Rose In Scotland (21 page)

Hugh could only gape at him, realizing in horror that the general was in dead earnest. He had always admired the wily old warrior for his courage and daring, for the impossible plans that always seemed to work, no matter the odds. But this … Hugh shook his head. This was madness.

“You canna be serious!” he said, slipping into his Scots accent in his shock. “It would never work!”

General Burroughs gave him a knowing look. “Are you telling me you are not attracted to my granddaughter, nor she to you?” he asked dryly. “I may be an old man, MacColme, but I still have eyes in my head, and the wit to make sense of what they tell me.”

Hugh’s cheeks turned a dull red. “Of course I am attracted to Caroline,” he said, his gaze going automatically to the corner where Caroline was standing. “She is a beautiful woman, but—”

“Then it should be no great matter for you to seduce her into your bed,” the older man continued in his relentless manner. “Only mind that she is seduced,” he warned, bending a stem frown on Hugh. “I’ll not have the child forced.”

“But …” Hugh’s voice trailed off. A dozen objections leaped to his mind, but he seemed unable to articulate any of them. What the general was asking of him was an affront to any man of honor, he told himself. It was an outrage. It was indecent. It would bring his father and brother
home. He drew a deep breath, praying for guidance.

“General, I—”

“Think about it, that is all I ask,” the general interrupted, snapping to attention and glaring at a group of men who had just entered. “In the meanwhile we’ve more important concerns. Charles has arrived, and he is making straight for Caroline!”

“Caroline, dearest, dearest girl, how perfectly wonderful to see you again!” Her uncle simpered, bowing over Caroline’s hand. “You are looking as lovely as ever.”

“Thank you, Uncle Charles,” Caroline replied, doing her best not to jerk her hand away. Where were Hugh and her grandfather? she wondered, and then drew a deep sigh of relief when she felt a familiar arm slide about her waist.

“Your lordship,” Hugh intoned, inclining his head to the earl in a cold show of civility. “It is good to see you again.”

The earl turned his gaze on him, his blue eyes filled with malevolence. “Then there is delight all around,” he said with an exaggerated drawl. “For I was only telling Caroline of my joy in seeing her again. And Father.” His reptilian gaze flicked next to the duke. “I am glad to see you safely home.”

“Are you?” The general gave him a disdainful look and glanced at the two men standing behind Charles. “And who are these fellows, eh?” he demanded imperiously. “Are they with you?”

Her uncle feigned instant chagrin. “Where are my manners?” he cried, motioning the two men
forward with a wave of his hand. “This is Dr. Harrison, from Abingdon,” he said, indicating a plump man in a badly cut jacket of black serge. “And this is his associate, Milkins.” He gestured at a hulking brute of a man with thick shoulders and a sullen expression. “Gentlemen, my niece, Lady Caroline Burroughs—I beg pardon, MacColme.” He smirked at Caroline. “I am having trouble remembering your wedded name, my dear. I pray that you forgive me.”

Caroline gave him a cold look. She had no idea why her uncle had introduced her to two such rough-looking fellows, but she didn’t doubt he had a reason for it, and like as not a bad one. She opened her mouth to issue a stinging set-down when she felt Hugh give her waist a warning squeeze.

“It would be best for you, my lord, and for others if you did remember that,” he said coldly. “Caroline is my wife, and I will defend her to the death, if need be. Now if you will pardon us, we must be going. Come, Caroline.” And he swept her from the ballroom without another word.

Later Caroline lay in her bed, puzzling over the bizarre incident. What was her uncle up to? she wondered. Why would he introduce her to two men who were so obviously not of his circle? Charles was an insufferable snob, and that he should appear publicly with such men was indeed troubling. She was no closer to solving the mystery when there was a tap on the door connecting her room to Hugh’s. She sat up at once, her heart beginning to race with anticipation.

“Come in,” she said, and was surprised when Hugh walked in still dressed in evening clothes.

“My apologies for coming to you without changing,” he said, setting his candle on her table. “But I’ve only just left your grandfather, and haven’t had time to change.”

“That’s all right,” she said, nervously twisting the bedclothes between her fingers. “Is something amiss?”

