The Heart Queen (47 page)

“I will be back in a few moments,” he said.

“I will be ready,” she said softly.

Janet had no idea what Neil intended. A midnight ride was so unlike him. Or was it? She smiled to herself at that thought.

She knew almost immediately they were going to the loch. They had not been there together in more than eight years, but she knew every turn and climb on the short journey. She had taken it enough times in her dreams.

He leaned over at one point and touched her gloved hands, and it was as if he had poured warm molasses through that spot and it slowly filled her entire being. She had never felt so protected and wanted and... loved. He had not said the words, but he conveyed them to her in every action and every gesture.

They reached the loch where they had once exchanged kisses. Hills rose up around it, and in the moonlight she saw the flashes of white—the sheep)—that dotted them. The moon was wedge-shaped tonight, but the night was clear and stars crowded the midnight sky.

He dismounted and helped her off her horse, holding her a moment longer than necessary. Then he whistled, a series of sounds that sounded like the call of a night bird. She looked at him anxiously, then saw a dark figure appear from behind a hill.

As he neared, she knew familiarity. The lanky build, the arrogant steps, the height.

She ran to him and into his arms, her body shuddering with the pure delight she felt, with the relief and the release of the silent grief she’d buried inside her.

Alex’s arms closed around her. “My bonny little sister,” he whispered.

She buried her head against his familiar chest, remembering how he had comforted her when she fell from her first pony or an older boy teased her or when she had returned to her home years ago in desperate misery. He had not asked questions, but had merely been there. He had been silent when she’d agreed to marry Alasdair, asking only if she was sure.

They shared parents and family and memories. They shared blood. And they were the only two left. No, there was Colin now.

She looked up at his face, shielded by the collar of his cloak and a pulled-down cap. She tugged it up, so she could see his face in the light of the part moon and the stars.

Neil had warned her, so she was able to keep her shock to herself. Her handsome brother, the bonny braw lad who had drawn women as flowers drew bees. A jagged scar ran down his cheek, from the side of his eye down to below his mouth.

He smiled ruefully but only one side of his mouth turned upward. “I’m sorry, moppet. I did not want you to see this, but by God I could not leave without saying good-bye.”

It was oddly poignant to hear his old nickname for her. “Do you think a small thing like a wee scar would bother me?” she said softly. “When Neil told me you were alive ... but I could not see you ...” Her fingers touched his cheek lovingly. “I thought my heart would break.”

“And is it mended now?” he queried softly.

“Aye. I will miss you. I can bear it now, though. I do not think I could if...”

“I think you can bear anything. You have become stronger than any of us,” he said. “Braemoor has told me about... your husband and his family. I only wish ...”

She shook her head and took his hand in hers. “I want only to talk about you. Neil said you are caring for a covey of children.”

The rueful smile again. “More truthfully, they care for me.”

“What are you going to do with them?” she asked.

“Find homes for them in Paris among the refugees.”

“And then?”

“Make a fortune, moppet. What else?”

That sounded like the brother she remembered. Dauntless, self-confident, brash.

“Who is taking care of the children now?”

“A man named Burke and one of the older lads.”

She glanced toward Neil. His back was toward them and he was staring out at the loch.

Alex’s fingers tightened in hers. “You like him.”

“Aye,” Alex said. “Even if he did fight with Cumberland.”

That was a great admission from her brother, whose passions had always been fiery and unforgiving.

“And you?” he asked her with amusement.

“Aye,” she said, mocking him. “But he has reservations.”

“He loves you.”

“As much as he will let himself.”

“Ah, moppet, I will place my wager on you.”

“I do not want to let you go.”

“I will keep in touch. Some way. I promise.”

She leaned against him, knowing that she might never see him again. But she knew he would always be with her, no matter the distance between them. And she would have pleasant, wonderful memories of him. Not terrible thoughts about what might have happened to him. Even the scar meant nothing next to his life.

