Sister of Rogues (29 page)

“True enough.” Finley gestured to the hallway and the smaller backroom where they'd meet. “Let's join the others.”

Kier had forgotten the black eye he'd received from Jamie MacLeod's punch until sudden silence fell when he entered the room and everyone turned to look at him.

“What the hell happened to you?” one man asked.

“What does the other man look like?” another quipped.

“I hate to miss a good fight,” a third one added.

“No fight,” Kier said, “just a misunderstanding.”

“Ah. From one of the lunatic women ye keep?” the first one asked.

Kier gritted his teeth. “
Guests
.”

“Well now,” the second man chided the first, “perhaps one of the
guests
got a bit too frisky under the sheets.” Several men laughed at the innuendo.

Kier felt the storm clouds gathering around him again. He suddenly longed to punch a few faces himself—another wild emotion he hadn't felt in years.

“It would be better if we not speak of that,” Finn said before Kier could reply.

Gerard Fontaine swirled his brandy in its snifter and looked at Kier. “Is there a problem at your home?”

“No problem,” Kier answered. “Actually, one of my guests was released.”

Fontaine's hand stilled. “Which one?”

Kier blinked rapidly, feeling his eyes sting. By the saints, he hadn't shed tears since his mother died. He swallowed hard. “The Scottish lass.”

“It seems her father wasn't who he said he was, after all,” Finn filled in quickly. “Her brothers arrived and took her back to England.”

The glass slipped from Fontaine's hand, shattering on the stone and sending shards flying. He stared at the floor.

“How clumsy of me,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Wesley Alton slammed his empty glass down on the table and continued to pace the small area of the rented flat. He'd hardly been able to sit through the rest of that miserable meeting once he'd heard the Scottish bitch had gone back to London.

Somehow, the damnable MacLeods had won again.

“What do we do now?” Nicholas asked as he refilled both their glasses.

With growing irritability, Wesley noticed Nicholas had not used the Waterford. “Scared I will smash another of your precious glasses?”

Nicholas shrugged. “They are expensive.”

Wesley went to the cupboard, took out one of the Waterford snifters and threw it against the wall, shattering the crystal. Then he began pacing again.

How in hell had the damn MacLeods found her? He had covered his tracks well, getting rid of Brice Molydeux and boarding a commercial ship at the last moment. The story he'd created for the warden contained details that would only parry any protests from the bitch and make her seem truly mad.

If only he'd been able to convince the warden to house her in the asylum instead of at O'Reilly's castle.

O'Reilly. No doubt the bitch had worked her wiles on him while he'd enjoyed the benefit of being between her legs. Women were deceitful creatures who lied and cried to gain a man's sympathy. They made stupid attempts to appeal to a man's honour, not that Wesley had ever allowed that to happen to
him
. He was too smart to be foiled by such artifice, but O'Reilly acted like some gallant knight in shining armor. The man even called those lunatics he housed guests.

All Wesley's plans for revenge lost. Again. And all because of the damn earl.

“Will we be leaving this outpost of civilization?” Nicholas asked.

“Soon.”

“Why wait? If Fiona is gone, there is nothing to keep us here.”

Wesley turned to glare at his son. “I am not finished here. I will have revenge.”

“On whom?”

“O'Reilly upset my plans. I need to make him pay.”

“Why bother? He looked miserable at the meeting.”

Wesley snorted. “The stupid fool managed to let himself fall for the bitch.”

“Isn't that enough then? The MacLeods will never let her return.”

“You are way too soft. The man needs to
pay.”

“In coin? Richard sent your funds.”

“Do not be daft. Once I am finished, the
honourable
Earl of Adair will be spending his life behind bars, just like the MacLeods tried to do to me.”

“And then what? America? You mentioned New Orleans.”

Wesley shrugged. “I am not so sure I want to go there just yet.”

“Where then? Somewhere on the Continent besides France?”

Wesley shook his head. “Scotland.”

Nicholas sputtered, spewing brandy on his cravat. “
Scotland?
You are the one who is daft, dear father.”

“I am shrewd. No one would ever think to look for me there.”

“But why? You did not like using a disguise or living in city slums.”

“I do not plan to live in slums. Villages in the Highlands are remote and I'm sure one of them would welcome a French benefactor to make their lives better.”

Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “Since when did you care about improving anyone else's life?”

“I do not.” Wesley smiled. “But there is one MacLeod sister left whom we have never met.”

Fiona knew Shauna was worried about her from the look her sister gave her as they finished dinner at the London townhouse. Mari and Jamie had retreated to the parlor and Abigail was staying with her father, so they were alone.

