Kilgannon (10 page)

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Authors: Kathleen Givens

Tags: #Historical, #Scotland - Social Life and Customs - 18th Century, #Scotland - History - 1689-1745, #Scotland, #General, #Romance, #Historical Fiction, #England - Social Life and Customs - 18th Century, #Fiction, #Love Stories

BOOK: Kilgannon
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"That's the beginning," he said huskily, and was silent so long that I opened my eyes, looking across the dark stones to where he stood in shadow. "I always thought that poem a grand thing to say to a lass, if seduction were yer object."

"Is it your object?" I whispered.

"Well, I wouldna say no." He moved into the light slowly, coming to stand before me with an intent expression. Over his head the arches of the alcove seemed to sway, and he caught my arm as I wavered. I closed my eyes when he pulled me against him. An hundred years should go to praise
thine eyes
he said, and kissed my eyelids softly in turn. "And on thy forehead gaze.'''' He kissed my temples, letting his lips rest on my skin for an instant at each. "Two hundred to adore each breast....' He ran his hands along my shoulders and down my arms, then pulled me closer and kissed my hair. I could feel his body's unmistakable reaction to mine and felt my own tremble in answer. For, lady, you deserve this state," he whispered. "Och, Mary, I canna.... but make no mistake, I do want ye." He kissed me with a passion I'd never known, and the world faded. For a few moments we explored each other, then turned as one at a discreet cough behind us. We saw no one there but reluctantly stepped apart, facing each other.

Alex smiled slowly. "I kent it, Mary. We'd not be bored."

I shook my head, unable to answer. No man had ever spoken to me like this or kissed me like that and I wasn't sure of my reaction. I gestured to the side door, and he followed me without a word through the cloisters and into the street. My mind was in a tumble, and I pressed my swollen lips together. I knew I should have stopped him from touching me so boldly. I had chosen not to.

Outside, the rain had stopped, and I watched steam rise in wavy plumes from the street while he consulted his watch. "We'll have to hurry," he said, leading the way. "Yer brother will be only so tolerant, I'm thinking. I really was well behaved, ye must agree." "You were outrageous," I said quietly.

"Ye dinna ken my thoughts, lass. I was very well behaved."

I ignored my flush but touched my fingers to my lips and remembered. Alex watched me with a serious expression, and I searched for something to chase the thoughts away from both of us. "You'll be back for only two days? And then leave again?"

"Aye, that's the plan, but I'm going to see what I can do about that. I've already sent Malcolm on ahead to" —he frowned to himself—"to Holland instead of going myself; that's why ye've not met him. Ye will soon enough. I must go myself now."

"You're going to France."

He raised his eyebrows. "Am I?"

I nodded. "Yes. You say you're going to Holland, which you may be, but you're also going to France."

He glowered at me. "Are ye always so damned clever, lass?"

"Sometimes I am very stupid." And sometimes very foolish, I thought, then laughed. I felt reckless. And very happy.

"I canna believe that. Yer a clever woman, Mary, and ye make me laugh more than any woman I've met. I enjoy that verra much."

"Don't change the subject. You're going to France. Why?"

He laughed wryly. "Yer also the
stubbornest
woman I've met."

"Yes, Alex, and you're evasive," I said.

He paused, his eyes a dangerous dark blue. "If we were not in public, Mary Lowell...." he said, and started walking again.

"Why are you going to France?" I trotted along behind him.

"Wine."

"Wine?"

"Aye. The English love their claret, even if they're not supposed to buy it because of the war. I bring them their claret. And chocolate from the Low Countries. I'll bring ye chocolate, lass."

"So I will see you again?"

He stopped and turned to me. "That's for ye to decide, Mary. If ye say the word I'll be at yer side the minute I land. If ye say no, I'll not bother ye again. Ye've been most kind."

"I've not been kind at all, Alex. I've enjoyed every minute," I said, and then shook my head. "Well, perhaps not every minute."

He looked worried. "What did ye not enjoy?"

"If you remember, sir, I don't like flirting, and that includes Rowena."

He smiled slowly. "I'll remember that."

"Do you know what she told me?" He shook his head. "She said I should marry Robert and see you on the side."

