Kathryn Caskie - [Royle Sisters 02] (15 page)

A
nne found Laird on a grassy slope beside the lake, sitting slumped against an oak tree.

His eyes were swollen and his face drawn, but as she walked toward him through the damp grass, he turned to look up at her, and his lips lifted.

Though she tried to harden herself to him, her heart softened, and the urge to reach out to him tugged at her arms. “I shouldn’t have given you the letter. Whatever your brother had written upset you greatly.” She knelt beside him and ran a soothing hand through his hair.

“No, Anne, you did exactly the right thing by giving me this letter. It changes so much. I only wish that someone had found it sooner.”
Laird expelled a long breath. “I must thank my mother for lodging you in Graham’s bedchamber. Had you not found this…I might never have known.”

Anne shifted and sat on a grass tuft beside him, and together they stared out at the sun glistening on the glassy lake. After a few moments, she turned her gaze and glanced up at Laird. “There are several other unused bedchambers at the Hall. Why would she assign Graham’s to me?”

“I think it is just as she claimed, you are family to her now.” Laird wrapped his arms around his knees. “I am glad that she settled you in his chamber, and that you found the letter.”

Anne plucked a piece of new green grass from the earth. “Will you tell me what it said that touched you so deeply?”

Laird sighed at that. He came to his feet and leaned against the oak’s wide trunk. “My father always wished that I, as his heir, would follow his path in life. And I did for a time. But after I left Oxford, he purchased for me a fine commission in the cavalry. His years in the military had taught him discipline—something he believed I sorely lacked.”

Anne tilted her head and looked up at him. “You, in the military. Following orders. All neat and tidy, standing in very straight lines.” She shifted her gaze out over the sparkling water. “I am afraid I just cannot see it.”

Laird laughed. “Nor could I. So when the first opportunity presented itself, I sold it.”

“Oh dear. I do not expect that your father approved.”

“It stirred him up until he became red about the gills, that’s for certain, which, during my rebellious period, served to please me immensely.”

Anne rocked forward on her toes, standing. She walked down to the lake’s shore and crouched to find a round, smooth stone. “But Graham did join the dragoons; I believe Lady Henceforth mentioned it to me over tea.”

“He did, and very suddenly, too.” Laird came to stand beside Anne upon the muddy water’s edge. “Not even my father knew his second son had indeed stepped into his oversized boots until Graham was packed off to the Peninsula.”

“Your father must have been proud of Graham for taking the initiative and mirroring his grand career.”

Laird shook his head dolefully. “He wasn’t. It was his opinion that my brother’s life was now in danger because he felt he had to fulfill the family duty—because
I
was too much of a coward to do it myself.”

Anne turned her gaze up at Laird. “Your father actually said that to you?”

He shrugged his left shoulder. “Graham and I were very close. So Father knew just how to plunge the knife when he decided he wanted to hurt me.” He paused for a long moment. “I never saw Graham again.” Laird looked down and noticed that Anne was offering him a flat stone. He leaned to his side and skipped the stone, sending it across the lake along with the weighty memories that had plagued him for more than a year.

“That was very unfair of your father.” Anne loosened another stone from the damp mud at the shore. She held it up to Laird.

But this time he clasped her wrist and hauled her to her feet. “But you, Anne, my absolutely mad darling, redeemed me with this letter.”

“I?” Anne’s mouth was still agape when he pulled her hand over her head and spun her in
a tight circle. “Stop, stop, Laird.” Her laugh tinkled like sleigh bells.

“Don’t you see? Until this letter, I believed I was, as my father claimed, responsible for Graham’s death. This letter frees me.” Laird dropped Anne’s hand and brought the letter to his lips and kissed it loudly.

“The letter…what does it say?” Anne rested her hands on her hips as she gathered her breath.

“In this letter, Graham admits that he purchased the commission because he had to leave St. Albans. The woman he loved was marrying a much older, wealthier man, and it pained him too greatly to remain.” Laird’s mouth curved into a wide grin. “Don’t you see, Anne? Graham didn’t sign over his life because I failed to meet Father’s expectations. He was in love.”

A dark curtain cloaked Anne’s bright expression, and she became instantly silent.

“Anne? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself over.” Anne started hurriedly walking to the house.

“Anne!” Laird ran after her. Grabbing her hand, he whirled her into his arms to face him. “What is worrying you? What is it?” His mouth
was only a hand’s width from hers, and he knew he walked in dangerous territory.

“I…’tis nothing.” Anne’s cheeks colored as she tried to pull away.

“Anne, you are a terrible liar. God knows, it’s not from lack of practice.
Please
.” He tried to convince her with a light smile. “Nothing can blight my day now. The guilt of my brother’s death has been lifted from my shoulders, by Jove.”