It was a glorious moment. Neil and her brother. Together. Allies, at least for now. She did not want to break the moment, but knew she must. Every moment here was dangerous for him.

“And Reginald? Did he do as Neil thought he would?” She could not bear to say the words, to ask forthrightly whether someone wanted her dead.

“Aye,” Alex said softly. “Braemoor is a good judge of men. And cowards.” He hesitated, then said, “I will need your ring, moppet.”

Janet nodded, trying not to let him know how she felt. She had lived with Reginald and his wife, and while they had not agreed on many things, she’d not thought him capable of paying someone to murder her. She took off the ring her husband had given her and handed it to her brother. Its absence on her finger gave her an odd sense of freedom.

“I have to go,” he said. “I should no‘ have come, but Braemoor ...” He hesitated. “Take care of him,” Alex grinned. “He has a reckless streak I don’t think he quite understands.”

“I will not see you again?”

“Nay, I think not. Braemoor has arranged passage to France.”

She stood up on her tiptoes. He was taller than Neil, but not by much.

“Be safe,” she said.

He nodded, then strode over to Neil. He said something to him that she could not hear and then he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.

She walked over to Neil. “Thank you,” she said, struggling against the lump in her throat. “That was the finest gift anyone could give me.”

“You are welcome, lass.”

She was reminded that he had no family, apparently never had one except a mother believed mad and a grandfather who had handed him away. Well, he had a family now.

But she only took his hand in hers, her fingers interlocking with his. And together they walked back to their horses, a new intimacy silent between them.

They both saw to their own horses rather than wake either Kevin or Jamie. Neil had told him earlier that they were not to stay up. One of them had left an oil lantern hanging from a rafter.

They left the stalls at the same time, nearly running into each other. Neil felt as if he were one of two lodestones, unable to move in any direction other than hers. He simply could not fight any longer. He did not want to.

Their lips met in a fiery collision. His arms went around her, and her body fused against his. He felt the softness of her form and the urgency already ruling it. Ruling his as well. He deepened his kiss and savored the bonding, warm and tender and right. Very right. He knew now no man could foretell the future, and if she were willing to take risks, then how could he not take them?

After a moment, he released her lips and his gaze met hers. Asking.

A sweet softness came into her eyes. He put an arm around her and guided her toward the tower house. He did not care who saw, or what tales might be told. He cared about nothing but keeping her at his side.

Once in her room, he closed the door, and his mouth melded against hers, searching, exploring, reaching. Her body was taut with need, and his own was burning. Then with a moan of long denial, he unbuttoned the front of her riding habit. Her hands in turn worked on the ties of his breeches.

She paused, looking at him with questions in her eyes. “You will not regret...”

“One thing your brother taught me,” he said, “is that life is fragile and no one can predict what will happen. You ... and Alex ... tonight... it was dangerous, and a month ago I would have thought too dangerous.” His hand touched her chin. “It was worth it.”

She caught his hand. “Aye, my lord. Now when I think of him, I can think of him as he was tonight, not lying mutilated and untended on some battlefield. You told me he lived, but I do not think my heart truly believed it until tonight.” She held his hand tight. “No one can predict the future. You can only seize and cherish the chances given you.”

His heart pounded against his ribs. He had lived with caution for so long. He had lived with the ghost of his mother for so long. Now he was thirty, and there was no sign of madness.

“A child...”

“A child will be loved,” she said fiercely. Something shadowed her eyes, but then quickly moved away and they were full of longing and the anguish of denial.

She finished her job of unclothing him and he her. Her body was so soft, softer than he remembered. But that night in Edinburgh, they had been lost in the throes of guilt and need. He ran his hands along the curves of her body, then threaded his fingers through her hair. “You are the very breath to me,” he whispered.

Janet looked up at him, startled delight in her eyes at his words. He realized he had said far too few endearments to her. “Aye,” he said. “And the sun and moon and stars.”

