“Devonsgate, where is his lordship?”
“He left while you were out riding, but I don’t know where he went.” Devonsgate beamed. “He asked for the accounts and said he would not be going out this evening.”
“Not at all?”
“No, madam.”
Jack had capitulated! Fiona smiled, happy all the way to her toes. “Thank you, Devonsgate. I think I will have a bath.”
“Yes, my lady. Would you also like a tea tray?”
“Yes, after my bath.”
Fiona thanked him and made her way to her chamber. She should have known better than to ask her brothers for advice, but she had no one else to ask. She’d met several very nice ladies she thought she could befriend, but she’d hadn’t yet spent enough time with any of them to become close. Perhaps in a few months.
But no. She placed a hand on her stomach. If she wasn’t with child yet, she soon would be.
She undid her coat and slipped it off, placing it on a chair. She was almost certain their child would be a boy. A boy with deep auburn hair and bright blue eyes.
What would life be like after the arrival of their child? She’d probably return to Scotland; it was not unusual for married couples to live apart nowadays, and many seemed to find such an arrangement convenient.
Fiona wasn’t so certain she’d feel the same way. She’d miss Kincaid House with its luxurious thick rugs and heavy velvet hangings. More important, she’d miss Jack.
She would miss waking to him in the mornings. She would miss his touch and the passion they shared. She would miss seeing his smile first thing in the morning and the way he spooned against her when he first awoke. All of that suddenly seemed very fragile and precious.
Fiona sighed. If she continued thinking this way, she’d be blue as a megrim. Yet she could not help feeling that in so many ways, her life had changed. For the first time, she wondered if she’d be satisfied going back to her old life. She’d always thought her home in the hills was all she’d ever need. Now she wasn’t so sure.
She’d have their child, which was something. Before, whenever she’d thought of being a mother, she’d imagined having three, four, or five children. She’d loved being in a large family and always thought that one day, she’d have a large, noisy, busy one herself.
It was one thing to sacrifice one’s future in the desperation of a moment. It was quite another to sit quietly after the desperation was gone and face a string of dismal changes in one’s future.
Fiona sighed. She was making herself depressed. Some things were better left unthought. Besides, she had so much to be happy about right now—not the least of which was Jack’s admission that their relationship deserved respect. That was what she should be focusing on and enjoying.
A knock on the door announced the entrance of the maid, who assisted Fiona in undressing and brought a robe for her to wear while the bath was being prepared.
An hour later, the tub was filled, and Fiona was more than ready to soak. She sent the maid away and sank into the scented water, steam curling around her. Now her life with Jack would change for the better. Perhaps this new step would bring them closer, and they could—No. Better not to think that way. Still, a trill of hope warmed her, and she smiled softly, her earlier gloom lifting.
That was how Jack found her when, package in hand, he opened the door to his bedchamber. A bright beam of sunlight illuminated the steam curling around her, her skin glistening intriguingly.
She smiled softly, humming as she washed one of her legs, whose curves begged for his touch. Her eyes glowed, and her lips curled in a pleased smile.
Something about it made him smile in return. Then he realized he was standing in the door, staring like an adolescent, his package forgotten in his slack grip.
Excited about the present he’d brought her, he pushed the door closed, the sound echoing in the silent room.
Startled, Fiona scrambled to sit upright, water sloshing to the floor, her wet hands slipping on the edge of the tub. With a splash, she fell back into the water and slid under the surface with a wild thrashing of arms and legs.
“Fiona!” Jack was at her side in a moment, lifting her back into a sitting position.
She sputtered, her drenched hair falling over her face.
“Good God, you scared me,” he said. “It’s a good thing I was here; you could have drowned.”
She parted her hair and glared up at him, her green eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t have slipped if you hadn’t startled me to begin with!”
“I only shut the—” Suddenly, he saw his neatly wrapped package floating in the tub, sinking rapidly. He cursed and fished it out, holding it up while water drained from it in long streams. “Damnation!”
“What’s that?”
Jack wrung out the package, the paper ripping and clinging to his hands. “A present,” he said grimly. So much for his plan to delight her.
It had been an unusual thought for him. Oh, he’d given presents to his mistresses, because they were expected. This was the first time he’d ever had the impulse to purchase a gift for a woman merely to see her smile.
He hoped the two delicate chemises were not ruined.
“A present? For whom?”
“For you! Who else?”
“You bought me a gift?” She couldn’t seem to believe it. “But…why?”
Flummoxed was not the reaction he’d wanted. He’d wanted her to be delighted, thrilled, impressed.
