A Question for Harry (36 page)

“
And you love him?”

Fiona rotated his ring around her finger.  What was it then that was holding her back?  What was it that kept her from admitting what she knew was true?  She loved Harry, more than she had ever imagined possible.  “
I want to trust him …”

“Not to break your heart again?” Ilona asked perceptively
. “Wouldn’t it break your heart more to spend the rest of your life without him?”

“Yes, but what if…”

“What?”

Then Fiona realized what
was holding her back from taking a chance on Harry.  It had little to do with him and much to do with her and her expectations.  “What if what Harry and I have doesn’t fulfill all my desires?  What if we cannot find what you have?  I want to have the same bliss shining on my face that I see on yours every day.  And on Eve’s, on Francis’, on Abby’s…”  Fiona sighed.  “What if it isn’t all I hoped for?”

“What if it is?” Ilona countered.  “
There are no guarantees in this world, dearest.  You must trust in your feelings and in Lord Aylesbury’s.  It’s only in that knowledge that you are loved, that your love is shared that you can find the bliss you’re looking for.  He confessed his love for you, Fiona. He’s given you his trust to hold his heart with care. Can’t you do the same?”

He had, Fiona realized. He had given her the power to turn the tables on him. To break his heart for all he had once trod upon hers. Considering how expressive she had been in reviling him for what he had done, he was showing a lot of faith in her.  Trust.  Because he loved her.

“And you do love him, do you not? Say it, Fiona!” Ilona demanded when Fiona continued to vacillate. “You still love him.”

“I still love him,” she confessed softly, able to say it aloud at last
.

“And you never stopped.”

Closing her eyes, Fiona pushed the last of her doubts and fears aside as she felt a single tear slip down her cheek. Trailing a path over her cheekbone, hanging briefly before it fell free … as if it knew it would be the last tear she would ever shed for Harry Brudenall.

“No, I haven’t.”

Chapter Forty

From the journal of the Marquis of Aylesbury – May 1895

I well deserved it, I suppose.

Glenrothes poured another finger of whiskey for himself before downing it in a single swallow. “Is that it then? Or is there more, God save me?”

“Well, there is just one more thing
,” Aylesbury said, grimacing as he downed the reminder of his drink in a single swallow. “You’ll want to brace yourself, I suppose, as it is something you mentioned you thought unimaginable. I’d like your permission to marry your sister.”

The fist came out of nowhere
.

Taken by surprise, Aylesbury found himself flat on the floor and levered himself up on to one elbow, rubbing his jaw and flexing it painfully
. Hoping it wasn’t broken.

“Don’t look so surprised, Aylesbury,” Glenrothes grunted, shaking out his hand
. “You deserved it.”

He had been expecting it, of course
. Five minutes ago. Perhaps ten, but not in that particular moment. But he did deserve it. Two years ago at least.

The earl held out a hand, silently offering to help Aylesbury to his feet
, but the marquis just eyed him warily. “Are you sure you’re done? I hate to accept a hand in good faith that means to take me down again.”

Glenrothes only grinned and offered his hand again and this time, Aylesbury took it. “I forgot to ask,” the earl said conversationally
as he levered Aylesbury back to his feet. “What hole was Blossom really on when you saved her at the golf club.”

“The second.”

That thoughtless answer set Aylesbury on his back once more before his feet were even firmly planted beneath him. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. Wiping his mouth against his sleeve, Aylesbury stared up incredulously at the murderous Scot towering over him.

“Ye bastard,” Glenrothes growled
. “I’ll bloody well kill ye.”

“I plan on marrying her,” Aylesbury pointed out
. “And I might add, I saved her life as well.”

“Aye and that’s what’ll be saving yers tonight
. Now get up.”

Well, he did deserve it and would do no less to anyone who dared to lay a finger on his sister, Aylesbury reasoned
. So be it then. He grinned then as he climbed to his feet and raised his fists. “Well, let’s have at it then, shall we? Queensbury rules?”

“Ha, no rules, ye daft bastard
!” Glenrothes charged forward, catching Aylesbury in the midsection and driving him back into the sideboard. The solid piece withstood the impact though the crystal decanters laid upon it did not fare so well.

They fell to the ground, shattering one after another in a bellowing whoosh that matched h
is breath expelled, stunning him momentarily but Aylesbury, while preferably a lover in life, was not without his own experience as a fighter. Driving his elbow down between the earl’s shoulder blades, the marquis forced the earl briefly to his knees. “You must have gone to Oxford, eh, my lord? I’m a Cambridge man myself.”

“My brothers
– ” Glenrothes caught him in the midsection with a hard left as he stood – “went to Cambridge.” Another right to the midsection almost doubled Aylesbury over. “I was too busy learning to be a man at Edinburgh. Ye fight just like them.”

Aylesbury got lucky on an uppercut to the jaw, snapping Glenrothes’ head back
, and the earl retreated. If a single step back could be labeled a retreat, that is. Aylesbury followed it with another. “Like what? Honorable men?”

The earl stepped forward with another swing but the marquis blocked it and sent a right jab into Glenrothes ribs
. The earl released a hiss of pain but followed it, inconceivably with a low chuckle. “Nay, like women. All ye Cambridge bastards fight like wee lasses.”

