing. “He is a toad,” he agreed. “I see he has left you to fend for yourself again. May I join you?”

“Of course. As we arranged. I thought you had f-forgotten.”

“How could I forget a girl like you, Mary? So sweet? So spirited?” He removed her fan from the plate and sat down. “I have decided to ignore everyone else this evening except you.” He gave her what he probably thought was a smoldering look.

It was hard for ice-blue eyes to smolder. Now dark eyes, eyes belonging to Scottish noblemen, smoldered very nicely indeed.

“Your other patients will be jealous,” Mary simpered.

“And they will have reason to be. I cannot think of anyone but you, Mary. Please say that my interest is returned.”

Mary took an unladylike slug of water, wishing it were something much stronger, then drank the entire glass. Her mouth was dry. Flirting did not come naturally to her. In fact, it had been over a decade since she’d used her feminine wiles, when she’d had hopes of attracting Miles Stanhope, a solicitor’s clerk whose office was across the street from her family’s corner shop. Miles had not noticed her friendly waves as he passed and had married the solicitor’s daughter. Mary had admired him for his ambition and chalked the episode up to experience. It was hard to be flirtatious behind the hanging sausages and skinned rabbits in the store window anyhow.

There had been no more clerks, ambitious or otherwise. And Dr. Bauer didn’t really
like
her—he was simply adding her to his conquests, thwarting Alec Raeburn in the process.

Damn it. What was wrong with her? She might not be a diamond of the first water, but her figure was good, especially when Hamblen laced her, and her face not a complete fright. She’d been teased about her wide forehead, and had cut some curls accordingly to soften the effect.

Mary shivered. She’d never been touched—with the exception of Alec Raeburn’s extraordinary cheek this afternoon—or even courted. The stores and her nephews had taken up all her time when she was a young woman. Damn, but her youth was gone as if it had never been. She was coming on thirty, a spinster who was married to her job.

Alec Raeburn was only a client, no more, no less. She had a fiduciary responsibility to him.

Ha. She’d pay
him
if he rubbed her shoulders again.

“
Liebling
, you are not answering. Or even eating. Are you still of a nervous disposition? Let me add a little of my special tonic to your glass.” Bauer reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver flask.

“That d-doesn’t look like medicine,” Mary said.

He chuckled. “I cannot go rattling about the hotel with glass bottles in my pockets.” He tipped the flask. The liquid that spilled from it was as clear as water.

He would have to hold a gun to her head to make her drink it. Mary had heard of drugs that gentlemen gave ladies to make them insensate. She was not going to be tricked twice today, although Alec’s tricking had turned out to be very relaxing.

She stabbed a shrimp and popped it in her mouth, tasting nothing. “Y-you make me a little nervous, Josef. I am unused to m-male company.”

“This I cannot believe. Why, you are a beautiful woman. Are all men in England blind? I should not let an angel like you slip through my grasp.”

It was all Mary could do not to roll her eyes. Really, Bauer was so predictable. Banal. Mary knew she was not beautiful. There was nothing freakish about her—she was comely enough, but her face was not apt to launch a thousand ships.

“I b-believe you are trying to turn my head.”

His hand fell gently on her thigh. “Am I succeeding? I would so like to succeed.”

Mary pitied the poor lonely women that had fallen for this rubbish. She plucked his hand off and smoothed out her skirt. “This is m-much too fast for me. I do not know how I feel. I b-barely know you.”

“Let us become better acquainted then. We shall have a walk in the moonlight after dinner. The grounds have been planted with night-blooming flowers. Perhaps you too will bloom for me.”

Not in this lifetime, no matter how much of an old maid she might be. “Oh, not tonight. I have promised to read to my aunt.”

“Pah! Give the old biddy some of my medicine and she will never know you are not there.”

Just as she suspected. Mary pushed her glass out of reach. “Oh, I couldn’t. Aunt Mim depends on me. Oliver thinks of nothing but his own pleasure and she has no one else.”

“You must not sacrifice your happiness for the whims of an old woman, Mary.”

He couldn’t know how right he was. Once she got back to London, things were going to change.

“Tonight is out of the question,” she said firmly.

“Tomorrow then.”

“I told Aunt Mim I’d dine in her room. She gets so lonely, you see, and it’s hard for her to get around with her gouty foot. But perhaps after—” She let the words hum between them.

His determined hand landed back on her thigh. “Where can I meet you?”

Mary looked down at his hand, wondering if she should smack it away. Stab it with the butter knife. What would a confused virgin do?

She stumbled up from her chair. “I f-feel rather faint. You are making my head spin.”

He rose, too. “Let me escort you to your room.”

“Oh no! Everyone will see us leave together and get the wrong idea.”

“The right idea, Mary. We belong together.”

