To Love and Protect (33 page)

“You’re right.”
 

“Good.
 
Now, rest for the remainder of the night then be prepared to face tomorrow.”
 
Clarissa stayed with her until she slept once more.

She left Megan’s room, quietly shutting the door behind her, when she backed into a solid figure.
 
She jumped in surprise and let out a startled yelp.

“It’s only me,” Justin said quietly.

“Oh,” she pulled herself away from him and stood stiffly.
 
“Shall we go down to dinner?”

“I should like to have a word with my sister.”

“Your sister is exhausted and suffering from a severe headache.
 
I should think your talk can wait until the morrow.”
 
She could not help the coldness that laced her voice.
 
After the scare of this afternoon had passed, she had remembered all he had said to Megan.
 
The words ‘common trollop’ and ‘harlot’ kept repeating themselves in her mind.
 
Every time she thought about it she became angry all over again.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.
 
I would like to go to dinner now if you don’t mind.”
 
She felt a steely hand on her upper arm halt her progress down the stairs.

“Clarissa, why did you scream outside this afternoon?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I heard you scream before the gunshot.
 
Are we really going to play this game now?”

“I saw the sun glint off the rifle and something in me thought to scare the deer off, to save it’s life.
 
I know it is irrational, but it just seemed so peaceful and someone wanted to ruin it all.
 
Then it turned out they wanted to kill me instead of the deer.”

“I think perhaps you should rest instead of coming down to sup with us,” he said worriedly.

“No, I will be fine.
 
If I am in my own company, I will only sit and dwell on it.”
 

Justin studied her for a moment before continuing, “Laird McTavish is coming to sup with us tonight.
 
He is the laird whose property adjoins ours.”
 

“The same who has the son you no longer speak of?”
 

“Actually that is his nephew, and I see you have been talking to my sister.
 
Stay out of what you don’t understand, Clarissa.”
 

“I believe I understand perfectly.”

“Be cordial to him,” Justin commanded.
 

“Why would I be anything else?
 
I am the perfect hostess after all, aren’t I?” she added caustically.
 
Clarissa pulled her arm from Justin’s grip and escaped down the stairs before he could stop her.
 
She entered the dining room with Justin on her heels.
 
“Please excuse my tardiness,” she said to the room at large, sounding every inch the daughter of a duke.
 
“I was checking on Megan before I came down.”

“How is she?” Justin’s mother asked worriedly.

“She’ll be fine.
 
I have left word for one of the maids to soak washcloth in lavender water every thirty minutes.
 
I know it always helps my headaches.”
 
Content that her daughter would be well cared for, the countess rang a bell for the meal to be served.
 
“I apologize for having to meet like this,” she said, turning to the new male that stood as she entered the dining room.
 
“You must be Laird McTavish.” She smiled, politely, but it never moved past her mouth.

“Not too much, I hope.
 
And please, call me James.”

Clarissa inclined her head in acknowledgement of his request.
 
“Please, let’s all be seated and continue on with the meal.”
 
All the men took a seat, Justin’s father and grandfather, James, and Clarissa’s father, warily watched her.

Justin did not look happy as he assisted Clarissa to her chair.
 
He took a seat beside her, while James sat across from her.
 
The older man was attractive.
 
His dark hair was cut short and had a slight wave to it, giving him a rakish appearance.
 
His eyes shimmered a silvery blue in the candlelight on the table.
 
His shoulders were broad and he appeared to be of the same height as Justin.
 
If Megan’s Liam looked anything like this man, she could see what had attracted the other woman to him.
 
As the footmen served the soup, Clarissa directed her conversation to James.

“James, what does a Laird do all day?”

“Much the same as your father, I would guess.
 
I see to my lands and my people.
 
We keep our eyes out for strangers in hopes they might be a Frenchie, and we can do our part for this war.”

“And Liam is your?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.
 
A good hostess always keeps the conversation going.

“Nephew.
 
I have raised him, his brother and twins since their parents’ death.
 
Liam and Aedan were but lads.
 
The twins were still in their nappies.”

“Why did Aedan not join you this evening?”

“He is away on business.”

“I understand Liam is making plans to join in the fight,” Justin’s grandmother said.

“Where is that young man?” Seamus asked.
 
“He owes me a game of cards.”

“Did Meg not tell ye’?
 
Perhaps that’s why she isn’t joining us tonight,” James looked at Clarissa, who merely bowed her head.
 
“Liam was summoned by the War Office earlier than expected.
 
He hopes to be back in a fortnight.”

“Yes, that would explain Meggy not joining us,” Justin’s mother sighed.

“In London, all the men talk about is making predictions about Bonaparte’s next move,” Clarissa said, feeling Justin stiffen beside her.
 
She didn’t know how much of his family knew what he did in London, but from his reaction, she suspected that several family members still might not know.

Clarissa acted the perfect hostess.
 
She remained silent when the conversation was not directed at her.
 
She answered when someone asked her a question.
 
Her mind began to wander through the meal, as if she were moving a long way away from the dining room.
 
Vaguely, she heard James keeping everyone entertained with stories of Liam’s younger siblings, a boy and a girl that everyone called ‘the twins’.
 
It seemed Liam’s parents had passed away long ago, and he and his siblings were left in the care of his widower uncle.
 

