Читать книгу To Tempt A Scotsman - Victoria Dahl - Страница 7

“Collin, are you coming down?”

A smile stole over Collin’s face at the sound of his cousin’s shout echoing up the stairway and through the open library door.

“Collin?”

“Be right there.”

Tossing the book back onto the chair where he’d found it, Collin stepped out of the library and made a careful survey of the angled hall before choosing the stone archway to his left. Lucy’s home was massive and rambling, having been added onto at least a dozen times, and visitors often found themselves lost. Collin had been here for three days and he had yet to get his bearings.

“Oh, my word! Oh, I can’t believe it!”

He rolled his eyes at Lucy’s echo. She had never been the perfect example of a gentlewoman, perhaps because she was not very gently bred. No telling what had excited her into shouting this time, there were so many possibilities. A new kitten, a letter from a friend…perhaps even a tempting biscuit. Still chuckling when he found the stairs, Collin descended to the landing, looked down, and felt his tongue freeze to the roof of his mouth at the sight of Lucy’s latest thrill.

“Oh, you naughty thing!” Lucy sang, her red curls bouncing. “What are you doing here?”

Naughty thing indeed. Below him, radiant in a rumpled gown of aquamarine silk, stood the naughty Lady Alexandra herself.

“Good God,” Collin breathed, or perhaps just thought, he couldn’t be sure. His brain had stuttered at the unexpected sight of her. He watched his cousin hug her, coo over her, then made himself walk down the rest of the stairs. “Lady Alexandra,” he murmured when he reached the first floor.

She snapped around with a sharp gasp. “Blackburn!”

“But…You know each other?” Lucy asked, wariness tightening her voice.

“Aye,” Collin said just as Alexandra shook her head.

She shot a hot look in his direction. “I think ‘know’ is too strong a word.”

Lucy frowned, but before she could question them further, George walked in and swept Alexandra into his arms to twirl her about the hall.

“Put me down!” she ordered, though a hint of laughter bubbled through.

“Sorry. Forgot the wife was here,” George said, leering comically as he set her on her feet.

“Ha! You say that very convincingly for a man who hasn’t noticed another woman in ten years.”

George winked just before he spied Collin. A narrow look of worry descended over his face as he cleared his throat and turned Alexandra around.

“Lady Alexandra, may I present Collin Blackburn? He is Lucy’s cousin by marriage.”

“We’ve met,” she said evenly, then, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Lucy chattered, plump cheeks reddening. “You’re both family. Why shouldn’t you have a nice visit? Um…There’s no reason…”

George smiled a sick smile and took his wife’s hand. “Alexandra is my second cousin, Collin.”

“Ah.” What else could he say?

George cleared his throat, obviously aware of the tension in the room and the reason for it. He’d sent a deeply sympathetic letter at John’s death, but he’d never told Collin of his connection to Alexandra. Of course, there’d been no mention of her role in the incident, not in polite company.

“Yes, well,” George boomed with a clap of his thin hands. “We were about to take Collin out for a ride to the village. Will you accompany us, Alex?”

Her eyes flitted from face to face and she looked so miserable that even Collin wanted to grimace.

“I do believe I’d rather stay and catch up with Alex,” Lucy said breezily. “You two go talk about manly things like fields and horses and fishing. We’ll get her settled and rested before dinner.”

George, nodding vigorously, had turned to the door before his wife had finished speaking.

Collin tried to catch Alexandra’s eye, though he didn’t know why. Only to read her, he told himself, not to reassure her. He owed her nothing.

She did not look at him, just let Lucy take her arm and guide her away without a glance in his direction. The set of her jaw bespoke anger, at him or the situation or both.

Collin glared at her back as she walked away, resenting the guilt that burned his gut. He’d done nothing wrong, certainly hadn’t known she’d be coming here. And now he would have to speak with her, try to make peace because they were both guests in George’s home. He didn’t want to make friends with the woman. He wanted to shake her.

“Collin?” George stuck his head back inside.

“Coming,” he muttered and followed his miserable host out to the waiting horses.

“Well, then. That was a little tense.” Lucy closed the door of the bedchamber with a soft click.

Alex groaned and threw herself face down on the bed. “What is he doing here?”

“Oh, Alex, he’s my cousin! Or not really. His aunt married my uncle…”

“I know. I mean, that is…I didn’t know. Lucy, why didn’t you ever tell me you were related to John?” She pushed herself up, miserable and fighting tears of frustration.

“I’m not. He and Collin were half brothers. I never even met John.”

“This is terrible! I should just go back to Somerhart.”

“No, I absolutely forbid it.”

She fell back upon the bed, covering her face with her hands. She had come here for comfort, for company and distraction, anything to avoid the regret that had fallen over her after Blackburn’s visit.

