The Highlander (32 page)

She clamped her teeth over his hand and bit down with all her might. He jerked his hand back, and when he saw it was bleeding, he backhanded her.

The blow caught her off guard and knocked her from the chair. A brilliant flash of white light blinded her, and she thought she was going to pass out. Her head spun and a roaring sound whirred in her ears. She tried to get up but only managed to get on all fours. She tried to stand, but could not.

Rockingham nodded at the guards. "Put her in the chair."

Once Sophie was seated, he said, "Now that we have reached an understanding, we can proceed with our marriage arrangements. To prevent your trying to run back to the arms of that bastard in Scotland, we will marry immediately. What say you now, my lovely?"

"Immediately would suit me perfectly," she said, wiping the blood from her mouth, "so the Scot's bastard I carry will be born after our marriage, and therefore be your legal heir."

For a moment she thought he would strike her again. "You are lying."

She lifted her head and stared at him coldly. "You have no way of proving that for some weeks, and a lot can happen in that length of time."

^Twenty-Three

It is nought good a slepyng hound to wake. —Geoffrey Chaucer (c. 1342-1400), English poet.
Troilus and Criseyde
(c.1385)

The fire in the Great Hall at Monleigh Castle burned brightly, warming the members of the family gathered there, but their usual teasing banter was absent.

"God love that wee French lassie," Niall said. "If it weren't for her daring, Jamie wouldn't be alive."

"He is barely alive now." Arabella was stabbing the needle into her embroidery, as if by doing so she could ease the anxiety that hovered over the room, and touched every family member present. "I canna believe anyone who professes to be civilized, as the English do, could inflict such torture on another human being. The worst part of it is, he was guilty of nothing...not even a cattle raid."

"His guilt was being a Highlander," Calum said. "They dinna need a reason to hate us Gaels."

"It proves how badly they wanted Sophie," Bran said.

"They could have asked if she was here before carrying Jamie off," Arabella said. "That only proves they have been waiting for an excuse to arrest him. I want to be thankful that Sophie sacrificed herself to free him, but I dinna want to think of what she suffers now that she is in Rockingham's hands."

"Aye," her brothers agreed.

Arabella went on. "And poor Jamie, it will be some time before he is as good as new. I am thankful that there were no bones broken, save those in his left hand. But to burn him with hot pokers is inhumane."

"Aye, it is heartless and cruel," Bran said, "but 'tis said it is not as painful as being tied for hours by yer thumbs, or having yer flesh laid open with a cattle whip. God's teeth! I could put the length of one finger in the gash on his arm alone. He's got more stitches than Arabella's mending."

The mention of Arabella's lack of perfection when it came to mending was a touch of levity everyone needed.

Arabella stopped her sewing. "I will remember that the next time I'm called to stitch up your stubborn hide." She glanced around the' room at each of her brothers. "I wish Tavish were here."

"There's no point in his leaving Edinburgh and his studies to come here," Niall said. "There is naught he could do."

Fraser, who had gone upstairs to see how Jamie fared, walked into the room. He was greeted by anxious glances. "He looks much better. The leeches have reduced the swelling. He can open both eyes now."

Calum, who had remained silent during the discussion, asked, "Is he still restless?"

Fraser shook his head. "No, the laudanum is working. He is sleeping like a bairn."

"I hate to keep him drugged," Arabella said.

Bran nodded. '"Tis the only way to keep him in bed. Once he regains his faculties, there will be no stopping him. He will go after her. We all know that."

"Aye, we know that we canna let him go alone," Niall said.

Bran stood and went to stir the coals in the fire and then warmed his hands. ' 'Just the same, I don't look forward to the day the laudanum stops and we have to answer to Jamie for allowing his lass to take his place. Not to mention our keeping him drugged while his body healed."

"Or me," Calum said, "for handing Sophie over to the English."

'"Tis true," Arabella agreed. "You will endure the brunt of Jamie's anger. Have you thought about taking a tour of Italy about now?''

"I would have to move to Italy to escape Jamie's wrath for, no matter how long I was gone, he would be waiting for me when I came back."

The bruises were beginning to lighten by the end of the week, and Jamie's mood was as black as his hair.

"It's a sign he is feeling better," Arabella said.

"Is that true, brother? Are ye on the mend?" Fraser asked.

Jamie scowled deeply. ' 'How would you feel if some bastard smashed your hand with a mallet?"

"You should be thankful that it only broke two fingers," Niall said, "and on your left hand,"

"Oh, aye, I am thankful all right, and I will be showing ye how bloody thankful I am when I can get out of this bed."

"He's fast becoming his old cheerful self, isn't he?" Bran said.

