Chapter 3
What’s he doing here?
Cat regarded the sudden reappearance of the awful man from upstairs with alarm.
Was she cursed? And how was he connected to the men of Brodie’s company?
Then her gaze locked on to the upsettingly recognizable emblem on his uniform, and it finally registered in her addled mind.
Of course, she realized, far too late. He’d been in the company.
Meanwhile, Calan smiled at her, unaware of her turmoil. “Miss Ross, here’s a man who you will be delighted to know, and honestly it’s an oversight that you two are not already acquainted. May I present Major Thane MacPhearson.”
Cat’s stomach dropped into her dancing slippers.
Not just a random member of the company, but someone Brodie had spoken of practically as a brother!
She couldn’t count the number of times Brodie mentioned Thane MacPhearson in his letters home over the years, always with genuine affection and respect.
And Brodie had plenty of time to form such bonds, having joined the army the very first moment he was legally permitted to do so.
(It had made for a rather sad sixteenth birthday party for them both.) Cat had formed a picture of a splendid gentleman who Brodie had admired and clearly would have taken a bullet for, and who she might even have developed a touch of affection for herself.
But considering how he was glaring at her now—and rightly so—she doubted there’d ever be anything like friendship between them.
“Mr MacPhearson,” she said reflexively, using the etiquette drilled into her by hours of instruction. “How do you do.”
“Where’s your bird?” Thane asked, disregarding any pretense at politeness.
“What?” Calan muttered at this highly unorthodox greeting. Behind him, Kai and Duncan exchanged glances, probably wondering if their comrade had taken leave of his senses.
Even her aunt Tacita and the evening’s hostess, Lady Balfour, looked thrown, and these women had both reached an age where surprises were rare.
Cat said into the horribly awkward silence, “It wasn’t my bird, Mr MacPhearson.”
“Oh, I understand! It was mine,” Lady Balfour said. “Miss Ross kindly offered to find my sweet Treacle after she flew out of her cage when I’d turned my back. And she succeeded. Treacle is back safe and sound. You are truly a lifesaver, my dear.”
Lady Balfour beamed at her, as if she were a saint on the level of Francis of Assisi.
“It was no trouble,” Cat said, embarrassed at the praise.
“Brodie always said you loved animals,” Kai offered, clearly hoping to smooth over the tension between Cat and Thane. “He’d read out your letters when you talked about your pets. What’s the name of the dog you’ve got now? Big name for a small dog. Exchequer Houndstooth, yes?”
“Check for short,” Cat said. “We actually just…we lost him earlier this week, I’m sorry to say.” The dog’s sudden death had been yet another blow to an already distressed household.
“Check belonged to the twins’ mother, my sister,” Aunt Tacita added, in her always dignified tone.
“Mrs Ross passed away only a few months after the news of Brodie’s…
” Tacita’s voice broke for a moment. “So we were especially sad to say goodbye to Check, of course. And all unexpected too. He was only four.”
Kai, Duncan, and Calan all expressed condolences. Thane didn’t say anything, but Cat assumed he was mentally mocking her and her family for doting on a dog.
“We must speak of happier things,” their hostess insisted. “I throw a party to brighten moods, not darken them. You young folks should be dancing!” She regarded the four men as if they’d neglected to follow a direct order. “Miss Ross has no partner for the next dance.”
“No! I can’t dance!” Cat protested, looking at their hostess in panic. “We were just leaving. I’m not even supposed to be here!”
“But you are here, dear,” Lady Balfour said, “and it would be such a shame for you to be so close to a dance floor and yet not participate.”
“I agree,” said her aunt. “It would be so lovely to see you enjoying yourself for the space of a dance, dearest.”
Cat could only stare at her, plucking the black fabric of her gown as if to provide tangible evidence of her inability to take part in the festivities. “But there are rules! Expectations.”
“And when has that ever stopped you, Miss Ross?” Lady Balfour returned, echoed by Aunt Tacita’s murmured, “Indeed.”
The hostess confronted the men. “Will not one of you provide Miss Ross with a small bit of respite from her dreary duty? As a new acquaintance, Mr MacPhearson, perhaps you’d like the honor.”