She rose a bit, trying to see the package. “What is it?”
As she rose, her breasts crested the water, the peaks taut.
Suddenly unable to breathe, Jack had to force his attention back to the package. “For someone who causes it to rain, you seem very uncomfortable in water.”
“Never mind that. I want my present.” She scooted to the edge of the tub and reached up for it.
He held it higher, enjoying the way the water was running down her shoulders and over her breasts. “Not yet.”
She settled back down and pouted. “It is evil of you to buy me something and then tease me with it.”
Jack set the package on the hearth. “I will have to dry them out before I give them to you.”
“Them? There’s more than one?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm, it can’t be something to eat if you can dry it out.” She peeked over the edge of the tub at the package as it sat in a puddle by the fire. “I think I recognize that paper. Is it something to wear?”
“I am not saying another word on the subject. You will just have to wait.” He pulled a chair to the edge of the tub and sat, stretching his legs before him.
Fiona colored. “You cannot mean to sit there and watch me bathe.”
“No.” He let his gaze travel across her. “I mean to sit here andadmire. That is a totally different matter.”
“Itlooks like watching.”
“Let me show you my watching stance.” He shifted ever so slightly to his left. “See? This is watching.This ”—he shifted back into place—“is admiring.”
Fiona gave a reluctant smile. “Very humorous, my lord.” She leaned over and dipped her hair into the water, then smoothed it back, her face in stark relief. “I am almost finished, as it is.”
Though Jack had looked at Fiona hundreds of times, held her in his arms, and kissed every inch of her face, he’d never before appreciated the curve of her cheeks, the line of her brow, as he did now.
“How are your brothers?”
She slid the cloth down her shoulder. “Sniping at each other, as usual.”
“You didn’t enjoy your ride?”
“I always enjoy my ride, even when the company is not the best.” She wrung out the cloth and hung it over the side of the tub. “My towel, please.”
He sighed his disappointment, then rose and picked up the towel from the table. Instead of handing it to her, though, he held it open and waited for her.
Fiona hid a smile. Her husband was a very physical man, somet
hing she enjoyed very much indeed. She stepped out of the tub into his waiting arms.
“Allow me,” Jack murmured, sliding the thick towel down her body.
Fiona luxuriated in his touch. He was being so wonderful. He’d brought her a present, had agreed with her complaints about his behavior and had changed it, and was now touching her in a way destined to make them both very happy.
“There. Everything but your hair.”
“I was going to sit by the fire and comb it until it dried.”
He wrapped the towel around her and tucked it in place. “I can see through your plan; you are just trying to get closer to that package.”
“Me?” She batted her eyes innocently. “Will you at least give me a hint?”
“No.” He sat by the fire, waiting until she sat in the chair opposite and began combing out her hair.
As Fiona combed her hair, her heart was full with all his gifts. “Jack, thank you so much.”
He waved a hand. “It’s just a gift.”
“I don’t mean the present, though that is very nice.”
He looked confused. “Then what do you mean?”
“Devonsgate told me we were staying in.”
He still looked confused. “Yes, for tonight.”
She stilled. “What?”
“I thought we’d stay in tonight.”
“Just this evening?”
He frowned. “I’m sure there will be others, too. Why?”
A cold hand clenched her heart. “You have not changed your mind? You still feel it is appropriate for you to wander from gaming hell to gaming hell and leave me at home?”
He looked blank. “What does that have to do with…Fiona, I thought you’d be pleased with the present.”
She stood and marched to where her robe lay, dropped the towel to the floor, and yanked on the robe. “You cannot buy my approval with a mere present.”
“I didn’t mean that. I mean, I didn’t think a present would hurt anything, though I didn’t think you’d—Damn it, Fiona, do not do this!”
She pulled the robe tight. “There’s nothing to do, my lord. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.” She crossed to the bellpull and yanked it forcefully.
“Fiona—”
She pushed the wet present toward Jack with her foot. “You may keep this, too. I would rather have nothing from a man who cares for my concerns than all the gifts in the world from a man who thinks his amusements more important than my feelings.”
Anger flew through Jack. He stood. “I am retiring to the library. When you are ready to talk calmly, I will be there.”
“I am through talking,” Fiona said, fighting the bitter disappointment of her stupid mistake. “You are not willing to give any part of yourself to this relationship, and I am through hoping for more.”
For an instant, Jack wanted to tell her that he was willing to give something of himself. The problem was, he wasn’t sure how. He’d been alone since he was sixteen, and he didn’t know how to open his life to someone else. Not without losing himself in the process.
