Highlanders (44 page)

“Come sit down,” he started toward the bench, still holding her tight, and she realized it was now or never. If she didn’t get him off to Gretna Green, she never would.

“If you don’t mind, my lord, I would prefer to walk.”

He halted. “A walk?” The words were drawled with nonchalance, but she knew he was surprised by her suggestion.  

“The exertion and fresh air will do me good,” she said. “I haven’t fully recovered from, er, recent events.”

“Indeed?” This time, amusement laced his voice.  “And a walk will put you to rights?”

She flushed with embarrassment and prayed he couldn’t see the blush she knew followed the heat creeping up her cheeks. “Fresh air cures many ailments.”

Eve looked up, then regretted meeting his gaze when his fingers flexed against her waist. A moment of silence passed. Why did he hesitate? He couldn’t conceive of, much less suspect, what she had in mind. No, she realized with a jolt of frustration. He was searching for a reason to decline the invitation. There could be no denying his arousal when they’d been jammed into the hidey hole in the parlor. He hadn’t hesitated then. Why now? Eve shifted so that her breast came in contact with his chest and pressed closer.  It seemed he was suddenly a statue, his body hard as stone, his hand on her waist an unmoving vice.

“Shall we, my lord?” she asked.

“That depends, my dear.”

Good Lord, she wasn’t Grace, but she was worth a walk in the gardens. What did she have to do, strip down to her shift in order to entice him? He lifted a hand and Eve froze when he ran a finger down her cheek.

His finger reached her chin and he grasped it. “Are you carrying a pistol?” She blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “A lady does not carry a pistol.”

He gave her chin a small squeeze. “A
lady
does not sleep with a pistol under her pillow.”

Ire flashed. “Use some sense. If I intended to shoot you again, the parlor would have been the place to do it.”

“Indeed?”

The amusement in his voice fueled her frustration. “It isn’t as if I asked you to walk the plank.”

“Oh, but you did,” he said. She pulled away, and he released her. “But, as I am a good swimmer, I am willing to take the plunge.”

The arm that had been pressed close to him prickled in the cool night air. An odd sense of lightheadedness gripped her. Warm fingers grasped her hand and Lord Rushton slipped that hand into the crook of his arm as he started forward. Movement amongst the hedges’ shadows snapped her back to attention.

She swallowed. Once they left the manicured gardens and entered the privacy of the shadowed hedges there would be no stopping Oscar from his assigned duty. Lord Rushton didn’t stand a chance against the hulking man. At Gretna Green, he would have no choice this time but to marry Grace, and Eve wouldn’t have to worry about having him as a husband.  No. She would then call him brother.

She thought she might be sick.

*****

Erroll feared his near painful erection would cripple him. Since leaving the parlor, he’d barely regained control. Then the vixen had pressed that lovely breast against his chest. She’d already witnessed how quickly the blood could rush to his cock—and his inability to think. She had to know how badly he wanted her. Her reluctant acquiescence in the small confines of their hiding place hadn’t fooled him into thinking she would spread her legs so easily, however. She would have had to be made of stone not to be aroused when jammed together with him. But after making it clear she had no intention of marrying him, he hadn’t expected an invitation to walk with her in the gardens. He strolled forward, willing his lust into submission with the promise of imminent satiation.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“Never better,” he replied.

“Is your leg well? You seem to be limping.”

It wasn’t his leg that caused the limp.

“I am sorry I shot you.”

At least this time she sounded half remorseful. “It is a mere flesh wound.”

“Your limp seems to be worsening,” she said.

He knew how to remedy that and once they reached the shadows—Erroll sensed someone behind them.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end even as a female silky voice at his back said, “A beautiful night for a walk, don’t you agree, my lord?”

He halted. One surprise a night was enough. He looked down at Miss Crenshaw. “We should have slaked our lust the instant the other couple left the parlor.”

Her eyes widened and he nearly laughed. Perhaps he’d been too direct. With a sigh, Erroll turned her toward Lady Diana Barrett. Light poured through the open ballroom doors and illuminated her tall, lithe figure standing in the grass a few feet from the stairs. Lady Barrett was stunning—or so he’d thought until two weeks ago when he ended their affair. Her allure evaporated the instant he realized she was angling for a husband and had him in her determined sights. What was she up to now? She had to know it was bad manners to accost them as they were headed for the gardens.

“Good evening, Diana,” he said.

“My lord,” she said, then to Miss Crenshaw, “Miss Crenshaw.”

“Lady Barrett,” Miss Crenshaw replied.

Diana glided forward. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

Miss Crenshaw’s fingers tightened around his arm as Diana stopped a few feet in front of them.

“I gather you read the announcement?” Erroll said to Diana.

“Is it in the newspapers?” she said with an innocence that didn’t fool him. “I suppose it is,” she went on, “but news that London’s most eligible bachelor is off the marriage mart is the talk of the town.”

“I believe Lord Gregory has that honor, not I.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “Every mamma in England hopes you will marry her daughter. But it seems those hopes are dashed.”

Erroll wasn’t lost to the innuendo in the words those hopes.  So Diana was letting him know that she was available for a liaison, despite his imminent nuptials. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised.

“What a shame,” Miss Crenshaw said.

“A shame?” Diana repeated.

“A shame that so many mammas must now look elsewhere to marry off their simpering daughters.”

Erroll looked down at Miss Crenshaw in surprise. Surely his prospective bride wasn’t jealous?

“I doubt those mammas would appreciate their daughters being referred to as simpering,” Diana said.

Erroll swung his gaze onto her. “I feel certain no one will tell them.”

Her face reddened.

