Chapter Twenty-Four
Langston had invited Captain Barton to a dinner soiree.
There were going to be Inverness women invited.
There were probably going to be two certain MacHugh lasses invited.
Lisle was the only one without an invitation.
She was under orders to appear and be the proper hostess to English trash she’d rather spit on than watch served.
And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, Monteith wasn’t listening to one word of argument about this honeymoon trip he was planning, either.
Lisle sat with the seamstresses, listening to the ebb and flow of words, twitters of amusement, and not a whole lot else, and wondered what she could use to sway Langston this time.
He was immune to further negotiation. He seemed to know what she was doing the moment she started, and it didn’t take much effort to get that man interested enough that he joined in with her seduction, and then there was no telling the winner.
He had too great a weapon to use. He called it passion.
He’d told her she had the same, and once she learned how to wield it, they were in for a whole lot of trouble.
She was also going through sheer underthings faster than the castle seamstresses could sew them.
Lisle looked across the sewing room that felt like a prison, and thought she’d much rather be a male, outside in the open air, instead of with a roomful of women whose mouths moved as fast as their needles did.
Then again, no male got to design and wear chemises like the one Maggie had designed for tonight’s use.
Despite the bevy of women all about her, Lisle blushed, and had to fan herself with the parchment listing of foods he wanted her to peruse and give her opinion over.
She looked down at listings of dishes that were next to impossible to imagine in these austere times, and wondered why he’d given it to her to approve. There wasn’t time to change the menu.
She sighed and fanned more. She didn’t bother looking over the menu further. There wasn’t time to change anything. He was rushing them toward the clan’s demise, and he couldn’t even see it. It was as if the entire castle was holding its breath, waiting. And it wasn’t waiting for Captain Barton.
Lisle descended the staircase, after tiring of waiting for Langston to appear to escort her. The castle was alive with music and laughter and flowing wine and ales, and all kinds of appetizing smells. The only thing missing was its owner.
Lisle looked down at the translucent upper layer that belonged to one of her first ballgowns.
This one had been made with a large bodice band of shimmering blue-green fabric that looked molded to her and gave her a moment of shyness when she’d first seen it.
The seamstresses had then attached long strips of filmy sea-blue netting that overlaid such a pristine, white satin skirt, it looked like she was a mermaid rising from the depths of the deepest loch.
Lisle’s body was changing. It had to be.
Her bosom had never been this large, and she was tired of constantly having to be measured to capture her increasing proportions.
She smiled slyly. Perhaps Laird Monteith should have waited until she completely finished growing before he ordered and paid for entire wardrobes, if someone decided when that would be.
Lisle pulled on the low-cut neckline, managing to do nothing more than put a thumb and fingerprint on the fabric, and then she sighed.
“There you are, my dear. Right in time for—”
Langston’s voice stopped as he looked fully at her. What was worse was Captain Barton’s expression right next to him.
“I’m speechless, Monteith. A tad jealous, too, I might add.”
The captain broke the silence. Lisle felt her skin crawl from where the man was looking. She raised her eyes to Langston’s. They were black, expressionless…hard. She gulped.
“You…look lovely, Lisle,” Langston said, and pulled her to his right side, away from the captain.
“You might want to keep her under wraps next month, Monteith. Cumberland has an eye for the wenches, and one so well served up as this one will definitely whet his appetite, and make your life misery. Unless, of course, that’s your object.”
“My wife forgot her shawl. Lisle? Your shawl?”
Captain Barton chuckled from the far side of him. “In that event, I’d keep her locked well away from him. He’s got a reputation for that, you know.”
“He steals men’s wives?”
“He doesn’t need to steal. He can make any woman a mistress. If she’s available. And even if she’s not. I don’t think he quibbles over marital status. Wait until you meet the man. You’ll see.”
“Lisle?” Langston bowed his head to put his forehead near hers. “Does that dress come with a shawl?”
“I’ll find one,” she whispered back.
“Good. I’ll wait. Captain? Go ahead. I’ll join you in a moment. I’ve got to await my wife.”
“That woman has certainly changed, Monteith, and all for the better that I can see. Makes me almost want my own Highland lass. Is that what carrying your heir is doing to her?”