“Dear Catriona does love dancing,” her aunt added. The fact that it was true did not make Cat any happier to hear it.
Thane looked as if he’d rather run across a battlefield without a gun.
But then he seemed to think of something else and bowed to Lady Balfour.
“I know better than to refuse an order from my superior,” Thane said, earning a winsome smile from their hostess.
“And since Mrs Murray has informed me Miss Ross loves dancing, of course I’ll dance with her. ”
Cat glared at him. She’d been expecting him to refuse.
But Thane must be invested in torturing her, for he merely held out his hand in invitation.
She had to accept, unless she wanted to cause a scene in front of her aunt and the hostess, not to mention her late brother’s closest friends.
And Cat would never force any of these people to share in her embarrassment.
“Very well,” she said softly, and allowed him to escort her to the floor. The music started, and Thane swept her into his arms.
Oh, no. It was a waltz.
If Cat had realized that the next dance was to be a waltz, she would have come up with some way, any way to avoid accepting the invitation. She’d have set Treacle loose again! The waltz brought the dancing couple so close together. She couldn’t even breathe without inhaling his scent.
At least he bathes, she thought, trying to maintain her usual tartness.
For the primary note of his aroma was soap, a clean woody scent that she honestly couldn’t hate if she tried.
And it was good that she didn’t hate it, because the dance forced her into his arms as he whirled her over the ballroom floor with a level of skill that she hadn’t anticipated.
The thing about waltzing was that it felt rather like flying, and Cat had always loved the dance because it was one of the few times she could feel light.
Free.
Even in the arms of a man who clearly despised her.
Well, why shouldn’t he? He was Brodie’s closest comrade, probably the last person on earth to speak to him before he died.
And Cat had been appallingly rude to him upstairs.
She ought to apologize, if only to reassure herself that she was civilized.
But it was hard to apologize to a man made of ice. She could practically feel the cold anger rolling off him. Because of what she so thoughtlessly said.
“If you didn’t want to dance, Mr MacPhearson, why did you agree?” Clearly he wasn’t going to offer any conversation, so she had to open with something.
“Mrs Murray is Brodie’s aunt,” he said, his tone as frosty as his expression. “I would not want to hurt her feelings when she obviously wanted you to dance.”
Not her aunt. Brodie’s aunt. As if Cat wasn’t even a person. Cat stifled the stab of pain at his words, and said lightly, “We both had the same purpose in mind. I had no wish to dance either, but she wants to see me enjoy myself.”
“Then you should smile,” Thane advised, “so your aunt doesn’t misunderstand.”
“I should kick you,” Cat said sweetly, beaming at him as though he’d offered her the greatest compliment.
“You should try,” he suggested, returning her smile with one of his own, outwardly warm but freezing her soul, even as he spread his hand on her back a bit, and pressed her to him as if to say You couldn’t even move if I didn’t allow it.
Strangely, Cat felt a jolt of heat through her body when he did so.
There was something perverse in her that liked the proximity of this despicable male, that urged her not just to accept his dominance but to test it.
Without warning, prickles of sweat beaded at the small of her back and between her breasts.
She inhaled, hoping a breath of air would help.
All it got her was the scent of Thane, and she felt a little dizzy when the dance steps swept her in a half circle, orbiting him. Momentarily disoriented, she looked up and caught his gaze, only to find that he was suddenly regarding her like she was a venomous snake.
Without breaking the rhythm of the dance, he managed to put a few more inches between them, and then he looked over her head to some other point in the ballroom, seemingly bored with her.
“Do you always offer to kick your dance partners?” he asked casually. “Is that why no one rushed to fill your dance card?”
“I don’t have a dance card. I’m in mourning,” she snapped, annoyed that he’d so easily goaded her into such a defensive response.
“We only came tonight to perform a small service for Lady Balfour and this was the night it could be done. Then the bird got loose and I helped find it. I never intended to actually be present at the party, let alone dance like I haven’t got a care in the world.
Which should be obvious by my outfit!” Deep, unrelieved black.
