When a Scot Loves a Lady

“Kitty, I read the file on Poole.” His voice remained low. “He was a villain.”

She hadn’t thought she had any breath left to give, but a sound ushered forth, soft and short.

“I hope the man courting your mother is not as well.”

She nodded, swallowing past the tears gathering at the back of her throat. “Do you think this trap will work?”

“If he is guilty.”

“Must you really go there in the morning yourself?”

He nodded. Then, watching her, his brow furrowed anew. He leaned up on his elbow.

“Kitty, you are not thinking of going. Do not tell me you are.”

“Then I will not tell you. But I will be withholding the truth. I told Lord Chamberlayne I would meet him there.”

“No.”

“Yes. I must be completely convincing. What sort of self-respecting jilted woman would not wish to actually see her lover ruined? I cannot simply leave it to faith. That would be contrary to what Lord Chamberlayne knows of me, after all. What everyone knows.”

“He agreed to it?”

“I told him he hadn’t any choice.”

“Kitty, this is foolhardy.” His eyes looked intense. “If Gray’s suspicions are accurate, Chamberlayne cannot be happy believing I know the location of the ship’s cargo.”

“But I must know if he is guilty. Do you think this is easy for me, Leam? Betraying my mother so that I do not betray my country?”

“No.” He captured her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. “I know it cannot be. But if I believe you to be in danger, I will not be at my best.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, his words bittersweet. “It is too … complicated.”

He did not respond. Instead he cupped his hand around her face and kissed her. She reached for his arms, running her palms along his smooth muscles.

“Kitty.” He stroked the side of her breast. “Do you wish me to remain here for a while yet tonight?”

“Yes.” She could not lie. “More than I can say.” Good riddance, wisdom and circumspection! Her tongue would reveal her, after all, it seemed.

His thumb passed over her hardening nipple, sending a tingling ache into every part of her.

“Then promise me,” he whispered, “that you will not go to the meeting tomorrow morning.” His hand tortured, his hip shifting against hers.

“Blackmail does not become you, my lord,” she uttered, then gasped as he touched her between her legs. She had not known this was possible, to be roused so easily so many times in one night. But she was still hot from their lovemaking and so easily stirred by his touch.

“Promise me.” He caressed and she was lost.

“Yes,” she breathed. Then again, “Yes,” when he came inside her with his finger. And again, “Yes,” when he made her come with only his hand, slowly and beautifully, his mouth caressing her breasts, the need inside her now perpetually longing for him.

Then he gave her more. And he made it last even longer than before, until she was nothing but liquid pleasure to do with as he willed. Which she had been from the start, in any case, in a tiny inn in Shropshire when she had believed the worst thing in life could be surrendering her reason to a man who went about with great shaggy dogs.

When it was over, he settled her against his chest in the circle of his arm.

“I trust I needn’t repeat that you have promised.” He spoke against her hair, and it seemed so intimate and familiar.

“You blackmailed. I promised. It seems fairly clear which of us has had practice convincing others to do as we wish.”

“Not in precisely that manner.” He sounded as though he were falling asleep. But his words pleased her far too much. It seemed, perhaps, she had something of a jealous nature too, after all.

After a time she felt certain he slept. She stroked two fingertips along the taut sinew of his forearm. He did not stir, his breaths even, the hollow plane of cheek to jaw and the sensuous curve of his mouth holding her rapt. She whispered, “I want to go back to Shropshire,” because longing filled her heart with a sorrowful sort of joy and she could not hold it inside any longer. And because she could say foolish things to him now and he would not hear.

But he said, “As do I.” He wrapped her hand in his and drew it to his chest. “Now go to sleep.”

“Why? You will be leaving soon, won’t you?”

“Too soon. And as much as I enjoy your conversation, tonight I wish the pleasure of sleeping beside you, even for a short time.”

What could she say to that?

He pressed a kiss onto her brow. “Happy birthday, Kitty.” He held her, and remarkably soon she slept.

When she awoke, he was gone.

Chapter 23

When the dowager appeared at the breakfast table, her eyes were lively, her gaze on Kitty keen.

Unfortunately Kitty could do nothing to hide the flush on her cheeks or anxious cold of her palms. By now the meeting between Leam and Lord Chamberlayne had taken place. She had only to wait, praying he would send word.

“I did not expect you up for hours yet, Kitty dear.” Her mother lifted a cup to her mouth. “Mrs.

Hopkins told me of your late visit from the Watch. An incident with dishes in the kitchen, apparently.”

Kitty’s cheeks flamed. “She told you that?”

The housekeeper came into the chamber with a fresh pot of tea. “Lady Katherine was very kind to pick up those broke dishes before she turned in.” She poured tea for Kitty and handed it to her with only a flicker of a winking eye and a lightning-quick smile. “Monsieur Claude was most appreciative.

Myself as well, ma’am.” She curtsied.

“You are welcome, Mrs. Hopkins. It was my—” Her throat stuck. “Pleasure.” Had he cleaned up the dishes before leaving? She wouldn’t disbelieve it of the strangest nobleman she’d ever known. She forced her attention to her plate. “How is Serena, Mama? Your note did not say how ill she was feeling.”

“I did not stay at the other house last night, Kitty. I told you that so you would not worry.” Her mother shuffled through the small pile of the post at her elbow. “Mrs. Hopkins, you may go now, and close the door.”

The housekeeper cast Kitty a quick glance and left.

Kitty held her breath. “Where were you, Mama, if not at Alex’s?”

“With Douglas.” The dowager lifted her regard, her face serene with contentment and sparkling with happiness. “We are to be wed. Will you wish me happy, my dear daughter?”

“Oh, Mama.” How could she wish her anything of the sort? “Mama.” She stood and wrapped her arms about her mother’s shoulders and held on to her. “I thought you indifferent to his offer.” Her voice shook.

The dowager drew her away and studied her face.

“Only cautious. Kitty dear, what is amiss?”

Kitty gripped her hands together. “I wish only for your happiness.”

“You are not happy with this, then? I had hoped you would be. You and he seem so comfortable with one another.”

“Oh, but Mama, you see—” Kitty cast about for words to begin. She should not have waited to tell her. She should have been brave. She could not bear her mother’s steady regard and dropped her gaze.