Rogue of the Isles (33 page)

She slipped off her gelding before anyone could assist her and ignored Jamie’s call for her to wait. At this point there was nothing he could do.

Entering the hallway, Mari rushed past Fiona and Shauna who tried to welcome her with open arms. They might not be so caring once they heard the news. She managed a quick smile for the twins on her way up the stairs, and then she hesitated at the door of the solar. Jillian had always been half mother, half sister to her, and Mari couldn’t remember a time they’d ever had a real argument, but would Jillian forgive her appalling conduct? Mari took a deep breath. She had nearly given away her virginity. It was time she acted like a responsible young woman.

Jillian had just put baby Rose in her cradle when Mari stepped inside and closed the door. Her sister gave a gasp of relief and hurried across the room to give her a big hug. “Thank God, you are safe. I knew Jamie would find you.”

Jillian might not be so happy with Jamie when she found out what happened, but for a brief moment, Mari allowed herself the comfort of her sister’s arms. She hugged her back, and tears began to stream down her face.

“There, there.” Jillian stepped back and used the burping cloth from her shoulder to wipe Mari’s face. “You are safe now. You are home and safe. It is all over.”

“It is not over at all,” Mari sobbed, trying to control the tears and dissolving into a series of hiccups. “I have totally disgraced you.”

Jillian drew her brows together and took Mari’s hand. “Come sit on the sofa. Tell me what is wrong.”

Hesitating and in jerks, punctuated by more tears and hiccups, Mari poured the story out finally ending with, “And I think Ian is angry with Jamie—”

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. Jamie entered, followed by Fiona, Shauna and Bridget, all of whom were wearing huge smiles. Ian came in last and went over to Jillian, bending to kiss her cheek before sitting on the other side of her.

“I believe Jamie has something of an announcement,” Ian said.

All eyes shifted to Jamie. He cleared his throat, and Mari noticed the tips of his ears were pink. Lud! Ian had probably coerced him into apologizing for this morning. Poor man. Well, she would let Jamie have his say, and then she would apologize as well.

It was the least she could do.

Jamie cleared his throat once more. “I have spoken to Ian. As laird, he has agreed that you and I can be hand-fasted.”

The smiles on Shauna’s and Bridget’s faces grew wider while Fiona clapped her hands and nearly bounced on her toes. Mari frowned and turned to Jillian. “What does hand-fasted mean?”

Jillian patted her hand, a big smile on her face too. “It means you are betrothed, Mari. A year and one day from now, you will be Mrs. Jamie MacLeod.”

He knew the lass would nae like the idea. The look on Mari’s face told Jamie as much before she even opened her mouth. A wonderfully soft, compliant mouth that he had enjoyed kissing just hours ago and was already wanting to kiss again—except right now those lovely lips were pressed together tightly.

“Am I being
ordered
to marry?” Mari asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

Jamie understood the tone, but before he could rephrase the words into a request, Ian interrupted.

“Ye have been compromised, lass.” Ian cast a glance at Shauna and Fiona, both of whom were looking at him with much-too-interested expressions, and he motioned for Bridget to take them away. Fiona protested all the way down the hall, but finally there was silence. Ian turned back to Mari. “If ye think Broc or Duncan will waste time spreading the word, ye are mistaken. Since a laird’s word is nae longer law, I canna demand their silence. For certain, I canna command the MacLeans.”

Jamie cursed inwardly. The presence of the MacLeans had proved most useful to Broc and his uncle. Instead of bearing witness to a frozen body, as Jamie still suspected was the reason they had come along, they were witness to a much different scene—and quite a heated one.

