Part 15 (2/2)
”Well!” Cane said, brightening at his filled gla.s.s. ”Thank you.” He looked at Dougal with raised brows.
”Wh.o.a.re you?”
Dougal pulled an empty chair from a neighboring table and straddled it, crossing his arms over the chair
back. ”Kincaid, why don't you introduce us?” ”Aye.” Gregor bent down to Carlyse and said in a soft voice, ”I believe you are done, my friend.” Carlyse looked astonished. ”Here! How can you say that?” Gregor flicked a careless finger at Carlyse's cards. ”You've no face cards at all, and only one eight. I'd say you were done for.”
Carlyse choked. ”You cannot just read my cards aloud like that!”
Gregor bent down until his face was even with Carlyse's. ”Why not?”
The lord blinked, then stood so quickly he knocked a small stack of coins to the floor. ”Gentlemen, I
fear this gentleman may be right. I am finished. I should have stopped playing hours ago.” He bowed.
”Good night.” He turned on his heel and left the room. Gregor took Carlyse's empty chair. ”Perhaps I should introduce myself and my brother. I am Gregor MacLean and this is Dougal. We are Kincaid's in-laws.”
”And greatest pains in the a.s.s,” Jack added, throwing his cards to the table.
Lord Cane chuckled. ”I know what you mean. My wife's brothers are forever haunting my house,
asking for loans, eating me out of house and home.”
De Laughsley nodded. ”It's the worst part of marriage.”
Jack agreed. As Gregor picked up the tossed cards and began to shuffle them, Jack said, ”Gentlemen, I
believe I have spent long enough at this table.”
”Oh?” Gregor's gaze narrowed. ”Going home, then?”
”Where you belong?” Dougal added. ”With yourwife ?”
Cane and de Laughsley exchanged glances, then Cane cleared his throat. ”Perhapswe should move to
another table?” One of Jack's footmen came up to the table. ”Lord Kincaid? You have a message from Devonsgate. He said to tell you it is urgent, my lord.”
Jack took the note: My lord, Lady Kincaid announced she would be out this evening. When I asked where, she said she was going ”carousing.” That is a direct quote. Please advise. Devonsgate.
Jack stood, his chair hitting the floor.
How dare she?he fumed.G.o.d, what if something happens to her? What if- ”Where are you going?” Gregor said, pus.h.i.+ng back his own chair.
”To find my wife.”
”Findher?” Dougal stood as well. ”Where is she?”
”I don't know,” Jack said grimly. ”But when I find her, I shall turn her over my knee and remind her whyI am the one who-”
Gregor's brows snapped low. ”You are the one who what?”
”None of your business.” Jack pushed past his brother-in-law and headed for the door, his stride long and purposeful.
By G.o.d, he'd make certain Fiona never went ”carousing” again.
Chapter Twelve.
'Tis a horrid thing, to possess a power greater than you are. This is the curse of the MacLeans, to be out of control when their emotions run high and their blood runs hot. 'Tis a wicked curse, yet a smart one, for all that.
OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND.
TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT.
Fiona entered the Harringtons' house with antic.i.p.ation. Odd, she'd thought a gaming h.e.l.l would be more decadent. Situated in one of the best parts of town, the house was large and well appointed. The windows were large, the gla.s.s mullioned. The rugs were beautiful, thick, and of rich designs. Everything sparkled and gleamed.
People glanced her way, but no one seemed to think her out of place. A bit breathless at the taste of freedom, she walked into the main salon and brazenly met the gazes of several men who lounged about the doorway.
Jack would not look away from a beautiful woman, so why should she look away from a handsome man? If any of them approached her, she'd have someone to talk to, and who knew? She might even make a friend or two. She soon found herself speaking to several rather flirtatious but polite gentlemen, a gla.s.s of lovely wine pressed into one of her hands, with music playing softly in the background as she talked and laughed.
Fiona clutched her fan a bit tighter. The rooms were very crowded, but all in all, gaming h.e.l.ls were far less intimidating than she'd imagined.
She noted the tables scattered here and there, the sounds of cards and dice, voices and laughter. She should watch a game or two to learn how to play before joining in. After a half hour, she felt confident enough to play. To her delight, she soon had a small pile of winnings.
Her partners were three very different gentlemen. The first was Mr. Grantham, a pretentious braggart; only the amused contempt of her other partners made his presence bearable. The other two players were obviously gentlemen: Count d'Orsay, quite the handsomest man she'd ever met, and Lord Chessup, the youngest son of the earl of Stanwick.
After a while, Fiona tired of playing. She collected her winnings and made her excuses to her partners, who all begged her to stay that they might recoup their money. But the room had gotten hotter over the last hour, and she wished to stand by a window for some fresh, cool air.
A small orchestra had begun to play somewhere else in the house, and Fiona tapped her foot unconsciously as the orchestra played a lively Scottish reel.
A warm hand wrapped around her elbow, and Fiona turned to find a stranger holding her arm. He was tall, with black hair and vivid blue eyes. They weren't as bright as Jack's, or as deep in color, but the contrast with his hair was startling.
Fiona didn't think him precisely handsome, though he was certainly striking and had presence.
”I'm sorry,” she said, removing her elbow from his grasp. ”Do I know you?”
Her companion smiled ruefully, his relaxed manner setting her instantly at ease. ”I was going to say something witty, but I can see you don't even remember me.” He bowed. ”My name is Alan Campbell. I know your brothers and your husband.”
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