Lisle was on the fourth step, then the fifth; then she was moving up them automatically and without any more thought to anything other than the obvious.
She was carrying Langston’s heir! Chills ran her arms, wings of nervousness fluttered about in her belly, and she swung the wardrobe door open with a movement that made all the shawls dance about in the interior.
Then, she dropped her hands to the flatness that was her belly, despite the inner conviction that it was true.
She was carrying a baby—Langston’s baby!
Lisle tied a ring stole about her shoulders and turned the knot to the back so the gossamer fabric created a curtain effect, hiding what she should have already had the smarts to keep hidden.
She wondered if Langston suspected. She wondered why the captain had, and then she remembered.
Langston had given him that excuse for wedding her in the first place. She slammed the armoire door shut.
The captain was still there, he was still talking, and she was almost down the staircase before she knew what they were talking of. Langston was still talking of what this William wanted, and why it was important, and food likes and dislikes, and then her stomach felt like it caved on her.
He wouldn’t—! He couldn’t—! Monteith Castle was going to host the Duke of Cumberland, the man called Butcher Willie?
The man who had ordered and executed the razing of the Highlands following his victory at Culloden?
Everything in her recoiled. She was surprised to see her hand still skimming down the banister and her feet still moving underneath her without a sign of the devastation that was happening inside.
“He’ll bring troops?”
“Of course, although I’ve told him it’s not necessary.
We’ve got the barbarians cowed—and their women beaten.
There’s not a Highlander about with any intellect, strength, or power to give William a difficult time.
And if they do, we’ll just have us another Culloden, won’t we?
” The captain laughed at the end of his words.
Lisle clenched her hand on the wooden railing.
“They’ll bring their own horses?”
“Why? You want to put them on your own stud?”
“Of course. A testimony from Cumberland will further my ambitions a hundredfold in London.”
“I’ve heard he’s much too corpulent to put such a thing into action.”
“He still likes horseflesh, though? Riding?”
“When his gout allows it. You’ll see. Ah. Here’s the lovely Mistress Monteith. My dear, allow me to escort you in.”
Lisle looked toward Langston for help, and all he did was nod. Everything was cringing, screaming, raging. She reached a hand that trembled and placed it on the captain’s arm. Then she was matching her steps to his and trying everything she knew to keep from crying aloud with the hatred of it.
“You have the oddest luck, Monteith,” the captain said when they were at the largest dining room. “You choose a woman I’d have run from, turn her into the loveliest creature on the earth, and manage to subdue her into submission. She keeps quiet. I am very envious, I’ve decided.”
Lisle’s teeth were grinding in step with her feet, and then they were in what used to be a room full of furniture, with more hanging from the beams. She looked up.
Now all that was up there were full chandeliers of lit oil lamps.
Lisle looked about the room with awe at how lovely it all was, and an instant curiosity in where he’d put the furniture.
Then, it occurred to her. There hadn’t been one stick of anything strange hanging from any beam, anywhere. The furniture was gone…all of it.
“You’re going to have to work on your conversation skills, my dear Lady Monteith. A bit of light conversation wouldn’t go amiss, and would have any man tied to your side. I vow it.”
A bit of light conversation? she repeated to herself. A shiver went right up her spine and climbed the back of her head. Lisle’s face probably showed it. She was going to gag.
“Then again, a man can’t help but look brilliant when around a woman with such a skill for quiet.”
“I—” Lisle tried to say something but it got stuck in her throat.
“No words means no arguments. You understand?” He was leaning toward her, and then he was winking at her.
Lisle’s eyes went huge. He mistook that look, too, as he squeezed the arm she was holding against his side.
“If you’ll pardon me, Captain?” Lisle smiled slightly up at him, pulled her hand out of his grasp, and turned, right into Langston.
“Langston?”
His arm enveloped her, taking away all the panic and dulling the shaking she wasn’t very good at disguising.
Langston was absolutely right about her.
She was a terrible liar. Everything on her body had been in a state of amazement and surprise at carrying a baby, and then it turned to disgust at what she’d had to touch; what he’d made her touch. Her eyes narrowed.