A Highland Duchess (7 page)

She stared down at her plate, realizing that her appetite had abruptly vanished.

“Is something wrong, Emma?”

She looked up at him. “I’m to be married,” she said. She’d not intended to say that. Ordinarily she would never have revealed something so personal about herself. But then, these were not ordinary circumstances.

He was looking at her, his gaze so direct she almost glanced away.

“So am I,” he said. “In a matter of months.”

“Are mutual congratulations in order, then?” she asked.

“By the look on your face, no,” he said, his voice too soft, too kind.

He shouldn’t be considerate. If he were, she would start to think of him as more than an abductor. A friend, perhaps, in a life devoid of friends. Or something even more dangerous—a handsome man who interested her a little too much.

Chapter 6

“D
o you know her?” she asked. “Your betrothed?”

“Her father is one of my oldest friends. My mentor, as a matter of fact.”

“Do you like her?”

He looked startled by the question.

“I shouldn’t have asked that, should I? Perhaps I envy you. I’d only met Anthony once, and didn’t even remember it. He did, however, and appealed to my father that very night. He said meeting me was one of his fondest memories. Wouldn’t you think I would be able to recall it as well?”

“Perhaps not. Evidently, you made an impression, while he did not.”

“It was a party, I think. Perhaps that’s why I don’t remember. I dislike parties,” she said. “Mourning isn’t onerous for me, for that very reason. It gives me an excuse to be by myself, in my own company.”

She was prattling—she could hear herself. What had gotten into her?

“Rebecca, my betrothed, is just the opposite,” he said. “She knows everyone’s names and the names of their brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers. And as far as liking her, we’ve been acquaintances for a great many years.”

“Then I wish you the very greatest happiness,” she said.

“And I, you,” he replied, smiling at her. “Who is to be your next husband?”

“I haven’t any idea,” she admitted. “I never even inquired as to his name. My uncle made the announcement last night, before you arrived.”

“Quite an adventurous night.”

She sent him a look.

“Perhaps he will be the best of husbands,” he said, watching her over his cup.

“Perhaps he shall. And we will grow old together in loving matrimony.”

He put the cup down. “Your tone seems to make a mockery of marriage, Emma.”

She was silent for a moment. When she did speak, her voice was faint, as if she were ashamed to say the words. But she felt, strangely enough, that they needed to be said.

“You’ve listened to the rumors about me. Have you heard anything said about Anthony, then?”

“I have, yes.”

“Can you imagine, then, if half the rumors you heard were true, what my marriage was like?”

It was his turn to remain silent. “Yes,” he said finally. “I can.”

His look was too sympathetic.

He reached out and touched the top of her hand with the tip of his forefinger. A delicate touch, one that somehow managed to feel almost intimate. She should draw her hand back but she didn’t. Instead, she stared at his finger, feeling oddly mesmerized.

She’d never sat so close to any man other than her husband. No man, including Anthony, had ever been so charming. A few of Anthony’s friends had whispered lurid suggestions to her but no one had ever been so pleasant.

She didn’t know what to do. Should she leave now? Prudence demanded that she do so, yet the impulse warred with her very real wish to remain exactly where she was.

“After you get the mirror,” she asked, pushing aside her thoughts, “will you return to Scotland?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Tell me what your home is like,” she said, then softened her request. “Please.”

Even as she sat there, she knew she wasn’t being wise or proper at all. She should retreat to her chamber and act the part Fate had given her. If not prisoner, she should play the role of widow. On this bright and shining morning, however, she couldn’t find it in herself to pretend to grieve for Anthony.

For a moment they sat in silence, before Ian began to speak.

“Lochlaven is a few hundred years old and my family has lived there since it was built in 1606. It’s perched upon a promontory,” he said, his voice soft, almost melodic. “Overlooking a lake on which there’s an island, the site of the first castle. Behind us is Ben Cuidan, and a range of mountains. Lochlaven itself faces west. Each day as the sun sets we’re treated to a show of pink and gray skies. When I was a boy, I used to think that we were the last spot on earth, the last ones to see the sun set, but then, everything in my life revolved around Lochlaven in those days. It wasn’t until I went away to school that I understood it wasn’t the center of everyone’s world.”

The more she knew about him, the more mysterious he became—a thief with a castle in Scotland and a large home in London.

“Yet you left your home for the sake of a mirror,” she said.

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “I was due to be in London on business, and decided to take advantage of the opportunity.” When she didn’t respond, he leaned forward. “You aren’t here because of a mirror, Emma,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to leave you alone to explain the presence of a man in your chamber to your uncle.”

She nodded. “That would have been difficult,” she said. “But not impossible. I doubt my uncle cares much for my reputation.”

“Can you trust him to choose a husband for you?” he asked.

She turned her head and looked at the profusion of plants surrounding her. Crimson lilies and deep red roses contrasted with the brighter oranges of the vivid gerberas. What a lovely place this was. Indeed, an island in the midst of London.

She would have loved to talk to the gardener about the plantings. Anything but answer Ian’s question. In the end it didn’t matter what she thought or believed. Only that she was subject to her uncle’s will.

He leaned back, folded his arms and regarded her steadily.

“I haven’t heard many good comments about you, Emma. You surprise me.”

