Chapter Fourteen #2
“N’est nécessaire pas,” Nicholas exclaimed with a narrow-eyed look at Jamie. “A lady should ride in a carriage.”
Jamie frowned and stood taller. “A woman should ken how—”
“Actually,” Mari said quickly to avoid what seemed to becoming a confrontation, “I am learning rather to enjoy riding.”
“Good lass,” Jamie said smugly.
Mari refrained from glaring at him. Good lass? Like she was some kind of house pet? The next thing he’d be patting her on the head. “Jillian always wanted me to learn.”
“’Tis a wise lady,” Jamie said. “My brother chose well.”
A muscle twitched in Nicholas’s jaw, and he didn’t look pleased. Mari wondered why, but before she could ponder the problem further, the Duke of Argyll approached.
“So sorry to interrupt, but might I have a word with you, MacLeod? Your brother passed by Inveraray on his way to Cantford, and I should like a little more information on the horses we discussed. That is, if you could spare a few moments from such lovely ladies?”
For a moment, Mari thought Jamie might actually refuse.
Surely he must be aware that George Campbell was a powerful man.
The duke might be Scottish, but Argyll, being so close to the Borders, had often sided with British kings in the past. Besides, the duke’s wife was the daughter of Countess Frances Jersey who, in turn, was one of the prince regent’s mistresses.
Mari had little interest in politics, but juicy gossip of the royals was another matter.
That the former Earl of Jersey’s wife was also the mother-in-law of the current Lady Jersey, who was quite conservative, made the whole thing even more intriguing.
“I do not think we are in danger of being abducted from Lady Castlereagh’s ballroom should you accompany His Grace,” Mari said lightly to Jamie.
“You have my assurance she will not be out of my sight,” Nicholas said.
Jamie fixed Nicholas with a look that made Yancy and Nevin take steps backward before he turned to Mari. “Ye will remain in this room, lass, and nae stray to the veranda. Aye?”
Mari had a good mind to kick him, but she remembered the non-effect her slippered foot had on him earlier.
How dare Jamie give her orders like she was some errant child in need to admonishment?
And in front of the duke, no less. She reined in her rising temper with an effort.
This was not the time nor place to hold the rogue to account, but he would account to her later.
“Fine,” she muttered, since it was obvious he wanted an answer.
He nodded, looking quite pleased with himself, and turned away with the duke.
“It looks like we are alone at long last,” Nicholas said, ignoring the fact that Yancy, Nevin and Maddie were still standing there, “although your keeper made it quite clear you were not allowed out of the room.”
“He is not my keeper.”
Nicholas raised a brow. “Non? He is always at your side.” He paused. “But perhaps that is what you prefer, mademoiselle?”
“No. I do not prefer it.” Lord, how many times had she tried to explain to Jamie what his constant hovering would look like? “He gave his oath to my sister that he would protect me. From what exactly, I do not know, but he takes his word very seriously.”
“Most men take their oaths seriously,” Nicholas said agreeably, “but how is another man to have a chance at courting you?”
Mari felt a thrill of pleasure run down her spine. Nicholas had alluded to courting her before. Were his intentions serious? Did she dare ask him what he meant?
He seemed to read her thoughts, because he picked up her hand and swept a kiss over her gloved knuckles. “Ma chèri, I have been enchanted with you since we met.” He turned to the young men. “Do you not agree that Miss Barclay would make a fine wife for me?”
Maddie gaped at him while both Yancy and Nevin muttered something that sounded like assurances, and then they all looked at her. Mari wanted to grab Maddie and do their special little jig, but she remembered where she was and decorum won out. “I should be pleased if you were to court me.”
Nicholas bowed. “It will be my pleasure to claim that exclusive right.”
Yancy and Nevin excused themselves quickly while Maddie looked around. “I see Abigail over in the corner. I think I will go speak to her,” she said and hurried away.
Mari smiled at Nicholas. “Now we truly are alone.”
“Except we are in a crowded room.” He held up his hand as Mari opened her mouth to answer. “I would not presume to ask you to go back on your word to the Highlander and venture out on the veranda.”
How sweet that Nicholas was so understanding.
He was such a gentleman not to tempt her to go back on her word to Jamie.
Although the more she thought about it, the higher her temper began to rise.
Jamie had no right to expect her to stay in the room and not venture out for some fresh air.
“I think I would enjoy a stroll,” she said as she lifted her chin defiantly.
Nicholas’s eyes lightened imperceptibly, but he shook his head. “I am quite sure the Highlander would embarrass you by creating a scene. Perhaps, though, we could arrange for a carriage ride and a picnic tomorrow? Sans your bodyguard?”