She took a deep breath and plunged into the abyss. “T-tomorrow night. In-in my r-room. Shall we say ten o’clock? My brother is planning a card party and he will never hear us.”

“Mary! You have made me the happiest of men!”

Bauer did look happy. Smug. He was in for a rude awakening.

Mary walked through the dining room, head held high. The lobby was deserted, except for the uniformed elevator operator.

“Are you all right, miss?”

Mary nodded, not trusting herself from erupting in laughter. She held up three fingers for her floor as if she were a mute. Just as the operator was about to close the gate, a tall man in evening dress hurried in.

“Your floor, sir?”

“Three, please.”

Mary looked up. Way up. Alec Raeburn winked at her.

A clean-shaven Alec Raeburn. His curly black beard was a thing of the past. He was more handsome now than she could have dreamed, and she
had
dreamed.

Good heavens. Who knew her words had such power over men? She might try “Peace on earth” or “Pie for everyone” next.

The elevator creaked up. When it stopped, Mary turned left toward her room, and Alec right for the benefit of the operator. As soon as the conveyance disappeared downward, he thundered down the hall after her.

Mary didn’t bother to try to argue. She fished the key out of her reticule and opened the door.

“You’ve made me miss my dinner, you know,” Alec rumbled, dropping into a chair. He loosened his necktie. Good heavens, he wasn’t going to disrobe here, was he? Though if he did, it would only be fair. Tit for tat, so to speak. “Why did you leave?”

“I invited Bauer to my room at ten o’clock tomorrow night. There was nothing else to say. The thought of being pawed through the rest of the meal was not conducive to eating.”

“The bastard!”

“Now, Alec, it’s what we’ve worked for, isn’t it? My thigh will survive.”

Now
this
was smoldering. Without the mask of his beard, his dark eyes became her focal point. They were large, too long-lashed for a man, and glittering even in the dusky light of her bedroom.

“I can see why he couldn’t keep his hands off you.”

Mary took out a handkerchief and wiped her cheeks. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I don’t dare to compliment you. You’ll slice my tongue off. But that dress is very fetching. You look very—virginal.”

Mary sat down in the club chair opposite. Right now her high lace collar seemed to be squeezing her head off. Perhaps she should unfasten one of the tiny diamanté buttons. She tugged off her gloves instead and folded them across her lap.

“Are you hungry?” Alec asked.

“Not really.”

“You should eat. We can get a tray up from the kitchen.”

“We?”

“No one needs to know I’m here.” He bounced off his chair and picked up the telephone that rested on her dressing table. It was a closed circuit, with round-the-clock telephone girls in a little room behind the reception desk to fulfill the guests’ every need. “Go on, order something. We’ll share it.”

Mary sighed. The job was proving to be more complicated with every passing hour. And how could she swallow dinner with her tight collar and Alec Raeburn so near?

Chapter

10

R
oom service had come and gone. Alec had stepped into Oliver’s room when they delivered the trolley of food, and he was making do with the knife and spoon while Mary wielded the single fork. She had asked for a small sampling of the dinner menu, and refused the waiter’s assistance when he volunteered to remain to serve her.

Alec had been amused when she ate her half of the dessert first, a wild strawberry and hazelnut meringue. She picked at the cutlets and skipped the trout altogether, shuddering as its eye condemned her from its plate. Alec had no scruples and wolfed down everything that was before him, washing it all down with a jug of ice-cold spring water.

“Delicious,” he pronounced, wiping his mouth on his handkerchief. Mary was folding up the napkin like one of those Japanese paper things. She had barely spoken all through dinner. “You seem unsettled.”

“I am, a bit. Why did you shave off your beard?”

His hand went to his naked chin. Well, not naked. Already there were bristles invading the virgin planes. That was the devil of it—he’d be obliged to shave twice a day now if he meant to keep civilized company. “Well, you said you loathed them.”

“So?”

“What do you mean
so
?”

“My opinion should not matter to you, my lord. You’ve faced the strictures of society this past year without batting an eye or altering your behavior in any way. Music hall dancers, actresses, all while your wife was not yet room temperature in her grave. Why care about what anybody thinks now?”

Blast, but this female was annoying. And here he thought to impress her for a day or two. “Perhaps I grew tired of it.” Alec had been rather appalled when his man began to lop it all off this afternoon. His cheeks had not seen the light of day since he was in his twenties and he was worried he’d look like a harlequin. Fortunately the new growth was covering the pale lower half of his face so he didn’t look entirely ridiculous. A few rounds of golf and a wade in the stream and he’d look all one color again.

“I suppose Dr. Bauer got tired of his beard today, too. Really, men,” Mary mumbled, pulling at the ruffle around her throat.

“What about us? Not that I like you lumping me in with that bastard.”

“You think with one grand gesture you can worm your way into our hearts.”

“Grand gesture? I assure you it was just a shave. And no one said anything about hearts.”