She stood on tiptoes and matched her lips to his. He crushed her to him, feeling her body instinctively meld into his. His lips courted her at first, questioning, seducing. He deepened the kiss, emotion turning it fierce, and he made demanding, hungry forays into her mouth. Her arms tightened around his shoulders and her fingers played with the back of his neck, igniting blazes that spread like wildfire into his loins.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed and gently laid her down, his own hard body resting next to her, his hand skimming over her body in movements so light and tender they brought a low sigh from her. Then he leaned over and his tongue licked the hardening nipple of her breast. He felt her shudder with sensation. His own body was raging with its own need.

Desire surged through him as his lips found hers again and played against them, nibbling tenderly, teasing. She exchanged kiss for kiss, her lips and mouth eagerly seeking and receiving, her hands exploring him just as he had her.

He had never known a touch could be so gentle and yet so much like a fiery brand. The dichotomy of the sensations was in itself an aphrodisiac—not that he needed one. His blood already felt like fire in his veins. Her body tensed, moved erratically, signaling her need. He moved, balanced himself above her, teasing her until she moaned with need and he entered, slowly, wanting her to feel every delicious sensation that he was feeling. Then he invaded further, filling her and moving with a rhythm that became more and more primitive as her body moved with his in an elemental dance that left them both without will or choice. The rhythm quickened. Thrust and another thrust. He stopped breathing as pleasure became ecstasy, and they became one in a brilliant moment of splendor.

*

Alex met Reginald on the same road where they had met before.

As instructed by the Marquis of Braemoor, Alex sent Burke with a sealed letter for Reginald. Burke, who was a master of furtiveness, was to leave it at the front door of Lochaene. Alex wanted Reginald to believe the, Black Knave could appear and disappear at will.

The note said that the Black Knave had accomplished his mission. Reginald was to meet him as he had before to receive proof and to conclude their business arrangement.

Alex did not think Reginald had the fortitude to refuse the meeting. Nor could the man set a trap without implicating himself.

So this would be the final piece to be put into place. Alex knew he had to convince Reginald to attend Braemoor’s ball. He should have received his invitation.

As an additional precaution, Alex met Reginald a mile closer to Lochaene than their previous meeting. And, as before, he appeared out of nowhere, mask back on his face and pistol leveled at Reginald.

“My dear Campbell,” he said. “You will ride towards those trees until we cannot be seen from the road.”

Reginald Campbell silently turned his mount into the woods, then stopped a distance from the rarely traveled road.

“Dismount,” Alex ordered. He noticed that this time Campbell rode an old horse and wore no jewelry. He grinned at that. The man would not have a weapon either, he thought, but he slid down from his own horse and checked Campbell’s saddle and his person. Nothing.

“You are learning, sir,” he said equably.

“You have news for me?” Reginald said.

Alex shrugged. “She is dead.” He tossed him Janet’s ring. There was dried blood on it.

Reginald studied it for a moment. “How did she die? I have heard nothing.”

“You would not. Braemoor is holding a ball in two days’ time. Cumberland is attending. I do not think Braemoor wants Cumberland to know of the lady’s death until he gets his hands on your estates.”

“How do you know that?”

“How do I know so much about you? I have spies everywhere, my dear Campbell.” Then he seemed to relent. “I have someone in Braemoor’s employ. I know that he had forbidden the lady to ride alone, but she paid scant attention. She had a very regrettable accident on the road and was thrown from her horse.”

Reginald nodded. “She often rode off without telling anyone. And I know she did not want to leave Lochaene. He forced her and left his man here to guard his interests. Probably to rob us blind.”

Alex continued as if Reginald had not spoken at all. “I waited to see whether anyone would find the body. From a distance, that is. He came after her and found the body. I saw him take it not far away through the woods and leave it there, apparently for the animals. He must be as greedy as you are. As was his cousin. I rather enjoyed skewering
him
,” Alex said.

His cold words apparently were convincing. Or mayhap Reginald saw himself in everyone else. Satisfaction swept his face. “There is a ball in three days’ time. I did not plan to go, but now I will. I will demand to see her.”