A Question for Harry (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

From the diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh – Feb 1893

The wedding was today. Vin and Moira are now safely wed. I watched Harry all the way through the ceremony – I mean, of course I watched Vin as well! I am so happy for my brother – but while he didn’t seem heartbroken to have lost Moira, there was still something rather melancholy about his expression.

Perhaps I should see what I can do to cheer him up?

Two years, Aylesbury thought as he watched Fiona once again do her best to avoid and ignore him
. Two years since they had last met, last argued and still she was angry with him for the way they had parted.

What an infuriatingly stubborn woman she was!

Not that he blamed her really. In many ways, he deserved the sting of her displeasure but in some ways he did not. She didn’t know his reasons for acting as he had because he had never bothered to explain them.

If Fiona kept avoiding him as she had been, Aylesbury might never get the chance.

And he did want one.

A chance for forgiveness and so much more.

More than he had even allowed himself to consider two years past. Two years back when he had forced himself – as a man of honor and a friend to all the men of the MacKintosh clan – to treat her as they did. A young sisterly lass and nothing more.

It had been the hardest thing he had ever done but since coming upon her again,
Aylesbury had been unable to gainsay his less-than-brotherly thoughts for her. Nor did he try to repress the attraction he felt for her. Instead, he allowed himself to look at her in a way he had once denied himself.

As a beautiful, desirable woman.

Sure, it might still be wrong – the MacKintosh brothers were still, one and all, his friends. He had no place lusting after their only sister, but he was done denying it. He’d had a thousand indecently carnal thoughts for her in the past. He had hated himself once for wanting her but now, when there was so little in his life to enjoy, he intended to relish it.

Aylesbury sipped his whiskey and watched her over the rim of his glass
. She was gorgeous, but the anger he had roused in her, keeping her color high and her eyes snapping at him somehow made her even lovelier.

Lovelier
even than Abby whose pale beauty was almost ethereal. Lovelier even than Eve and her sister Kitty who were both carved in cool blonde perfection. And still more than the Madonna-like splendor of sisters Ilona and Coline. Even Moira, exquisite Titian beauty that she was, couldn’t hold a candle to the stunning woman Fiona had become, because not only was she a match to them all in looks, she was
life
.

Vibrant, irrepressible life
. It emanated from her laughter and even her anger like a beacon guiding him like a lost ship to the shore.

Yes, seeing her as she was tonight, it was difficult not to drift to her side
. Though she wasn’t dressed as opulently as she had been at the Onslow ball, her gown’s simple bodice seemed to hang precariously at her shoulders leaving her arms bear before plunging low in the front, displaying the delicate curve of her collarbone and the ample swell of her cleavage without a single piece of jewelry to hinder his view. The clean lines accented her narrow waist and hugged her hips before falling in straight lines to the floor.

And no sequins or feathers for Fiona
. No, the only embellishment on the silk gown was but a slightly darker hue of a cut velvet design against the silk taffeta gown. But the gown was red, a lush crimson that brought to mind life, passion, and yes, rage.

The bold color stood as stark contrast to her pale skin but also highlighted the creamy expanse of her bosom, the slender length of her arms before her gloves covered them
. It brought a thread of auburn to her dark hair.

With her shoulders nearly bared and her hair piled loosely in a Psyche
knot, the long grace of her neck begged for a man’s lips. Once upon a time, Aylesbury would have reviled himself for allowing even a trace of desire to stir his body.

Or his mind.

Because even while forsaking his unthinkable desire to have her lithe, athletic body beneath his, to have her long legs wrapped around his hips, Aylesbury had always, quite simply, liked her.

A smile kicked up the corner of his mouth and Aylesbury had to fight what might have been his first urge to
truly smile in almost two years. His heart, which had done little more than sustain his life in all that time, warmed with pleasure even when her olive green gaze narrowed with rage as he lifted his glass in a silent salute.

God, he
was
still alive, wasn’t he? He had almost begun to doubt it.

Fiona spun about and stalked out of the room in silence though Aylesbury thought he could hear her internal screech of fury screaming in his ears
. There was something oddly heartening about the thought.

“Will you excuse me for a moment
?” Setting his glass aside, he bowed politely to his hostess and host and followed her from the room.

“Fiona!”

Déjà vu between this night and that afternoon not long past struck Fiona then. Both times she had run from him, from his presence like a coward when she considered herself anything but. It had to end. This madness of avoidance when he seemed to be everywhere she turned was unlike her. Perhaps it was better to just lay the matter to rest at last.

Slowing to a halt, Fiona turned to face Aylesbury, pleased that her position on the stairs allowed her to look down on him regally as she descended once more. “Is there something you needed, Lord Aylesbury?”

“I wanted to speak to you, Fiona.”

