A Question for Harry (21 page)

As for the rest of it, she wasn’t certain whether to believe Harry or not. Perhaps because she had been so badly burned by him before but she had to wonder if it was all just flim-flam.  A tall tale to gain forgiveness.

Darting a quick glance back at Aylesbury, Fiona found him leaning back against the corner of the gondola, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her. Turning away again, she stared sightlessly out over the city.

“Have you forgiven me then?”

Fiona looked back with a frown. While she might forgive him for acting on his honor, she hadn’t forgiven him completely
for the devastating heartbreak he had served her.  Perhaps she never would.

“No, Harry.  Not entirely.”

Aylesbury lifted a brow
. “Not entirely? Dash it, woman, you can’t still be angry with me?”

Since
anger was the only thing standing between her and the part of her that wanted nothing more than to throw herself in his arms, yes, she could.  For her own well-being, Fiona was counting on that anger and the wee piece of her that hated him still – or wanted to hate him – to hold strong. “Yes, I can, Harry. There is a part of me that is still furious with you, Harry. And I
want
to be angry. I need to be and I’m not going to let you take that away from me.”

“Bugger it all to hell, Fiona!” he ground out, running a hand through his hair
. It was a wonder he hadn’t gone bald yet from the constant temptation she roused in him to pull it out by the roots. “Are you going to stay angry with me for the rest of our lives then?”

“Most likely.”

Aylesbury cursed soundly, his eyes blazing with frustration as he pinned her with a hot stare. In swift strides, he crossed the short distance he had put between them until Fiona was backed into the corner and he was just inches away. “I can live with that.”

With a gasp, Fiona’s lips parted beneath his as Harry crushed her in his embrace and devoured her with a kiss filled with all the frustration Fiona knew she stoked in him.

She savored it, surrendered to it as they reached new heights.

At the apex of their wild ride, surrounded by nothing but blue skies, Harry lifted her off her feet and backed her against the glass wall hard enough to send their carriage rocking but it was nothing compared to the wild swing of her emotions
. She wanted to hate, wanted anger to save herself but there was simply no defense tough enough to deflect the feelings he roused in her.

Because they weren’t fragile, easily broken
. They were years old, familiar. Taken out of the mothballs her hurt and anger had packed them in and then shaken off again, they were as good as new. Fiona gave herself over to his kiss, reveling in the stroke of his tongue across hers. Taking his bottom lips between her teeth, she nipped lightly, giggling as he swore and lifted his head.

His blue eyes were dark and turbulent, brimming with desire as he stroked his knuckles across her cheek, though he smiled as well
. This time Fiona succumbed to its power and let herself melt against him with a smile that deepened her dimples.

The
descending Ferris wheel jerked to a halt, the momentum set the car swinging again and Harry held her steady, secure in his arms. “Fiona, my darling girl,” he whispered, brushing his lips over hers. “Don’t you see how perfect we are for one another? Even when you are at your most irascible, I want you still.”

“Oh, Harry
.” She parted her lips, inviting him to kiss her again.
“I want to …”

Heart pounding, Fiona was tempted to tell him everything
. Every thought, every feeling. To confess it all. But she was entirely too aware that Harry hadn’t said as much to her. He’d spoken of courting and marriage. Of lust and wanting and regrets. But he hadn’t said that he loved her, and Fiona would be damned if she’d be the one to say it … again.

Harry frowned as she trailed off, his brow raised expectantly but
she didn’t continue. “You want to what?” he prompted. “Forgive me? Marry me? What?”

Fiona wavered uncertainly between the faith he inspired and the mistrust that had plagued her for so long. “I want to get off this bloody Ferris wheel,” Fiona said finally.

As if the powers that be had heard the quiet desperation in her heart, the Great Wheel ground into motion one last time and finished their descent
. The final jolt rocked the carriage hard, nearly setting her off her feet. This time, Harry didn’t come to steady her but retained his position in the corner, watching her moodily as she righted herself.

“Your wish is granted.”

