Island of the Swans (70 page)

They covered the short distance to the High Street and ducked through a wooden gate set into a thick stone wall. The neglected patch of land backing up to the late Simon Fraser’s abandoned townhouse was strewn with broken carriage wheels. In one corner stood an animal pen long since devoid of chickens. They entered the five-story tenement through the back door, the bottom hinges of which pulled away from the wall.

“Mind the loose steps,” Thomas warned as he led her up four rickety flights to a small gambrel-roofed room at the top of the house. He quickly struck a flint and lit a small candle resting on a table next to a narrow bed. Patches of damp and mold dotted the walls. Jane shivered, despite her cloak. Thomas poured each of them a brandy from a dented silver flask, which he then tucked away in a saddlebag flung over the single chair standing in the corner of the bleak chamber. He set the glasses next to the candlestick.

“’Tis dreadfully cold in here,” he apologized, his eyes searching her face. “Keep your cape around your shoulders and drink this,” he urged, seating her gently on the bed and handing her a glass with a small crack on its lip.

He removed his own black cloak and wrapped it around her legs for extra warmth. Silence hung heavily in the frigid air.

Ten years!
Her mind whirled. It had been
ten years
since she’d last laid eyes on Thomas Fraser of Struy! And suddenly, there he was, amidst the smoke and din at Lucky Middlemass’s oyster cellar. The next thing she knew, they were dancing “The Nightcap Reel,” and then he was pulling her down the road in a snowstorm like some mad Highlander, without so much as a by-your-leave or explanation after a decade of utter silence! Anger flooded through every pore of her body as she jumped to her feet, flinging Thomas’s cloak to the floor.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing, dragging me here?” she said in a low, smoldering voice. “Not a word… not one letter… not a message have I received in
ten years
, Thomas Fraser! And you think a few kisses will mend it all!” She was shouting now and trembling from head to foot. “We’re past kisses, and soulful glances, and looks of regret!
Ten years!
” she shouted and headed for the door.

Thomas’s long arm caught her elbow and yanked her back. He was staring at her strangely, as if working out a puzzle in his head. His eyes glinted with a flash of anger that seemed equal to her own.

“I’ll tell you why I’ve been remiss,
Duchess
!” he said acidly. “You’ve been a mite busy yourself these ten years. Let’s see… after our Louisa was born, you had another child.
Georgina
, ’tisn’t that her name?”

Jane stared at Thomas, speechless to realize that he had apparently deduced long ago that her fifth-born child was fathered by him.

“Louisa’s sister must be nearly five years old by now,” he continued, jaw clenched. “Spawned by your duke about the time the 71st Fraser Highlanders were routed at the Battle of Cowpens in the autumn of Eighty.” His eyes dilated slightly and his voice lowered to a growl. “And now, yet a
new
bairn has made his appearance, I’m told,” he jeered. “The Duke of Gordon’s bed hasn’t been so
cold
these ten years, has it, ninny?” His words were laced with sarcasm. “And you’re quite the heart-breaker in London town, Ham told me. ’Tis hard to fathom that Jenny of Monreith, who tore down placards on the day fat Geordie was crowned, is now the darling of the Court. ’Tis true, though, ’tisna it? Even Mr. Pitt is still a bachelor like me—pining away for what he cannot have. Quite the little tease, aren’t you,
Duchess
!”

The pair glared at each other for a long moment. Jane’s gloved hand stung like nettles as she slapped Thomas across the face as hard as she could. Her breathing was ragged, and she tried desperately to swallow her rage at the cruelty of his words. She bit her lip, staring at the red streaks she’d slashed across his cheek. The angry marks paralleled the scar cut by Mingo Indians when Thomas was nineteen years old. The white line slicing across the plane of his gaunt cheekbones swam before her eyes. Her shoulders started to tremble and uncontrollable sobs wracked her body. She covered her face with her hands and sank to her knees. Her cloak, like a pool of blood, fanned out around her.