He stared down at her for several seconds before replying. “We must leave London at once,” he said without preamble, sitting on the bed beside her. “Your uncle has secured an order for your confinement, and I have proof he means to seize you before the week is out.”

Even though this was something she had been half-expecting, half-fearing since seeing her uncle, the news still hit her with the viciousness of a blow. “But he can’t!” she cried, her fingers clutching the hand he’d offered her. “He is no longer my guardian—you are!”

“A fact he took care to hide from the drunken sot of a magistrate who gave him the writ,” he answered, his strong fingers gently chafing her chilled flesh. “Your solicitor has assured me that legally speaking it is quite invalid, especially here in London, but that may not be enough to prevent him from making use of it.”

This was her most dreaded nightmare come to life, and for a moment Caroline feared she would be ill. “What makes you think he will have me seized?” she asked, trying to think her way past the overwhelming terror consuming her.

“The writ was issued in Oxford, and you would need to be taken there for it to be valid. I put some men to watch your uncle, and they informed
me he has already hired a coach and four.” There was a brief pause, and then he added grimly, “There’s more.”

Caroline didn’t think she could endure hearing anything else, but she knew she must. “Go on,” she said, steeling herself to hear the worst.

“That man he introduced you to tonight, Dr. Harrison—he runs an asylum near Abingdon,” Hugh told her bluntly. “And I would say his associate Mr. Milkin is here to make certain you give them no trouble.”

Caroline gave an involuntary shudder, and Hugh gathered her to his chest. “Do not worry, dearest,” he said, his arms tightening about her. “You must know I would die before letting that
deamhan
place his filthy hands upon you! You do know that, don’t you?” he added, drawing back to send her a fierce scowl.

Caroline managed a weak nod, realizing that it was nothing less than the truth. Although she didn’t truly know Hugh, wasn’t all that certain she trusted him, she accepted without question that he would guard her with his life.

“Where will we go?” she asked, closing her eyes and laying her head on his shoulder.

“Edinburgh,” he said, brushing his hand through her tangled curls. “My Aunt Egidia lives there with my sister, Mairi, and we will stay with them. I’d hoped to take you home, to Loch Haven, but that will have to wait.”

The gentle movement of his hand eased the last bit of fear from her, and Caroline snuggled closer. “What is she like?” she murmured, trying without success to envision a feminine version of her fiercely masculine husband.

“Who? Aunt Egidia?” Although she couldn’t see his face Caroline could tell from his warm tone that he was smiling. “A proper scold she is, with a tongue that will flay you alive, and a disposition that would make vinegar seem sweet as honey.”

Caroline’s lips curved at the telling description. “She sounds delightful,” she drawled, a warm sense of contentment filling her. “But as it happens, I was speaking of your sister. Is she younger than you? Older?”

“Younger,” he said, and now there was no doubting the deep affection in his voice. “She was a child when I went away, and now she’s a woman grown. She’s your age, I think, and the image of our mother. She’ll be surprised to learn I’ve wed, and will no doubt make my life a misery for not telling her of it sooner.”

The rueful remark shattered Caroline’s fragile peace. Until this moment, she’d never given Hugh’s family and their possible reaction to their marriage a single thought. Indeed, it hadn’t even occurred to her he was possessed of a family. He seemed so solitary, so completely self-sufficient, that she assumed him to be as alone in the world as was she. The revelation was vaguely disturbing, as was the sudden concern for what her new sister-in-law might think of her.

“Will it bother her that I am not Scottish?” she asked, raising her head to gaze into his eyes.

A shuttered look stole into his eyes, and he glanced away, visibly uneasy. “I don’t know,” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the front of her nightgown. “It will shock her, to be sure, and hurt her as well. But she has a warm heart and
a sweet nature, and she will welcome you as my wife, if I tell her to do so.”

Caroline was about to remark that ordering his sister to make her welcome would hardly endear her to the other woman, when another consideration struck her. “What of our marriage?” she asked curiously. “Will you tell her the truth of it?”

“That is another reason I needed to speak with you,” he said, stroking a finger across her shoulder. “Aunt Egidia’s home is a small one, with scarce ten rooms to it, and if we stay with her we will need to share a bedchamber, and a bed,” he added, raising his head to meet her stunned gaze.

