The Last Debutante (35 page)

A smile spread across Miss Scott’s face. “Best of luck, then,” she said softly, and stepped back.

“Mr. Campbell, please,” Jamie heard Daria’s mother say, but it was too late. He was running up the stairs, his mind made up.

T
HE DOOR TO
her suite banged open with such force that it hit the wall. Daria whirled around with a start; she opened her mouth to protest, but Jamie didn’t give her an opportunity. He strode across the room, grabbed her face between his hands, and kissed her. Hard. He kissed her until her body softened, until he could feel the tension seeping out of her.

He softened his kiss, then slowly lifted his head. “You meant to board that coach and leave without a word? Bloody hell,
leannan,
what do you mean to do to me?” he asked softly.

She sighed wearily and dropped her head against his
shoulder. How could she possibly explain it? “What I mean to do is spare you the dishonor that will soon be associated with my name.”

“You’ll have to be a wee bit clearer than that.”

A tear slipped from her eye. “I learned something quite horrible today. I am . . . I am a
bastard,
” she whispered.

Jamie stared at her, his brows sinking with his confusion.

“Mamie told me the truth at last,” she said, and reluctantly, tearfully, related the full story.

Jamie listened, his expression reflecting the horror of her words. She knew it was the worst sort of news for her. And for him.

She waited for the inevitable, for him to say he needed time to think—or perhaps he would be more blunt than that.

“Daria,” he said, and she closed her eyes, unable to bear the weight of the words if she looked at him.

“Daria, I donna care,” he said softly.

Daria opened her eyes. “You’re
mad
not to care.”

“Aye, well I know it. But I donna care. I love you,
leannan.
It doesna matter to me.”

She quickly pressed her fingers against his mouth. “Of
course
it matters. Your clan—”

He jerked her hand from his mouth. “My clan will accept it or they will no’. And if they donna, they may answer to Geordie as their laird.”

Her breath caught. “You don’t
mean
that,” she pleaded. “You have the opportunity to marry a lovely Scottish—”

“God in heaven, lass, listen to what I say!” He slid his hand to the nape of her neck. “Today I told Isabella I’d no’
marry her. I told her I loved someone else. God as my witness, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I’m no’ losing you. I donna care if you were born of faeries, or are English, or have a barmy grandmother—you’re mine.”

She gaped at him in shock. “You didn’t! You
couldn’t
! Isabella Brodie is a perfect match for you, Jamie. Don’t be a fool—I am so
damaged
.”

“I’ll marry you here and now to prove it.”

“
Jamie . . .
how can you give up all for me?”

“Donna make it sound like a fairy tale, Daria. I tried no’ to love you—God knows I tried, but I failed miserably. I’ve been plagued with wanting you since I first saw you.”

“Oh dear God,” she whispered, her heart filling with happiness, with hope.

“You said that you thought I could bear anything, aye? Well I canna bear losing you.”

She grabbed his head in her hands. “I love you, too. Fiercely. Completely.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and lifted her up to kiss her deeply. Then he picked her up into his arms, walked to the door, and kicked it shut. He went to her bed, falling with her onto it. His hair fell over his brow as he searched her face, his hand lightly caressing it. Then his fingers slipped down to the neckline of her gown. “Aye, lass, I do love you,” he said again, and his knee slipped between her legs as his mouth found her ear. “I didna demand enough ransom for you, I think.”

“I love you,” she whispered and smiled up at him.

Jamie growled his appreciation and moved down her body to her breast, mouthing it through her gown while his free hand found the hem. He slid up her body, rough
skin over smooth, setting her skin on fire where he touched her. There was no need for words—their touch was born of bottled-up desire and ravenous need for one another.

Daria was surprised by her willingness to explore him. She felt brave and courageous as she pulled his shirt over his head and put her mouth to his chest. He groaned, then quickly undid the buttons of her gown, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside before standing up and removing his trousers. He was beautifully built, as she knew, his body tall and erect in all aspects.

He gazed down at her and shook his head. “How is it possible for one woman to be so irresistibly enticing,” he said roughly, and came over her again. He took her breast into his mouth, sucking and nipping. He explored her with his hand, his fingers finding every crevice, sinking deep into them. Daria could scarcely draw a breath when he rolled her over onto her stomach and kissed her hips, biting playfully at her flesh.

But then he rolled her onto her back again and slipped in between her legs, his cock brushing against her sex. Daria was wild with desire, and she smiled up at him as she pushed his hair from his face.

She cared about nothing but Jamie. She wanted to love him, to be loved by him, to know this exquisite moment in his arms.

When he whispered
“Tha gaol agam ort”
in her ear and thrust into her, Daria felt nothing but lightness. As her body adjusted to his, she marveled at how a man and woman could fit together so completely, how a man could move so seductively inside her, tantalizing her with the breadth and the depths to which he smoothly stroked, and
she was amazed at how bottomless was the intimacy in this act between lovers.

Now that she understood what it meant to belong to someone, she couldn’t imagine belonging to anyone else but Jamie Campbell. Ever.

Her body seemed to inherently know how to respond to him; her hips lifted to meet his thrusts, her knees squeezing around him. Jamie groaned as he moved deeper inside her, and he slipped his hand between them, stroking her folds as he stroked inside of her, stroking and stroking until Daria felt the tidal wave crashing through her, drawing from her toes and exploding deep within her. Jamie covered her cry of ecstasy with his mouth and quickened his strokes. She heard his moan in his chest, felt his strangled cry as he found his release. It was hot and potent; he filled her completely. And then he collapsed beside her, gathered her tenderly in his arms, and kissed the top of her head.

“Ah, Daria. I love you, I do,” he said breathlessly, and wrapped her in a tight embrace against his chest.