“From Lady Sarah? I can understand only too well. Any woman who would attempt to take her mother’s place would be looked upon with disfavor.”

“She never said a word. Other than to comment that she didn’t know you, had never met you.”

“Ah, rumors, then.”

Women had been among some of the most dissolute guests at Chavensworth. Women who were doyennes of society, showing a serene and flawless face to the world. No one saw the rot beneath the surface. Would any of those hypocritical women have meekly acceded to another marriage?

The appearance of virtue was truly its own reward.

She didn’t even have that—no woman married to Anthony would have.

“You’ve been an exemplary prisoner.”

What would he say if she told him that she’d had four years of imprisonment?

“Perhaps I should abduct a duchess more often,” he said. He was trying to be charming again, and succeeding only too well.

“You mustn’t relegate yourself to only duchesses,” she said. “There are few enough of us. You might consider a countess or two, or even a baroness.”

“In all honesty, I doubt I shall do this again. The journey across your roof was a little more adventure than I choose to have. I’m a better scientist than I am a thief.”

“A scientist?”

He nodded.

“What do you study?”

“Water,” he said. A moment later his smile deepened. “You have the most amazing look on your face. As if you’re deciding whether or not to ask—why water?—or to remain silent.”

“Why water?” she asked.

He began to laugh, and she had no choice but to smile with him.

“Omne vivum ex ovo
,” he said.

“Every living thing comes from an egg?”

“You know Latin?”

She nodded. “Not extensively,” she admitted. “But my governess considered that a woman should know a great deal about many subjects.”

He evidently didn’t consider that important enough to comment upon, or perhaps women in Scotland were educated in a similar fashion.

“Do you know anything about spontaneous generation?”

She shook her head, finished her tea, and set the cup down.

“I presume, however, that you’ve heard of Aristotle.”

‘ “You are what you do,’ ” she quoted.

His surprised glance amused her. “The governess?”

She nodded.

“Aristotle also believed that living things could be born from nonliving things.”

She sat back, interested. “Or spontaneous generation,” she said.

He nodded.

“Aristotle’s theory is being proven wrong. Instead of spontaneous generation, there is something called a bacterium, an organism we think capable of producing disease.”

He leaned toward her, turned his hand over and stretched out his index finger. “Imagine, if you will, that on the tip of my finger there are hundreds of thousands of tiny little animals that you cannot see. These are bacteria, so small that they aren’t visible to the human eye. But they’re there all the same, and it’s their presence that can make us ill.”

He straightened and pulled back his hand.

“How do you see them?”

“With a microscope,” he said.

“And you study this? Isn’t it dangerous?”

“A great many things can be dangerous if care is not taken.”

“But why?”

“Because it’s there? Because I can? Because whenever people become ill I want to know why?” He shrugged but the intent look in his eyes belied his affected nonchalance.

“Are you a physician, then?”

“No, but I work with a physician. My betrothed’s father, as a matter of fact.”

She envied him his enthusiasm because she’d never viewed the world with such delight.

“I must be about my work now,” he said, placing his napkin on the side of his plate. “But I have no needlework to occupy you,” he said. “I noticed the needlework in your room.”

“I do not require occupation,” she said. A moment later she corrected herself. “I do not require needlework as an occupation.”

“My sister deplores it,” he said. “Ever since she was eight, and required to rework her sampler numerous times, she’s refused to take up the needle.”

“Your sister sounds like someone after my own heart,” she said. “However, I’ve always thought it a failing of mine not to have the patience or the skill.”

“Perhaps your talents lie in other directions,” he said. “Unfortunately, my library is filled with scientific treatises, but perhaps my sister has left behind a novel or two. I’ll see if I can find something for you.”

“You are very solicitous for an abductor,” she said. “For all that you say you’ve had no experience in it.”

“Much less than you’ve had at being a duchess.”

“There isn’t much to being a duchess,” she said, looking away. “One must simply have the capacity to endure.”

She hadn’t meant to say
that
, either.

He reached out and touched her hand again. She didn’t withdraw it but left it there, fingers straightened and pointing toward him.

She tilted her head slightly and regarded him with some intensity.

He smiled once more, an expression that was evidently commonplace for him. Was it also a routine occurrence for him to attract women? She couldn’t help but wonder.

A very mysterious man, this brigand, and one she’d do well to avoid.

She stood, pushing back her chair rather than waiting for him to assist her. She placed her napkin to the left of her plate, checked to see that she’d left the silverware in the correct position. The training of a lifetime served her now, as it had so often in the past.

Yet she’d never taken nearly an hour to eat her breakfast. Or eaten it in the bright light of the morning sun or with such an enticing stranger.

A great many things can be dangerous if care is not taken.
Including wanting something one mustn’t have. Although she may wish it, she could not turn time on itself. She couldn’t become someone other than who she was. It was not four years ago; it was today.

“Thank you for breakfast,” she said. “But until my uncle sends you the mirror, I think it would be better if I ate in my room.”

He’d stood when she did, and now she had to tilt her head back in order to see him. Not an easy thing to do since the sun was behind him. She shielded her eyes, wishing she could see his expression.

“But it’s not my room,” she said. “It’s yours. Where did you sleep last night?”

“There are ten bedrooms in this house,” he said. “I simply took another.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to have your own chamber back? I’d be happier in another,” she said.