Fiona sighed. If only they all could be granted so easily.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

From the diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh – May 1895

Harry says he wants me now. Wants to marry me. What I want is to trust him again. To believe him. I want to be able to throw myself in his arms and know that I will be safe there forever.

He asks for my forgiveness and I can forgive him many things but I cannot forgive him for one thing
. The thing that prevents me from accepting him, from trusting him.

Of course, he hasn’t exactly apologized for
that
yet, has he? I wonder if I will feel differently if he ever does.

“How was it?” Ilona asked excitedly as they rendezvoused at a nearby pavilion just outside the Indian bazaar. Everywhere Fiona looked there were booths and small shops overflowing with Indian clothes, scarves, and décor in vibrant colors.

However, Fiona saw none of it with her thoughts consumed by the man at her side
. “It was … enlightening.”

Aylesbury snorted
. “With a view. You would have enjoyed it, Mrs. MacKintosh. Things can become very clear at such an altitude. Shall we have a drink? Colin? Sean?”

Hooking her arm around Fiona’s, Ilona gave her a squeeze as they trailed behind the men
. “Whatever is going on between you and Aylesbury? Did something happen?”

“Nothing,” Fiona answered
. “Why would you ask?”

“No reason
. You just seemed happier before you got on the ride.”

“
We talked. It was a long talk,”Fiona admitted, watching Aylesbury’s back as he walked away from her, just as he had once before. “I know I’m being a fool, Ilona. But I feel that I will be an even greater fool if I trust him again.”

“Trust that is lost is always the hardest to earn again,” Ilona said quietly
. “But if you want a future with him …”

Fiona shook her head
. “I abandoned those hopes long ago, and I have no desire to be his consolation prize after all this time. No, my plans have not changed one whit. I will marry – if not Lord Ramsay, someone else – and move on from there.”

“Consolation prize?”

“He loved Moira,” Fiona reminded.

Ilona flicked the words away with a wave of her hand
. “Pish posh! If he ever truly did, I’ll eat my hat. That new one with the purple flowers, I love so much. In fact, I would wager I love that hat more than Aylesbury loved Moira.”

“Nonsense, he stills cares for her,” Fiona protested
. “You can’t deny that.”

Tilting her head to the side, Ilona considered the matter for a moment
. “No, I don’t suppose I can. But he’s not in love with her. Any fool can see that. Why he treats her like a sister.”

That prompted a reluctant laugh from Fiona
. “He claims she’s more like a distant cousin.”

“So you’ve discussed this then?”

“Yes,” Fiona sighed, “Oh Ilona! He says he wants to marry me. Now! After all this time. What should I do?”

“Do you love him
?”

Fiona shook her head stubbornly
. She couldn’t admit it. Not to Ilona. Not even to herself. To do so would be opening her heart to a world of hurt if Harry ever changed his mind.

Ilona frowned
. “What happened, Fiona? I remember a lot of speculation about something happening between you and Lord Aylesbury years ago – was it the night of Vin and Moira’s wedding? No, Montgomery’s christening, wasn’t it? I don’t believe any of us every knew what really happened between you that night and since then the incident was all but forgotten with all the babies … and well, life going on. I can’t wonder why I would think of it again after all this time.”

It was an invitation to speak that Fiona could ignore easily enough but she was inwardly begging her sister-in-law not to ask directly
. It was so very difficult to deny Ilona anything. It would be even harder to remain silent when her feelings were so jumbled and confused when Fiona truly needed – whether she was mentally prepared for it or not – to talk through her feelings and get another woman’s advice.

“So I must ask
…”

“Ilona
. Fiona,” Coline called over her shoulder. “What a charming little stall over there. Shall we take a peek?”

Casting a look at Fiona that clearly said that the topic hadn’t been completely dropped, Ilona nodded to her sister and tugged Fiona along with her to the textiles stall that was displaying lengths of sheer, beaded Indian scarves and woven baskets
.