The saints have mercy. He could not deny he had wanted Mari’s body for weeks. And, saints preserve him, he had done the honorable thing and not taken advantage of her drunken state, although lying with her beneath the plaid and not allowing himself to do more than put an arm around her waist had taken every ounce of his considerable willpower. But this morning when she had turned to him, quite sober, and told him she wanted him, it had been his undoing. The kisses had started slow, but Mari had opened willingly to his tongue, and he loved the taste of her. He had wanted to taste every inch of her, especially to lap the juices of her slick folds and run his tongue over the special little nub to bring her pleasure. Jamie enjoyed every minute of stroking Mari’s satiny skin and playing with the soft, plump mound of her breast, teasing the nipple to a hard peak, taking it in his mouth to suckle it until she shattered. He thought she
had
shattered when she screamed…

Damn Broc. Damn his uncle. Damn the MacLeans.

“The gossip here cannot be worse than it is in London,” Mari said. “You can send me back there as soon as the roads are passable. Within a week or two, what happened will no longer be of interest to anyone.”

“Ye are wrong. Nae that much happens here. The gossip will linger a long time.”

“But why? If I leave, why would anyone want to keep talking about it?”

“Because Ian is still their laird, even if the English took away the right to rule,” Jillian said, patting Mari’s hand again. “It will be expected that he make things right.”

“And I will nae have my people think less of my wife because my brother took advantage of her sister,” Ian added.

Mari looked from one of them to the other and sighed. She did not look at Jamie.

“All right,” she said.

Mari let herself into the library and closed the door. The room was blissfully quiet and serene, the only illumination from a small fire in the hearth. The smell of wax polish and leather-bound books was oddly appealing. Mari sank into one of the comfortable armchairs and glanced at the book on the side table. Malory’s
Le Morte d’Arthur
. She had left it here after she’d finished reading to Jillian the other day. Mari pushed the book aside. Reading about knights in shining armor was the last thing she wanted to do.

Dinner that evening had been an excruciatingly drawn-out event. They’d eaten in the great hall since Ian had announced a celebration of her safe return. She had been seated at the high table between Ian and Jamie. Mari noticed the serving maids giving her furtive glances while the men who filled the lower tables openly stared at her. If she’d had any doubt the rumors hadn’t spread, those doubts were gone. As difficult as it had been to hold her head up and act as though nothing were wrong, the worst came when Ian stood to announce that Jamie and she were hand-fasted.

Mari had felt Jamie’s hesitation before he’d pushed back his chair and stood, extending his hand to help her up. He’d made some kind of toast before he’d bent his head to give her a kiss on the lips that had none of the heat from earlier that morning. Still, the men had stood and cheered and Jillian looked happy.

Mari might have been happy too, if only she could believe Jamie meant it, but she knew Ian had forced Jamie’s hand.

The door opened and the object of her thoughts entered, closing the door behind him, and took the other armchair.

“You should not be in here with me alone,” Mari said.

Jamie smiled, his dimple showing. “Och, now that is where ye are wrong. In the eyes of the clan, I have every right to be with ye alone. For Highlanders, ’tis the same as being married.”

Mari felt her eyes round. “Married?” she squeaked, hating that her voice was so high-pitched.

“Aye. The custom is old, but it allows a mon and woman to live together as husband and wife for a year. If, at the end of the year, either wants to part, ’tis done with nae argument.” He paused. “Jillian is preparing the bedchamber next to mine for ye.”

“
What
?” Had her sister lost her mind? Did anyone actually expect… Mari shook her head. The thought was too overwhelming.

Jamie sobered. “Dinnae fash. I ken ye do nae want to marry me, but to cease the wagging of tongues, it must appear that ye do.” He hesitated again. “Once we return to London, ye will be free and nae obligated.”

Which just meant Jamie would be free of this obligation as well. Mari was not sure she liked being thought of as an obligation and wanted to retort that he need not worry about her, but appearances were obviously as important in Scotland as they were in London, albeit it for very different reasons. Mari did not wish to damage Jillian’s reputation either, so she would do as needs must.

“You said I should
appear
to play along with this scheme? You do not actually expect…” Mari let her voice trail off as a thrill of excitement seared her tummy, causing the butterflies to take flight. What if Jamie
did
expect her to go to his bed? Could she? But knowing Jamie wanted to be free once they returned to London would make her little more than a mistress.