His eyebrows arched. "What is yer feeling on this suggestion?"

"I'd never be unfaithful to my husband."

"Yer Campbell will be most pleased to hear that."

"Perhaps not." I held his gaze. "But perhaps my husband would be."

He blinked. We walked for another minute in silence.

"Alex?"

"Aye?" He sounded distracted.

"You're right. It is fun." When he looked confused, I smiled up at him. "Speechless."

He shook his head slowly. "Yer a one, Mary Lowell."

"Alex, you did not answer my question. Will I see you again?"

He stopped again. "I told ye, lass. It's yer decision. Do ye wish to see me again, or shall I go away and
no’ come
back?" His hair blew around his shoulders, and the weak sunlight glinted off the tiny golden whiskers on his cheeks. I watched his chest move with his breathing and a vein beat in his neck. How could his eyes be so blue? I wanted to stroke his cheek, to kiss those lips, to hold him against me. Had there ever been a man like this?

"The minute you land, Alex, I'll expect you at my door."

"Mary, ye ..." I'd not seen Alex flustered, but that's what he appeared to be. "I ..." He looked at the buildings around us and took a deep breath. "The minute I land, Mary."

I smiled and then jumped as a shrill voice sounded behind me.

"Miss Lowell, how lovely to see you! Who is your friend?"

I turned to see Madeline Shearson, a fearsome gossip, and her daughter, {Catherine. When I introduced Alex as the Earl of Kilgannon, Madeline took a closer look. Katherine needed no prompting, simpering as she offered her hand. He bowed over it very properly. The gods were with us that day, for just as I would have had to explain what I was doing alone with a Scottish earl on the streets of London, Will appeared at my side.

"I'm back, Mary," he said cheerfully. "How nice to see you again, Madam Shearson, and the beautiful Miss Shearson. Have you met my friend Kilgannon, who is visiting me from Scotland?"

I gave Will a bright smile and watched as he managed them effectively. Within a moment he had bundled me into a carriage that had appeared at the curb and herded Alex in with us. We waved good-bye to the Shearsons, and Will quickly explained that we were dropping Alex off at the next corner and returning home at once. "We will talk later, Mary," he said, trying to glower at me. I laughed and he looked at Alex. "Kilgannon?"

Alex held up his hands. "I was an angel, Lowell. Ask yer sister. Until the last we had amazing luck. I'm in yer debt, sir."

As the carriage drew to the curb again and stopped, Alex jumped out. "The minute I land, Mary," he said, and closed the door on his smile.

Will raised an eyebrow at me. "I hope I don't regret this." "I don't, Will," I said with a contented sigh. "Thank you."

My brother frowned.

 

T
HE GODS WERE INDEED WITH US THAT DAY. LOUISA and Betty hardly mentioned that we'd been gone. Randolph was coming home, and the house was in an uproar. I swore to myself that I'd do ten good deeds for this day. It wasn't until I was alone in my room that I realized I still had the half plaid. Any other day Louisa would have noticed it immediately, I thought as I wrapped it around me. The cloth smelled like Alex, a masculine scent that reminded me of soap and the sea. My imagination, no doubt, but I liked the idea. And I liked that Alex talked to me as though I had a brain. I was weary of being told not to worry about the things men discussed. No other man I knew included me in his thoughts the way Alex did. No one.

To my surprise the next few days flew by. Randolph arrived safely, and Louisa was with him constantly. He was devoted to her, as usual, which had always surprised me, for Randolph was often brusque with the rest of the world. Although he and Louisa had been married for over eight years, I did not know him well. At first I'd been too young and then I'd been at Mountgarden while my mother was ill. In those first years I had resisted Randolph mightily. He was not my uncle Duncan, and I resented that. I realized now that my affection for Duncan probably played no small part in my willingness to consider a Scotsman as a suitor.

But I was not unnoticed. Someone had been telling tales, and Randolph took his duties as chaperon most seriously. We had a long discussion, during which I argued that I had done nothing untoward at Louisa's party. All this for some conversation in the dining room, I thought. What would he say if he discovered I'd seen Alex again and roamed the streets with him? Randolph stumbled through what he thought he needed to tell me, softening it at the end with an apologetic smile. My resentment faded as I watched his faltering attempts at being my uncle. The man meant well, I knew, but he did not need to know what was in my heart. It was enough that I did.