Mari furrowed her brows. “I do not know how to get Jamie—oh, wait. Could we go the day after tomorrow? I think Ian is due in town that morning.”
“Absolutely perfect,” Nicholas replied. “Perhaps we could select a spot for your portrait to be done while we are out as well.”
“I would like that,” Mari answered happily. “Of course, I will have to bring my maid as chaperone. Aunt Agnes will never consent to the outing otherwise.”
“Of course,” Nicholas said and smiled slightly. “That will be no problem.”
The lass was up to something, Jamie thought two days later as he ushered Ian into the library so they could talk.
Mari had been all sweet smiles when Jamie had returned from his conversation with the duke at the party.
He had half expected—actually, he had fully expected—she would defy his request to stay inside the ballroom, but he had found her talking to Maddie and the rather serious-looking daughter of the Earl of Sherrington.
Nor had Mari balked when he suggested it was time to leave, although he wondered where the damned Frenchman had gone off to.
Jamie might have dismissed the whole thing except Mari had actually asked his permission—that was the word she used—to take some clothing and food to the orphanage near London Bridge.
He’d accompanied her and, instead of her usual refrain that she did not need his protection, she had simply smiled and nodded.
She had even greeted Ian earlier with more enthusiasm than he felt was warranted.
The lass was definitely up to something.
“Since I have nae said a word about problems at Cantford or Newburn, something else must be troubling ye,” Ian said as he removed a small, silver flask from his top coat and added a nip of whisky to the tea the maid had delivered. He held the flask up. “Would ye like a wee dram?”
“Nae.”
One of Ian’s brows rose. “Nae to a dram or nae to a problem?”
“Nae to both.”
Ian set the flask on the small table beside his armchair. “The estates seem to be doing well, even with the new butler at Newburn, although I admit when the messenger arrived saying ye had hied off to London, I had a mind to box yer ears when I saw ye.”
“I would like to see ye try,” Jamie replied in brotherly fashion and then shrugged. “I gave ye and Jillian my oath to protect the lass. I wasna able to persuade her to stay at Newburn.”
Ian lifted both his brows at that. “I never thought I’d hear ye admit ye couldna persuade a lass to do yer bidding.”
“Yer sister-by-marriage has a stubborn streak as wide as the River Tay. And a wee temper to boot.”
“One that I seem to remember ye enjoyed goading.”
Jamie grinned. “Aye. I do like having a wee bit of sport with her.”
Ian narrowed his eyes. “That sport wouldna include—?”
“Nae, it wouldna.” Jamie would have taken affront at the suggestion, but he recalled the kiss he’d shared with Mari—the satin feel of her lips, the sweet taste of her mouth, the softness of her breasts against his chest as she had freely returned his tongue play—and realized he had wanted more, much more, so how could he take affront? “The lass is pure.”
A discreet scratch at the door interrupted Ian from continuing his line of questioning. Jamie went to the door to find Givens on the other side.
“Yes? What is it?”
The butler took a deep breath and handed Jamie a note. “Miss Barclay asked me to give this to you.”
All Jamie’s senses went on full alert, like they did before he went into battle. He eyed the folded vellum as though it might hold a poisonous viper. Givens looked at a spot in the air over his shoulder.
This was nae going to be good.
Reluctantly, Jamie took the note and unfolded it. As he read it, he let out a roar that brought Ian to his feet and had Givens taking two steps backward before pausing to adjust his jacket and resume looking at the air.
“Is she still here?” Jamie managed to ask in something less than a shout.
“No, sir.” Givens took another deep breath. “Miss Barclay specifically asked me to wait until the carriage had collected her and the maid before I was to…er, disturb you.”
“Disturb me? The little vixen—” Jamie stopped his rant as Ian approached and took the note from him. “Did Mrs. Stokely approve this?” he asked Givens.
“I do not think so. She left quite early for the boarding house.”
Jamie clenched his fists, causing Givens to blanch.
He forced himself to loosen his hands, although if Ian made even one comment about the lass escaping, Jamie would be more than happy to box his brother’s ears.
Maybe even get into a full brawl. That would feel even better.
He motioned for the butler to go, and Givens didn’t wait to be told twice.
Jamie shut the door behind him and waited.
Maybe Ian would oblige him. Just one wrong word…
But Ian only frowned. “Who is this Algernon that’s taken Mari for a carriage ride?”
“Damn fancy painter from Paris who wears lace,” Jamie muttered. “Bastard actually sends the lass flowers and poetry too.”
Ian studied him. “Ah. I think I see.”
Jamie glared at him. “Ye see nothing. I told ye the lass was willful. ’Tis a wonder my hair is nae turning grey.”
Ian merely smiled and handed him the flask from the table.
Without another word, Jamie drained the contents.