“Lady Henceforth admitted something to me today—something I don’t believe she intended to share.” Anne chewed her bottom lip, and her brow furrowed deeply. “What she said makes me fairly certain that the woman your brother spoke of in his letter is…
she
.”

“Constance?” Laird grew very still. His gaze searched Anne’s own.

Anne nodded solemnly. “I believe so.”

“Wh-what did she say?” he asked hesitantly.

“Laird, I may be wrong.”

“Please. Tell me.”

“All right. She that she had been in love with a young man, but her parents, on her behalf, accepted an offer from an elderly man—Lord Henceforth. And that the young man purchased
a commission when he learned she was to marry Lord Henceforth.”

“I heard not one word of this.” Laird slowly lowered his hands to his sides. He was completely stunned, as though he’d taken a blow to the back of his head with a rifle butt.

“I am sorry. Perhaps I should not have mentioned anything…I only saw a connection where, I fully admit, there may be none at all.” Anne reached a comforting hand out to Laird, but he took a step away, and her fingertips came away empty. “Laird, please forgive me. If you wish it, I will go to Chasten Cottage on the morrow and speak with Lady Henceforth to clear up this misunderstanding. I am sure that is all it was.” Her cheeks flushed red, and she averted her gaze.

“No.” Laird shook his head dully.” We both know you did not mistake her words.”

Anne clearly did not comprehend the significance of a past love match between Lady Henceforth and his brother. His life might have been so different…if only he had known. The possibility of a relationship between the two certainly begged for some hard answers.

“I thank you for offering to spare me from
this, Anne, but I must speak with Constance myself. If she and my brother were in love, then I must question everything that I believe existed between us. Please, excuse me, Anne. I must go to Chasten Cottage. I have a question to ask, one that only Constance can answer.”

A
nne scraped a layer of mud from the soles of her boots, then sat down on the steps to unfasten the buttons and remove them before entering the house.

“Anne, my sweeting,” Lady MacLaren called to her from the drawing room. “I am so glad you and Laird have returned from your walk. I saw you from my bedchamber window. Did you enjoy the view? The light on the water is so beautiful this time of day. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Lady MacLaren, very much.” Anne dangled her muddy boots behind her.

“A parcel arrived for you while you were out—from your sister, the Duchess of Blackstone.” Lady MacLaren secured her needle into the woven silk stretched between the embroi
dery hoops, then peered around Anne into the entry passage beyond “Laird? A special messenger brought a letter for you—
from the House of Lords
.” She waggled her brows proudly at Anne.

“The House of Lords?” Anne echoed. Oh, how she wished Laird were here to receive the letter…instead of heading across the fields to confront Lady Henceforth.

“Yes, what say you to that, son?” The countess’s tone was buoyant with happiness. “The summons could not be better timed, eh?”

“Lady MacLaren, your son is not with me presently. He…decided on a ride and made a path straight to the stables rather than returning to the house.” Anne’s boots began to slip from her grip, and so she dropped a serviceable curtsy, with just enough bounce to regain purchase on the leather straps. “Do excuse me; I am excited to learn what my sister has sent.” Anne started to turn to quit the room when Lady MacLaren called out to her again.

“He did not trot off to call upon Lady Henceforth again, did he?” Anne turned back to see a scowl twisting the countess’s lips.

Anne opened her mouth, but then closed it
promptly. What use would adding another lie to her collection serve?

“He is betrothed to
you
, Anne. He ought not be seeing
that woman
at all.”

“Truly, I do not mind.” Anne glimpsed the parcel from her sister on the table near the door and slid a stocking-clad foot a few inches in that direction.

“Well, I do mind, and so should you.” Lady MacLaren began to pace the drawing room with a stern, determined expression on her round face.

Anne slid her foot a few more inches. Just a little farther, and she could reach out and snatch up the parcel. She pointed her toe, and her foot began to move over the polished floor.

Oh good heavens. She tried to stop it, but it shot out from beneath her skirts. Anne waved the boots in her hand in wild circles to catch her balance. Her other hand scrambled for the drawing room door frame. Neither worked. Teetering backward, she slipped onto her backside.

“You know, dear, I have yet to arrange a proper betrothal ball for you and Laird—
in Town
.” Lady MacLaren thrummed her fingertips on her lower lip. “What say you…we leave on the morrow
for London?” Lady MacLaren whirled around, just as Anne managed to restore her footing and come to her feet.

London?
Heat pricked at the backs of her eyes, though Anne wasn’t quite sure why.

She should be thrilled to return to London. The letters weren’t here, after all. And from the first, Lady Henceforth had brought her nothing but difficulty. She should be happy. Returning to London was without doubt the best thing for her given the wretched state of affairs.

