Fascination -and- Charmed (40 page)

“What is that?” Grace’s gaze moved to Arran.

He offered her his hand.

“He hasn’t ... Oh, of course he’s told you why he’s in such a hurry to marry, dearest one. And who can blame him with all this to lose.” Melony’s gesture took in her surroundings. “Any man of three and thirty who stood to lose control of his estate if he failed to produce an heir within two years—or rather less than two now, I suppose—would rush to marry the first potentially fertile female he could procure.”

Grace’s features were like carved ice. She pushed Melony from her. “Arran, when ... On the night when you first sent for me, you said you wanted heirs. But you were angry and I did not think—that is, I had come to believe you wanted
me.
You will lose your castle if you have no heir by the time you are five and thirty?”

“He will be answerable to others for
everything
that is now his,” Melony said promptly.

“Is this true, Arran?”

“No! Well, yes, in part. But I no longer feel—”

Grace gave him no chance to finish. “I must take my leave of you all. I need to go to my chamber.” She hurried toward a nearby passage.

He followed her from the hall. “Grace—”

“Don’t worry, Arran, I shall do my best to be whatever you need me to be. But may I first spend another night alone? I shall come to you tomorrow, if that’s agreeable.”

“Of course.” He made a formal bow. “I’ll await you until then.”

Black fury entered his brain, but when he turned back to the hall, it was to find that the Cuthberts and their venomous relation had fled.

He opened his curled hand and saw how the shell Grace had given him had made deep creases in his palm. They would fade. His need for Grace’s love would not.

“God help me,” he said to the emptiness. He should have kept the solitary promise he’d made five years ago and never allowed himself to love another woman.

“Sickenin’,” Mortimer said. “Most sickenin’ thing I ever saw.”

“Hush. We don’t want to be heard.” Melony giggled and hurried him from the stable yard and into the castle by way of a door no one seemed to use and which she’d previously ensured was unlocked. “Hurry. There is a great deal to be done tonight.”

Mortimer grumbled and muttered all the way to her chamber. Once inside, she quickly lighted several candles and poked the fire to brighter life. “Sit down and listen to me.”

“Disgustin’. Woman of her years carryin’ on like that.”

Melony hugged her cape about her. It was all too perfect. “I did not want you to witness such a sight, but you would not have believed me if I had not insisted you go with me.”

Mortimer threw off his own cloak and loosened his neckcloth. “Did you see her ...? She all but swallowed ...” He sprawled in a chair and spread his legs. “MacFie, in God’s name. My wife having at it with a servant.”

“Hector is the best estate commissioner in the land, Mortimer.”

“She told him he was the best at ... at a whole lot more than managin’ land.” He tore the neckcloth off and let it fall. “Depraved. What they did doesn’t bear thinkin’ about—not between an animal like MacFie and my lovie—my wife.”

Melony kept her smile in place. She would teach Mortimer that his
lovie
was a pale shadow of her younger sister when it came to driving a man to sexual madness.

“We don’t have time for this,” she told him sharply. “Things have gone well tonight.”

“Well?”

“Forget Theodora for now. We did what I wanted done. We made certain that Arran and Grace did not go together into a night of wedded bliss. It was essential that we kept them apart until I can put my plan into action.”

“See here—”

“
You
see here,” she said, standing before him. “Do you know how to ensure that we get what we want? That we get all that is Stonehaven’s?”

“Well ... not exactly.”

“No. But I do. Speed is everything.”

“That’s all very well, but I need a little comfort.
If
you know what I mean, lovie.”

Lovie.
Again he called her by the endearment he used for Theodora. She would make him pay and pay and pay for that—and for so much more. “And you shall have that comfort.” With a single tug, she undid the cord closing the neck of her cloak and let the garment fall.

Mortimer fell back. “Naked! You’re incredible. Come here.
Now.
”
His eyes ran over her, and his tongue darted in and out of his mouth.

Melony smiled and passed her hands up her thighs, over her belly to her breasts. She pushed them up and laughed aloud.

When Mortimer made a grab for her, she dodged away. “How do they look?”

“Wonderful. Let me taste them.”

“I was referring to Theodora’s diamonds,” she said, fingering the flashing collar she’d stolen and which she never intended to return. “Now, go to your rooms until I send for you.”

