Scotsmen Prefer Blondes (7 page)

She met his gaze. “You know I cannot, my lord.”

His traitorous hand caressed her cheek, already disregarding Ferguson’s warning and his own resolve. She wasn’t a harpy. She was a goddess come down from Olympus just for him.

She pulled away. He followed, catching her wrist. “Cannot? Or will not?”

Her slippers dropped to the floor. “Both. We aren’t meant for each other, Malcolm. You will marry Prudence, as you should. And I will retire to the country, as I should.”

Her voice fought him, but she didn’t struggle against his grip. “I won’t marry Prudence. She wouldn’t have me even if I wanted her.”

Amelia glanced at the door. “She would...”

“She wouldn’t,” he said, cutting her off. “She might marry me to escape her mother, but that’s not enough for what I require.”

He raised her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles that said nothing of letting go and everything of possession. “I require wit, and charm, and a clever tongue. Not knowledge of Greek and a passion for marble.”

Her fingers tightened in his grasp. “You need obedience, too, unless I misremember. Prudence is infinitely better at that than I am.”

“But is Prudence better at kissing than you are?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said. She looked down, wiggling the toes that peeked out from under her gown. Her toes sent a bolt of lust to his groin.

Then she looked up. “Marry her, Malcolm, like you’re supposed to. And stop thinking of me.”

He couldn’t stop thinking of her. The part of him that was rock hard against his breeches knew what he wanted, even though his brain denied it.

He stepped closer, until he was inches from her, and his hand shot out to stop her when she tried to move away. “Yes, I invited her here with an eye toward marriage. But it’s you I want, Amelia — and for your own sake, not because of the moonlight or the whisky or the dozen other excuses we made to ourselves this morning. Prudence could walk through that door with a hundred of the finest London whores and none of them could entice me more than you.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Her voice was damnably cool, but she didn’t make even the slightest attempt to pull away. He tilted up her chin. Her eyes were saying goodbye — but her lips were parted in what could only be a welcome.

“It is not a compliment. It’s the truth,” he said. “And if you haven’t recognized that truth yet...”

He pulled her against him. She was stubborn enough to die before she admitted it, but he saw the stark longing behind her protective façade. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened.

He didn’t wait for her protest.

He kissed her, fast and thorough. He felt the war within her, the battle between the passion she craved and the vow she’d made. She clamped her lips shut, even though her body curled against him. But in that instant, he knew he would win her someday — even if he couldn’t convince her tonight.

In the next instant, the door opened.

Disentangling was like fighting quicksand. Amelia pulled away with admirable speed, glaring daggers at him.

But speed couldn’t save her. Prudence stood in the doorway, her face gaunt with horror in the light of the candle she held. There were no whores in her company — but Alex stood behind her, ready to detonate.

Malcolm would have preferred the whores. There was no time to wish Salford away, though. He was upon them in seconds. Malcolm moved in front of Amelia, ready to protect her. She tried to step between the men, but Malcolm thrust her back.

Salford raised his fist. Malcolm stood his ground. He deserved one blow from her brother, but would protect himself from the second.

The blow never came. Salford lowered his fist. He didn’t stop scowling, though. “I’ll spare you for now, Carnach. The ladies shouldn’t see this.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Prudence said, shutting the door. “If you can handle Carnach, I shall take on Amelia.”

As she advanced, Malcolm finally saw the spark that made Amelia and Prudence such fierce friends. That spark was suddenly something dangerous, an incendiary in a powderkeg.

“Prue, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Amelia said.

“Neither of us want excuses, Amelia,” Salford snapped.

Malcolm knew what he had to say. He perhaps even wanted to say it — but to her, not to her brother. The words felt odd in his mouth, like they were emerging into an ocean, cold and indistinct, ripped apart by the waves. “I will do my duty, Salford. Lady Amelia and I will wed as soon as the arrangements are made.”

Amelia laughed, but the sound broke in the same ocean that threatened to drown him. “Nothing happened, Alex. Certainly nothing requiring marriage. If you and Prudence stay silent, no one in London need ever know.”

Her voice was pleading. Malcolm didn’t like it. “I wouldn’t want anyone to take me for a seducer of innocents,” he said.

“Have you seduced other innocents?” she asked.

