Claimed by the Laird (22 page)

Christina was staring at him with eyes full of sleep and confusion. She looked soft and tumbled and completely adorable to him, her face pale and her blue eyes huge.

“What—” she began.

“Please don’t ask me what I am doing here,” Lucas said. “Unless you have lost your memory.”

Color came into her face and her gaze snapped awake. She looked like the starchy duke’s daughter now, except that behind the haughty facade he was certain he saw a glimpse of fear. She had been vulnerable the previous night. She had allowed him to help her. Now she was regretting it, but he had no intention of letting her step away from the intimacy between them.

“How are you?” he said. “Has the fever gone?”

“I am very well, thank you,” Christina said shortly.

“Ma’am,” Annie said again, almost beseeching, looking from one of them to the other. “Oh, ma’am!”

“It’s all right, Annie,” Christina said, reaching for the robe Lucas had passed her the previous night, a practical affair of figured silk. “Mr. Ross is—”

“Lady Christina’s betrothed,” Lucas finished for her.

“I was going to say leaving,” Christina said.

“That isn’t going to solve anything,” Lucas said. He looked into her stormy blue eyes. Again he saw that flicker of vulnerability behind the confusion.

“Christina,” he said fiercely, “I am not going to hide away. I am not going to pretend that nothing happened between us. We are betrothed and I am not going to leave you.”

Again their gazes clashed. “You have to go,” Christina said, but he could hear the fear in her voice now.

“Stop pushing me away,” Lucas said harshly. “Yes, I misled you and I am sorry for that, but you are using it as an excuse to run from me. You trusted me before and you can trust me again. I swear it.”

“Begging your pardon, milady, Mr. Ross...” Annie’s nervous voice cut straight across the tightly spun tension. She had drawn back the curtain, letting bright sunlight flood into the tower room. It brought with it the sound of carriage wheels rumbling over the gravel, doors slamming, voices.

“Your sisters are here, milady.” Annie shot Christina a nervous glance out of the corner of her eye.

This time Christina did leap from the bed. Lucas caught a glimpse of creamy skin as she grabbed the robe close, knotting it about her waist with hands that shook. “They aren’t supposed to be here until later this afternoon!” She was looking seriously upset now. “How can I...” Her gaze skittered to Lucas, then veered away. “Lucas, you really must go.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “We’ll discuss everything later. If you go down the tower stairs—”

“I’ll appear directly in front of your sisters coming out of the secret stair that leads to your bedroom,” Lucas said. “Yes, that would work.”

Christina pressed her lips together in a thin line at his sarcasm. “Then take the main stairs,” she said.

“And risk Galloway thinking I’m a thief creeping out with the family silver? No, thank you.” Lucas stood up, reaching for his jacket. He might have wished for something a little more sartorially elegant when making his debut in front of Christina’s family, but it could not be helped.

“Accept it, Christina,” he said. “I am your fiancé, and I am going downstairs with you to meet your sisters, and I will not skulk around pretending that I am just the gardener.”

Christina gave a sharp sigh. “Annie,” she said, ignoring him, “please would you bring me my cream muslin with the crimson ribbons?” She turned to Lucas. “I am sure you are acquainted with the correct etiquette on these occasions, Your Highness. It is customary for a gentleman to leave a lady’s chamber whilst she dresses.”

“Highness?” Annie squeaked, looking as though she was about to faint. “Oh, my lord!”

“No,” Christina said, “a prince. The cream muslin?”

“Yes, ma’am, right away.” Annie threw Lucas a dubious glance over her shoulder as she scurried toward the chest of drawers. “A prince!” he heard her say under her breath. “Only fancy!”

“I’ll wait for you in the dressing room,” Lucas said. “And, Christina—” He touched her wrist lightly. “We are engaged.”

“To save my reputation,” Christina said frostily. “Yes, I do understand that we must maintain that pretense in public, at least for a while.”

“To hell with that,” Lucas said. He bent his head and took her mouth in a hard kiss, allowing his feelings to show, the frustration and the desire and the need. He felt her hesitate, and then she kissed him back with the same turbulent passion. He could sense anger in her. She nipped at his lower lip and it felt as though she wanted to hurt him, but there was a longing there, too. He kissed her deeper, more fiercely, and she responded with a fire that drove all other thoughts from his mind. He had his hands on her shoulders, about to push her back on the bed and tear the robe from her when Annie’s loud clearing of the throat recalled him to sanity. Breathing hard, he released Christina and stepped back. Her eyes were dark and hazy and her lips were swollen from his kisses, and he felt such a violent pang of lust that he swore under his breath.