While Ilona and Coline had their heads together exclaiming over the brightly colored silks and gauzes, Fiona absently stroked the cloth as she meandered through the shop.

“The blue for you, my sweet,” a thickly accented voice spoke and Fiona turned with a start to find a dark Indian woman dressed in a deep red sarong watching her closely with fathomless black eyes. “Not the red, the blue.”

“The red is quite lovely.”

“The blue is your lover’s eyes,” she argued, blocking Fiona when she tried to bypass her.

With a sharp intake of breath, Fiona
stared in amazement. “I have no lover.”

The woman
shook her head, not believing her denial. “There are many kinds of lovers. Those of the body, those of the heart. He is one. I could show you the way.” The woman swept her arms in an invitation for Fiona to follow her to
a small tent farther down the row with a colorful banner hanging across the front. “Riya Singh, world-famous seer,” it proclaimed.

“I’m sorry
. I don’t believe in seeing the future.”

“
You’re having trouble with love, are you not? Trouble with a dark-haired man?”

Fiona lo
oked about but Aylesbury was nowhere in sight.
“How can you know that?”

“
There are many ways to see what is to come. Come with me,” the old medium urged. “Come and I show you your destiny, help you settle your troubled heart.” Fiona stilled involuntarily and the old woman chuckled. “Yes, I can see it all. Two men chasing after you and you running away from both.”

“How can you
…?” Fiona clamped her lips together but the old woman’s shrewd eyes were narrowed with amusement.

“Come and I will tell you more.”

It was tempting, so tempting. Not that Fiona believed in the occult, psychics or gypsies seeing the future but anything might be helpful. Fiona licked her lips. “How much?”

“Come inside and we’ll talk,”
she urged again, her voice a soothing sing-song. She slid her hand into Fiona’s and gave her a gentle tug. “Come, child. Come with me.”

A shiver of darkness chilled her. Instead of seeing the benevolence in the woman, she sensed evil intentions
. “I’m sorry. I must go.”

Fiona turned away, searching the stall for Ilona and Coline
but the fortuneteller refused to release her hand and tugged more forcefully. “But your fortune. Your future.”

“Let me go!” she cried as the woman pulled her toward the opening of the tent with unimaginable strength
.

T
he old woman’s hands were like talons around her wrist, refusing to release her prey. “I said come with me,” her high singsong voice ground to a gravelly snarl.

Panicked, Fiona pried the woman’s claws from her wrist one by one and pulled away,
fleeing like a startled rabbit. Afraid that the woman might chase her down.

“Fiona!” She spun about to find Ilona waving at her from across the promenade. “There you are! Come on, Aylesbury is treating us all at the teahouse.”

Her heart po
unding in a sudden rush of fear, Fiona all but ran to her then caught sight of Aylesbury emerging from one of the pavilions and veered toward him. It might happen again, he had said. And he was right.

Another time it might have incensed her to admit it but Fiona was too rattled to care.

The smile on his face slipped away as he saw her racing toward him and he hurried to meet her in swift strides. “What is it? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Fiona swallowed back her anxiety as his arm slipped comfortingly around her waist
. She didn’t want to worry him if the danger had been but a figment of her imagination, nor did she want to mention her recent confrontations to anyone else. “I’m fine. I just got worried when I couldn’t see you anyone.”

“
God, I’m sorry, Fiona. It was thoughtless of me to let my frustrations leave you open to any kind of danger. Real or otherwise. Are you sure you’re all right?” Aylesbury asked with a frown of concern, hugging her close to his side. “You look flushed.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated
. “And I’m sorry, Harry. For what, or rather what I did not say earlier.”

The furrow marring his brow deepened
. “I beg your pardon? Now I know something must be wrong.”

It might have been a joke meant to tease her into a smil
e but Fiona only shook her head. “No, not at all. I just need to … believe that I am safe with you. That’s all.”

“You don’t?”

Refusing to glance back and see if the old gypsy was still watching her, she forced a smile for Aylesbury’s sake. “I do right now.”