“But, lovie, I—”

“
Go.
”
It would take a very long time for Mortimer to pay all he owed her. “Before this night is out, I will have ensured that Kirkcaldy is a jewel in the crown that is to become ours.”

Intelligent people recognized when a cause was lost and looked for alternatives.

Theodora hummed as she strolled toward her chambers. Such a perfect evening after all. It just showed how—with a little determination—one could turn a bad thing into something quite wonderful.

Hector was wonderful. What she wanted more than anything was to be close to him ... available to him ...
all
the time. Arran had married that plain little chit. That was fact. Mortimer and Melony could hope to do no more than put off the day when Arran would produce an heir. Chances were that the event would occur in time to steal Roger’s inheritance—Theodora’s inheritance.

But ... fa la la, she would make the best of the situation. Ingratiate herself with Arran’s colorless wife; persuade Mortimer to make the best of things also, and ensure that they could all remain at Kirkcaldy indefinitely. Yes, that could become a most pleasant arrangement after all.

Undoing her cape, she walked into her sitting room.

“There you are, Theodora.” Melony whirled toward her in that irritatingly busy way she had when she was overset.
“
Where
have you been?”

Wouldn’t she like to know? “Out,” Theodora said vaguely.

“Out? Whilst I’ve been worrying myself to death about you?”

“I hardly need to keep you informed of my comings and goings.”

“Oh, you are ... Theodora, I’m beside myself.” Melony produced a kerchief and pressed it to her nose. “Of course I do not wish to know your comings and goings. But, Theodora, something ... something so awful has happened ... or it will happen if we don’t
do
something.”

Theodora pushed the door shut behind her. “What
are
you wailing about, Melony?”

“He called her lovie!”

“Who called whom lovie?”

“Why, Mortimer, of course. Who else calls the one he loves most dearly
lovie?
”

Theodora tugged her bonnet ribbons undone. “Are you unwell?”

“Oh,
listen
to me before it is too late. Mortimer called that insipid creature, Grace,
lovie.
He called her that and they said a great deal more.”

“But—” No, Mortie would never use ...
No.

Melony sought Theodora’s hands and held them so tightly, the bones hurt. “I will say it all in a rush. Then we shall have to act—or be destroyed by wickedness. Did you know that Mortimer and Grace became ... good
friends
the very first evening they met?”

Theodora began to feel frightened. “They did not.”

“They most certainly did. Theodora, I believe they have
Been Together.
”

“Oh!” She tugged her hands away. “How could you say such wicked things? Mortie only intended to find a way to make the foolish chit appear compromised. He would never ... No. You are wrong.”

“I wish I were. Earlier this evening Mortimer came to me. He told me you had a lover. Such foolishness. He tried to make me believe he’d actually seen you with that Hector MacFie. A
servant,
for goodness’ sake. Anyway, Mortimer thought that would make me understand why he’d decided to accept an offer from Grace.”

Theodora sat down suddenly.

Melony’s hands fluttered. “Grace cannot abide Stonehaven. Who can blame her? But be that as it may, she invited Mortimer to help her dispose of Stonehaven and then to become her husband in his stead. She told him that together they would help administer the estate—for Roger if she has no issue at that point, or for Stonehaven’s heir, should one be produced.”

“But—” Theodora pressed her temples. “But why would Mortie ask
you
to be a part of this? And anyway, he cannot marry someone else when he is already married to me.” Perspiration broke out on her upper lip and between her breasts.

“Evidently the new Marchioness of Stonehaven is a creature of delicate sensibilities who must be protected from the more sinister elements of her own designs. Mortimer wants me to help him do away with Stonehaven.”

“That cannot be so.”

“It
will
not be so because you and I shall work together in quite a different manner.”

She felt in danger of swooning. “I must go to Mortie at once. He will reassure me that this is all foolishness.”

Melony fell to her knees before Theodora. “You will not go to Mortimer. You will listen to me and do what I tell you to do.”

“Please stop this ... Why? Why shouldn’t I go to Mortie?”

“Because once Stonehaven is dead, Mortimer wants me to help him to do away with you.”

If only she didn’t love him.

Grace tore another sheet of paper into small pieces and dropped them on the pile beside her chair. Sketching usually had the power to divert her, but she couldn’t concentrate tonight.