Caroline’s mind went abruptly blank. “I see,” she said, trying her best not to blush as images of their first night together filled her head.

“Will it distress you?” he demanded bluntly, his brows meeting in a worried scowl. “If it does, I would that you will tell me that I might begin making other arrangements—”

“No!” she interrupted, and then flushed at how abrupt she sounded. “That is,” she added, making a desperate grab for her dignity, “it won’t be necessary to make other arrangements. I—I have no objections to sharing a b-bed with you.” Despite her best efforts she stumbled over the words.

“Are you certain?” he asked, sounding far from convinced. “I’ll not force myself on you, if that’s what you’re fearing.”

“Of course I never thought you would force me!” she denied indignantly. “You certainly didn’t force me the first time!”

Her vehemence seemed to give him pause, and it was several seconds before he spoke. “Then you enjoyed what we shared that night?” he queried, his hands sliding down her back to lightly cup her hips. “It pleased you?”

Caroline tilted her head back, her breath catching as he feathered a kiss down her neck. “Very much,” she admitted, her limbs turning deliciously to water. “It was wonderful.”

His tongue flicked out to tease her sensitized flesh. “And you’ve no objections if we do it again?”

Her hands lifted to settle on his broad shoulders, her mind already hazing with pleasure. Did she have any objections? It took her less than a second to reach her decision. She opened her eyes and met his heated gaze. “No, Hugh,” she said softly, “I have no objections whatsoever.” Then, taking her courage in both hands, she reached up to untie his cravat.

At her touch he stilled, only the narrowing of his eyes and the quickening of his breath betraying his passion. The cravat was soon dangling from her fingers, and she waited for him to gather her in his arms and press her down against the pillows. When he remained where he was she cast him an uncertain glance, fearing she may have misunderstood his intentions.

He was watching her, his face dark with desire. “Remove my jacket,” he ordered, his deep voice making her shiver.

The command both shocked and intrigued her, and her fingers trembled as she reached for the gilded buttons holding the jacket closed. It took a few fumbling tries, but at last she managed to
unfasten the double row of buttons, and the jacket hung open. Having never acted as a valet, the most expedient way of removing his coat stymied her at first, but she solved the puzzle by leaning forward and pushing it from his shoulders. The movement brought her close against him, and for a moment their bodies were perfectly aligned. She could feel his arousal in the pounding of his heart and the hardening of his masculine flesh, and she choked back a soft moan.

“My waistcoat,” he said, his breath hissing between clenched teeth. His whole body was quivering, and his fingers were as hard as steel as they dug into her hips.

She complied, her fingers more sure as she dealt with the remaining buttons. The waistcoat was soon discarded, leaving him in his shirtsleeves. Her hands rested on his chest, and through the soft cambric she could feel the heat of his skin searing her palms. She could also feel the rapid thudding of his heart, and its strong rhythm echoed the frantic beating of her own. She held his gaze and with his assistance, lifted the shirt over his head.

The sight of his muscular, hair-dusted chest had the breath catching in her throat. The first time they’d made love it had been too dark for her to truly see him, and now she was dazzled by the strength and beauty of him. It was odd to think of a man as beautiful, she mused, shyly stroking her hand across the strong swell of his breast, yet she could think of no other word to describe the perfection of him. His shoulders were broad and roped with heavy muscles, and
not an ounce of softness to be found on him. Her gaze came to rest on the small, star-shaped scar just below his left shoulder, and she raised her head to find him watching her.

“Is this where you were shot?” she asked, gently running her finger across the puckered flesh.

“Aye,” he said, his eyes glinting silver in the light of the candle. “A small price to pay for not having the sense to better keep my wits about me.”

“It must have pained you,” she murmured, recalling the lighthearted way he and Captain Dupres had spoken of it. She stroked the scar again, realizing that a few inches either way and the bullet he could make such sport of might have cost him his arm … or his life. The horrifying thought brought the sting of tears to her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. Without pausing to consider her actions, she placed her lips on the wound and gently kissed the damaged flesh.

“Caroline!” Hugh gave a tortured cry and pressed her closer. “Christ, woman, you’re killing me!”