Part 21 (1/2)
As the footman closed the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone, his uncle nodded toward the chair on the far side of the desk. ”Sit, sit,” he barked impatiently. ”I haven't all night.”
Tempted to agree that his uncle's time was growing ever shorter, Ian crossed the plush Aubusson carpet and settled himself into the chair, propping one s.h.i.+ny black Hessian on the opposite knee.
As was customary, the earl didn't squander any time or breath on pleasantries. ”I have a favor to ask of you.”
Ian c.o.c.ked an eyebrow in surprise. In all the years since the man had been his guardian, he couldn't remember his uncle ever asking anything of him-short of keeping himself out from under his feet so he could forget about Ian's existence for extended periods of time.
”Just what can I do for you, my lord?”
”I would have approached you sooner but I had hoped the situation situation might resolve itself. Especially after a new opportunity came to light. But alas, due to the flagrant incompetence of nearly everyone around me, that stroke of good fortune has been squandered.” might resolve itself. Especially after a new opportunity came to light. But alas, due to the flagrant incompetence of nearly everyone around me, that stroke of good fortune has been squandered.”
Only his uncle could manage to sound utterly convincing when referring to the attempted murder of his own bride as a ”stroke of good fortune.”
The earl picked up an ivory-handled letter opener from the leather blotter on the desk and turned it over in his hands, gazing down at the silver blade. He actually seemed to be struggling for words. ”It pains me to confess that along with age can come certain... infirmities. One is not entirely the man one used to be.”
Ian leaned forward in the chair, fascinated against his will. He'd never known his uncle to admit to any deficiency in either health or character. And he certainly hadn't noticed his uncle being any less of a petty tyrant than he'd always been.
”As you may have observed, there is a slight age difference between my bride and I.”
”It hadn't entirely escaped my notice,” Ian said dryly.
”While she is young and fertile, I fear that age has robbed me of my ability to produce an heir, if not the desire. That's where you come in.” He cleared his throat, his hesitation betraying just how much it was costing him to take Ian into his confidence on such a sensitive matter. ”I was hoping I could impose upon you to pay a visit to my bride's bedchamber on our wedding night. And every night thereafter until I can be a.s.sured that Hepburn blood will run through the veins of my heir.”
Ian felt his own blood chill to ice. ”Let me make sure I understand you. After you make Miss Marlowe your wife on the morrow, you want me to visit her bed nightly until I can be entirely certain that I've succeeded in impregnating her?”
His uncle's nostrils flared in disapproval. ”There's no need to be so crude. We are all gentlemen here. But yes, that's exactly what I am asking of you. Miss Marlowe seems to have developed a certain inexplicable fondness fondness for you. I'm sure she won't object too strenuously.” His uncle shrugged. ”But if she does, there are ways to ensure her cooperation. I can instruct one of the more discreet footmen to a.s.sist you. Or there's always laudanum to dull the senses and cause confusion.” for you. I'm sure she won't object too strenuously.” His uncle shrugged. ”But if she does, there are ways to ensure her cooperation. I can instruct one of the more discreet footmen to a.s.sist you. Or there's always laudanum to dull the senses and cause confusion.”
”Yes, with enough laudanum, I'm sure she could easily mistake me for you.”
Deaf to his sarcasm, the earl chuckled. ”She's a comely girl if not a beautiful one. I'm sure you won't find your duties overly taxing. Of course once I've achieved my goal of installing a new Hepburn brat in the nursery, I might be forced to call upon your services once more. At my age, it would behoove me to have both an 'heir and a spare' as it were.”
Ian settled back in the chair, stunned into silence by the depths of his uncle's depravity. The man wasn't a spider. He was a monster, willing to allow his nephew to systematically rape his bride just to make sure no one would question his own virility or the lineage of his heir.
”You won't inherit, of course, but I'll reward you richly for both your service and your discretion. I'm thinking that property right outside of Edinburgh might be to your liking. If I throw in a healthy annual income, you'll be able to settle down, find a suitable wife, and father a few whelps of your own perhaps.”
Ian had no doubt that once Emma had provided his uncle with his heir and a spare, she would be equally expendable. But she wouldn't be offered a healthy annual income and a property outside of Edinburgh. She was more likely to be offered an overdose of laudanum and a cold, stony bed in the churchyard of the abbey next to the earl's previous wives.
If Jamie had been present to hear the shocking proposal, the earl would be sitting behind his desk right now with the blade of the letter opener jammed right through his scrawny throat.
His uncle scowled at him. ”What are you smiling about, lad?”
”I was just thinking that this might be one of the more pleasant obligations I've been asked to fulfill.”
His uncle nodded in approval. ”I knew I could count on you. Despite our differences, I've often suspected that you were cut from the same cloth as your dear old uncle.”
