Part 12 (1/2)

'Tis a pity about the MacLean temper. They are fierce in both anger and love. They are a close clan, and what affects one affects them all. Together they'll sing in heaven, or together they'll suffer in h.e.l.l.

OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT.

”There you are, my lord!” Devonsgate hurried forward as one footman took Jack's coat while another waited for his hat. ”I was beginning to wonder if you had been found.”

”I most certainly was!” Jack shook off the attention of the footmen, noting that two more stood beside the library doors. Good G.o.d, how many were there?

As he turned, his sore stomach protested the sudden move. He grimaced. Between Fiona and her brothers, he wasn't going to have an unbruised muscle on his body.

Thunder rumbled outside, and with a shattering burst, the sound of rain turned into something more.

Devonsgate blinked. ”Is that hail? InApril ?”

Jack glanced up at the darkened windows, where small b.a.l.l.s of ice bounced off the windowpanes and danced along the sills. ”d.a.m.n MacLeans,” he muttered.

”I beg your pardon, my lord?”

”Nothing. Where is her ladys.h.i.+p?”

”In your bedchamber.” The butler folded his hands and stared straight ahead. ”You should be made aware that there was a bit of a situation this morning.”

The ominous note in his voice made Jack pause. ”What happened?”

The butler sniffed primly. ”You failed to inform us that you hadmarried the lady you so informally-and, might I add, scandalously-carried into the house last night.”

It took Jack a full moment to realize the full implication of Devonsgate's words. So when Fiona woke up...No wonder she'd sent the footman for him. ”I am in trouble.”

”Indeed. I only hope her ladys.h.i.+p will forgive the staff for not reacting as we should have when she arose and requested breakfast.” Devonsgate eyed Jack steadily. ”Mrs. Tarlington was initially of the opinion that 'the imposter' should be tossed out on her ear.”

He'd been such a fool. He'd never thought about the fact that the servants wouldn't know Fiona. Hadn't thought about her waking alone and hungry, looking for breakfast, and meeting hostility and disbelief. ”I should have introduced her.”

”Yes, my lord.”

Jack rubbed his neck. ”Is she upset?”

Devonsgate looked at the ceiling.

”Wonderful,” Jack muttered. He'd gone out this morning determined to prove that his life hadn't changed merely because he was married, and all he'd succeeded in doing was upsetting everyone. Jack sighed. ”I suppose I should go and see her.”

”She is waiting, my lord.” The butler offered in an undertone, ”She also requested a breakfast tray fortwo . Perhaps a heartfelt apology will smooth things over.”

That was surprisingly heartening news. ”Thank you, Devonsgate. I will indeed attempt that.” Jack looked about the foyer, his gaze falling on a vase of fresh flowers. He crossed to them, reached into the bouquet, and grabbed a handful. He pulled them out and shook them over the carpet.

”My lord!”

”Don't worry, Devonsgate. It's only water.” Jack held the bouquet at arm's length. It was a bit bedraggled after being yanked from the vase, but it would serve. He would have picked some flowers from his own garden, but with the hail now raining down outside, he doubted there was so much as a blade of gra.s.s still left on the entire street.

Devonsgate glanced uneasily out the window before turning his attention back to Jack. ”I hope her ladys.h.i.+p was not too offended by my or Mrs. Tarlington's disbelief this morning.”

”The blame is mine, not yours.” Jack made his way up the steps. He was beginning to think that perhaps he'd made an a.s.s of himself last night. d.a.m.n it; all he'd wanted to do was to establish himself as master of his own life.

Jack's jaw tightened. He would not give that up. Although he'd been wrong to leave Fiona without seeing to her comfort, he still had the right to go where he wanted and when.

He reached the bedchamber door, then looked down at his mussed coat. The least he could do was make himself more presentable for her. He placed the flowers on the floor by the door and straightened his cravat and coat. He used the edge of his sleeve to polish the toes of his boots, then reached for the flowers. His hand had just wrapped around the stems when the door was thrown open.

Jack found himself looking down at the toes of Fiona's boots. The boots that had rested so tantalizingly on his a.s.s just last night.

His body reacted instantly, flaming to awareness. He hurried to stand.”Oof!” His forehead b.u.mped into something hard, the flowers flying.

”Ow!”Fiona staggered back, one hand over her forehead above her eye.

Jack grabbed her just as her knees buckled. ”Fiona! I'm sorry! I just-oh, for the love of-”

He lifted her into his arms and carried her inside, kicking the door closed. He absently noted the large bra.s.s tub off to one side while a breakfast tray sat on the small table before a newly stoked fire.

He carried her across the room and gently placed her on the settee, then lifted her chin and examined her forehead. An angry red mark marred her smooth skin. Without thought, he pressed his lips to the spot.

Fiona closed her eyes at his touch. It was a simple gesture, almost chaste, but it flooded her with a warm feeling of comfort. She leaned into his embrace, refusing to think about anything else.

She'd spent the morning fuming at Jack's absence. That had given way to a seething determination to let him know how she felt about his failure to inform the servants of her position. Then she'd spent a considerable amount of time practicing a pithy, well-thought-out speech that would let Mr. Jack Kincaid know in no uncertain terms what was what. She'd even planned which chair he'd sit in while she astonished him with her calm logic: the red chair received direct light, so she could see every expression on his face.

She'd planned to establish herself as the epitome of dignity and grace, of reasonable discourse and womanly pride. And now this! He hadn't even crossed the threshold, and they'd banged heads like a comedy act at Vauxhall.

Life was not fair.

Jack sighed, his gaze meeting hers. He looked tired, deep lines tracing from the corners of his mouth to his chin. Her fingers itched to soothe those lines, to touch his stubbled chin, to press a kiss to the corner of his lips and perhaps more- Blast it! She was angry with him, and rightly so. She could not just forget that. Fiona curled her fingers into her palms and jerked her gaze away. What was it about him that had her craving his touch, even when she was fuming mad?

”I am sorry we had an accident,” she said now, struggling to remain calm. ”I thought perhaps you'd lost something, so I was bending down to see what it was.” ”I was polis.h.i.+ng my shoe with my sleeve.” He looked down at his wrinkled clothing. ”I was just trying to look more presentable.” He glanced behind him, where a broken flower stuck out from beneath the door. ”I even brought you some flowers.”

She bit her lip, looking at the flower smashed beneath the door's edge, a quiver of laughter tickling her lips. What a horrid muddle. ”Why did you bring me flowers?” ”Because I'm an a.s.s. I am very sorry I did not introduce you to the servants. I should have, but-” His expression hardened. ”I was busy proving my life has not changed.”

”Both of our lives have changed.”

”Some,” he said shortly.

She shrugged, turning her face away. There was no mistaking the challenge in his gaze. ”I see.”

He brushed his fingers over her forehead. ”Had this been a bit lower, you would have had a black eye.

It's going to make a h.e.l.l of a bruise as it is.”

”Perhaps some ice would keep it from turning colors.”