Jamie studied her face before answering, then he shook his head. “Nae. What happened this morning was a result of yer fear of near death. Ye were grateful to me for rescuing ye, ’tis all. I dinnae expect ye to perform wifely duties.” He stood abruptly. “I think ye are right. ’Tis nae good for us to be alone.”

Jamie let himself out as quickly as he had come in. Mari stared at the closed door for a long time, her emotions in turmoil. She glanced down at Malory’s book again and pushed it to the floor.

She did not want to think about knights in shining armor.

Luckily, the weather cleared and along with blue skies came a major thaw. In less than a week, right after Rose’s christening, their small entourage set off for London. Before they left, Jillian had hugged Jamie and Ian had clapped him on the back, saying Cantford needed a permanent MacLeod in residence. Jamie knew his brother was offering the land—if not the title—as a wedding present, and he had managed to mutter something appropriate.

No one needed to know that Mari had no intention of marrying Jamie. He was actually glad to be returning to England, since it would mean he no longer had to keep up the hoax. It had been pure hell knowing Mari slept in the room next to his—with the adjoining door he was sure she’d kept locked. He had not tried it to find out, but Mari had made no attempt—or given any hint—she wanted to finish what they’d started that fateful morning. In truth, the lass probably had nae been thinking clearly that morn and probably regretted allowing him such liberty, although his groin tightened painfully whenever he recalled the feel and taste of her.

It took extra days to reach London, for the roads were muddy and rutted from frost. Effie had spent those nights on the road in Mari’s room, guarding her like a hen with one chick, and Jamie wondered if Mari had told her maid the truth about their agreement. He sighed as they came within sight of the townhouse later that afternoon. The truth would soon be evident once Mari returned to her round of parties.

Givens greeted them at the door with his usual formality, asking to take his cloak while studiously ignoring the great claymore slung on Jamie’s back. Jamie was tempted to tell the man sword practice would resume the next day just to fluster him, but Mrs. Fields bustled in, greeting all of them with real affection in her tone.

“Your aunt will be so glad you are home. We have so much to do in time to be ready,” she said to Mari.

Mari frowned slightly and then smiled. “Ah, yes. The Almack’s ball is just a week away. I do not suppose I have time to order a new gown.”

“Your aunt has already taken care of that,” Mrs. Fields replied. “While you were gone, Mr. Algernon called on your aunt and indicated he had finished your portrait. The ball will be the perfect place to make the announcement.”

Mari drew her brows together again. “Nicholas wants to show off my portrait at the ball?”

“I do not know when he will reveal it.” Mrs. Fields beamed at them. “Mr. Algernon told your aunt he wanted to make
the
announcement at the Almack’s ball.”

Mari stopped walking toward the parlor, and Jamie nearly bumped into her. “What announcement?” she asked.

Mrs. Fields’s smile widened. “Why, your betrothal of course.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mari gaped at Mrs. Fields and then hurried to the parlor where she hoped Aunt Agnes would be waiting. Thankfully, she was. “What has transpired in my absence?” Mari asked without preamble as she took a seat.

Her aunt set her teacup down and looked up. “Good afternoon to you too, Marissa.” She looked past Mari to Jamie, who had stopped just inside the door. “And to you, Mr. MacLeod. Thank you for seeing my niece safely home.” She selected a dainty sandwich from the tray in front of her. “I presume Jillian is well?”

“Yes, she is,” Mari replied. “I would not have returned otherwise. Now, please tell me what Mrs. Fields meant about my being betrothed to Nicholas.”

“It is quite true. After you left for Scotland there was a frightful amount of gossip regarding your unescorted trip to Queen Mary’s Gardens.” Aunt Agnes held up her hand as Mari began to protest. “I realize Effie had attended you, but the woman was ill. Baron Dunster’s neighbor and her friend were adamant you and Mr. Algernon were alone in the gardens and that he kissed you.”