Lana and the Laird (38 page)

“I was haunting him.”

Well, hell. Lachlan already knew as much. “Why?”

“Because he hired me to.” As simple as that. “I needed the work.”

“Who hired you?” Alexander asked.

The man's gaze flickered back to Lachlan. It seemed almost sympathetic. “Dougal MacBain.”

Again, Lachlan had already known as much. It didn't ease the sting of the confirmation.

“He hired you in London?”

“Yes. And then paid me to follow you to Scotland.”

“And act as my father's ghost?”

The man puffed up his chest. “I'm an excellent actor. One of the best in London. Archie Dunphy. Toast of the stage!”

“Really?” Alexander said drily. “Which was why you needed work so badly you agreed to perpetrate a hoax against a
peer
?” The accusation, blatant as it was, seemed to pierce Archie's hubris. Men had lost their heads for less.

“He said no one would ever find out. He said the duke was addicted to the poppy. And needed guidance.”

Lachlan growled. Dougal was the one who kept insisting on the laudanum.

“That doesn't change the fact that you agreed to do this. That doesn't change the fact that you will, in all likelihood, spend the rest of your days in Newgate.”

The man truly paled at that, beneath all the ash, but Lachlan wasn't feeling terribly sympathetic at the moment. This man had plagued him for years on end, made his life a living hell. He would pay … but Dougal would pay, too.

And speaking of which … “The messages you gave me? Were they fed to you?”

“Of course. Sometimes I was told just to moan and groan. Sometimes there were lines. But there was always a script. Like I said, you needed guidance.”

It was all Lachlan could do to keep from planting his fist in Archie's face. All the visitations he'd suffered rippled through his mind like waves, and his anger grew.

Return to Scotland.

Refurbish the castle.

Order the Clearances.

All goddamn lies. Manipulation.

Again, he had to wonder why.

“Your Grace, do you have any more questions of this man before we lock him up for the night?” Hamish asked.

“Just one. Did you sit for the portrait?” It was something that had been nagging Lachlan ever since Lana had shared her suspicions about his ghost.

“Yes.”

Damn. His heart sank. Even the portrait of his father—the one connection he had to William Sinclair—was a fake.

Alexander and Hamish heaved the man to his feet and then rewrapped the chains, lest he try to make a break for freedom, and then led him to the door. Lachlan followed. He wouldn't rest tonight until he saw this man behind bars … and finally confronted Dougal.

Once they had secured Archie Dunphy in a cell beneath the castle, Alexander and Hamish insisted on accompanying Lachlan to his cousin's chambers in the servants' quarters.

He shouldn't have been surprised that they were empty.

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Lana didn't sleep well at all, and it had little to do with the fact that Isobel snored. Her mind was filled with memories of the last two nights, of the bliss she'd known in Lachlan's arms, and the deep desire for more.

More than once she sat up, with the intent of skulking through the halls to his rooms, but she managed to talk herself out of it. For one thing, if Isobel woke and found her gone, her niece might be upset, and when she was upset she tended to howl loudly enough to wake the parish. Worse, she might work out where Lana had gone and follow. The last thing she wanted was for Isobel to walk in on … something.

And she would walk in.

Isobel rarely knocked.

So with a sigh, each time, Lana forced herself to lie back down and close her eyes and pretend to try to sleep. But she knew it was a farce.

By the time morning came, she was exhausted. She attempted to appear cheerful as she and Isobel dressed for the day, but it wasn't until they were heading down to the morning room for breakfast that her mood really lightened. Because she realized she would be seeing him again soon.

Indeed, as Lana and Isobel entered the room, he was there at the table with Dunnet, Andrew, and Hamish. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. His dark expression and the rings beneath his eyes told her he hadn't slept well, either. The thought that he might have missed her as much as she missed him was wickedly pleasing.

She smiled at him as she made her way to the breakfront to fill a plate. When she turned back to the table, she stilled as she realized the other men's expressions were just as grim.

“What's wrong?” she asked as she sat.