“Whatever about?” she asked airily. “You needn’t worry your head over my feelings, Lord Aylesbury. You were right. It was just a foolhardy infatuation. A girlish fascination with a clever wit and ready smile. Since those qualities are no longer in evidence, any reason I had to be enamored of you years ago is gone. Poof.” Fiona waved a hand through the air dismissively. “A childish whim disappeared into a foggy mist.”

Aylesbury frowned at that,
not certain what to believe. Though it made sense that a young girl would have been infatuated with his perpetual charm and flirtation, some part of him believed more fully what she had said before. As if he had known the truth all along.

“Fiona
…”

“It’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?” she interrupted before he could ask any more questions
. “You left Edinburgh to spare me and yourself any more uncomfortable situations.”

“That is not why I left Edinburgh.”

Another wave of her hand dismissed the true reason. “Whatever whim struck you then …”

“It wasn’t a whim
. It was …”

Reaching the bottom stair once more,
Fiona held up a hand to cut him off. “Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter any longer. I’ve moved on from what happened and come to terms with it. I don’t need you changing the facts now.”

Aylesbury’s brows snapped together
. “You don’t even know them.”

“Neither did you and that seemed to suit you just fine.”

“Dash it all! You are still the single most obstinate woman I’ve ever known!” Aylesbury ran a hand through his short locks.

Fiona laughed shortly
. “Woman? I thought I was nothing but a pesky child?”

She’d have him gnashing his teeth before long
. Aylesbury glared at Fiona, perched on the last step as if those five inches let her retain some superiority over him. All it did was allow him to look her straight in the eye, to have that green fire spit at him directly and enflame him all the more. “You are never going to let that go are you?”

“On the contrary, I’m trying to let you go,” she shot back
, leaning toward him. “If only you would take the hint.”

“Take the hint
? Bugger it, Fiona!” Aylesbury ground out, aware that just below eye level her breasts were heaving against that crimson silk with every breath she took. Her pulse beating rapidly down the length of her neck. He could feel the heat of her fury radiating off of her.

“Good Lord, Harry
! What else is there t–”

His mouth, the shape and feel of his kiss were exactly how Fiona remembered them
. Full of frustration, yes, and perhaps a bit of anger. But passion as well. A moan built up inside of her as his lips parted hers and his tongue lashed out to ravish hers, teasing and tempting before he jerked his head away with a low curse.

“Damn but this isn’t what I wanted!”

Fiona pressed her lips tightly together, willing the tingle away as his words lashed at her contrary heart whipping the irritation away. “No, of course, it is not.”

Aylesbury swore again, g
rasping her hand before she could slip out of reach once more. “Blast it, Fiona, that is not what I meant. In fact, it is far more simple than that.”

“You are making no sense.”

“Then for once let me explain. I always imagined that if I were going to kiss you again – yes, I did imagine it – that it would not be like before, rash and impulsive. And yet, you provoked me into doing just that.”

Staring resolutely away from Aylesbury’s handsome face, Fiona willed her heart into an arctic chill but as always it warmed like a tropical summer under his melting
gaze. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be charmed by him again, to like him … to love him once more.

Fiona clenched her jaw, working up the resolve
to turn away from him yet again. But her feet did not move nor could she bite back the trembling question that came unbidden to her lips. For she just had to know. “Wha– what did you imagine?”

Aylesbury stroked her chin, tilting her chin up until her eyes met his
. He was so beautiful; it tore at her soul just to meet his gaze. “I thought it might be more like this.” His knuckles traced a slow path down her cheeks before his fingers unfurled along her jaw.

Fiona quivered helplessly at the tender caress, her heart already racing just as it had the first day they had met
. She fortified herself against it, refusing to lean into him, to find pleasure in his touch.

With deliberate restraint that tempted far more than his more forceful execution, he bent his head to hers
. Aylesbury’s lips brushing like a whisper across hers once, twice, fanning the flames gently rather than feeding the molten fury as if he were trying to coax a reluctant animal out of a corner when all the beast within Fiona wanted to do was leap into his arms.

His lips played over hers, teasing, toying
. His tongue lightly tracing her lower lip before plunging in for a swift parry with hers. Feint. Retreat. Urging Fiona to take the offensive, to advance and claim for her own.

Strong arms banded around her waist, crushing her against his broad chest as he lifted her from the step and turned with her in his embrace
. Her arms lifted of their own accord and wrapped around his neck as pinned her against the wall. His lips settled more firmly over hers, attacking, plundering, demanding surrender.

With a low moan, Fiona was ready to give it to him
. Her always uncontrollable but now unwelcome desire for him was unchanged even after all this time. The knowledge left her feeling vulnerable. Then angry… with herself more than him.