“Be that as it may,” Miss Crenshaw interjected, “any hopes that have been dashed as a result of Lord Rushton’s betrothal will stay dashed.”

Well, well, this was a delightful turn of events. The little minx wasn’t going to take Diana’s jibes lying down. They would have a grand time before she cried off.

“I am certain Lord Rushton will deal with them as he sees fit,” Diana said.

The malicious note in her voice was even more than he’d expect. “Really, Diana,” he drawled, “you’re starting to bore me.”

Her eyes flew to his.

He laid a hand over Miss Crenshaw’s fingers, which still grasped his arm, and said to her, “I believe we were about to take a walk, my dear.”

She cast a nervous glance at Diana and he understood her anxiety.

“Miss Crenshaw and I haven’t had a moment alone.” He smiled at Lady Barrett. “You understand the need for discretion, Diana.”

Her mouth thinned and he knew she understood the warning. But he had no illusions. She wouldn’t heed him.

“Perhaps it would be best if we returned to the ballroom,” Miss Crenshaw said.

“Nonsense,” Erroll said. “There’s no need to waste a perfectly lovely night in a stuffy ballroom.” He began to lead her away.

“Damn Scottish bastard,” came the barely audible words behind them.

Erroll halted, but before he could turn, Miss Crenshaw whirled and demanded, “I beg your pardon?” The chilling tone in her voice sent an odd ripple of warmth through him. She added as he turned, “Are you insane?”

He noted the anger in her voice, but it was condescension that dripped from her words. His mother would be proud. No woman could cut a person to the quick—when deserved—faster than his own dear mamma.

Diana drew a sharp breath and opened her mouth to reply, but Erroll murmured, “Beware, Diana.”

Her eyes flew to his. She stared for a long moment, then whirled and started toward the mansion. Erroll didn’t wait for Miss Crenshaw to attack again. He steered her back toward the gardens and began walking.

She twisted and looked over her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

She faced forward. “That malicious cat. I wager her attitude was sweeter when you were bedding her.”

Erroll laughed. “Madam, you are a delight.”

“Rubbish. Do you think she will remain quiet about us being out here?”

“Likely, she has already chosen the biggest gossip to spread the news.”  If he wasn’t careful, he might find himself at Gretna Green after all.

“This is what I get for shooting a man with a past,” she muttered.

Erroll was certain she intended an affront, but he laughed again. “Miss Crenshaw, you have had some bad luck, haven’t you?”

“If I set a wedding date far enough into the future, I imagine one of your paramours will shoot you and save me the trouble,” she replied. “Although, if I married you first, I would be a very rich widow.”

He answered with mock gravity, “You would be only as rich as I choose to make you.”

“Oh no, my lord, you are going to make me a very generous marriage settlement. Rest assured, when you die, I will be a wealthy widow.”

“You seem quite certain I will die first.”

“If Lady Barrett is an example of your past paramours, it is a foregone conclusion. Why does the spiteful thing detest you so?”

“I didn’t want to marry her.”

“I can’t say I blame you,” Miss Crenshaw said.

They neared the tall bushes that marked the garden entrance. “Indeed, why?” he asked. 

“I have never liked her.”

“In truth, I never much liked her either,” he said.

“Then you deserve everything she has planned for you.”

Erroll was beginning to enjoy himself. “Again, you are quite right,” he said.

A small cry from the garden brought him to a halt and, an instant later, a young woman darted through the large hedges on the left.

Miss Crenshaw stepped forward, but Erroll held firm to the hand still entwined with his arm. “The lass will come to us,” he whispered.

The girl reached them, and Miss Crenshaw gasped. “Lady Gallagher?” This time, he allowed Miss Crenshaw to pull free of his hold. “Are you all right? What are you doing here?”

She glanced in the direction she had come, then answered in a shaky voice, “Yes,” 

A large figure separated from the dark shadows of the garden, answering Miss Crenshaw’s second question.

The man slowed. “Halifax,” Erroll said as he neared.

“Lord Halifax,” Miss Crenshaw said.

The note of censure in her voice was obvious to Erroll—to Halifax as well, when he said, “Miss Crenshaw.”

Lady Gallagher shrank closer to her as Halifax stopped in front of them.

“Out for a stroll, I see,” Erroll commented.

“Just as you are,” Halifax replied without apology.

“I hadn’t realized you and Lady Gallagher were to be married,” Erroll replied. “My felicitations.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Halifax shot back.

“I am never a fool.” Erroll looked at the girl. “Lady Gallagher, it would be best if you returned to the party.”

She glanced at Lord Halifax.

“No need to worry about Neville, my dear. Run along.”

“I will take her inside,” Miss Crenshaw said.

“Nonsense,” Erroll said. “She will go straight to her mamma, where she should have remained in the first place. Right, Lady Gallagher?”

“Yes, my lord,” she said in a small voice, but made no move to leave.

“There is no reason your mamma need learn of your mistake,” Erroll said.  “I am sure you learned your lesson.”

“Oh, yes, my lord.”

“Good. Be sure to straighten your dress before you enter the ballroom.”

She gave a small gasp and hurried toward the mansion. Lord Halifax started after her.

“I hear Lord Gallagher is a tolerable shot,” Erroll said.

Halifax stopped and faced him. “Then you must have heard I am a better shot.”

“I think you flatter yourself.”

“I do not care for threats, Rushton.”

“I don’t blame you,” Erroll replied. “I care nothing for them, either. Neither do I make threats.”

“What business is this of yours?” Halifax demanded.

Erroll sighed. “None.”

“Then we understand one another.”

“Sadly, we do not.”

“Then allow me to clarify,” Halifax said. “Do not interfere in my affairs.”