Underlying everything, however, was the tension between both her and her father and her and Justin.
 
Snippets of their separate conversations filtered through her mind.
 
Anger and despair would take turns alternating through her mind.
 
She could feel her body react to the stress.
 
The muscles of her shoulders and neck stiffened.
 
Her head throbbed.
 
Her temple felt as if someone were driving a nail through it.
 
She wanted desperately to roll her shoulders and neck, but knew that would only bring attention to her and not be considered particularly lady-like.
 
So she sat quietly and continued to act the perfect hostess as if nothing were wrong.
 

The courses kept coming out, one after another.
 
Usually, she ate heartily.
 
Today was different.
 
She forced herself to eat the food on her plate.
 
When she did, everything tasted like sawdust in her mouth.
 
She chewed slowly and had to sip wine to help the food go down.
 
By the time dessert had been placed in front of them, her stomach churned nauseatingly.
 

The clock ticked loudly in the room during the moments of silence.
 
Both Matilda and the countess studied each person in the room as if trying to determine what caused everyone such misery.
 
Clarissa took a sip of her wine, hoping that it would settle her stomach.
 
Instead it just made it worse.
 
She felt flushed and could feel beads of perspiration trickling down her back.
 
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, struggling to hide how poorly she felt.

It was the stress of the situation, attempting to act like everything was perfect and normal as her world crumbled around her feet.
 
She put the glass of wine back down and noticed her hand had a slight tremor.
 
The whole situation was just too much.
 
Her father’s ultimatum.
 
Justin’s attitude towards his sister’s situation, which seemed a direct reflection on her person.
 
Lorraine and Franklin and their scheming ways.
 
Nearly succumbing to a runaway boulder and being half frozen.
 
Megan and her problems.
 
Papa and Justin making secret deals about her life.
 
Someone shooting at her.
 
And to top everything off, her fiancée was a spy.
 
They would be in constant danger.
 
As angry as she felt, the realization that someday he might not come home at all hit her with such clarity as to blind her to all else.
 

When the countess suggested they retire to the salon for reading or cards, Clarissa stood, her head whirling.
 
Bright spots had begun to filter in and out of her vision, making her dizzy.
 

“Are you all right?” Justin asked her from what seemed to be a long way away.
 
She steadied herself by gripping the edge of the table.
 

“Of course,” she stated firmly, hoping that she would believe the words herself.
 
She looked across the table and saw the look of concern cross both James and her father’s faces.
 
She decided then and there she had to get away, if only for the evening.
 
Seek refuge in her bedroom, anywhere where she could lock out the rest of the world.
 
“I believe I will retire for the evening,” she announced to those in attendance.

“Are you certain you are all right, Clarissa?”
 
The countess’s voice sounded distorted to her ears, and she looked out of focus.
 
She blinked rapidly, pleased to see only one countess now.
 

“I am fine, just tired.
 
James, it was a pleasure meeting you.”
 
Did her speech sound slurred to everyone else?

“I will escort you,” Justin said, clasping her upper arm.

“No,” she removed her arm from his grip.
 
“I can see myself to my room,” she stated firmly, with more meaning behind the words than what he comprehended.
 
“You stay and visit with your guest,” Clarissa added, just like a perfect fiancée would.
 
She turned and left the room.
 
She walked slowly, her hand following along the wall to keep herself steady.
 

When she came to the stairs, she took a deep breath as she looked up them.
 
Never before had she found a stairway to be so imposing.
 
She was halfway to the first landing when the world began to spin sickeningly.
 
The bright lights returned with appalling speed, followed quickly by dark spots.
 
Clarissa tried to call out for help but could not make her voice work.

Her left leg went numb, and she grabbed for the banister hoping it would help her right herself.
 
It didn’t.
 
She felt a pain in her shoulder as she twisted oddly.
 
Her hand lost its grip on the railing.
 
Clarissa felt herself begin to fall as if in a dream.
 

It felt slow and ethereal.
 
She felt herself bounce off every step she had climbed.
 
Clarissa couldn’t tell if she even yelled as she rolled down the stairs.
 
They were unmerciful in the pounding they gave her body until finally she felt the hard floor beneath her.
 
Amazed she was still conscious, she heard a wobbling sound to her left.
 
She watched, unable to protect herself, as a great, blurry, object fell towards her.
 
She felt a throbbing in her head after it made contact, then blessedly darkness overtook her and her pain disappeared.

Chapter 14

Justin trailed the rest of the group as they entered the salon his mother favored for after-dinner activities when they had visitors.
 
A cacophony of sound came from the hallway.
 
He stepped into the hall to see what had happened.
 
Horror washed through him as he witnessed Clarissa lying prone on the ground, a suit of armor on top of her.
 
The battleaxe it held in its hand lay perilously close to her head, a tinge of red along its edge.
 

“Grams,” he yelled before rushing to Clarissa’s side.
 
Edward and James quickly joined him, and they moved the armor off of her, while Justin held her still.
 
The pounding of feet heralded the entrance of the rest of the family.

“Don’t move her,” Matilda commanded, and he had to stop himself from touching her, holding her.
 

“I heard...
 
She was...
 
Dear God,” Justin said in a husky voice as he ran the back of his fingers against her cheek.