“So what say you, Anne?” Lady MacLaren bobbed her head like a chicken, and Anne belatedly realized she wished Anne to do the same.

And so she did. “I think the idea is splendid.”

“It is brilliantly timed, isn’t it? We shall have two grand reasons to celebrate, the engagement and my dear son taking his rightful place in the House of Lords at last,” she added cheerfully. “Oh, what am I doing dawdling like this? I should see to my packing right away.” Lady MacLaren started for the doorway. “Solange! Solange, come at once!”

Before Lady MacLaren could reach the passage, Anne twirled and grabbed the parcel Mary
had sent. She curled her toes, and using her nails for traction, lest she slip again, crept back across the entry hall for the staircase and her bedchamber above.

The moon had just taken its place in the darkening sky and the night air was cool to Anne’s skin as she stood in the south garden breathing in the heady fragrance of a cluster of white flowers. She’d miss this garden. She’d miss MacLaren Hall and the countess. She’d even miss Laird.

Lud, she could not pretend any longer, though she wished she could. Once she returned to London, she would never return to St. Albans again.

Her life would never be the same.

Anne felt an aching emptiness in her heart, as if she were leaving her home and family forever. How odd that she should feel this way after so short a time. But she could not deny the force of her sense of loss.

The crunching of gravel and shells drew Anne’s attention, and she looked over her shoulder toward the garden path.
Laird
. She knew this, felt his presence, even before he rounded the prickly hedge of holly and came into view.

“I didn’t expect anyone to be in the garden at this hour,” he said.

This did not fool Anne for a moment. He had come to the garden to find her.

“The house is abuzz with activity. It seems we’re returning to London,” he said.

Anne swung around to look directly at him. “You are going as well? Tomorrow?” The unintended exuberance in her voice brought a flush to her cheeks.

“Well, yes,” he replied. Even in the soft moonlight, she could see that he was smiling.

He wasn’t wearing a coat, or even a waistcoat. His lawn shirt was open at the throat and his doeskin breeches were tucked into his Hessian boots. He looked as though he had just come back from a very long, hard ride—although Anne knew Chasten Cottage was only a clutch of minutes from MacLaren Hall.

She wrenched her gaze from him, thankful her shrewish thoughts had not solidified into hurtful words.

“Your mother is planning a betrothal ball.” She plucked a pale blossom, and raising it to her nose, sniffed deeply.

“I heard. But my haste in returning to Town
supersedes my mother’s social inclinations.”

She raised her eyes to his. “What do you mean by that?”

“I received a Writ of Summons. I have been commanded to attend Parliament and take my father’s seat.”

“You deserve it, Laird.” Anne smiled at him. “You are worthy of the responsibility.”

“My father would have never agreed.”

Anne walked toward him. “But your father is gone—and he was wrong about you.”

“Are you so sure?” Laird looked away from her. She lifted her hand to his jaw and turned his face to her. He needed to hear what she had to say.

“Yes. Don’t you understand? He likely blamed you for his own faults because he could not accept his own weaknesses.”

“How could you know this?”

“Because I have been invisible nearly all my life. I’ve watched people, learned from them, and over the years, I have come to understand that those who hate, who criticize, who blame with fervor, are in truth punishing others for the faults they see in themselves.” Anne lowered her hand from his face and grasped Laird’s hands in
her own. “Your father had risen to great power in the House of Lords, but then, likely due to his own overweening pride and ambition, it slipped away from him. A man like that is bound not to accept his own failure in politics, and so, perhaps, he set his eye on grooming you, a bright young man, to succeed where he had failed.”

“I told you once before, I could never meet his expectations.”

“Of course not; no one could. Even he couldn’t meet his own lofty requirements of himself. Laird, you were not to blame for his failures in government. You were not to blame for Graham heading off to war, or even for being jilted by Lady Henceforth.” Without meaning to, Anne gave him a single shake, needing to make him understand, needing for him to believe her. “You are a good man. A gentleman. And if anyone can restore the proud MacLaren name in Parliament and in society, it is
you
.”

“I have never had anyone believe in me as you do, Anne.” Laird’s eyes were swimming, but he chuckled quietly. “I would not be surprised if you somehow arranged for the Writ of Summons to be issued just now.”

“Oh no. If a string was pulled, it would be
by Apsley, would it not?” Anne grinned. “This summons was a piece of the supposed wager, wasn’t it? You take your father’s seat in Parliament…and become betrothed. I think those were the terms.”

Laird laughed and waved his index finger in the air. “No, darling, I believe I was to marry before the end of the season and take my father’s seat. I have done neither—
yet
.”