Annie closed the door of the dressing room pointedly behind him, and Lucas threw himself down into an armchair to wait. He could hear the low voices of Christina and the maid through the door but could not distinguish the words. He sat back with a long sigh, feeling the tension wound up tight inside him. He was going to use every means possible to win Christina back. He would fight for what he wanted. He had not been sure that he would get a second chance. Now that he had one, he was not going to waste it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

C
HRISTINA
LED
THE
way downstairs, very conscious of Lucas’s tall figure at her side. She had not wanted to accept his support. She had wanted to push him as far away from her as possible, because she was afraid. But Lucas had refused to go.

She had woken earlier that morning and found herself lying in his arms with her head against his chest and his heartbeat strong and steady in her ear. It had felt so good, so right, despite everything that had happened. She was so unaccustomed to being cherished. She wanted to open her heart to the sensation, to give herself up to it, and that was why she was afraid. To open her heart to Lucas again, to risk loving him, to give him her trust, was too dangerous. Twice now she had seen her world torn apart. It was better, safer, not to take the risk again. Yet even so she felt as though she was fighting a battle she might lose. She could still feel Lucas’s kiss and the urgency of his hands on her body. She shivered with longing.

There was mayhem in the hall. Gertrude was barking orders at a harassed Galloway whilst Thomas the footman ran ineffectually back and forth, confusing everyone’s luggage. Angus was doing nothing, as usual. Christina’s sisters Lucy and Mairi were talking to the duke, who had evidently been disturbed from his studies by all the noise. Richard Bryson was speaking urgently to Allegra, whose face was pale and set.

“Tina!” Mairi spun around when she saw her sister. She grabbed Christina and pulled her in for a hug against her enormous pregnant belly. “There you are! We had almost given you up!”

“Where have you been, Christina?” Gertrude demanded. “There are a hundred and one things that need doing! I cannot be expected to organize this all on my own! How are you, Mairi,” she added, eyeing Mairi’s bump with disapproval. “I cannot imagine why you thought it appropriate to travel in your state of health. Anything might have happened!”

“It’s lovely to see you, too, Gertrude,” Mairi said. “You seem gloriously the same as ever.”

Her gaze had moved to Lucas, and she was staring. So was Lucy, who had come over to greet her. Christina knew that plenty of women stared when they saw Lucas, but she could see that there was a different quality to her sisters’ interest. Mairi looked surprised, Lucy interested.

“Ah, Ross!” Gertrude pounced before anyone could speak. “Help Thomas with the luggage, would you?” Her eye fell on Richard Bryson. “What is he doing here?” She sped away.

“Well!” Mairi said. “I know that you are very democratic in your beliefs, Prince Lucas, but I think that Gertrude asks a little too much of her guests.”

“Good morning, Lady Mairi,” Lucas said, smiling as he took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He turned to Lucy. “Good morning, ma’am. You must be Lady Methven. I apologize for the lack of a formal introduction.”

“This is Prince Lucas Orlov,” Christina said tightly, “or Mr. Black as he would prefer to be known.” She absorbed another pang of shock as she realized that Mairi and Lucas knew each other. That must mean that Jack and Lucas must be acquaintances, or perhaps even friends. She did not know what to think about that except perhaps it was a close-run thing which of them she would like to shoot first.

“How do you do?” Lucy said, smiling charmingly. “Robert has mentioned your name. He and Jack are joining us later,” she added. “They will be delighted to see you again.”

“Robert, as well!” Christina burst out. “How marvelous! The entire
family
knows Lucas except for me!”

“I think you know me fairly well,” Lucas said, with a smile that brought the color up into her face.

“Lady Christina and I are betrothed,” he added. “I hope you will wish us happy.”

Mairi gave a little whoop. “Christina, darling!” Her eyes were bright with interest and speculation. “You are a dark horse. I didn’t know you even knew Lucas!”

“I’m not at all sure I do,” Christina said drily.

“Did he say
betrothed?
” Gertrude’s voice cut across them all like a knife through butter. She rushed back across the hall, eyes bright with the excitement of scandal. “Did I understand you right?” she demanded of Mairi. “Christina is
betrothed to the
gardener?
”

“Are you feeling quite the thing, Gertrude?” Mairi asked. “Lucas may choose not to use his title, but he is scarcely a gardener. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Probably the fact that Lucas has been tending the garden here at Kilmory for the past six weeks,” Christina said.