“Exactly!” Mary looked somewhat martial.

“I have no designs upon you,” Alec lied.

“Then why are you always underfoot, when you know discovery will ruin our plans? What if I’d been unable to keep Bauer or Hildegard or whatever her name is out of the treatment room? What if they’d found you cowering under the table?”

“I was not cowering! And it all would have played into the scheme of making Bauer jealous.”

“And what if Bauer finds out we’re eating in my room? My bedroom!”

“I paid you enough to get a full suite like your auntie’s. It’s not my fault you economized.”

“That’s not the point!” Mary tossed her napkin to the floor, where it burst forth like a dowager that had been too tightly laced.

Alec was annoyed. “What
is
the point?”

“My virtue is the drawing card. If Bauer thinks it’s been compromised, he’ll look for someone else to debauch.”

Yes, this was familiar territory. Alec felt slightly ashamed, but only slightly. “I haven’t touched you.”

She lifted a bronze eyebrow. “Oh, haven’t you?”

“Not really.” Her skin had been like velvet as she arched and wriggled beneath him. Well, beneath his hands anyway. “It was a simple misunderstanding,” he said, shifting in his chair. “A massage is not really
touching
.”

She snorted. He supposed he was coming on a bit Jesuitical. “I thought we settled this earlier. I’ve apologized. I meant well.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

“‘Hell is full of good meanings, but heaven is full of good works,’” he quoted back to her. “If we manage to dislodge Bauer from his perch of wickedness, we can rest on our laurels for the indefinite future.”

“I don’t rest on my laurels. There is always something new that requires my attention.”

Alec smiled. “At the grocery shop? Aye, you must have to deal with the weight of the world there, or at least the weight of a leg of lamb.”

Her face darkened. “And now you mock my employment and my background. One cannot always be born with a silver spoon in one’s mouth, Lord Raeburn.”

No more Alec. Och, he was making a mess of the evening. Mary Arden was a redhead, after all, and bound to have a temper. Wasn’t his own mother a volcano when his father hadn’t turned her up sweet? His younger brothers had inherited her hair and her attitude, no matter how hard they tried to tame themselves. ’Twas a good thing Evan had his successful distillery to tend, else the family would be hiding the breakables. What havoc Nicholas was wreaking on the Continent was unimaginable.

“I fear I’ve put my foot in my mouth, possibly both of them, Miss Arden. I meant no disrespect toward you.”

“You can’t help yourself, can you? You are so used to getting your own way, you don’t know what to do if you don’t.”

She didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. “My own way! I’ll have you know I had four miserable years of not getting my own way! Don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand what life is all about.” It wasn’t manly to complain, but Edith had given him plenty of reason.

“But you never sacrificed any of your pleasures, did you? Carousing all over the kingdom. That’s why people could believe the worst about you.”

“I don’t give a good goddamn what people believe, Miss Arden. I canna live my life based on what someone else thinks is right.
I
know what’s right. And I’ll not live like a monk just because—” He stopped himself from going further. He’d been a fool to confide in Mrs. Evensong. Had the woman told her niece about his failed marriage and his shame? Damn it. Double damn it.

“It seems we are at an impasse, Lord Raeburn. Good night.”

“You’re kicking me out just because we’re having a little disagreement?”

She snorted. “I wouldn’t call it little. Nothing about you is little.”

And he’d like to prove that to her. She was right—he was not a gentleman. It hadn’t helped when he’d tried to be. No matter how carefully he’d treated Edith, she’d shied away.

And the worst—she hadn’t trusted him to help her in the end.

He stood up, crashing into the cart. The coffeepot toppled, splashing his trousers with scalding liquid, and he sat right back down.

Holy mother of God. His thighs were on fire.

“Oh, dear,” Mary Arden said. “Are you all right?”

No, he bloody well was not. “Clumsy,” he ground out, then bit his tongue to keep from howling.

“I believe you should remove your pants.”

He stared at her, not believing his ears.

“For relief. You can bathe your skin with cool water. I expect you are in pain.”

What gave her that impression? He was not screaming, still just biting his tongue to keep himself from doing so. Alec tasted blood.

“Come, Lord Raeburn, don’t stand on ceremony. I’m sure many women have seen you without your pants on. What’s one more?”

Alec lurched off the chair and stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He tore at his falls and his pants dropped ignominiously to his ankles. His upper thighs were stained a livid pink—if the spill had occurred a few inches further up, he’d truly be howling, as he wasn’t wearing smallclothes. He ran the tap and soaked a linen hand towel in the cold water, then pressed it to his legs. Agony.

There was a knock at the door. “May I come in?”

“No, you canna. Leave a man his dignity.”

“I have a salve which might be beneficial.”

Of course she did. She probably wanted to apply it herself just to pay him back for this afternoon.