“Of course not.”

“Then Carnach only seduced you, Amelia?” Salford interjected. “That isn’t a satisfactory answer.”

“He didn’t seduce me,” Amelia said. Even from three feet away, Malcolm could hear her teeth grinding.

“And yet you’re shoeless, in the dark, alone with him, and when we entered, he was kissing you.”

“You and Prudence would have been alone in here if we weren’t here,” Amelia pointed out. “Would you have seduced her?”

“Prudence? Don’t be absurd.”

“Thank you, Salford,” Prudence said.

Malcolm detected sarcasm in Prudence’s voice, but Salford inclined his head, accepting her thanks as though she meant them.

“Still, nothing happened that merits marriage,” Amelia insisted. “And to have you force it, when you were with Prudence quite late yourself...”

Alex held up a book, cutting her off. “Prudence said she had an errand in the library, and as we had been discussing architecture until five minutes ago, very properly chaperoned by our mothers, I offered to escort her. If you had been here alone, no one would have thought a thing of it.”

“No one needs to think a thing of it if you will keep this quiet, Alex!” Amelia said.

Malcolm held up his hands. “Might we discuss this in the morning, when our tempers have cooled?”

Amelia whirled on him. “We won’t discuss this in the morning because there is nothing to discuss. This may look suspicious, but it won’t happen again.”

“You’ve promised that before, Amelia,” Salford reminded her.

“What the devil does that mean?” Malcolm asked, watching as Amelia turned red.

Prudence snickered. “Amelia will make such a wonderful political wife for you, Lord Carnach. So obedient, so proper...”

Amelia silenced her. “We all make mistakes, Alex. Don’t hang me for mine just because you haven’t gotten around to making your own.”

There was dead silence. Salford stared at Amelia, assessing. Prudence looked at her feet, her thoughts seeming miles away. Malcolm wanted to know what Amelia’s previous offenses were — but now that they’d been caught, he would have a lifetime to learn about them.

Salford was the first to blink. “I’ve made mistakes too, Mellie. After that business with Madeleine and Ferguson this spring...”

He paused. Really, the man was driving Malcolm mad by hinting at impropriety, then changing the subject. Malcolm knew Ferguson’s marriage to Salford and Amelia’s cousin was swift, but what was Salford’s role in it?

Salford spoke again. “I won’t threaten to send you away. Knowing you, you’d only enjoy it. But I can’t ignore what I saw tonight. If Carnach doesn’t agree to marry you, I’ll find a way to ruin him without bringing you into it.”

“I already said I will marry her,” Malcolm said.

“And I already said I won’t marry anyone,” Amelia replied.

“And I said I would marry Lord Carnach, but apparently that doesn’t signify,” Prudence said.

Salford and Amelia both started talking at once, but the earl’s stronger voice carried the floor. “You are better off without the bounder, Prudence. You deserve someone with a keen mind, not a rake.”

She leveled a glare at him. “There are no men with keen minds in the ton, Alex.”

Alex looked wounded. Amelia followed with another blow. “Do I deserve a bounder, then? Not a very brotherly sentiment, even from you.”

“Enough,” Salford snapped. “You’ve had every chance to live the life you want, and yet you risk it all far too often. Perhaps Carnach can control you where I’ve failed.”

Malcolm could have told him it was the wrong thing to say. For someone so renowned as a collector, Salford really had the most inelegant way with women. Even Prudence winced, and she was not in Amelia’s corner.

Amelia gaped at her brother. Malcolm felt a twinge of sympathy. Whatever she had done, she didn’t deserve to be castigated for it in front of him.

“I won’t have you talking to my future wife like that, Salford,” Malcolm said, stepping toward Amelia and taking her hand in his. Her fingers curled lightly in his palm, devoid of their earlier passion, but she didn’t evade him.

It was Salford’s turn to gape. Finally he bowed to his sister. “I am sorry, Amelia. You know my words escape me when I’m in a temper.”

She didn’t respond. Malcolm squeezed her hand, lightly. She retrieved her fingers from his grip. When she finally spoke, her voice was frozen. “I won’t forget, you know.”

“I won’t expect you to. Carnach, if you will wait on me in the morning, we can discuss settlements.”