“Ye have been back two weeks,” Shauna said as she leaned forward, “and still ye willnae talk.”

“I already told ye I was nae hurt.”

“Some hurts cannae be seen.”

“'Tis nae good talking about that.” Fiona wished she'd never mentioned Kier to any of them. In a weak moment though, when they were all crying and hugging her, she'd told them about him. How he'd protected her and kept her safe. Mari and Abigail had exchanged a look and the interrogation had started. She'd blurted out everything except the fact that she'd lost her virginity. Thankfully, Jamie had kept silent on the matter, but her friends had hatched all sorts of plans.

Shauna wasn't about to be deterred either. “If ye miss Kier that much, maybe ye should write to him.”

“What good would that do? If the mon doesnae love me—”

“Mari told me she dinnae think she loved Jamie either at first. Maybe ye should give Kier time—”

“He needs to ken it.”

Shauna sat back in her chair. “And what if he doesnae? Are ye going to mope about for years?”

Fiona frowned. Shauna sounded like their older sister, Bridget, who had little sympathy for people feeling sorry for themselves. “I am nae moping.”

“Nae? Ye turned down the last two invitations to balls that came.”

“I am nae interested.” It was true. Although Christmas loomed near, some of the
ton
had stayed in London and wouldn't retire to their country estates until after Yule. When the first invitation had arrived several days after her return, Mari and Jamie had insisted she attend—that it would do her good. Fiona suspected Jamie hoped that male attention would take her mind off Kier, although the way her brother hovered protectively at her side, the men stayed several arms' length away. Not that Fiona cared. Compared to Kier's intelligence and compassion about the plight of the inmates, the eligible bachelors seemed like spoiled boys. Thankfully, Brice Molyneux hadn't been among them. Abigail's father had said Brice had gone to the Continent.

Nor had Fiona changed her mind when Jamie chaperoned her to various soirees and the theatre. Knowing how much he hated such events, she appreciated his effort to make her feel better, but it hadn't helped. Eventually, she'd just refused to attend anything.

“I am nae moping,” she said again.

“Fine.” Shauna pushed back her chair and stood. “Then let's join Mari and Jamie in the parlor.”

That proved to be a mistake. From the hallway, Fiona could see mistletoe suspended over the window seat on the far side. Beneath it, Mari sat on Jamie's lap, her hands threaded through his hair while his slid alongside her breasts. Engrossed in the deep kiss they were sharing, neither of them noticed Shauna and her.

Fiona's breath caught in her throat and she turned to run up the stairs. She closed the door when she reached her chamber and listened for Shauna's footsteps, but she heard nothing. Thankfully, her sister had remained downstairs. It had taken all of Fiona's willpower not to burst into tears when she saw Jamie kissing Mari under the mistletoe, but now the tears flowed freely.

She slipped out of the simple dress that Sister Ruth had provided. Even though Mari had lent her gowns and Madame Dubois had assigned several seamstresses to make her more, the plain homespun dress that she'd worn the night Kier had made love to her was comforting. She'd had to stitch it up from where he had ripped it, but that too was comforting and brought back memories.

Fiona pulled back the covers of the bed and slipped in. It was stupid to be so upset. She'd seen both her brothers kissing their wives countless times…Shane and Abigail as well. She'd wondered about the semi-dazed looks they all had when they broke apart. Now she knew why. Kier's kisses had done that to her too.

Turning the wick on the bedside lamp down, Fiona rolled over and drew the covers up. At least she had the memory of the one night they'd spent together. She closed her eyes and tried to drift into sleep.

The room seemed to shift, and when Fiona opened her eyes, she was seated on the courtyard bench at Kier's castle. Beside her, a plant still bloomed amidst the cold of December. Reaching down, Fiona parted the leaves, knowing what she would find.

The faerie smiled up at her. “You are back.”

Fiona nodded. “I miss Kier so much. What can I do?”

The sprite's smile broadened and she waved her hand, sprinkling silver dust in the air. “Go to him, of course.”

And then Fiona was back in bed. Only it was not
her
bed. She was in
his
.

Kier tossed in bed, his sheet and blanket a tangled mess dangling over the edge. He'd pulled the bed curtains of the big four-poster shut to cocoon himself from the world, hoping the dark surrounding him would quiet his mind. How many nights had it been since he'd slept well? Ever since Fiona left—

“She is here.”

Kier opened his eyes and met total blackness. Was someone in his chamber? His guests were locked in their rooms, the servants in another wing. Had he forgotten to bolt the outside door and an intruder entered?

