To Tempt A Rogue (14 page)

Stretching for miles below was a river valley, the sound of flowing water reaching the garden courtyard set so high upon the craggy hills. Wild, rugged and beautiful, the valley was surrounded on all sides by rising cliffs, towering majestically over the treasure it held within its circle.

There was little green in the patchwork of rolling farmland below, but clearly some of the fields had recently been plowed. Clusters of farm buildings and small cottages sprang up sporadically, and grazing sheep dotted the pastoral landscape.

“I feel as though we have taken a step back in time,” Nathaniel remarked. “It seems so quaint and untouched.”

She gave him a quizzical stare. “It very much resembles an English village, though it is untamed and rugged, and lacks the neat hedgerows English farmers take such great pride in maintaining.”

“I've lived most of my life in London, with only brief visits to rural areas,” he replied, without thinking. “This all looks, and smells, the same as England to me.”

Nathaniel nearly cursed out loud the moment the words left his lips.
Idiot!
he muttered fiercely to himself. Somehow the delight of Harriet's company and the awe-inspiring beauty of nature was enough to loosen his tongue and reveal personal history that could compromise his secret.

He waited for her reaction, but if she felt any curiosity at his words she gave no sign, nor made any comment. They gazed at the valley for several minutes. Harriet seemed enthralled by the splendor of nature's beauty but the joy of the moment had lessened considerably for Nathaniel.

When the lurching flash of panic subsided, Nathaniel took a deep breath and lifted his eyes skyward. A thick band of clouds drifted across the sky, eventually obscuring the sun.

“Without the sun, the bite of the wind really chills the flesh,” Harriet said.

“Shall we return to the house?”

“I would like to stay outside for a little longer.” She arranged her skirt and drew her cloak tighter around her waist. “But please don't let me keep you out in the cold. I can easily find my way back.”

Nathaniel surveyed the garden. He spied a rustic bench positioned near the stone outer wall of the castle. Deciding it could provide an adequate buffer from the wind, Nathaniel led Harriet there and waited for her to sit down.

He considered taking his place beside her, sitting as close as he dared, with their thighs touching. That would certainly warm her, and him, considerably. Instead, he set one booted foot on the hard seat and rested his arm upon the raised leg. When he leaned forward, his face was only inches from hers.

She raised her brow at him, but did not move away.

“What was Mr. MacLeod's verdict after examining Kate? Was he pleased with her condition?” Nathaniel asked.

“He claims she will make a full recovery, we hope within the week.”

Nathaniel's lip quirked. “How much stock should we place in Mr. MacLeod's opinion? Illness of this sort can be unpredictable. It is possible for a sudden relapse to occur, especially for someone of Kate's years.”

Harriet's smile was philosophical. “Despite his less than stellar first impression, Mr. MacLeod has proven his worth. I cannot judge him too harshly, even if he only
nearly
graduated from Edinburgh College of Surgeons.”

They both laughed.

“Besides,” Harriet continued, “you must remember that if you ever become ill, Mr. MacLeod will be the one summoned to tend to you. I suggest you remain on good terms with him.”

Nathaniel felt himself shudder. He had never considered that he might actually need Mr. MacLeod's services for himself. Or Heaven forbid, the children. What if one of the children had suddenly gotten sick? He glanced at the sky and tried to halt the thunderbolt of fear that seized him.

How could he possibly cope, on his own, with a sick child? A seriously ill child? The servants had refused to help Kate, fearing they too would fall ill. Would they refuse to help a suffering child? Then what would he do?

The very idea of anything dire happening to Robert's innocent offspring sent a chill of fear straight to Nathaniel's heart. As he had been doing far too often these past few days, he questioned the soundness of his judgment in forwarding the plan to obtain guardianship. In order for it to succeed, the children must remain hidden until he reached an agreement with his uncle. And Hillsdale Castle was the perfect place to hide.

Yet its very isolation engendered an entirely different set of challenges to overcome, as Kate's sudden illness had so starkly proved. Still, the alternative for the children was a joyless, shallow life with his uncle. Would that be any better?

“Your advice concerning Mr. MacLeod is sound,” Nathaniel admitted. “I will take it to heart, and do my best to remain on friendly terms with the doctor.”

“I think I can safely report that Kate is also trying to be friendly toward him. Though their acquaintance has been brief, it is my opinion that she is quite smitten.”

“With Mr. MacLeod? You must be joking!”

Harriet lifted her shoulders in a quick shrug. “When he left the room to fetch additional herbs and medicines from his carriage, Kate insisted that I help her change into a fresh nightgown before he returned and brush out her hair so it wouldn't look so flat and messy.”

“Truly?”