Jamie's expression of anger and displeasure drew his eyebrows together and a crease formed between his eyes. "There are times when I wish I had been born an only child, and this is one of them," he said. "I dinna need any of you in here. Go on! Get out!"

"Whether you like it or not, you need someone to look after you until you are healed," Fra-ser said.

It took about all the strength he could muster for Jamie to sit up on the side of the bed, but he did find the energy to give Fraser a withering look. "Someone get my clothes."

"You can't go anywhere until you are fully recovered," Arabella said.

"Like hell. I'm going after her."

"Aye, and we're all going with ye, but first you've got to regain your strength," Niall said. "You couldn't make it to the Borders in your condition."

"I'd be stronger if you'd give me something to eat besides oatmeal."

"There's a joint of beef roasting on the spit right now. Will that suit yer lordship's fancy?" Fraser asked.

"Where is Calum, that bloody traitor?"

"Here, brother."

"Don't call me brother, you turncoat."

"Here now," Niall said. "He had no choice but to take yer lassie. She had already threatened to go alone, and you know her well enough to know she would have."

Jamie started to toss back a reply, but Calum spoke first. "I know you are angry at what I did, but it was my thinking that by going along with Sophie's plan we could save your hide
and
have your lass back."

"How did you come up with that far-fetched idea?"

"By asking myself what would Jamie do?"

When the laughter died down, Calum went on. "I knew that once you were dead, they would come after her. So it seemed the best choice to save your neck from the noose and let Sophie go to England. I did not doubt that once you were free you'd find a way to bring her back."

"And what about Sophie?" Jamie said. "Did you think what might happen to her in the hands of that English bastard?"

"Sophie is resourceful," Fraser said. "You do your lass an injustice to speak of her like she is a witless bit o' fluff. Besides, dinna be forgetting who she is. Rockingham might make her life miserable for a while, but he willna go so far as to harm her. She is still the cousin of the King of France. Rockingham obviously needs that connection."

Jamie scowled at the lot of them. "Aye, she is resourceful, and that is the only thing what's keeping me from throwing the lot of you into the dungeon. And I warn you now, if that bastard marries her before we can get there, I will throw the lot of ye in his dungeon."

Arabella had obviously had enough of Jamie's foul temper. "Hold the big bairn while I give him a little something to soften his growl," she said.

It took all of them to hold Jamie down, and keep him flat on his back.

"Fraser, pinch his nose," she said.

Then to Jamie, she said, "Open your mouth, you big bairn," and when he would not, she said patiently, "We can wait. He has to take a breath sometime."

When Jamie finally did take a gasp of breath, she poured a good dose of laudanum down his throat.

"Keep his nose pinched until he swallows it," she said. "If he throws it back at us, it will have to come out his eyeballs."

*
  
*
  
*

Jamie slept almost two days, rousing only when Arabella cradled his head and spooned a little broth or warmed wine into his mouth.

Gradually she reduced the amount of laudanum she was giving him until stopping it altogether on the fourth day, when he appeared close to being his old self.

"How long have I been sleeping?"

"Long enough that you look much better."

"Tell me truthfully. How long have I been like this?"

Arabella pushed the hair back from his face. ' 'Four days, and before'' you complain, it was absolutely necessary for your recovery. Your color is much better now, and the swelling almost gone. Even your broken fingers seem to be on the mend. How do you feel?"

"Hungry. I want to chew something...beef."

She smiled. "I will get you some beef and barley soup."

"I don't want soup. I want meat."

"You won't keep it down," she said. "You have to return to your regular way of eating gradually."

"And when did ye become a doctor?"

"About the same time you became so difficult."

He rolled out of the bed and stood, albeit on shaky legs. "Get me some meat and get it now or, by God, I'll get it myself."

Arabella held her ground. "Take one step and I'll call your brothers to hold you down again, and I'll fill you with enough laudanum that you'll sleep for a week."

She whirled and stomped to the door. "I'll be back with the soup, the laudanum and your brothers, and you can decide which you want."

She marched into the hall and slammed the door.

Fraser came up the stairs about the same time that Jamie let roll with a string of oaths, followed by the sound of something crashing. "I was about to ask how he's feeling, but I can tell he's on the mend."

Arabella smiled at him. "Aye, he's back to his old self."

^Twenty-Four

You can deduce it without further evidence than this,

that no one delights more in vengeance than a woman.

—Juvenal (c.60-c.l28), Roman satirist.

"Satires (c. 110-127)

During the week that followed Sophie had time to become well acquainted with her quarters.

Confined to her room, she was allowed to take only a short walk each day, accompanied by an escort of six guards. Intermittently, the duke would send word to her that she was invited to dine with him.

