Delight (15 page)

"
He carved a new headstone fer Uncle Angus."

Douglas looked at Rowena again. Her eyes were not just g
lazed. They were crossed. The
princess looked as if she were in a trance.

He cleared his throat. "That will be enough—
"

They ignored him, surging forward to sing his praises, their voices
growing louder and louder as
if they were competing for compliments.

"
He fixed the well.
"

"
He knitted a blanket fer our ailin' cow.
"

"
He's a saint, that
'
s what he is.
"

But the crowning moment came when Robbie, the ancient wheelw
right, bent on arthritic knee
with bonnet in
hand to gaze up at Rowena as
tears streamed into his beard.
"He
'
s our guardian angel, and that
'
s the truth. Why, the laird is so pure at heart, he
'
s even taken a vow of chastity until he sees every last one of us safe and secure.
"

"I have?
"
Douglas said in a horrified voice.

Rowena did not utter a word to him the entire ride back to the castle. No doubt her poor head was pounding with tales of his legendary kindness. A kindness, judging by the look on her face, that indicated she might like to kill him.

Douglas did not blame her. Not only was he a pompous pretender, he had just become a virgin into the bargain.

"
T
he man claims to have taken a vow of chastity!
"
Rowena shouted with a snort of laughter, falling backward onto her bed.
"
There goes my hope
of begetting any heirs in a hurr
y!"

Hildegarde rushed forward to close the chamber door.
"
Calm yourself, Highness. Vows can be broken.
"

"How?
"
Rowena demanded.

"
Well, there are potions—
"
Hildegarde
'
s hands flew to her face. "God, what am I saying? If the man wishes to remain chaste, 'tis a sin for us to tempt him.
"

T
he evening of the feast had arrived. The cas
tl
e hummed like a beehive with secret activity. Douglas dressed for the affair with the enthusiasm of a man going to his own execution.
'
Twas clear he
could not keep Rowena captive much longer. She had been at Dunmoral for over a week. 'Twas also clear that the woman was not overly impressed with his image as the "Virgin Earl.
"
She gave an evil chuckle every time she saw him.

He turned to examine his lean profile in the pier glass.
"
Well, how do I look?
"

"Put on that quilted waistcoat, sir,
"
Willie said from the wardrobe.

Gemma shook her head. "It might make him look fat."

Douglas frowned. His crew had indeed grown slothful in their retirement. They'd put on weight. Even he had begun to feel a wee bit sluggish in the mid-section.

A month ago he
'
d started to swim faithfully every morning in the bone-numbing waters of the loch. One hundred exhausting laps as if preparing to woo a princess qualified as a marathon event.

He slapped his rock-hard stomach. "A -pirate with a paunch, or the Laird of Lard? Not as long as there is breath in my body."
He strapped on his sword. His golden earring winked in the candlelight.

"
Ye look lovely, sir,
"
Baldwin said in approval.
"
I
'
ve never seen ye look nicer.
"

"You look like a pirate,
"
Gemma said, frowning.

Willie came up behind him with a flagon of scented water. "What
'
s wrong with that?"

Gemma gazed at Douglas
'
s reflection.
"
He
'
s
supposed to look like the laird. Why aren
'
t you wearing the red high-heeled shoes we bought in Naim?
"

"
Because I do not wish to wobble about like a woman." He stuck his fingers into the cravat that spilled from his strong brown throat.
"
Who lit that fire? I
'
m roasting in all this lace. Willie, touch that perfume stopper to my wrist and die. I
'
m not smelling like a French lily for anyone. I tire of playing the twiddlepoop.
"

"
If you won
'
t wear the heels, then you must wear the plaid,
"
Gemma said. "Take off your clothes again, Douglas.
"

"
In a pig
'
s eye,
"
he retorted.

"Red heels are the fashion at court, Douglas.
"

He put on his plumed hat. It overshadowed his sun-burnished face, carving hollows beneath the angular bones.
"
How does this look?
"

"
The hat is a dead giveaway,
"
Gemma said in exasperation.
"
The laird is supposed to wear a bonnet with a feather in it.
"

"
A bonnet?" Douglas laughed at that. Then he took a pair of scrolled pistols from the dressing table and stuck them in the sash over his shoulder.
"
Is that better?"

Gemma stared at him. "If you
'
re going to challenge the princess to a duel."

"Should he wear the diamond cross he stole from Cartagena?
"
Willie asked.

Gemma shook her head. "Too crass. He has to wear the plaid."

"
No,
"
Douglas said.

