Chapter Nineteen #2
She had managed to avoid him all evening, just a word or two and turning away on the excuse of another guest to greet, another detail needing her attention as hostess.
Throughout the chatting, dancing, music, and buffet supper shared with many, Matheson had been a dark and lurking presence.
She had not forgotten that he expected her answer that evening, which was in part why she had evaded him.
Now his dark eyes seemed hungry and eager. And she had no escape.
“A word in private, madam?” He came toward her, slipping a hand under her elbow. “We’ve had no chance to talk all evening. I wanted to tell you how ravishing you look tonight.”
“Thank you,” she said, noticing then that Guy and Angela had vanished in the garden shadows.
Glancing into the house, she saw Dougal chatting with two elderly men; in that moment, he sent a sharp glance toward the conservatory doors, as if he saw her outside with Roderick.
But he turned his attention back to his companions.
“A walk in the moonlight,” Roderick said, “is the perfect ending to a pleasant evening.”
“I must return to the house, as my guests are departing.”
“Madam, they are all gone but for a few who cannot seem to stop talking business,” he said. “No one will notice where you are. Indulge me for a few minutes, I beg you, my dear.” As he leaned toward her, the smell of wine on his breath was strong.
“Perhaps we could talk tomorrow,” she said, edging toward the doors.
“Margaret, just a minute of your time. You have ignored me all evening.” He took her hand and folded it over his arm.
She sighed. “Very well. A minute or two.” Turning, she lifted her skirt and moved forward.
The garden was dark and fragrant, the breeze soft as she walked with Roderick, his hand over hers.
She felt trapped as they walked down an aisle formed by shrubs and tall ferns in pots.
From the back of the garden, Angela and Guy were heading back to the house.
They murmured polite greetings as Meg and Roderick walked past.
She tried to catch Angela’s eye, wanting to convey her discomfort. But they were gone.
*
The garden was a quiet moonlit world hemmed in by tall, close houses, though a high fence and a screen of slender trees lent privacy. Distantly, Meg heard the rattle of wheels as vehicles carried guests over cobbled streets.
She turned. “Roderick, I must go inside to say more farewells. I know you wish to speak to me, but let it wait.”
“Grant me a few moments, please, for this wee question of the heart.”
“Heart! Hardly that, and you know it.”
He set a hand to his chest. “Lady, you wound me! I ask again. Please do me the honor of marrying me.” He captured her gloved hands, his fingers strong and overly warm on hers.
Glancing past the back wall, with its tiered flower beds and small espaliered fruit trees, toward the house, she did not answer.
She loved this Edinburgh house, and could not imagine Roderick living here, could not imagine marrying him and pretending to care as his wife.
And the thought of sharing a bed with him—
“No.” She tried to tug her hands away, but his fingers were hot as iron on her gloves.
“Is that your answer? Consider it carefully.” He drew her closer until the flexible cage of her wide skirt flattened against his legs. “You will,” he muttered, bending toward her. “You have no choice, and you know it. I will tell the world. You will be ruined.”
“Stop!” She twisted against his grip.
“I just wish I had been the one to ruin you first,” he growled, and yanked her toward him so fast that her back ached with the hard tug. Planting his mouth on hers in a wet and eager kiss, he ground his lips and teeth against hers. “But I will ruin you last, if that is what you like.”
Repulsed, furious, she shoved hard against his chest, then again. He flew backward, stumbling to the ground with an outraged cry.
Surely she was not that strong! Dazed, she saw Dougal standing in the shadows over Roderick. He came from nowhere—he must have seen them through the glass doors—to fling the man off and away from her.
Hauling Matheson up by the lapels of his coat, he shoved him against the nearby fence, crushing a shrubbery, pinning him there, though Matheson was easily the heavier one.
“You intend to ruin the lady?” Dougal demanded. “Is that what you said?”
“No—that’s not what I meant,” he protested, clawing at Dougal’s wrists.
“That’s what I heard,” Dougal growled. He pressed the man flatter against the wall, his arms digging into the banker’s chest. “I came out to say farewell to my hostess,” he went on, his voice rough with rage.
“I heard you threaten her, saw you grab her.” He slammed Roderick tight against the wall as the man struggled to get free. “Heard you say you would ruin her.”
“Mr. Stewart—Dougal—please let him go,” Meg said.
“Are you harmed, madam?” He continued to glare at Roderick.
“I am fine.” She glanced toward the house to see the businessmen who had been talking with Dougal now gathered with Angela and Guy, Mrs. Larrimore, the butler, and a cluster of maids, all gaping at them. “Truly. Let him go.”
“When he apologizes,” Dougal growled.
“I need not apologize for proposing to the lady again,” Roderick said. “She was about to accept when you interfered.”
“Is that so, Lady Strathlin?” Dougal asked, barely audible.
“I—well, he asked—”
“Is it true?” he demanded.
She looked at Dougal, with his strong, fierce heart, and Roderick, whose heart was cold and vicious. She loved one and loathed the other. And she had to protect one from the other now.
“He asked,” she whispered. “He did me no harm. Let him go.”
The silence was tense and brittle. Dougal stared at Roderick. Then, with a low growl, he let go suddenly and stepped back.
Adjusting his coat, Roderick glared at Dougal. “You will regret this, sir.”
“I regret nothing that might happen if you threaten her again.” Dougal flickered a glance toward Meg, and away.
“Our business agreement,” Matheson growled, “is over. I withdraw my offer.”
“So be it.” Dougal tugged at his shirt cuffs.
“Madam,” Roderick said, “we will continue our discussion later. I am flattered that you desire to accept my—”
“I never did!” Meg gasped.
But he held up a hand. “I am sure you feel embarrassed. Ladies should not indulge in more than a glass or two of wine. It sets their heads to reeling. I may withdraw my proposal in light of such appalling misconduct.”
“I have never misconducted myself,” she snapped.
“No? Not even once, years ago? Seven years, is it?” He smirked.
“Get out,” she said low.
As Matheson moved, Dougal stepped between them as if to shield her. Meg breathed hard, panicked, praying Dougal had not heard the cruel reference to seven years ago, praying equally that her cousin would never learn the identity of her son’s father.
“Good night. An excellent party until now.” Roderick gave a curt bow and turned. The crowd by the door parted as he walked through, shouldering past Guy Hamilton, who gave him a dull blow to the stomach with his elbow.
“I beg your pardon,” Guy said.
Roderick stormed past, heading for the front door. Meg heard it slam even from the garden.
Dougal waited in silence as the others drifted away. She was grateful for his guarding presence, for her limbs shook so much that she could hardly walk back to the house yet. Glad just to be in the calming moonlight, she found a bench and sat, skirts spreading.
She glanced at him. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you, Lady Strathlin, for—a pleasant evening.”
“Apart from the last few minutes?”
A smile played at his lips, the small, fond smile that she loved and missed. Her heart surged. She wanted to weep. “Dougal—”
“I must go. Madam,” he said in farewell, and turned away.
She stood, picking up her skirt to follow him. “Wait, please.”
He paused on the garden path, the illumination through the glass doors falling golden over him. Beyond, she heard the chink and clatter as servants gathered dishes and glasses inside.
“Lady.” His tone was cool, flat.
“Please.” She reached out, touched his arm. “Do not go.” The air was heavy with the scent of roses, of green and earth and stone. Rich with promise, heavy with the need for forgiveness.
He looked down at her. “What would you have me do?”
“Stay,” she said breathlessly. “Stay with me. I miss you so.”