The voice he thought he'd heard gave a soft laugh. A feminine laugh. Just as he was about to part the bed hanging, a light began to shimmer on the other side. A light that should never have penetrated the thick velvet of the curtain. Kier lay still as it grew in brightness and burst through in an array of brightly coloured sparkles. The glittery specks began to circulate, shaping themselves to form an exquisitely beautiful tiny woman dressed in a silvery gossamer gown. Delicate iridescent wings fluttered and her long brown hair swirled as she hovered in the air above Kier.

“Who…what are you?”

Slanted green eyes twinkled. “I am the faerie that lives in your courtyard.”

Kier scrunched his eyes closed. He had finally done it. Had finally driven himself mad.

The faerie giggled. “That will not help. I am still here.”

Carefully, he cracked an eye open. The faerie winked at him. He closed the eye and groaned.

“Well,” the faerie declared, her tone half-chiding and half-humourous, “I can see it will take you a bit to believe. Meanwhile, enjoy the gift I brought.”

The light retreated, and when Kier opened his eyes again, all that was left was a faint otherworldly glow inside his curtained bed.

A gentle hand touched his arm and he bolted upright.

“Kier?”

He remained frozen for a moment, not sure if he should turn and look. He felt the soft fingers begin to stroke his arm. Kier glanced down. They were real. Human. Slowly, he let his gaze slide to the woman who lay beside him.

Fiona.

She smiled, her silvery eyes reflecting the bluish hue in the air. “Are ye nae going to kiss me?”

Her lips looked lush and inviting. Kier bent down, half-certain he would encounter only a feathered pillow, but when his mouth covered hers, he found it soft and warm and pliant. Greedily, he deepened the kiss, tasting her, ravaging her mouth with his tongue. Fiona returned his kisses with fervor, twining her arms around his neck, tugging him across her body.

Her totally naked body.

She lay stretched beneath him, the plush mounds of her ivory breasts pressed to his chest, the nipples hard as pebbles. He stroked his hand down her ribs and over her hipbone as his cock grew hard against her belly. Kier could feel the moist heat radiating from between her thighs. He started to slide down to lap her juices, but she reached her hands around his back and held him in place. Fiona opened her legs and hooked her heels behind his thighs. “I will have ye now.”

He didn't need to be told twice. Kier plunged his cock into the slickness of Fiona's sheath. The wet heat only served to inflame his already fevered shaft. A kindled flame he didn't know he had flared deep in his belly and his skin burned as though a wildfire surrounded them. The blaze turned into an inferno as Fiona met his thrusts and urged him to go deeper and take her harder. More heat seared through him as her nails raked his back and she bit his shoulder. Kier felt her muscles contract around him, gripping him hard and felt the fire building inside. Fiona arched her back and cried out and he erupted, half-expecting to see fiery sparks falling down around them.

And then all was still.

Kier breathed heavily, clutching the pillow with one hand while his other reached out for Fiona.

But she wasn't there.

When Kier awoke the next morning and parted the bed curtains, he saw no signs of faerie sparkles anywhere, only dust motes dancing on shafts of sunlight filtering through his window.

He must have overslept, which wasn't like him at all, but then he'd never been visited by a faerie before either.

Fae
, Kier thought as he quickly dressed and went downstairs. He'd never believed they existed, yet he had no other explanation for what had happened last night.

Fiona had seemed so real. His physical reaction certainly had been.

Seeing no one about, Kier went to the kitchens, helped himself to bread and cheese and then wandered into the courtyard. Thankfully, it was empty since his guests were still secured in their rooms. He felt somewhat foolish over what he was about to do and hoped neither Seamus or Ada would chance to look out a window.

Kier sat on the bench that Fiona often used. Usually, she tended the plant that grew beside it. The same plant Finn had said had a faerie in it. Kier looked around the courtyard once more to make sure no one was watching, and then he bent down, separating the leaves.

Nothing except the plant stem.

Feeling even more foolish, he straightened. What had he expected? That an actual fae sprite would be sitting in there waiting for him? Kier stood, dusting his hands off. As he did so, gold and silver specks shimmered in the air—the same kind that had filled his bedchamber last night.

Kier stared at his hands and then leaned over once more to check the plant. Still nothing, but more residue clung to his hands. He waved them, watching the glittery sparkles form a trail that followed his movements. Realizing how ridiculous he must look, he lowered his hands quickly.

Finn had been right. The Fae existed. And Fiona had seen them, talked to them.

Somehow, she had come to him last night.

Kier made his way back to his chamber and then through the hidden passageway to the locked tower room. Right now, he needed seclusion, and this was the best place. He didn't bother to go into the alcove, but instead dropped into one of the brocaded chairs that had been his mother's.