“Oh, God, Jenny, forgive me…” Thomas exclaimed, resting his hand on her heaving shoulder. “’Tis just that I swore to m’self I’d never see you again… never try to find you… and then, there you were… so beautiful in your velvet finery. There you were,
right before my eyes
, dancing and smiling, and looking every inch the grand duchess you’ve become. ’Twas as if everything we’d suffered dinna count a farthing to you…”

The hood of Jane’s cloak completely shielded her face from his view. Slowly, she looked up at him.

“And what of
your
betrayal of the dream… for that’s all it’s become,” she said in a voice so low he had to strain to hear her. “Hamilton told us of the Widow Boyd and your plans to solve your troubles with Simon’s will by marrying her. He described to us how
heartily
you enjoyed serving your time after the war in a comfortable prison called Antrim Hall.”

“There’s been nothing comfortable about the last twenty years of wantin’ you for my wife,” Thomas replied dully, sinking to his knees beside her. “When I found myself alive in Charleston and caught up with Hamilton, he showed me the miniature you’d sent of Louisa, and I knew she was mine…”

“Aye,” Jane murmured, averting her eyes from his solemn gaze. “And never a word from you, even when you left knowing I might be carrying your child.”

“Ham spoke of how
happy
you were with Alex in eighty-one… that a difficult marriage had turned into a rapturous idyll… that yet
another
bairn was on the way. I was like a man who’d lost his mind. I saw I would never be able to claim my child. I couldn’t face the thought that you’d gone back to Alex’s bed without a qualm. Even so, when I returned, I determined I would see you, once this legal nightmare with Simon’s will was sorted out. Then some gossip in Inverness informed me that you’d had
another
babe and named him Alexander after the duke you were so devoted to. Well, everything Hamilton had said seemed to be—”

“Is there
no
way to explain to you the war
I’ve
fought these years?” she interrupted fiercely. “When last we met at Gordon Castle, you begged me to… to…
give it up
, you said. Oh, how I tried!” she cried, her eyes glittering. “But half of me has battled to make something of my marriage to Alex, and the other half fights to hold onto a fairyland where I live with
you!
Whichever side eventually wins, ’tis my
body
that holds
me
prisoner! Whether I like it or not, each time I’ve joined my body with a man’s—
whether I wish to or not
—I… not
you
, not
Alex… I
have borne the burden of that union! I have
seven children
I’m responsible for! How many do you have?”

Jane glared at Thomas whose russet hair was now brushed with silver at the temples. It was Thomas’s turn to avert his eyes.

“I expect you’ve bedded plenty of wenches since we lay upon the pine boughs at Loch-an-Eilean,” she added caustically, “and gone off your merry way with nary a thought—”

“Actually, that’s not been the case, as you may remember from our parting that day,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I dread the thought of any child of mine living in this harsh world without my protection.”

Jane paused and looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. She felt ashamed.

“Of course. You’re right. Forgive me,” she replied quietly. The bittersweet memory of their time at Loch-an-Eilean returned to her with a poignant rush. “You’re not at all like most men, Thomas. Who knows that better than I? But, it seemed as heartless to me as my actions must have seemed to you when Hamilton told me you’d found the perfect solution to your financial and personal troubles…
the Widow Boyd!
The very jade who caused us so much grief! I was told that as soon as the problems of Struy were settled, ’twas back to America and the lovely Arabella…”

“I’m not allowed to try to make a life for m’self… to try to give up the dream, as you have?” he asked defensively.

“With the very lass who’d
betrayed
us by not sending your letter to me in time?” Jane flashed back, pounding her fist against her thigh. “’Tis not so much that you’re trying to make a new life for yourself that upset me so—but that you’ve chosen Arabella O’Brien Delaney Boyd! ’Twas
that
I couldn’t bear!”

Jane glanced down at her right hand, encased in its doeskin glove. The soft leather covered the ivory digit, skillfully concealing her missing finger.

“So,” she finished simply, “I did the best I could these ten years past. I tried to make peace with everything that had happened to me. But, somehow, I’ve never quite been able to do it.”

Thomas sighed and took her hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb against her glove.

“Nor have I,” he acknowledged sadly. “Till this business with Simon’s will is finished, I have no real life in Scotland. Struy is a ruin. The Highland countryside is desolate. Thousands of men have enlisted in the army over the years, and the rest just wandered away.” He shook his head dejectedly. “You were right, Jane, when you told me as a lass… an entire way of life in the Highlands is at an end. We Scots are merely lackeys to our English overlords.”