“Oh, yes. She was very clear and powerful in her request, which gave me further proof that she is recovering nicely.” Speculation flared in Harriet's eyes. “But what was even more telling was Mr. MacLeod's puffed-out chest and exceedingly solicitous manner when he returned and witnessed her transformation. I think he might return her interest.”

“At their age?”

Harriet studied his eyes and then smiled. “My nurse was very fond of Irish sayings. Among her favorites was the expression,
for every sock there's an old shoe.
I believe this situation certainly proves that truth.”

And what of our situation? Are we too an old sock and shoe?
Nathaniel blinked, not knowing where those thoughts had sprung from nor why they both distressed and intrigued him. He was not the man for Harriet Sainthill, though there had been persistent glimmers of feelings over these past few days that she might be the woman for him.

Yet what chance did he have to woo her? He was lying to her about nearly everything, including his identity. She was a woman who had suffered deceit at the hands of her fiancé. Her reaction, if she ever learned the truth, would be extreme, and he could not fault her. Even if there were a chance, she would never be able to forgive him for his deception.

“Since Kate will need more time to recuperate, I am afraid we will be forced to rely on your generosity for a few more days.” Harriet peered at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. “I hope that will not be inconvenient?”

“I can think of few things that would bring me greater pleasure than your company.” It was a routine response, worthy of any self-respecting rake, yet Nathaniel realized he meant every word of it. To punctuate the point, he lifted his hand and ran the back of his finger down one side of her cheek to her chin. It felt like velvet. “The only greater pleasure, of course, would be to kiss you,” he whispered.

“That would be most unwise,” she said primly.

“We have already shared an inappropriate embrace and several kisses today.”

“Is that the rule, then? One per day?”

She looked like she wanted to smile, but instead she set her brow together in a taut line. “The rule, as you are very aware, is
none
per day.”

Taking advantage of his upright position, he leaned in closer and dipped his head a little lower. “Alas, I have never been very good about following the rules.”

This time she did laugh. “That comes as no surprise to me, I assure you. However, it is clear that one of us must keep a level head. If you won't, then I must.”

Nathaniel knew he could have pressed the matter. And won. Instead he abruptly lowered his foot to the ground and straightened his spine. Then he caught hold of her hand, raised it to his lips and placed a kiss in her palm. She curled her hand in his and he held her fist tightly for a moment longer before releasing his grip.

“It will be as you wish, dear Harriet. For now.”

The door opened, closed, and the latch clicked into place. Duncan McTate, ensconced in the privacy of his study, lifted his gaze from the boring stack of correspondence he had been reading and paused to greet his uninvited guest. But no one was visible.

A childish, high-pitched giggle, followed by a whispered hush filled the room.

“I sure hope 'tis the kind fairies that have come to pay me a visit and bring me special sweets and not the old sea monster who haunts the loch that has come here in search of his dinner,” Duncan said loudly.

“Monster?” a small voice squeaked.

“Shhh, he's just trying to trick us. Be quiet.”

“Ah, more noise, but I still canna see a thing,” Duncan said, in the same loud tone. “And I canna be sure if it is friend or foe or maybe even three devilish children who have invaded my lair. I must investigate.”

Duncan pushed away from his desk and leaned back in his chair. He waited for the telltale sounds of scuffling feet to determine exactly where the children were hiding. Once he heard it, he moved.

Crouching on all fours, he slowly circled the thick wooden base of his desk and headed toward the long damask draperies that covered the windows. And hid, no doubt, the children. Since his aim was not to frighten them, he made comical noises to alert them he was nearby.

Duncan could feel the tension and excitement ripple though the air as the anticipation of discovery grew.

Then suddenly the door swung open. Again. “Och, m'lord, ye've scared me silly.” The maid who walked into the room stopped abruptly, shot him a shocked look, then curtseyed several times. “Beggin' yer pardon. I see I've disturbed ye.”

Sighing, Duncan raised himself back on his haunches. “What do you want, Maggie?”

“I . . . um . . . I . . . was told to fetch the wee ones. Have they come in here, by chance?”

“No.”

His answer was greeted with excited giggles from behind the curtains, followed by more exhortations to be quiet. Maggie's eyes widened. She stepped forward, but Duncan held up a staying hand. He pointed towards the curtain and smiled, hoping the young maid would join in his merriment.

But her eyes widened further in puzzlement. Fearing she would spoil the game, he gestured for her to leave. She took a deep swallow and obeyed his command, but not before casting several concerned looks over her shoulder as she left.

Duncan was annoyed. Perhaps it was not the most dignified position for the laird to be found in, crouched on all fours in the center of his study, but when had he become so stern and unyielding that his servants would be amazed to find him engaging in a bit of lighthearted play? Was that really such a shocking discovery?