She would have sworn it was impossible to be this happy. She traced her finger across his jaw, but a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Shouldn’t we say something to all those people waiting downstairs?”

“Mary, Queen of Scots, I forgot them!” He laughed.

N
O ONE WAITING
in the great hall was surprised when Jamie and Daria appeared hand in hand and announced their intentions toward one another. Daria’s parents seemed to be more relieved than shocked, and Jamie could guess that it was a solution to their fears about their daughter returning to English society. Duff scowled, as Jamie knew he would do, and whispered to Robbie about the trouble they would face. But Robbie and Geordie were quick to congratulate Jamie.

The mood was festive as they dined that evening, all the troubles they had been through and were facing forgotten for the time being. The clan would learn soon enough of their laird’s decision, and no one knew how the news would be received.

The next morning, Mackenzie’s men fetched Mamie. She arrived that afternoon in the midst of another downpour. Beth Babcock cried out when she saw her mother
and fell to her knees with grief, her arms around Mamie’s legs.

There wasn’t much her parents could say to Daria to appease her. One needed only look at Mamie to see the toll their deceit had taken. Daria’s father especially seemed to have no words; he sat with his head hung as his wife begged their daughter for forgiveness.

“Don’t ask for my forgiveness,” Daria said. “It’s Mamie’s you want.”

“It’s impossible for you to understand,” her mother said pleadingly. “I know that it is. We knew we were wrong, so wrong . . . but, Daria, we were in love and there was nothing that could keep us apart. No law of man, no force of nature. I know how very hard it must be for you to hear.”

“No, Mamma, that’s not hard to hear. What
is
hard to hear is that you had so little regard for your mother. For
me.
That you chose to lie and help a wretched man instead of face the truth.”

“Don’t be too hard on them,” Mamie said sadly. “Hindsight can be so much clearer than the view of the present.”

Daria wasn’t convinced of that. “Well, now you must face up to what you’ve done. You can’t hide any longer.”

“We’ll all be ruined,” her mother said tearfully.

“Beth, dearest,” Mamie said, “we already are.”

“What of you, Mamie?” Daria asked. “Will you stay here in Scotland?”

She shook her head and took Daria’s hand. “I am returning to England. Whatever they face, I should like to be there with them.”

Her father’s head sank even lower.

“You are all welcome at Dundavie,” the laird said.

“Here!” Mamie said. “But . . . I
shot
you.”

“That was a wee bit hard to look past,” Jamie admitted. “But I am willing to let bygones be bygones, Mrs. Moss, if you will give me your word no’ to shoot any Campbells.”

Mamie smiled ruefully. “Thank you, Laird, but I think it safer for us all if I return to England with Beth and Richard. They will need me as they’ve never needed me before. And I confess, I am eager to go home.”

Young John entered and said something to Jamie, who nodded, then looked at the group. “Our English ghost has arrived,” he said.

“Ashwood?” Charity asked.

“Aye.”

Charity and Daria looked at each other, then hurried out the door before the others.

The man they brought into the foyer with his hands bound at his back did not look like an earl. He’d lost all the hair on the top of his head, and the buttons on his waistcoat strained. While Mamie had scrimped for food, he had feasted, judging by outward appearances.

He looked at all of them, an angry scowl on his face. “What’s this about?” he shouted angrily, as if he didn’t know.

Charity walked to where he stood, halting directly before him. “Do you recognize me, sir?”

“Why would I?”

“My name is Charity Scott,” she said, and slapped Ashwood across the cheek with such force that his head was knocked round.
“That,”
she said, “is for my father, Joseph Scott.” She turned and left.

The earl was still stunned when Daria slipped up to
him. She dealt his other cheek a slap. “That is for Mamie,” she said, and walked back to where her parents stood.

“That’s the least of what you deserve,” Jamie said. “We’ll keep you until the English authorities arrive in Nairn.”

“You can’t keep me!” Ashwood shouted, but no one listened. Jamie directed his men to take the monster from their sight, then looked at the Babcocks.

He was glad they were returning to England to face their own crime. Daria deserved much better than the two of them.

A
FTER MUCH CONSULTATION
with Duff, it was decided that Jamie and Daria would be married by week’s end. It seemed unwise to wait any longer, given their close proximity and their obvious desire to marry. They couldn’t keep their eyes from one another, their hands straying to each other at every opportunity.

“It’s indecent,” Aileen complained, but she was smiling when she said it.

As Duff predicted, there was quite a lot of opposition among the clan to the laird marrying an Englishwoman, much less the granddaughter of one who had shot him.

But there was also a surprising number of clansmen who were in favor of the marriage. Daria had found her way into the hearts of more than one Scotsman. She’d done it just as Lady Ashwood had done it, one person at a time. Most still called her the Ransom, but some called her friend as well.

Daria understood her precarious position. The clansmen might accept her in time, but the test would come in weeks and months and years ahead, and in how they would perceive her support of Jamie. She understood it would be a difficult road, but she felt quite strong with her hand in Jamie’s.

Jamie and Daria decided the first thing they must do was drain the bog, and the following spring, the ransom her parents paid was used to do precisely that. As many guessed, there was a lot of grousing about it. Not many of the Campbells were believers . . . until the first green shoots of grain began to grow there.

Jamie and Daria’s wedding was inherently Scottish, which meant that it hardly mattered that it had come with a special license in a few short days. It was a reason to celebrate, a reason to drink and dance, and Campbells came from miles around. Even a few Brodies saw fit to attend. Cormag Brodie, Isabella’s brother and Geordie’s nemesis, sent a sheep as a wedding gift, with a note thanking Jamie for not marrying his sister.