“And so you’d go to America, too?” Jane asked quietly. “You’d actually marry the woman who kept us apart…”

“What Arabella did so many years ago was wrong, terribly wrong,” Thomas replied heavily. “And she’d look you in the eye today and tell you that straightaway, if you two ever came face-to-face. But she, too, was doing the best she could, twenty years ago.”

“So there
is
a life waiting for you in America?” Jane asked in a small voice.

“If I want it,” he answered. “Just as your life is here—or in America. With me—or without me. Whatever you want it to be.” He met her glance steadily. “If you really wish to be with me, you may.”

“’Tis not that
simple
!” Jane cried out. “There’s more to it than just the two of us. There’s Alex, who’s driven mad by the mere
thought
of you! There
are five girls
to marry off suitably, and Lord Huntly to settle, not to mention finding a position for the Duke’s George, and now there’s wee Alexander. Good God, Thomas! I am a thirty-seven-year-old woman and I’ve still a bairn at the breast!”

She paused, pulling herself to her feet, and began to pace the small chamber under its gambrel roof. Thomas moved quietly to sit on the edge of the narrow bed, watching her walk to and fro.

“I almost died when your Louisa was born,” she said shortly. “Alex saved my life. And the same with this last child. He
is
my last. The midwife told me so. Are you as ready as you think never to have another child in your life?”

“We have Louisa…” he interrupted.

“Are you satisfied
never
to have a son?”

“We have Louisa…” he repeated.

Jane suspended her agitated pacing and smiled sadly, her sable eyes growing soft as she scanned his figure sitting on the bed.

“Aye…” she said quietly. “She’s so like you, Thomas, it stops my heart sometimes.”

“Is Alex good to her?”

Jane’s eyes darted away from his briefly.

“He’s not cruel to the lass… ’tis just, he knows she’s yours. ’Tis natural it should be hard for him.”

Thomas stood up abruptly and took her in his arms.

“Come to the Highlands with me,” he whispered hoarsely. “The three of us can live a good, simple life. I’ve enough sterling to last until the case is heard. Struy will be ours. Just today, the advocate said it won’t be too much longer now, and then we can rebuild what was always mine! Come with me!”

Before she could protest, Thomas’s lips traced a path of fire down her neck to where her cloak’s ribbons still hung, loosely tied. The cape fell to the floor, but Jane didn’t sense the cold. Rather, she pressed her body the length of his, seeking the warmth radiating from his chest and legs.

With trembling fingers, Thomas sought the fastenings of her bodice. As the cloth parted, he slipped his hands beneath her velvet gown. His thumbs grazed the pink tips of her breasts. Jane experienced a tremendous tingling sensation. He bent forward and took first one nipple gently between his lips, then the other.

“Dear God, you’re so beautiful…” he murmured, tugging on her sensitive areola like a man deprived of all sustenance.

Her bosom suddenly became hard, filled with a flush of milk. Droplets sprayed his lips like the tiny snowflakes brushing against the chamber’s window.

“Thomas… no,” she cried weakly, shaken to the core by the forbidden sensuousness of what was happening between them. “I cannot be with you this way! ’Tis for the bairn. I must go to my baby…”

Jane tried to push Thomas from her, her maternal instincts battling in a deadly clash with her instincts as a woman who longed for this man to fuse his body to hers.

Thomas clung to her a moment and then released her. A look of utter despair passed between them. Slowly, Jane straightened her gown and reached for her scarlet cloak.

“I don’t know the answer to any of this,” she whispered brokenly. “I only know I love you with my life and I find it impossible to imagine life without you.”

“I leave for Struy at dawn. I’ll stay in the Highlands at least until I know what land’s to be restored to me,” he replied dully. “Don’t come to me there unless you want me
in
your life—forever.”

Jane’s eyes searched his face as if she were storing the memory of his features to give her strength to face the future. Then, before Thomas could stop her, she fled out the door, her footsteps padding lightly on the stairs. He stared down five stories from his small window at the lane below.