On each occasion she sent back her regrets, but by the end of that first week of confinement, she began to wonder if there was not a better way to gain control of a situation that was completely out of her hands.

After giving it some thought, she decided that if a woman has it in her mind to bring about a change, she might have to play a role that is contrary to her own instincts. This was a roundabout way of saying if her natural inclination was defiance, then she would have to try acquiescence.

Acquiescence...she shuddered at the very sound of the word.

Faith, it would be easier to drink vinegar.

When the next summons to dine with the duke came Sophie stiffened her spine and listened in a way she hoped one would consider demure, as Mrs. Crabb delivered the duke's invitation.

"His Grace will send a guard to escort you to dinner. He expects you to wear the dress he had delivered to you earlier. You are to be there no later than eight."

"Tell His Grace I look forward to dining with him."

Obviously displeased with Sophie's acceptance of the duke's invitation, Mrs. Crabb departed.

Sophie went to the bed and studied the silver-and-blue brocade gown with the d6colletage cut dangerously low. She held the dress up in front of her and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

So, that is what he wanted her to wear tonight. In France, she would have called it the dress of a
femme fatale,
an attractive woman who had a destructive effect upon those men foolish enough to succumb to her charms.

Perhaps it was the perfect dress for what she had in mind.

Not wanting to displease the duke on the eve of her first skirmish, Sophie was dressed long before the guard came to escort her to dinner.

Rockingham was standing near the fireplace, with one foot on the fender, when she entered the room. He held a glass of brandy, and something told her it was not his first glass.

Her first impression was that he was preoccupied with something, when he heard the rustle of her gown he turned toward her, and his sly expression was replaced by one of complete incredulousness.

Feeling a surge of confidence, along with a small amount of power, Sophie withdrew her hand from the guard's arm and smiled at Rockingham. "Your Grace seems surprised to see me."

"I find it is sometimes better to be too believing than too skeptical. I dared not hope you would accept my invitation. I not only wanted you to share dinner, but I also wanted to speak to you about what happened the other day."

"I prefer to forget that," she said, and wished she were a man so she could take that poker standing nearby and run him through.

He nodded. ' 'As you wish, for I had hoped to ask if we might, henceforth, put the past behind us and begin anew."

"I find I am in perfect agreement, for I have harbored a similar hope."

"Shall I pour you a glass of claret?"

"I would prefer to share a glass of brandy with you, Your Grace."

"I knew you would be breathtaking in that gown. I have thought of little else all evening. I have never been able to get that first sight of you out of my mind. You were dancing in the arms of someone else at Versailles."

He placed his glass on the mantel before he poured a glass of brandy and carried it to her. "I shall require all of your dances from now on," he said.

Sophie watched as he came toward her with the glass. She smiled and thought, here comes the trout that can be caught by tickling.

Rockingham had not believed that Sophie would appear for dinner.

He expected another display of her defiance and, because he knew she would not dine with him, he was taken by surprise for a second time when she walked into the room, two minutes early.

The second surprise was seeing her in the dress he sent for her to wear, when he fully expected her to rip it to shreds and toss it over the balcony.

The moment she entered he told himself he had been right to persuade King Louis to accept his offer of marriage. He wanted Sophie. Everything about her was regal, from the mysterious power of her beauty, and the sureness of her carriage, to the sharp consciousness she seemed to have of what went on about her.

Her smile dazzled him,''just as her beauty had from the moment he first saw her. That she was here now, in his home, and under his supervision, and coming willingly to dine with him, left him feeling like a schoolboy.

All he could think of was getting her to come willingly to his bed, for he had already decided to marry her the moment she gave birth. That did not mean, however, that he could not make her his mistress in the meantime. Discreetly, of course.

Dinner lasted a long time, and she seemed perfectly relaxed and eager to join into conversation with him. She pleased him immensely, and already he had visions of the envy she would arouse when he took her to London in the fall. That she was, such a beauty, with Bourbon blood and royal lineage—it would make her the talk of the ton for the entire season.

He imagined the flabby-armed matrons all vying to have the cousin of the King of France attend their balls.

He was especially courteous throughout dinner, for he did not want to do anything to damage the fragile truce they had established. "As I told you earlier, I did not expect you for dinner. After so many refusals, what made you change your mind and decide to come tonight?"

He had already decided that if she said it was the dress he would not believe her, for he knew she was of too strong a character to succumb to such superficiality. If she said the dress, she was here to play him false.

"I decided there are occasions when it is undoubtedly better to lose graciously than to win defiantly."

"I am delighted to learn that your beauty is matched only by your intelligence."