Ian rose, sketching the man an elegant bow. ”I am, as always, my lord, at your humble service.”
As he strolled from the study, heading back to the drawing room to finish his cigar and pour himself another goblet of brandy, Ian was still smiling.
EMMA STOOD AT THE window of the luxurious bedchamber the earl had provided for her, gazing toward the north. The mountain was a mighty shadow against the night sky, crowned by a s.h.i.+mmering slice of moon and a sprinkling of stars. She could feel its irresistible tug on her heart as surely as she could feel Jamie's presence. window of the luxurious bedchamber the earl had provided for her, gazing toward the north. The mountain was a mighty shadow against the night sky, crowned by a s.h.i.+mmering slice of moon and a sprinkling of stars. She could feel its irresistible tug on her heart as surely as she could feel Jamie's presence.
Even though he and his men had been forced to part company with her and Ian before reaching the border of the earl's lands, she knew he was out there somewhere. Watching her. Watching over her.
If he had his way, she would be returning to Lancas.h.i.+re with her family as soon as they brought down the Hepburn. He was determined not to make the same mistake his parents had made. To him, the rewards of love would never be worth its risks. Not when risking everything might mean ending up with nothing.
When their party had ridden away from his grandfather's keep, the old man had stood on the balcony to watch them go, his broad shoulders unyielding and his loyal deerhound standing by his side. Ramsey Sinclair must have known it would be the last time he would ever see his grandson. And even though Jamie had to have known his grandfather was there, he hadn't glanced back, not even once. Emma wondered if he would be able to cut her out of his heart with such devastating precision.
She touched her fingertips briefly to the cool gla.s.s of the windowpane as if to a lover's cheek. Left with no recourse but to seek the lonely comfort of her bed, she started to turn away from the window only to gasp with shock when the reflection of the man standing behind her came clearly into focus.
Chapter Thirty-two.
EMMA SPUN AROUND, CLAPPING a hand over her mouth. a hand over her mouth.
Jamie stood in front of the marble hearth, dressed all in black and framed by the firelight.
”What are you doing here?” she whispered, her heart leaping with joy. ”How did you get in?”
”If a Sinclair knows how to sneak out of a castle,” he said solemnly, ”he also knows how to sneak in.”
”The tunnel in the dungeons,” she breathed.
”Aye.” He touched a finger to his lips. ”'Tis a secret pa.s.sed down through generations of Sinclairs just in case one of us might want to sneak into the castle in the dead of night to steal a rare volume of Descartes, slit some throats... or ravish some bonny Hepburn la.s.s.”
His words sent a delightful little s.h.i.+ver of antic.i.p.ation coursing through her. She lifted her chin, giving him an imperious look. ”You almost tarried too long. I'm to be wed on the morrow, you know.”
”So I've heard. To a shriveled-up auld goat.” He crossed to her side, reaching out to twine one of her unbound curls around his finger as if he could no longer resist the temptation to touch her. ”All the more reason you might want one night with a real mon in your bed.”
”Are you volunteering your services?”
”I am. But I'm afraid I'm just a penniless Highland lad. I can't give you gems or furs or gold.”
”Then what can you give me?”
”This,” he whispered, lowering his lips to hers for a long, lingering kiss. ”And this.” He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her close, letting her feel every extraordinary inch of his hunger for her against the softness of her belly.
Emma twined her arms around his neck, melting into his kiss, melting into his arms.
He might claim he wasn't willing to follow the same path his parents had trod, yet he was risking everything, including his very life, by coming to her. And even though it could spoil all their schemes and cost them both dearly, she didn't have the heart-or the will-to send him away.
Without breaking the tender bond their mouths had forged, Jamie swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, still taking care to guard her shoulder. As he laid her beneath him, her curls spilled over the satin coverlet in a river of copper.
She had never felt more beautiful or more like a bride as she did in that moment. She understood how Jamie's mother must have felt when she had first encountered his father in that secluded wood; understood what had driven them to run away, leaving behind everything they held dear so they could embrace a love so strong and enduring it had created the man who was gazing down at her in the firelight, his eyes shadowed by a desire so desperate he was willing to risk his life-if not his heart-to slake it.
She sifted her fingers through the thick sable of his hair and tugged his delectable mouth back down to hers, inviting him to satisfy that desire, inviting him to satisfy her.
He wasted no time in accepting her invitation. Her nightdress seemed to dissolve beneath the clever machinations of his fingers, s.h.i.+mmering away into thin air and leaving her naked beneath him. He took pity on her own clumsy efforts to make his garments go away and deftly disrobed between tantalizing caresses and deep, drugging kisses. Soon their bodies were straining as eagerly as their mouths toward the moment when they could be united as one.