Dainty pulled a shriveled gray object from his pocket.
"
Here
'
s a shark
'
s fin to tie on your bow-
sprit for good luck.
"

"
I will not. God above.
"

"Those tight leather trousers make you look like a blackguard, Douglas,
"
Gemma said.

He rubbed his jaw. "Dammit, this dressing up has taken so long I shall have to be shaved again.
"

"
There isn
'
t time.
"
Gemma darted to the door, motioning everyone to follow.
"
Baldwin, Willie.
You
'
re getting dressed next, although talk about hopeless causes. Douglas, I still think you should wear that plaid and brooch.
"

D
ouglas sneaked back into his room five minutes later. He changed into a plaid of blue and grayish-green wool, dyed with heather and bramble. He refused to wear high heels. Then he slipped the shark
'
s fin beneath his shirt. He figured he could use the luck.

Highland laird on the outside, pirate beneath.

The deception could not last much longer.

D
ouglas walked around the table, his hands locked behind his back.
"
What manner of dish
hides on that platter?
"
he demanded.

Candlelight flickered across Baldwin
'
s grinning face.
"
That
'
s the peacock for the princess.
"

"
Peacock.
"
Douglas gazed at the covered centerpiece.
"
I was not aware we had peacocks in
Dunmoral. If this is another one of my sister's half-brained—
"

He broke off in alarm as a trumpet blared from the gallery above. The music of bagpipes and fiddles swelled to a deafening pitch. The flames of the pinewood chandelier trembled and swayed.

He plugged his ears. "God
'
s bones. Who is making that infernal noise?
"

"
The village musicians,
"
Baldwin shouted.
"
The princess must be com
in
'
. The lads were to start playin' the moment she left her room. 'Tis to honor her."

"Deafen her is more likely,
"
Douglas said as he strode across the hall. "A few minutes of that racket, and we
'
ll all be raving mad.
"

Rowena had just reached the bottom of the stairs when he found her. A gray silk dress graced her willowy frame. Her glorious hair waved over her shoulders like a goddess of fertility, a dangerous reminder to Douglas that the woman wished to have babies in a hurry. His heart gave a traitorous thump at the thought while his barbaric male body tightened in arousal.

He felt a jolt of guilt-tinged pleasure as their eyes met. She looked at him with a hope and vulnerability that would be utterly destroyed when he was done deceiving her.

She believed herself so strong, this maiden princess who wanted to lead an army to protect her papa. She thought she would succeed where hardened warriors had failed. She thought she
could play with a dragon and not singe her delicate fingers.

But Douglas only played to win. She was a mere apprentice at the wicked games he had mastered, invented. Yet his plans for her had changed. He no longer wished for her money or influence. To his horror he wished to win her heart.

"
And where is your shepherdess, lit
tl
e lamb?" he asked in an amused undertone.

Rowena gave him a grin.
"
Praying in the chapel for my protection. She
'
s had a premonition that my very life is in danger.
"

A cold infusion of fear seemed to settle in Douglas
'
s bones. Hildegarde, he remembered, considered herself something of a seer.
"
Premonitions should never be ignored.
"

Rowena shrugged to dismiss such a notion as he took her hand.
"
I would have been dead at the tender age of three if predictions like Hildegarde
'
s are to be believed.
"

He closed his fingers over hers, surprised at the power of his protective instincts.
"
We must guard you more carefully, perhaps.
"

Rowena slanted him a look at the sober note in his voice. "Do you think I am in danger?
"

Douglas hesitated. A boyish smile broke across his deeply burnished face.
"
'
Tis hard to say. There are all manner of mysterious dishes arriving at our table. We may neither of us survive our supper.
"

Rowena peered around him.
"
Where is that unearthly noise coming from?
"

"
The minstrel
'
s gallery.
"
He let out a rueful sigh. "To honor you.
"

"Oh, dear. We
'
d best hurr
y to the table then before they bring down the walls.
"

He guided her down the corridor and into the hall where candlelight glinted on the silver dishes placed upon the damask-covered table. The music swelled to an ear-splitting crescendo at her entrance. The guests at the table rose, bowing and curtsying, along with his sister Gemma and Dr. MacVittie. Baldwin and Willie stood against the wall in white powdered periwigs and beribboned knee-breeches.

Rowena raised her voice to be heard above the music. "You
'
ve gone to far too much trouble, my lord. I shall have none of this
'
above the salt
'
nonsense.
"

He cupped his ear.
"
Pardon me?
"

"I will have to compliment the cook
'
s efforts," she said in an even louder voice.