Granted, he wasn't a jovial, laughing sort of man. Nor was he the type who normally welcomed disorder or chaos of any kind. The household staff was very much aware of that fact, yet the unexpected arrival of the children had turned his well-run house into something of a circus.

When he had agreed to house this trio, he never imagined they could so completely disrupt a well-developed household schedule and create so much confusion, change, and noise. But surprisingly Duncan had not minded the sounds these three had brought to his house.

It gave the house the life and joy that had long since been missing. An inner voice mocked this sudden acceptance of familial bliss, but the practical side of Duncan's nature decided he was enjoying the children so much because he knew the arrangement was only temporary. They were staying with him in town only until Nathaniel had ensured all was ready for them at Hillsdale Castle in the Highlands.

And, given that it had been nearly ten years since Duncan had last set foot in his northernmost property, he knew it would take Nathaniel plenty of time to make everything acceptable.

While they waited here in Edinburgh, there was no reason not to enjoy himself and bring a bit of fun into the children's lives. They had suffered greatly these past few months. They deserved to experience some carefree childhood days again.

Dismissing the maid from his thoughts, Duncan turned back to the game. The movement behind the green damask let him know the children had not taken advantage of his distraction to find another hiding place.

Resuming his crawling position, Duncan inched forward slowly. He could see three pairs of small slippered feet poking out from beneath the heavy fabric. With a cry of glee, he reached out and strongly grasped the closest limb.

An ear-splitting squeal of excitement tore through the room as his hapless victim tried desperately to escape.

“I've caught you now,” Duncan cried, tugging gently.

“He's got me! Help!” the child screeched, kicking out with both legs, trying unsuccessfully to dislodge the hold on his ankle.

“Don't worry, we'll set you free.”

Two sets of hands joined the fray, but those delicate fingers could not dislodge his grip. All three were still concealed behind the curtains. Only the foot and ankle of Duncan's prisoner was revealed, but he knew he had caught young Gregory.

Realizing a different tack was needed, Gregory's sisters yanked hard on a section of the drapes, trying to use it as leverage to free their brother. Impressed with their cleverness, Duncan glanced upward, hoping the rods were strong enough to support this abuse.

“I'll never let you go,” he cried, heightening the excitement of the game. “In fact, you feel like such a tasty little morsel, I believe I will eat you for my dinner.”

His pronouncement was met with a gale of laughter.

“We already ate our dinner,” a young girlish voice said. “Is Uncle Duncan still hungry?”

“He is only teasing,” a second voice clarified.

“Oh. Now what should we do?”

“We attack!”

It was a brilliant suggestion, a strategy of boldness worthy of any of Wellington's generals. Without any additional warning, the children wheeled around and leaped toward him. He tried to back up, but being caught unawares and positioned on his knees made it difficult to maneuver. He lost his grip on his prisoner, who quickly turned and joined the assault. Within seconds they surrounded him and Duncan toppled over onto his back.

The trio took instant advantage of this vulnerable position and fell on top of him. Laughing, Duncan seized the chance to engulf all three of them in a large hug. They resisted for a moment, squirming and fidgeting, then collapsed against him.

Struggling to regain his breath, Duncan sat up. The children clustered around him, their faces shining with delight. They were dressed in their nightclothes and robes. Duncan grinned ruefully, deciding he should probably not have been roughhousing with them so near to bedtime.

Hell, he probably shouldn't have been roughhousing with them at all, especially the girls. He should be treating them like proper young ladies. But they weren't ladies. They were little girls, who seemed to crave the physical activity and release even more than their younger brother at times.

They had all been silent and reserved when they first arrived, but the younger two had soon reacted to the pleasant atmosphere of Duncan's home and the affectionate fussing of the staff. The eldest, Phoebe, had taken longer to let down her guard, probably because she realized more than her brother and sister that something was terribly odd about their situation.

It was obvious however that she was worried about not seeing her uncle. She never asked directly where Nathaniel was or when he would return for them, but Duncan could tell that while she liked him, she really only completely trusted Nathaniel.

To ease the child's fears, Duncan began mentioning Nathaniel in casual conversation every day, speculating what the other man was doing in the far north, explaining how much fun and adventure the children would have when they joined Nathaniel. Eventually he was able to coax a few smiles from Phoebe and ease away the furrow that usually creased her brow.

It was with no small amount of pride that Duncan conceded there wasn't a woman, young or old, that could resist the charm of The McTate when he applied himself. As if proving that very point, Jeanne Marie scrambled into his lap and nestled her head against his shoulder.

“It was fun to play, but I got scared when you said you were going to eat Gregory,” Jeanne Marie announced. “Gregory was scared, too.”

“I was not!”

Duncan smoothed a hand over the boy's hair. “There's nothing wrong with being scared of something bigger than you are, lad. But Goodness, I would never have eaten Gregory! If I gobbled him up, I know I'd get a bellyache.”