Alone later, I told myself to be sensible and heed Randolph's warnings. I really did not know Alex. I knew how very blue his eyes were, how golden his hair, and how contagious his laughter. He was the most charming companion. But he realistic, I scolded myself. He may never appear at your door again, And that might be for the best.

Dinner with Robert and his mother was enjoyable, but I kept hearing the echoes of Alex's laughter, and even Robert seemed to notice the difference. He did his best to be engaging and witty, which was unlike Robert, but he had no counterpart. Under other circumstances, I suspected, he and Alex might have been great friends.

At last Rebecca returned from Bath, and I dined twice with her family and Lawrence's. Louisa had, of course, discussed Alex with Becca's mother, Sarah, her closest friend, a strong-willed woman who was no stranger to London's prejudices. Sarah's father-in-law had seriously opposed his son's marriage to "an outsider," as he had called Sarah, but

Rebecca's father had married Sarah despite the opposition and the marriage had been happy. She had been kind to me through the years and tonight greeted me warmly,, As I knew she would when the men withdrew, she asked me about Alex. I was only too happy to discuss him, and we talked at length. And I talked of him again with Becca when we were at last alone.

She laughed at me. "I told you he was memorable, Mary, but honestly! I should never have left you here without me. You should see your expression when you talk about him. You silly goose! What will you do?"

"Wait."

Becca's expression grew worried. "Mary, you're from very different worlds. He's a Scot. If he does come back, are you prepared for what that will mean?"

"What will it mean?" I laughed, but she was serious.

"You know what it will mean. Louisa will not be pleased. Everyone expects you to marry Robert. Are you prepared to marry a stranger and go to Scotland and live there the rest of your life?"

"Becca, I hardly know him! Alex has not asked me to marry him. We have talked a few times, that's all. Besides, I'd not be leaving everything I know as you are. It's not the same at all. Your decision was much larger. Do you not worry about it?"

Rebecca shook her head. "I cannot live without Lawrence, and I will go to where his home is." She sighed. "I'm happy to marry, but I'm not happy to be leaving everything and everyone I know. Mary, who would have expected this? Me going across the Atlantic? I would have thought we'd be in London together the rest of our lives. I thought we'd be like your aunt and my mother, great friends and neighbors, living three houses apart for years. Will we ever see each other again after I leave? Will we still be friends when we are their age? Promise me we will be."

"Becca," I said, embracing her. "Of course we will. We'll always be friends," I said, but I wondered how we could be with thousands of miles between us.

In the next few days we visited with other friends, and they all asked about Alex. When I said he was the handsomest man I'd ever seen, Janice sniffed with distaste, declaring that he was too big and his chin too pointed. "It's uncivilized that he won't wear a wig. He wears those ridiculous clothes and has children. And," she paused for emphasis, "he trades with other countries."

"Indeed he does," I had laughed. "That alone has stopped me from marrying him already." But Janice had not been amused. I sighed and sat quietly, dreaming of Westminster Abbey while she explained yet another reason that Alex was unsuitable.

Nine days went by faster than I could have imagined. Will and Betty went home to Warwickshire as planned. I had been scheduled to go with them but begged to stay in London for another week. On the tenth day I refused all invitations and stayed at home the entire day, pretending to read. No one came to the house, no one brought a message, and I told myself that ten days was how long Alex would be gone. I really couldn't expect to hear anything until the eleventh. On the eleventh day I told myself that I'd hear any moment. On the twelfth I was bursting into tears unexpectedly all day, making speeches in my head and calling myself the world's greatest fool. I was grateful that Will was gone to Mountgarden, for he'd have something to say to me about this. Late that afternoon, with both Louisa and Randolph gone, I walked aimlessly in the gardens and turned at the sound of shoes on gravel to see Bronson approaching me. He wordlessly handed me a letter, his disapproval obvious. I did not recognize the writing, but the note carried the MacGannon crest, and as Bronson left I ripped it open.

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