“Alex, what is it? Has he been cruel to you? I may have to stand on a chair to do it, but I’m not afraid to box his ears.”

A surprised laugh bubbled up from her throat at the image. “Really?”

“Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh, it’s nothing that terrible. I’m just overwrought. I only met him three days ago. He wished to speak with me about his brother’s death.”

“Why?”

She could almost hear her friend frowning. Sighing, Alex sat up, wondering if she looked like a melodramatic marionette as she flopped about on the bed. “He’s looking for St. Claire. Naturally, he wanted to speak with me. I gave him what I could and he left. The end.”

“Did he know you were coming here?”

“No, and I certainly did not know he would be here.”

“We never mentioned…That is…I could ask him to go.”

“No! No, of course not. He’s done nothing wrong. I believe that distinction belongs to me.”

“Oh, Alex, don’t say that, please. Men are solely responsible for those stupid games of honor that they play. That duel was between those two men and likely had little enough to do with you.”

That struck a little close to home. “You may be more right than you think.”

“Alex—”

A soft knock on the door saved her from explanation. A young footman entered, toting her trunk as if it weighed nothing. Alexandra stood, put a smile on her face.

“Don’t worry, Lucy. I was only surprised to see him. I’ll be fine. And next time I’ll inquire before coming to visit.”

“But—”

“No, no. Don’t think of it again.” She put her arm around Lucy’s shoulders—an awkward task as the woman was several inches taller—and managed to steer her toward the door. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes at the obviousness of the action, but she left, followed closely by the footman. As soon as the door closed, Alex stomped her foot hard into the carpet.

She wanted to fly down the stairs and back to her carriage, have the driver whip the horses on till she saw the gates of home. But Blackburn would know she ran from him. Would it still be obvious if she waited until morning to flee?

A growl rose in her throat. She’d come here for refuge from her own thoughts and now she was confronted with the very cause of her turmoil. A cousin by marriage, indeed.

Shock had rippled through her body at the sight of him, standing there where she least expected. Worse yet was the realization that she had not been entirely dismayed. In that first instant of recognition her body had responded with pleasure, then her brain had scrambled to catch up, and the thrill flooding her veins had changed to instant anxiety.

Damn him, why did he have to be so appealing? His visit to her home had stirred up more than just the old nightmares of John and his freshly dug grave. Since then, she’d been haunted by dreams about a large Scotsman and unyielding arms that demanded she soothe his hurt. More than once she’d awakened with that hot ache upon her body. The pain of her want seemed worse than her sorrow now.

Clenching her jaw, she blew air through her teeth and sat down to await her maid. Danielle could get her out of this wrinkled dress and brush out the braid that now seemed woven just to give her a headache. Then she would prepare for dinner. Prepare to dine with the first man she’d found attractive in a long while. A man who looked at her and saw the death of his brother.

Collin watched Lady Alexandra step from her room, brow furrowed with thought or worry as she turned to head for the stairs. When her eyes touched him they flew wide in surprise.

“What do you want?”

He pushed away from the wall. “I thought we should speak privately before dinner.”

“Why ever would you think that?”

A maid stepped out of a room a few doors down and spared them a quick glance before rushing away. Lady Alexandra stared after her, tight-jawed, as if she wished it were herself escaping. “What do you want, Blackburn?”

“I’m not here to torment you. My father’s deathbed wish was that I find St. Claire and bring him back to England for trial. I cannot just forget about him, much as I’d like to.”

She finally met his gaze then, her eyes unreadable in the flickering light of the hallway. “It’s not that I resent what you’re doing. I’m sure I would not walk away from such a thing if my brother were killed, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy your company. I can’t pretend to feel comfortable with you just because I understand your contempt.”

He stared at her for a long moment, torn between the weariness in her voice and his anger at what she had done to his brother. This unexpected sympathy served to renew his rage. “My brother was in love with you,” he finally said, “and your complete disregard for his feelings led to his death.”

The girl stared at him, expression seeping from wariness to horror before she shook her head. “That is simply not true.”

“Oh, please,” he spat, lashing out against the softness of her reply.

“No. John and I were friends. He was not in love with me.”

Those big blue eyes looked up at him, awash with confusion and innocence. My God, the woman was a consummate actress. How could she deny it right to his face? Everyone in London had expected them to marry.

“He wrote me a week before his death, confessing his love for you, vowing to ask for your hand before the Season was out. He called you an angel, said you were kind and lovely and decent. I got that letter the day after I learned he’d been killed in a duel over your dubious honor. Just days after he found you mounting St. Claire.”

Her mouth fell open. No sound emerged. Collin ground his teeth together at the stark pain in her eyes. She couldn’t be innocent, couldn’t have been so blind to his brother’s feelings.

A tear fell, caught on black lashes, trembled there. He heard the wheeze of air straining in her throat and closed his eyes. God, please let her be acting.