Maybe he simply couldn’t be in a close relationship. Maybe that’s the way things were supposed to be. “I don’t know what to say, Fiona. I have never misled you.”
“No, you haven’t,” she said, her voice breaking, and for a horrid moment, he thought she would cry. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and said firmly, “I have learned my lesson. I will not ask again. You can have your life back; I want no part of it. As soon as I am with child, I will leave.”
Jack’s hands clenched into fists, his chest tight with anger and something else. “Very well, madam. If that is what you wish.”
She lifted her chin, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “It is.”
There was nothing left to say. Gritting his teeth, Jack turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter Seventeen
Some say magic is what ties nature and man together and binds them until ye can’t tell one from t’other. I think ’tis love that binds nature to man, and nothing else.
OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND
TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT
Jack looked at the paper. Devonsgate had listed all twelve footmen: John, Mark, Luke, Thomas…Bloody hell, his butler had hired the entire New Testament.
He threw the list onto his desk and rose, stretching as the clock chimed nine. He had been working steadily in his library since the argument with Fiona. If he was going to be miserable, he might as well do it on a full stomach.
He glanced at the piles of papers on his desk. Mr. Troutman had been so ecstatic over Jack’s request to review the investments that he’d sent a portfolio and begged Jack to avail himself of the contents until their scheduled meeting.
After Jack’s argument with Fiona, he’d been glad to have something to throw himself into. It was difficult to stay focused on the facts and figures though, and he frequently found himself pacing the room.
Fiona was the most stubborn woman he’d ever met. Once she decided something, she refused to move from it. She wanted Jack to be something he was not: a family man. A man who devoted himself to his wife and children. He was not that sort of man and never would be, and Fiona would just have to accept that.
So why, if he was in the right, did he feel wrong? He shoved his chair from the desk and crossed to the fireplace to stir the flames.
Hewasn’t wrong, damn it. Fiona had forced this marriage on him—on the man he was. Therefore, she had to accept that he had no obligations. This unease merely came from the distastefulness of having an argument—no one liked having his peace cut up. He would wager Fiona felt as bad as he did.
The thought made him look at the door. Perhaps he should speak with her. He remembered the look on her face and sighed, rubbing his tight neck. Maybe he’d give her more time to calm down.
But what if she was upstairs crying? What if she thought him the coldest, most unfeeling man on earth? What if—
Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? Disgusted, he returned the poker to the stand with a clang. A gentle chime from the ormolu clock informed him that it was now a quarter past nine, and he wondered if Fiona had eaten already. He hoped she was not feeling so horrible about their fight that she couldn’t eat.
Perhaps by now, she was calm enough to have a rational conversation. She might even apologize for her surprising outburst.
That was a pretty picture, Fiona begging his forgiveness. He paused for a minute to savor the image. Perhaps if he magnanimously invited her to share supper with him, some of their awkwardness would disappear. Jack could then present her with the chemises he’d purchased for her. She would be very sorry then, once she saw the exquisite sheer linen and delicate lace. She would beg his forgiveness, and he would accept. They might even make love.
The thought made him smile. He’d never shared such passion with a woman before. Still, he could not allow that to interfere in his life. After he and Fiona had settled their argument, he would call for the carriage and go about his evening entertainment. After all, a man had to make a stand.
Feeling better already, Jack rang the bellpull. Almost immediately, Devonsgate stood in the doorway. “My lord, I was just coming to speak with you about—”
“Good! I am famished. I had no idea it was so late. Inform Cook that Lady Kincaid and I will have dinner in the dining room. After that, I shall want the carriage.” Jack entered the foyer.
“My lord,” Devonsgate said, hurrying after Jack. “The carriage is gone.”
Jack halted, then turned slowly to the butler. “I beg your pardon?”
The butler flushed. “Her ladyship has the carriage.”
Jack didn’t know whether to laugh or…Hell, he didn’t know what to do. “When did she leave?”
“Not thirty minutes ago, my lord.”
Bloody hell! “Why was I not informed?”
Devonsgate stiffened. “My lord, you’ve never asked us to tell you when her ladyship comes and
goes.”
He hadn’t, blast it. But he would have if he’d known his wife was planning—Whatwas she planning? Jack had a sudden sinking feeling he knew where she’d be. “Did she mention her destination?”
Devonsgate exchanged a pained glance with one of the footmen. Jack turned to the man. Younger, with wispy blond hair and protruding eyes, he stood at rigid attention, only the shine on his forehead portraying his unease.