Chapter 11 #3
So Thane rode back with a lighter heart. Effie’s reaction was in keeping with her nature, which rushed to help anyone in need. But what if she’d been away from home? Thane cursed himself for his hasty planning, and the morass he’d got himself into with Catriona Ross.
Why had he jumped into the fray? Yes, because she was Brodie’s sister. Yes, because the moment Thane pulled her behind his body at the sound of the gunshot, he’d already committed to some degree. But he knew that others would whisper that it was because Catriona was beautiful.
Which she was, but that wasn’t why someone was trying to kill her. At least, he hoped not, because that would mean they were dealing with a madman.
The other men were working on it, he told himself.
He’d soon get word from them, and they’d no doubt be able to learn more about who was after Catriona.
Thane reflected that the lass would welcome any news because it would mean she’d get away from him.
Cat made her irritation with him clear—on board the ship, she’d practically been insensible before she’d accept any help from him.
So give her some whisky to get her to cooperate later, he thought with grim amusement.
Then his mind leapt to the other reason a man plied a woman with drink, and he quickly determined that he’d never give her even a dram of anything.
The mere idea of a tipsy, cooperative Cat was enough to send his blood straight to his groin.
He closed his eyes and envisioned it all too well.
Her hair down, her eyes soft, a curve to those pink, plush lips that would curl up further when she said his name, inviting him to explore all her curves and the luscious flesh hidden under her black gowns…
Black gowns. He knew, more than anyone, why she wore that color. Thane winced. Christ. Where was his head? Why was he lusting after this woman when she was the last one in the world he should think about in that way?
What he needed was something to distract him, to get all these ideas out of his mind.
Thane rode back to Kinlochlie. At least he’d have Effie here in a few hours to keep a gloss of respectability on things. It was up to him to keep his thoughts about Cat to himself. Luckily, Cat’s utter disdain for him meant that she’d never be the one to start anything.
Pity.
Stop it, he told himself sharply. He left his horse with one of the stable lads and stalked into the main building, intending to wash and dress before the evening meal.
Mrs Ballard found him shortly after he returned. “I’ve given the lass the corner room at the southeast. I hope that’s satisfactory?”
He understood his housekeeper’s hesitation. Cat’s status had no precedence. She wasn’t family, she wasn’t a fiancée, she wasn’t a paramour. She was a mystery.
Thus, the housekeeper had chosen a room that was not so close to Thane’s to be scandalous, but not so far from the better guest rooms that it might demean her as a near-servant.
“Excellent choice, Mrs Ballard, as always. I expect Miss Ross was relieved to be able to rest after the journey.”
“Indeed, sir. She did look rather peaked,” Mrs Ballard noted, then added hastily, “but very polite and well-spoken. A true lady.”
“She is the sister of a very good friend,” Thane said, knowing that he’d have to make certain facts known, though he hoped to keep Cat’s presence as unremarkable as possible. “And I hope that everyone will respect her privacy while she’s here, and not pester her for details of her life.”
“I’ll see to it, sir. Poor lass in mourning as she is, no one will dare intrude. Not unless they want to deal with me, that is.”
Thane smiled despite himself. Somehow, Cat had made an ally of Mrs Ballard within ten minutes of stepping foot into the building. She had a gift for words and persuasion, that was clear.
He walked toward the great hall, feeling slightly more optimistic about the odds of this mad plan to save Brodie Ross’s sister. Here she would be surrounded by people he could trust.
Then he saw Andra.
Oh, hell.
He hadn’t counted on Andra being here at Kinlochlie! In fact, until clapping eyes on her, he hadn’t thought about her at all. He assumed that the lass would have married some man and moved away long before now. It seemed impossible for her to remain unmarried, given her voraciousness.
Andra was a flame-haired, blue-eyed beauty with a figure of a nymph…and the desires of one as well. Judging by the sultry, knowing look she gave him, she hadn’t changed one bit. And he was going to have to explain that he had changed.
“Welcome home, Thane MacPhearson,” she said with a little smile as she approached him.
“Andra, you’re looking very…healthy,” he said inanely.
“Aye, I’ve a healthy appetite,” she responded. “But you know that, Thane. Will I see you tonight?”
He schooled his expression to remain composed. “That’s a matter we’ll have to talk about, Andra. Later.”
“Of course,” she said, looking down demurely, an act that only made her look more sensual. “Whenever you like.”
The promise in those words was undeniable. Yes, Andra was going to be a problem.