Amelia stooped to retrieve her slippers, then walked to a nearby footstool so she could sit and tie them on. Malcolm felt the chill emanating from her as she spoke. “At least promise that if Carnach and I don’t suit, we may break it off.”

She wasn’t looking up, and so missed what Malcolm saw — the brief softening of Salford’s face before he answered. “Divorce is out of the question. But you needn’t marry for a few days. If you truly don’t suit, I won’t force it.”

Her resulting smile was strangely triumphant. Malcolm ignored it. They suited, at least physically. And not even a deaf man could miss the heat of their banter. If the scandals Salford hinted at were truly awful, she was exactly what he didn’t need in a bride. But was it worse to take her anyway, or risk Salford’s wrath just as he was trying to build influence in London?

Amelia looked up and met his eyes. Her smile was positively wicked. He could read the thoughts behind it. Even though his honor was at stake, he gave her a wicked smile of his own.

She would try to escape him — to prove they weren’t compatible.

And the devil within him was eager to prove her wrong.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Amelia was irate, aggrieved, enflamed — she could list adjectives for days, and probably would when she next sat down with pen and paper.

But she was also guilty. And ashamed. She would find a way to escape this engagement, no matter how intent Malcolm and Alex were on arranging it. But could her friendship with Prudence survive?

She dragged her eyes away from Malcolm’s smile and forced her clumsy fingers to tie her slippers. “Shall we go to our rooms and leave the gentlemen in peace?” she asked Prudence when she was done, as though it were any other evening, as though nothing between them had changed.

“Can I bring my book with me, or do you plan to steal that too?”

Amelia winced. She heard her brother stifle a laugh, but she was done with him for the night. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Prue. Carnach kissed me, not the other way around.”

Prudence raised an eyebrow.

“It’s true,” Amelia insisted. She was starting to panic, but she tried to keep the tremor out of her voice. “You’re welcome to him, if you still want him.”

Malcolm glared at her, but Prudence shrugged. “No, Alex is right. I need a man whose intellect is keen enough to recognize the woman in front of him for what she is. None of the men in my acquaintance qualify.”

She had, with one statement, comprehensively insulted them all. Amelia would have applauded, if only because Prudence had finally found her voice, but Prudence had already turned toward the door.

Alex frowned as Amelia rose to chase after her. “Are you sure you should follow her, Amelia? She doesn’t seem like herself.”

Amelia snorted. “She’s right. You don’t know her at all. If I can’t apologize now...”

She trailed off and dashed after Prudence. Prudence was the slowest to anger of all of them. But once her temper ignited, it burned everyone in its path. When the flames died, her heart would be so hardened that Amelia would never be admitted again.

Prudence was walking fast, nearly running, but Amelia’s longer stride caught her. She grabbed Prudence’s arm just as they reached the great hall. “Prue, I’m unbelievably sorry.”

Prudence whirled around, wrenching her arm out of Amelia’s grasp. “Not here, you ninnyhammer,” she hissed.

There was no one about, but the great hall was so cast in shadows that a dozen footmen could have hidden in the alcoves between the high, mullioned windows that lined the longest wall. The giant double doors were barred and locked, their iron fittings ominous in the moonlight. Amelia shivered. The ancient room bore down upon her, chilling her heart.

In five hundred years, how many forced marriages had happened here?

Probably more than she wanted to know of. But she wouldn’t let herself be the next one. And she certainly wouldn’t lose Prudence’s friendship over it.

“Fine,” Amelia whispered. “Your room or mine?”

Prudence didn’t answer. Amelia followed her across the great hall and up the stairs to the guest wing. But when she tried to follow Prudence into her room, Prudence blocked her.

“I have nothing to say to you. You have nothing I wish to hear.”

Amelia crossed her arms. “If you don’t let me in, I’ll start discussing this so loudly that we’re both ruined,” she threatened. “As there’s only one earl downstairs to marry, we shouldn’t risk it.”

“There are two earls downstairs, if you count your brother,” Prudence said mulishly. But she stepped away from the door and let Amelia in before her.

“If you want Alex, you should have him — although why you would marry such a prig, I’ve no idea,” Amelia said, standing awkwardly in the center of the room as Prudence removed the pins that held her hair in place. “This is the second time in less than six months that he’s forced a woman under his care into marriage.”