One deep breath, and he opened his eyes to find her face frozen, closed off, impassive. Her hands were behind her, fumbling blindly for the doorknob as she stared at him. Fingernails clawed over the wood, searching, but the knob eluded her grasp. Her skin paled to an alarming white.

“Lady Alexandra?” he managed.

“No. Just leave me alone.”

He heard the rattle of her hand closing over the doorknob, the sound quickly swallowed by her gasp of relief.

Collin watched as she pushed the door open, as she spun in an awkward turn, moving as though her legs refused to budge. Before he could think to catch her, she fell to her knees on the carpet, amber skirts crumpling like paper.

“Christ,” he muttered, and reached for her. Ignoring her slight struggle and her panted “no,” he lifted her easily in his arms and stepped into her room. He’d barely made it to the wide expanse of white coverlet when she thrashed and rolled from his grip, landing on her knees on the bed. He expected her to sob. She glared.

“Do not touch me again.” Her lips drew back in a snarl.

“Do you know what it’s been like for me these past days? You come to my home, tell me that Damien used me as a weapon, as a tool to murder John. Now you tell me John loved me?” The last words rose to a shout, but the tears were finally there. Collin found he now had no wish to see them.

“I was frustrated,” he said with care. “I shouldn’t have put it so bluntly.”

She held her breath, silent in an obvious attempt to control herself. Tears pooled in her eyes, turning them liquid.

Collin shook his head. “I just…I need to know what happened. Why he died. Why St. Claire wanted him dead.”

She did not answer for long minutes, only breathed steadily and slowly, ribs rising and falling in silent struggle. He’d begun to think he should call for Lucy when she swallowed and spoke.

“I can understand that.” She blinked, and two fat tears snaked down pale cheeks. She ignored them. Collin wondered if he should give her a handkerchief, wondered if she would strangle him with it.

“Your brother gave me no indication of his feelings. We were friends, John and I. He would tease me about the men I danced with, make a game of always having sordid information about a suitor.” A shudder of air left her lungs, seeming to deflate her. “He never, ever told me of his feelings. I would not have led him on, not if I knew. We were friends. I thought him in love with Beatrice Wimbledon. He let me think that, I swear.”

The line of her neck stayed straight and tense as she sank down to sit on the mattress. Collin realized he had no reason not to believe her. His brother had been young and perhaps not confident enough to declare his love to a girl like Lady Alexandra. Hell, many grown men wouldn’t be. He was reaching for her arm when she began to shake.

Flinching in shame, he laid a hand on her elbow and felt her freeze at his touch. “I assumed the worst of you and I had no right to.”

“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“I was wrong. I’m sorry. Again.”

“Again.” Her small body trembled, but she sneered at his words before she turned away from him, curling onto her side to face the wall.

Collin’s gut burned with sharp regret. He’d meant to wound her, thinking she deserved it. In truth, he hadn’t wanted to see her as a victim. It interfered with the easy idea of her guilt. But perhaps she wasn’t guilty of anything more than reckless lust and the indiscretions of youth.

Now he wanted to comfort her, knew he must, just as he knew he should not touch her.

“Hush,” he breathed in the same voice he used to calm frightened horses. “Dinna cry.”

“I don’t cry,” she hissed.

“Of course not.” But he reached out to touch her just the same. His fingers moved over the silken curl of her hair, smoothed the waves of black. She stiffened, ready to lash out, but even when he repeated the touch, she did not move away. When he cupped the back of her head in his palm, her body softened.

“I’m sorry about John. I am.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you?” She rolled toward him, onto her back, and Collin found his hand trapped beneath her. “Do you believe me?”

He watched her for a long moment, exploring her eyes and her mouth and her creamy skin in the dim light of the room as he leaned over her like a lover. He was surprised at the truth of his answer. “Yes, I believe you.”

And he no longer felt comforting. The clean smell of her, the warmth of her neck on his fingers, her breasts pushing high against the smooth amber-gold bodice of her dress—these things crystallized in his mind and pricked sharply at his senses. Fighting the urge to jerk away, he disentangled his fingers from her hair and slid his hand from under her heat.

“Can we start over, do you think?” Her voice came soft and husky now, and he wondered if she’d felt the change in him.

Could he start over? Treat her as if she were a friend of his cousin’s and not an accessory to a crime? She was only a girl, after all. And it was true that she’d been used as a weapon. She’d been hardly more than a victim herself, it seemed.

“For the sake of our hosts,” he agreed, glad when she smiled at his paltry joke.

“You are a hard man, Collin Blackburn.”

He choked, for she was very nearly right. To his horror, a blush crept up her cheeks, warming her skin into a temptation. He stood and stumbled a step back from the bed.

“I’ll see you at dinner.”

Her blue gaze burned into his back as he fled, slamming the door behind him.