“There was an intruder in the duke's rooms last night,” Andrew muttered.

“Oh?” Lana's gaze snapped to Lachlan. Fear flickered. Surely someone had not crept into his rooms with the intent to do him harm. Not here. Not in her
home
. “Your ghost?” she asked hopefully.

Heads swiveled. “How did you know about that?” Dunnet asked in a tight tone.

“Lana has been … helping me figure all this out,” Lachlan said.

Dunnet's eyes narrowed. “Really?”

Lachlan seemed blissfully unaware of Dunnet's suddenly sharp attention. Or perhaps he thought that if he ignored it, it would go away. “She was the one who suspected my nightly visitor wasn't a real ghost.”

“Really? And how, precisely, did she figure that out?”

Oh, dear. Her brother-in-law's tone was rather … growly. His fingers were beginning to flex, and she didn't want him jumping to the right conclusions and punching anyone. She decided to step in and assuage his suspicions. “Lachlan told me the ghost was wearing chains,” she said matter-of-factly. “Ghosts doona wear chains.”

“They doona?” Isobel's brow wrinkled.

“Not in my experience.”

Dunnet seemed to relax, a tad, but his focus on Lachlan was still sharp.

Lana thought it best not to mention the bit about the shuffling and the fact that the ghost was wearing wool, because, being as inquisitive as they were, they would probably want to know how she knew that.

“Aye. Well, he was, indeed, not a ghost, but a man. And we captured him,” Andrew said. “He's in the dungeon.”

“Excellent.” Lana buttered a scone. “Did you find out who put him up to it?”

“Aye.” Lachlan frowned. “It was Dougal.”

“Hmm.” She didn't like that flash of pain in his eyes. “Have you confronted him?”

“We canna find him,” Hamish said. “His room is empty.”

“Likely, he heard the scuffle last night and realized the jig was up.” Dunnet glanced at Lachlan. “No doubt he's long gone.”

“Perhaps.” Lachlan didn't look convinced. Indeed, his expression was serious. “We should all be on alert, though. Should he turn up, I want him apprehended. I have more questions for him.”

Dunnet nodded. “As do I,” he said fiercely. Now,
this
ferocity, Lana quite liked, because it was on Lachlan's behalf. She didn't miss the flicker of gratitude in his expression.

Lana nibbled away at her breakfast as the men discussed various plans, and then Hamish left to issue the orders to his men. When Hannah and Susana breezed into the room, they commanded the attention of all, as they always did, which gave Lana and Lachlan an opportunity to speak with some element of privacy. Isobel, of course, was occupied with her plate of cakes.

Lana leaned toward him. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that,” she murmured.

“Thank you. I'm glad it is settled, though. At least, that part of it.”

She toyed with her fork. “Do you think Dougal has fled?”

“I really don't know and frankly, I don't want to think about him.”

“Really?” She liked the sudden glimmer in his eye. “And what do you want to think about?”

“You know.”

Ah. His expression made her body warm. She flicked a look around the table. The others were discussing Hannah's unfortunate craving for eels, and postulating on whether or not Cook might be persuaded to make some for breakfast. Isobel was staring at Hannah, entranced, with a look of revulsion on her tiny face.

As they were all thusly occupied at the moment, she felt it safe to whisper, “Shall we meet in the library?”

His lips tweaked. “Five minutes?”

“Perfect.”

Excitement swirled in her belly at the thought of being with him, alone with him, again. Soon. When he stood and yawned, murmuring something about being tired and wishing to rest after such a trying night, the others nodded their understanding and waved him off. He paused at the door and glanced back at her with a speaking look. Her anticipation rose.

It took all of her patience to dutifully finish the food on her plate. Oh, why had she taken so much bacon? But when she did, she stood as well, and brushed down her skirts in a nonchalant manner, and headed for the door.

“Lana?”

She stilled at Hannah's call. Tried not to flinch. Slowly, she turned. “Aye?”