“My name is Lucas Black, Lady Semple,” Lucas said, “and I am—”

“A Russian prince,” Mairi said mischievously. “So you need not worry that the family escutcheon will be blotted, Gertrude. Prince Lucas outranks us all.”

“Russian?” Gertrude said, looking down her nose as though Lucas had announced he was something appalling. “A prince may be all very well, but not if it is a foreign title. That does not count.”

“I don’t think Lucas needs to account to you for his antecedents, Gertrude,” Christina said. She had spoken without thinking, rushing to Lucas’s defense, her mind already jumping ahead to the hurtful vulgarities Gertrude would utter once she knew Lucas was illegitimate. She saw him looking at her. The warmth had deepened in his eyes, and he took her hand in his again.

“Thank you,” he said, nothing more than that, but his touch and his smile made her feel hot.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” the duke said plaintively. “A Russian prince? In my garden?”

“I apologize for the masquerade, Your Grace,” Lucas said easily. “I wished to be incognito for a while and it seemed the easiest way. I hope I did no lasting damage to your magnificent roses.”

“Delighted, of course, old fellow,” the duke said vaguely. Christina wondered with irritation whether her father was so wrapped up in his studies that he was not really paying attention. “You certainly worked wonders in my grotto,” the duke continued. “The benefits of a classical education, what? Eton and Oxford, was it?”

“No, Your Grace,” Lucas said. “The back streets of Edinburgh. The fact that I now have a substantial business empire I ascribe to all I learned in that period.”

Christina noted that Gertrude’s lips were now so pursed she looked like a tightly pulled reticule drawstring. “Trade!” She sniffed. “Well, it may do very well for Christina at her age, but nothing other than an English duke will do for my Allegra.”

Allegra stepped forward. Her face was set. She looked pale but determined. She had Richard Bryson by the hand.

“Actually, Mama,” she said, “I am already married. Richard—” she pulled Bryson forward “—is my husband.”

There was a thud as Gertrude fainted.

* * *

“M
Y
DEAR
OLD
FELLOW
,” the duke said to Lucas. “What can I do for you? Come to ask my permission to wed my daughter, what?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Lucas said. He had a great deal more than that he wanted to ask Christina’s father, but he thought he would start with the easy questions first. They were in the ducal library, supplied with plenty of coffee by a sullen Alice Parmenter. Jack Rutherford and his brother-in-law, Robert Methven, were present, as well. They had arrived in the early afternoon; Jack had at first seemed inclined to punch Lucas when he had discovered what had happened with Christina, but fortunately Robert had a cooler head and talked him round. Lucas had then told his future brothers-in-law of his suspicions that the duke had been involved in Peter’s death, and they had agreed to support him in a confrontation. Lucas wanted no further deceit or secrets. The matter had to be resolved now.

“Well,” the duke said, his gaze riveted on his coffee cup, “it’s all rather difficult, don’t you see? I’m not at all sure I can give permission.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Lucas, whose mind had jumped ahead to how he might phrase his questions about Peter, was brought up short.

“It’s tricky, you know.” The duke still appeared fascinated by the coffee and would not look Lucas in the eye. “Y’see, I need Christina here with me. So much to do at Kilmory, don’t you know, what with the estate and the household and everything....” He waved a vague hand around. “I’d be lost without her.”

“You have an estate manager and a housekeeper and an army of servants, sir,” Lucas said, holding on to his temper with the greatest effort. He wondered if this was what had happened when the duke had broken the match between Christina and Douglas McGill. Except he was no McGill and he was not giving her up.

“Not the same at all,” the duke groused. “No, indeed, not the same. So you see...” He spread his hands. “Can’t allow it, I’m afraid. All there is to it.”

“You do appreciate, Your Grace,” Robert Methven intervened swiftly, shooting Lucas a warning glance as he half rose from his chair, “that Mr. Black does not need your permission to wed Lady Christina? He is asking out of courtesy only. She is of age and so may make her own decisions.”

“Well, we’ll see,” the duke said comfortably. “Can’t imagine Christina wanting to leave me. Far too set in her ways, y’know. We’ll see.”

Lucas was starting to dislike the Duke of Forres even more than he had done previously. The man was self-absorbed to a shocking extent. He itched to grab Forres by the neck cloth and shake him. He caught Jack’s eye. Jack looked as though he wanted to intervene, but Lucas shook his head slightly. He would fight this particular battle later, and he would fight it to the end. But for now he had another issue he wanted to raise.