Alec stared at his unfamiliar reflection in the mirror over the pedestal sink. He was as white as the porcelain. Fine. Let her do her Florence Nightingale impersonation. He’d prostrate himself upon her solitary bed and let her have at it. It might prove amusing to one of them. “I’m coming out.”

He clutched up his pants without refastening them and walked gingerly back into her bedroom. She looked up at him with sympathetic concern, a tin of something in her small hand. “Why don’t you lie down on my bed, Lord Raeburn?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he sniped.

“We’ll have none of your sauciness, sir. If I’m any judge, you’re not up to your usual strength. I feel quite safe.”

“You shouldn’t.” Alec eased onto the plain white counterpane.

“Lift your bottom so I may lower your trousers.”

She sounded just like his old nanny, all businesslike. Alec made sure his starched shirt still covered his privates and closed his eyes.

She gave a little gasp. “Oh, my. I wonder if we should call a doctor.”

“What an excellent idea. Let’s get Bauer in to consult.”

“Don’t be silly. But the burns look serious. Are you in very much pain?”

Enough so that his cock was barely stirring even though Mary Arden’s sweet little hand was only inches away. “I’m fine. Rub the damn muck in and I’ll be on my way.”

Her touch was tentative. Alec grit his teeth as she gently dabbed the ointment on his skin. He felt cooler immediately, the sting abating.

“You can take the salve with you and have your man reapply it in the morning, or as needed. I have another tin in my trunk.”

“You came prepared for anything, didn’t you?”

She smiled down on him. “I do try. My aunt has trained me well. We’re in the wilds of Scotland, you know.”

“I’m sorry if I was dismissive of your experiences earlier. I imagine you get to know a lot working with the public every day in that store of yours.”

“You would be very surprised.” There was a gleam in her hazel-green eyes he didn’t understand.

Alec struggled up to a sitting position, pulling his pants up over his raw skin. “I’d like to show you the wilds of Scotland, Mary, or at least my part of them. When this is over, why don’t you and Oliver and Mrs. Evensong come to Raeburn Court before you go back to dirty old London? I can consult with your aunt about my staffing needs. If I’m going to live here year-round, I’ll need more servants. I lost more than a few when Edith died. The rumors scared them off—we all know what a black-hearted villain I can be.”

“I don’t think you’re a black-hearted villain. You’re just—” She stared off into a corner. “—a little careless, I think.”

So careless he hadn’t a clue what his wife was going through.

“Talk to your aunt about coming. That’s where you’ll be heading now, yes?”

“I suppose. Once I get rid of you and the remains of our supper.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” He fumbled with his buttons, sorry to be leaving her. He would drink his own whiskey in his own suite instead of Mrs. Evensong’s—a lot of it to dull the memories of this humiliating day.

Maybe there was something he could salvage of it. He got off the bed. “Thank you, Mary. For everything.” He bent to kiss her cheek, just a chaste kiss, one friend to another. But he’d startled her and she turned, her lush lips open in surprise. Lips that somehow found his.

She didn’t pull away, scream, or slap his face. Alec tasted strawberries, hazelnuts, and curiosity. It was clear to him she hadn’t been kissed much—imagine, he’d thought her an experienced “actress” only yesterday when he’d said all those naughty things to her and ogled her bosoms. He could teach her, show her how it was done—she was an innocent, just as she was supposed to be for the role she played. Too innocent for him, but he wasn’t about to let this kiss go to waste.

Alec was too tall for her, however—he was too tall for most women unless they were under or on top of him, and this standing kiss was not as comfortable as it could be. He gathered her to him, aware of the stiff corset that curved her so alluringly beneath her satin gown. Angling his leg around her—pain be damned—he slid them down to the mattress, where they were now sitting, much more equal. He opened his eyes to see her staring right at him. Disconcerting, it was, as if she were studying a bug under a microscope. She didn’t look horrified, so he must be a nice bug, even if he was going cross-eyed. He shut his eyes and felt her hand on his jaw. The simple touch sent a violent tremor throughout his body. Gad, he’d never realized a bare jaw was a pleasure point—she may as well be touching his cock for the sheer joy he felt. But he had to make this kiss right for her. Make it special. Make her feel what he was feeling.

He’d kissed dozens—or scores—of women hundreds—or thousands—of times. He’d never kept track, though it was no doubt too many. He’d been at this man business for twenty years. But nothing had prepared him for this particular parting of lips, exchange of tongues, sharing of breaths. Alec slid his fingers into her hair and held her still, savoring the softness of her mouth and the shy dexterity of her tongue.

Perhaps she was teaching him something instead—her artlessness would bring him to his knees if he were standing. If he unleashed his beast, he would tip her backward and cover her body with his, claw through her satin and whalebone, steal much more than a kiss. It would be wrong, but feel unerringly right.