“A big bellyache,” Jeanne Marie said with a chuckle.

“It was a good game,” Duncan commented. “But next time we should play in a larger area, where there are more places to hide.”

All three heads bobbed enthusiastically. “Maybe we can play this game with Uncle Nathaniel too,” Phoebe said. “When we go live with him.”

Duncan gave the girl a gentle smile. “I'm sure Uncle Nathaniel would like that very much.”

Her lighthearted grin touched his heart. Yet as much as he enjoyed having this trio in his house, he knew it would be best for them to be with Nathaniel. Soon.

“It was a contest, not a game,” Jeanne Marie explained. “We had to see which of us could hide without being caught. Gregory lost.”

“I won,” Gregory protested. “The winner was the first one who got caught. That was me.”

“You lost,” Jeanne Marie said, sticking out her tongue to emphasize the point.

“I won!” Gregory crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his chin. A faint pout touched the corners of his face. Duncan had to hide his smile. The boy was a male tyrant in the making, determined to have his own way in everything. In retrospect, an excellent temperament for an English duke.

It had not taken long for Duncan to realize that Gregory hated to lose at anything. At first, his sisters had deferred to his wishes, but these past few days had seen a change in their attitudes. They were not so quick to grant him his every wish now.

Duncan supposed the change was partly due to his attitude toward the boy. As the adult, he felt it was his obligation to teach the lad to redouble his effort to win, rather than trying to change the rules to suit himself.

A tough lesson for a four-year-old to comprehend.

Duncan worried that he might be a bit too hard on the lad. He tried to remember what it felt like to have the freedom of being young and wild, not having a care in the world. But he could not. Childhood was a luxury that had never been offered to the laird of the clan, and the heir to the English earldom. Like young Gregory, Duncan's father had died young: After that, the responsibilities and obligations of his birth and title had been emphasized even more.

A rather daunting lesson for an eight-year-old to learn.

“You played fair Gregory and put up a good fight.” Duncan said, and chucked the boy under the chin, trying to coax a smile. “Of course, it did take all three of you to defeat me.”

“Next time we're going to win faster,” Gregory promised.

There was a tap on the door, and it opened just wide enough to allow the housekeeper to poke her head around it.

“Praise be, I've found ye at last,” she said, glancing reproachfully at Duncan. “ 'Tis long past time you were in bed, children. Your nursemaids are waiting. Now hurry along.”

“We don't want to go to bed. Can't we stay up longer?” Jeanne Marie asked. All three turned pleading eyes toward Duncan.

The laird grimaced. It was very difficult to refuse them anything, especially when it was so easily within his power to grant their wish. And it really wasn't that late. “Well, perhaps—”

“Off to bed,” the housekeeper interrupted. “Ye'll not be fit company for man nor beast if you don't get yer full night's sleep.”

The children turned again to Duncan in mute appeal, but the stern look on the housekeeper's face warned the laird not to counter her edict.

“Proper rest is important for growing children,” Duncan said. “And if you get to sleep right now, you'll be ready for a ride with me first thing in the morning.”

“Before breakfast?” Jeanne Marie asked. Duncan, never fond of early rising, managed a rueful grin. “Before breakfast. I know how much you like being on your ponies.”

“We had wonderful horses back home in London,” Phoebe said quietly. “Do you think Lord Bridwell is making sure they are being fed and taken out for exercise while we are away?”

“Of course,” Duncan replied cheerfully, hoping that Nathaniel's villainous uncle, Lord Bridwell, had no idea the children were so attached to their ponies. For if he did, Duncan suspected the older man would probably have the poor creatures destroyed. “But it is my fat ponies who will be in need of a good gallop tomorrow morning.”

“Before breakfast,” Jeanne Marie reiterated. Duncan nodded and all three children smiled.

The housekeeper ushered them out the door, then turned to him. “If this is a taste of yer discipline, I'll be needing to warn the staff we're in for a rough time. I can see ye're going to be impossible when yer own bairns come along, spoilin' them rotten and grantin' their every whim.”

Duncan noted while her tone was scolding, her eyes were filled with affection. Having children had always been a vague thought lingering in the back of his mind, residing no doubt near the similar idea of one day acquiring a wife. Yet these ideal dreams were part of a very distant future.

Duncan slowly stood and smoothed his coat. He glanced at the stack of abandoned correspondence on his desk, and decided there was nothing that could not wait until morning. After his ride. And after breakfast.

He would retire to the private sitting room adjacent to his bedchamber and enjoy some fine claret, a good smoke, and a few chapters of a new book. Meeting the butler in the foyer, Duncan instructed him to dismiss the footman for the evening.