“There is another matter I wished to discuss with you, Your Grace,” Lucas said. He felt Jack and Robert draw a little closer, felt the tension build in the air. “The brooch that you gave your daughter as a birthday gift—a very fine brooch of silver and amethysts—where did that come from?”

For a moment the duke looked utterly blank, but then his face cleared. “Oh, by Jove,” he said, “I remember that! Elegant piece. I found it in a shop in Edinburgh. I picked up my little icon there, as well!” He jumped to his feet and scurried off to fetch the icon, putting it into Lucas’s hands. “Splendid, isn’t it?” He was beaming with uncomplicated pleasure. “Couldn’t believe my luck.”

“A shop in Edinburgh,” Lucas said. His voice was not quite steady. “What sort of shop?”

The duke looked slightly shifty. “A pawnshop,” he admitted. “I like to buy gifts on the cheap if I can, but I didn’t want Christina to know that.”

Lucas put the icon down slowly. There was a ring of truth in the duke’s words. The man was completely guileless. He might be tight with his fortune, but he was no criminal. Yet this had to be more than a coincidence. Lucas looked at Robert, who was frowning.

“When did you make the trip to Edinburgh, sir?” Robert asked.

The duke rubbed his head absentmindedly. “Let me see...was it November? No, December. Christmas!” He looked as though he was expecting a reward for this triumphant feat of memory. “We spent Christmas in Edinburgh,” he repeated. “You remember, Methven, Rutherford.” He glanced across at Jack. “You all came to join us.”

Jack nodded. “We did.”

December. Less than a month after Peter had died.
Lucas felt a shiver as though the ghost of the past had brushed him. Could someone from Kilmory have robbed and murdered Peter and seen the trip to Edinburgh as a means to rid themselves of the stolen goods, not foreseeing the terrible coincidence that had led the duke to the very same pawnshop?

“Who else went with you?” Lucas asked.

“Took my valet,” the duke said, rubbing his chin. “No need to take the other servants. We have a staff at the house in Charlotte Square. Christina came, too, of course,” he added, as an afterthought. “There was no one else.”

Christina.

Lucas would never, ever believe that Christina was guilty. It simply was not possible.

“I think there was someone else,” he said slowly. “Wasn’t there, Your Grace?”

The duke flushed. “No,” he said sharply. “No one.”

“Alice Parmenter,” Lucas said. “She is your mistress.” He heard rather than saw both Jack and Robert shift with surprise. “I suspect Mrs. Parmenter did not travel with you,” he continued. “She certainly would not have stayed with you, but I think she was in Edinburgh, too. Did you install her in a house somewhere nearby, Your Grace? Somewhere convenient to visit?”

The duke looked shifty. “What if I did? No law against a man keeping a mistress, what? We’re all men of the world.” He looked around at Jack, at Robert, looked as though he was about to make some infelicitous remark about them probably keeping mistresses, too, and then thought better of it. “This is nothing to the purpose,” he said testily. “What if Alice was there? Damned if I see why I have to account to any of you for it!”

“You don’t, Your Grace,” Lucas said, standing up. “But Mrs. Parmenter does. She needs to account for the murder of my brother.”

* * *

C
HRISTINA
STOOD
IN
the doorway of the Great Hall. It had been decorated for dinner and then a ball afterward and it looked stunning. Vases overflowed with fresh flowers in tumbling profusion. Banners of green and gold with the arms of MacMorlan drifted down from the high rafters. Candlelight sparkled on silver. Everywhere the ladies of the Highland Ladies Bluestocking Society mingled and fluttered like so many exotic birds.

The only problem was that no one felt very festive. The household had been utterly shaken by the arrest of Alice Parmenter for murder, robbery and dealing in stolen goods. Alice had been taken away to jail in Fort William, complaining loudly that the death of Peter Galitsin had been an accident. She had seen him at the castle and thought him young, rich, naive and ripe for robbery. She had followed him back to the inn that night and sent him a message to meet her on the track above the cliffs. She said she had only taken a knife to persuade him to part with his money. He had been stabbed in the scuffle because he had tried to stop her when she’d taken the icon from him. She added bitterly that had the duke been a little more generous to his mistress she would have had no need to steal, but he was as mean as an old miser and inadequate in bed into the bargain.