She ran her fingers down the stem of her champagne glass. "I am sure my cousin will be pleased to hear that. I would hate to think I was a disappointment to my country."

' 'Never a disappointment. I shall see to it that

King Louis is informed that his cousin has skill and tact that outshines his best ambassadors."

After dinner, she agreed to play the piano for him and he watched, entranced, as her fingers floated lightly over the keys. He was filled with imaginings of another talent for those long, lovely fingers of hers.

He was truly disappointed when she finished the last song and closed the lid to the piano. "Oh, my dear, must you stop?"

She smiled and he saw the fire in her eyes that were as blue as crystals. "My father told me it was a sign of greatness to know when to begin and when to stop.'''

"Then, who am I to argue against anything your father said. He was a great man." "Yes, he was, and I adored him." "So I have been told." She stood across the room from him like temptation, and he had no desire to withstand it. He had been alone too long.

Everything about her shimmered as if her gown had been woven by elves out of moonbeams. He wanted her in every way a man wanted a woman. He wanted to own her and possess her until she no longer knew where she ended and he began. But, right now, he wanted to take her in his arms and carry her up to his bed and give her what he had yearned to give her that first time he saw her, five years ago, but he cautioned himself to go slowly with her.

That bloody Scot had abused her, for he was certain now that it was rape, and he would not put himself in the same class as that bloody bastard. She was not a woman to be taken by force, but one to be won with the refinement of courtship. He had realized that the first day she was here when she had infuriated him until his anger was white hot, and he had struck her.

He walked her up to her room, and kissed her hand at the door. ' I look forward to dinner again tomorrow night. I hope you will not disappoint me.

She drew her fan down the side of his cheek. "I could never do that, Your Grace. Good night."

The door closed behind her, but he remained in place for a moment longer, until the scent of her perfume had vanished.

Sophie dined with the duke each night for the next four days, and each time she did it became increasingly difficult to hold him at bay.

Thankfully, he set her mind at ease at least for the coming night.

"I am having some gentlemen friends up from London tomorrow night. They will join me for dinner. I do hope you will agree to be present and fulfill the role of hostess."

"If Your Grace desires it," she said, instantly aware that she spoke the magic words, for he took her in his arms and kissed her, calling her "My darling Duchess."

She was surprised the next afternoon, while having tea, to see the duke walk in the room to join her. Through the course of conversation he mentioned that his friends were all members of what he called "the Leicester House Set."

Sophie frowned and stroked the petal of a rose in the arrangement on the table. "I am not familiar with the Leicester House Set," she said. "Is it some sort of gentlemen's club?"

He smiled and placed his hand over hers. "Before I explain that I feel I should give you a little background information, which will help tremendously in the understanding of the Leicester House Set."

"Please do, for I am so terribly uneducated in English ways, and will feel much more comfortable when I am better informed, so I might carry on a more enlightened conversation."

"My dear, you could read King George's decree that put the border of Maine in the middle of the Piscataqua River and have them eating out of your hand."

' 'Maine? Oh... in America?''

"All this and brilliance, too. You enchanting creature."

She did not relish being called a creature, but she did not let on. Instead, she said, "I believe you were going to give me some background on the Leicester House Set."

"We should start with the king's eldest son, Frederick Louis, who is the Prince of Wales. He was brought to England from Hanover in 1728. He has been despised by his parents, King George II and Queen Caroline, almost from the beginning...so despised, in fact, that the queen often publicly wishes for his death. The royal couple is afraid he will gain popularity at the king's expense. The king even went so far as to consider a scheme to send Frederick to rule Hanover, so his second son, William, could inherit the throne."

"He could do that?"

"He tried. The plan was voted on and defeated. Naturally, Frederick found friends in the circles in opposition to his father. Barred from the palace, Frederick established himself at Leicester House, which has become the meeting place for parliamentary opposition, where we focus on the next king. Those of us who favor putting Frederick on the throne are known as the 'Leicester House Set.'"

"But isn't that dangerous for you?"

He squeezed her hand. "My dove, my heartbeat grows more rapid to think you are concerned for my safety."

Being called his dove sickened her. I must get away from here soon, she was thinking, but she smiled and said, "It is only because I know the danger that lies in wait for those in opposition to the throne. I have known many of those in France who were sent to stand before a firing squad because of it."
^fc

"Don't worry for me,
ma petite,
I know what I am doing."

"Do be careful."

The butler interrupted them before Rockingham could say anything more. "Your Grace, the Duke of Worthington and the Earl of Hampshire have arrived."

"I will see them in the library." The duke stood and took Sophie's hand. "Until dinner," he said, and kissed her hand.