“Susana and I will be meeting this afternoon to discuss the details of her wedding. Would you join us?” The huge announcement of the morning was that Andrew had finally proposed. Or perhaps it had been Susana. It was difficult to tell with those two.

“Oh, aye. Of course. I would be delighted.”

“Excellent. After luncheon? In Papa's study?” Clearly, planning a wedding was akin to plotting a grand battle.

“That would be perfect.”

“I want to help, too,” Isobel said.

“Of course, darling,” Susana said with a smile. “You are the most important part of the ceremony, after all.”

“I am?”

“Aye.” Andrew pulled his daughter into his lap and kissed the top of her head. “You and your grandpapa will be giving the bride away.”

Susana snorted at the prospect of
anyone
giving her away, or perhaps the necessity of
being
given away. And, of course, this launched an impassioned discussion of the ridiculous nature of rusty traditions, mostly on Susana's part.

But Lana didn't mind, because in the tumult, she slipped from the room.

Her heart pattered as she hurried down the hall to the library. When she came to the door, she glanced behind her to make sure no one had followed. And nae, they had not. With a huge sigh of relief, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her and …

Ah. There he was. Standing by the shelves with a book in his hands, looking so handsome. When he saw her, he snapped the volume closed, shoved it onto the shelf, and opened his arms. She rushed to him.

They both knew someone could wander in at any moment. They both knew they didn't have much time.

They did not waste it.

He tipped up her chin and kissed her. It was wonderful. A warm, gentle welcome.

“Lachlan…”

“Hush. I need this. I need to kiss you.” And he did. Again. Although this kiss wasn't nearly so tender. It was hungry and hot. Their twining ardor quickly rose.

Oh, heavens. She wanted this. Needed this. It had been far too long. “We should find a more private place,” she gasped as he nibbled on her neck.

“Do you have any suggestions?”

Her mind spun as she worked through the options. “There are some unused rooms on the third floor.”

“They wouldn't be as comfortable as my chambers.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Your chambers have too many visitors.”

“True.” She liked that he chuckled. It sent a rumble through her.

“I'll go up and look around. You follow in a few minutes. That way, if either of us is spotted, no one will guess what we are up to.”

“And what are we up to?” Though she could tell, by the twinkle in his eye, he knew.

“No good, most likely.”

He grinned and kissed her again. She could tell it was meant to be a quick buss, but somehow it became something more. He tipped his head and deepened the kiss, easing his tongue into her mouth in a velvet slide. When she sucked on it, and only a little, his muscles tensed and he walked her back against the shelves. His hand closed on her breast and she shuddered as he toyed with her nipple through the materials of her gown. Oh, how she wished there was nothing between them.

His other hand roved over her waist, her hip, and down to her thigh. She felt a ruffle as he began to walk up her skirts. She knew she should stop him, because they were in the library for heaven's sake, but the insistent thrum between her legs wouldn't allow it. She wanted, needed his touch. Ached for it.

She shuddered as his palm scudded over her bare flesh and he neared her core. She shifted her legs apart, only to encourage him, but it appeared he required little encouragement. When he touched her there, in that place that made her nerves sing and her soul soar, she groaned in delight and clutched at his hair.

Aye, they were in the library. Aye, they could be interrupted at any moment. But she couldn't have stopped him if her life depended upon it. Though they'd devised a plan for utter privacy, one she was certain was quite brilliant, neither of them seemed inclined to leave the library just yet.

Which was a pity, really.

Neither of them heard the door open.

They did, however, hear the growl.

It was feral and resounded through the room on the skeins of air.

Lachlan stilled. He lifted his head. The look he sent her was one of remorse, although she wasn't sure if it was remorse that they'd been caught, or regret that it was probably a good idea to stop. Slowly he eased his hand way and her skirts tumbled down. Then he sucked in a deep breath and, together, they turned.

Although both the Lochlannach brothers stood at the door, it was Dunnet who captured Lana's attention. Most specifically, the fact that his cheeks were an odd shade of red and the veins on his neck throbbed with a fascinating intensity. His furious gaze was locked on Lachlan.