“Ah, but you will.” Anne turned from him, not wanting to face him as she spoke her next words. “Lady Henceforth no longer seems to find you an unfit match. Truth to tell, after speaking with her yesterday, I think she has it in her mind to nudge me out of her way. But that will not be so difficult, will it, since she was always your intended in this scheme?” She heard him come up fast behind her then, and bit her lower lip in nervous anticipation.

He grasped her shoulders and spun her around to face him. His eyes were deadly serious, his grip firm, and Anne knew he would not release her until he had responded.

“Anne.” Even in the moonlight, his eyes burned like the cobalt center of a flame. “What is it
you
want?”

She averted her gaze and stared off at a cluster of vines in the distance, trying very hard not to choke on the emotions congealing around her words. “What a ridiculous question, my lord. You know all too well that my only wish is to be free of these lies.”

Laird lifted his hand from one of her shoulders, cupped her chin, and turned her face to his. His eyes seemed to search hers.

But it was the truth.

Heat pricked and seared the backs of her eyes, so she squeezed her lids closed.

Anne couldn’t pretend to be Laird’s betrothed any longer. She was so…“So tired of pretending.”

“Then don’t pretend.”

Anne’s eyes flicked open. She hadn’t meant to say that.

Laird released his hold on her, allowing her to step away, flee into the garden if that was what she wished.

She stood before him, unmoving. Her head tilted upward to look into his dark eyes. Anne had seen him look at her in that questioning way only once before…in the library.

And by degrees, it became clear to her what he was doing just now—he was asking her to
decide what she really wanted. Asking her if she wanted him.

She lowered her chin, thinking as she inhaled a deep fortifying breath into her lungs. Then, her decision made, Anne stepped forward.

His arms came around her body and held her tight. She fell against him, felt his mouth against her throat.

Suddenly, he lifted Anne in the air and whirled her around, laying her gently in a bed of perfumed white blossoms.

Anne braced herself for the full weight of him to move over her, but he settled a hand just over each of her shoulders and gently lowered his body to hers, his mouth to her lips.

His wet tongue skimmed her lips, and she obligingly parted them, inviting him inside. It was the sweetness of brandy she expected to taste, but she didn’t. Instead she reveled in the heat of his mouth. All she smelled was a light, smoky maleness.

He shifted his weight and laid alongside her. “No more pretending—either of us.”

Anne nodded and caught his shoulder. She pulled him closer.

“I’ve wanted nothing so much in my life, Anne, as I want you now.” Laird grabbed a handful of her green taffeta gown and pulled it high about her hips.

She squirmed, and then she felt his hands moving again, almost touching her…yes, touching her now. Slowly, so softly.

“Oh!” Her hips bucked as his hand slid through the furl of her womanhood and found her core. His thumb centered there and caressed her in slow circles, making her arch and press against his hand.

His breath was suddenly hot about her chest. He caught the ribbon at her bodice between his teeth and tugged until the taffeta parted. He unfastened her chemise.

The night air was cool on her breasts, and when his teeth nipped at each of her rose peaks, it almost hurt, but not quite. Her nipples throbbed now.

“Laird
.” She was mindless with pleasure. A surge of heat built mercilessly between her quivering thighs as he kissed and sucked and caressed her.

He felt hot and hard as stone against her hip, and so Anne rolled just enough that her far hand
could reach him there. She fumbled to open his fall, lowering the fabric to allow her fingers inside. Hesitantly she took him into her hand.

She didn’t know quite what to do. Still, when she guided him, hard and pulsing, from the fabric cocoon and into the air, she heard him gasp.

Boldly exploring him with her fingers, she grasped him firmly and ran her hand down his long length, and then back up again, squeezing the thick tip.

Laird thrust his head back, and the cords that ran down either side of his neck grew taut.

She caught his shoulder to urge him over her, spreading her legs so that he might move between them.

How she wanted to feel his body against hers, feel his weight upon her, feel him taking her, filling her. He leaned back, and while balancing himself on his knees, knelt between her thighs, and whisked his lawn shirt off.

Reaching up, she touched the mounds of his chest, and then trailed her fingers down to the muscles carved into his abdomen. “Laird, I do not pretend now. I want you.” She slid her hands up to his jaw and drew him to her. She kissed his lips, but still she felt him trying to pull back.

She could smell his need for her, and she knew he could feel the growing dampness between her own legs. “Please, Laird.”

“I want you, Anne, so much.” At last he eased over her. He leaned back for an instant, and his hands were lifting her hips to him. Slowly he pushed forward, until just the thick, plum-shaped tip of him nudged between her woman’s lips.

She bucked her hips against him. He was almost inside her—almost. The heat of his engorged tip pushed inside…yes…but then he pulled back. Another thrust. Anne twisted and pushed down on him. Yes…
this
time.