Mairi had not returned to her mistress. Why should she? No doubt she’d been told that Grace would be with her husband.

She dashed lines onto a fresh sheet and tried to concentrate. Very quickly the bold shapes of tree limbs emerged.

She’d taken off the wedding gown and pushed it to the back of the wardrobe, where she need not set eyes upon it. Now she wore the simple dark blue velvet in which she’d first arrived at Kirkcaldy. A gown that made her appear dull and serious was exactly right for the occasion. Married solely for the purpose of safeguarding a man’s estate ... a man who received intimate messages from another female person—a person who was probably a
courtesan—on his wedding day.

The door, flying open to admit Mairi, caused Grace to jump.

“Och, miss ... I mean, m’lady. I’d didna expect ye t’be here.”

Grace did not feel like discussing her very personal disaster with anyone. “It’s all right. I don’t need anything.”

Bundled in her gray wool cloak and wearing a simple bonnet, Mairi shifted from foot to foot. She carried a willow basket.

“What is it, Mairi?”

“Well ... Deary me.”

“Mairi? Are you all right?”

“
I
’
m
fine. Och, I’ll just out wi’ it and take the consequences. I’d come for that.” She pointed to a tray on a table beside the bed.

In the middle of the day, when Grace had arrived from Edinburgh, an array of delicious-looking food had been delivered. She’d been too excited to touch it. “The food? You came to take the food away?”

“I’m not given to falsehoods,” Mairi said stoutly. “I came to put the food in this basket and take it to someone who could use it. I’d have gone to the kitchens for something, only Grumpy would have found out and dismissed me. There. Now y’know I’m a thief.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. If you need—”

“
I
don’t need anythin’. And I wasna only about to steal your food. I was goin’ t’take the blanket ye’re not usin’. And maybe even one o’ the nightrails ye’ll probably not be needin’ now ye’re a marchioness—on account o’ ye’ll have too many fine things to—”

“
Mairi.
“
Grace got up and pressed her fingers to the girl’s mouth. “Stop blatherin’ and tell me what this is all about.”

Huge tears sprang into the girl’s eyes.

“Oh, Mairi.” Grace pulled her into a fierce hug. “What’s the matter? Has something happened to your family?”

“N-No. It’s Gael Mercer. She’s the sweetest thing ye’d ever be likely t’meet, and it’s likely she’s dyin’.”

“Hush,” Grace said, rocking Mairi. “Tell me about her. Let me help you.”

“Well, she’s Robert Mercer’s wife. And they’ve a dear wee lassie named Kirsty. They’re tenants here at Kirkcaldy. Gael’s havin’ another babbie and she’s not strong enough. One o’ my sisters told me. She said Gael’s time has come and she’s ... The baby doesna want t’be born.”

“Surely there’s someone who knows about such things who can help.”

“Aye. The midwife, only she’s been called away to help wi’ another difficult birth and she canna leave t’be wi’ Gael. I dinna know what t’do except take somethin’ to tempt Gael to eat. She’s but a weak thing hersel’. And I thought a soft blanket and a pretty, delicate nightrail ... Och, I know I was wrong.”

Grace released Mairi and retied her trailing bonnet strings. “Enough of that. Put all of the food in the basket while I get the blanket. I think there may even be two. And I’ll get a nightrail. I’ve a little woolen spencer, too, in a pretty rose color. We’ll take that.”

Mairi hurried to do as she was told. “Thank ye,” she said, sweeping small sandwiches and little cakes from beneath a silver cover. “But I canna let ye come out into the night. It wouldna be right or proper. And what would his lordship say?”

“That’s the blankets,” Grace said, ignoring the reference to Arran. “And I think the nightrail with the embroidered poppies would be just the thing. Wait whilst I put on my boots. Kindly remember that I’m the mistress of Kirkcaldy now, and its people are
my
responsibility, too.”

Grace had never before been out beneath the stars in wild country where she did not know the way. She sat beside Mairi in an ancient cart pulled by an equally ancient-looking shaggy pony. Ignoring Mairi’s pleas to the contrary, Grace had slipped in through the kitchen gardens and entered the castle dairy to grab up a wheel of yellow cheese and a crock of fresh cream.