Cat was grieving for not one, but two family members, plus the dog now…
and she didn’t do anything by half measures.
“You don’t look as if you’re lost in despair,” he commented, his gaze traveling over her quickly, and just as quickly condemning her for what he saw.
Was it possible to hate someone so thoroughly upon first acquaintance?
She said, “You’re trying to needle me, sir, but you must understand how little your behavior even registers.
To be quite honest, as hideous as you are, you’re not even the worst thing that’s happened to me this evening, let alone this week.
Why, my carriage nearly crashed on the way here!
” She finished with a light, disdainful laugh, the one she’d perfected for the times when she wanted to crush a man’s hopes and dreams.
Thane’s grip on her hand tightened for a half an instant, and when the dance called for her to turn, he swung her about with just a tad more force than necessary, making her almost lose her footing.
But then he pulled her closer to him. Anyone watching would think he meant to steady her, the sort of thoughtful partner a dancer would want. Only Cat knew it was just a way to make her uncomfortable, drawing her near so she couldn’t avoid him.
His smile was polite enough, but his eyes told a different story. “What was the obstacle in the carriage’s way? Your inflated sense of self-importance?”
“You jest, sir.” Cat gave another laugh, but it didn’t feel as triumphant this time. Thane was quicker than most of the gentlemen she’d sparred with over the last several months.
“So?” he asked. “What happened?”
Cat frowned, recalling the details of the event, which had been more alarming than she let on. “Well, I couldn’t see everything, being in the seat behind the driver. But he’d just taken the turn by Bells’ Mills…”
He nodded. “Where you can walk down to the Water of Leith.”
“Yes, exactly. A group of Travellers had stopped their caravans just there, probably because it was so close to the river. Anyway, the front right wheel just detached without warning. Practically sent the whole contraption flying over the edge and down to the water. But luckily our driver was able to steer just enough to get out of the main road and not lose control. In retrospect, one might consider it a warning from on high that I should not have left the house tonight.” She shot him a narrow-eyed glance, sure he felt exactly the same way.
“Yes, well. Even a carriage that looks well on the outside can be damaged or flawed.” He offered the double entendre with a completely straight face.
Odious man! Cat refused to rise to the bait that time, or acknowledge the metaphor.
“No, you’re mistaken in your assumption.
Aunt Tacita just bought the carriage a few months ago.
And yet the wheel still went flying off.
I watched it roll down the street,” she added, an admittedly odd detail for her to focus on, considering that at the time she’d been in danger of falling into the river, a painful distance below.
“I see,” Thane said. “Too bad I couldn’t have arranged to be standing in the carriage’s path instead. Then I could have been struck dead, as you so clearly wished I’d been during the war.”
Cat closed her eyes and swallowed hard, feeling the awful tang of shame well up in her throat. “I should not have said that. Not to you, or to anyone.”
“Then why did you say it?” he asked, his voice low and now hot, the anger no longer concealed.
“Your uniform.”
He frowned. “What about it?”
Cat wasn’t even sure how to put it into words. The bright red of the jacket, the company emblem on the arm, but not the arm she recognized. Not the arm that reached for her so many times and pulled her into a fierce embrace while her twin’s voice told her she wasn’t rid of him yet…
“I wasn’t expecting…it’s so similar to Brodie’s, but it’s not his.
And…I think the truth is that I resent every soldier who was able to come back home, because the one person I needed to come home again never ever will.
” Cat’s throat tightened up, and she struggled not to wipe her suddenly damp eyes.
Why was it hard to breathe? She’d cried so much, but it still felt like a new wound every time.
Thane’s expression changed for a second, losing the iciness. His voice sounded raw when he said, “He was a good man. Not just a good soldier, I mean. He was a good man.” The last two words were spoken as though Thane could bring him back to life through force of will alone.
But no one could.
Cat had to look away, unable to meet his gaze. “Then why did he have to die?”
Thane didn’t say anything, and his body seemed to freeze once more. But what could anyone say to that question? Cat sensed the tension in his muscles, the thud of his heartbeat as he held her black-clad form in the scandalous embrace of the waltz.
Lord, this had to be the worst dance ever, for both of them.