Aylesbury laughed
. It was hard to fight a man one actually liked. Harder still when it was the brother of the woman he loved. “Having taken a mere open palm from Fiona, I’ll take that as a compliment. Pax, my lord?” He held out his right hand for the earl to shake.

“Aww, Aylesbury,” Glenrothes said with pity lacing his voice
. “I’m afraid I cannae let ye off that easily. Nae just yet.”

Another right hit Aylesbury’s jaw, inconceivably in the precise spot that the earl had hit before and Aylesbury saw stars dancing before his eyes.

“What on earth is going on here! Francis MacKintosh!”

Aylesbury looked toward the drawing room door to find Lady Glenrothes – two of her, actually – hovering in orbital circles around each other
. He shook his head and watched the two become one. Yes, one divine, avenging angel glaring at her husband with her hands planted firmly on her hips. “You’re in real trouble now, old chap,” he said with some satisfaction, throwing a grin at his would-be opponent and bending over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath during this reprieve. “I’m telling you, women are terrifying fighters.”

Glenrothes did look a little
apprehensive as he turned to his wife. Eve faced him unwaveringly and she wasn’t alone. Everyone was gathering behind her. Abby especially looked particularly disgusted.

“What is it with you lads?” Abby said to no one in particular
. “For almost a decade, I’ve been wading through one fight after another. Do I need to come over there and pull you apart by your ears as well?”

Not one man among them didn’t wince at her words, several of the younger lads unconsciously rubbing their own ears, some recently subjected to Abby’s finely tuned method of breaking up a fight between them
. Though it had been many years for him, Glenrothes, too, had been subject to her methods and was quick to shake his head.

“Francis
?” Eve repeatedly impatiently. Good God, her foot was tapping, Glenrothes thought to himself.

“Eden, my love, I was just welcoming Aylesbury to the family,” he said, draping an arm around Aylesbury’s shoulders and rocking him none-to-gently back and forth before
the earl pushed him off and sent him stumbling to the side. “Aylesbury and Blossom are getting married.”

“Is that so?”

The mass of MacKintoshs parted leaving Aylesbury with a clear view to Fiona who stood behind them, a bundle of amazement and irritation all wrapped in a modest kimono-like dressing gown that oddly left little to his vivid imagination. God, but she was lovely.

“I asked his
permission
,” he clarified with emphasis, once again aware that all the male MacKintoshs now had him in their sights. He wanted to go to her, hold her. Explain. But was uncomfortably aware that any move on his part might set her brothers into action. Like a deer setting a pack of wolves into motion the moment it bolted. “That is all.”

“That is not all,” Glenrothes reminded
. “And ye
will
be marrying her.”

Fiona looked from her brother and back to Aylesbury, her eyes wide with disbelief
. “You
told
him?”

“
Give over, Fiona,” Aylesbury stepped forward, his hand extended before him, but like the pack of wolves he had compared them to, the men between them began to growl. He retreated back a step instead. “You know very well that he guessed it.”

Fiona’s cheeks reddened, then flushed
with embarrassment before she turned on her heel and fled, leaving him to his own devices in a less than enviable situation.

Aylesbury straightened his tie and tugged on the bottom of his jacket as he squared his shoulders
. He looked not at any of the men who were eyeing him murderously but at Eve, then Moira and Abby.

He wasn’t worried much over Fiona’s
pique. She was clever enough to soon realize that her brother had known the truth of how they had spent the afternoon before she had even departed the room. She would come around. She might even see the humor in the situation much as he could now, looking at the position he had put himself in.

The events of the past two years had stripped him of that ability to see the lighter side of life
. To find humor where, by rights, there should be none. Fiona had given that back to him. Returned his
joie de vive
and to his surprise, he felt happier and more carefree than he had in a very long time. Even with the beating that undoubtedly awaited him. He laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of it all, deepening the frowns around him with bewilderment.

Grinning broadly, he bowed shortly to Glenrothes and then turned to the women who stood between him and certain bloody agony, offering a deeper, courtly bow
. “Lovely ladies, fair beacons of reason and rationality, I beg you to grant me sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?” Glenrothes repeated
. “Och, man! You should take yer medicine like a man, nae hide behind a woman’s skirts.”

“And I will, old chap,” Aylesbury assured him with a short laugh
. “You’ve gotten yours. Let’s see, shall I take appointments then? Working down through them? Vin, tomorrow then? Richard the day following? James, as he is not present, perhaps Haddington might like to stand as his second? Then Colin, then Sean? By the middle of next week, I might …”

“Enough!” the earl grumbled, though he too was stifling at least a small amount of humor
. “I ought to drag you before the preacher this very night!”

“I would be willing but your sister might not be
, as she has so far denied me her hand and heart. You will have to take it up with her. I will call on you, Glenrothes, in the morning to discuss how best to finish off Ramsay and his henchmen. You might consider that a quick wedding will certainly work well enough there. In the meantime …” he turned back to the door. “Ladies? Might I at least beg an escort as far as the door?”

Eve looked hard put to maintain a straight face but nothing stopped Moira from grinning back at him, her eyes dancing
. “For you, Harry, as far as the door. Abby?”

Abby laughed as well
, nodding her agreement. “To the door.”

“Regrettably,” Eve added
. “After that, you’re on your own.”

“
Ladies, I find your terms agreeable,” he replied, executing an elegant bow before walking toward them with his arms held out from his sides. “I am at your mercy.”