Murray stoically met his gaze. “She asked us nae to mention it, my lord.”
Dr. Fraser closed his bag, frowning. “Why would she nae wish his lordship to know? Surely she expects his gratitude at her dedication?” He picked up his bag. “I’ll never understand women, I fear. Buchan, I advise nae more spirits, at least for a week, lots of rest, and nae rich foods. That should get you back in guid fettle and—”
A brisk knock sounded on the door and Mrs. Hay entered. She was flushed, almost giddy looking. “Your lordship! I’m sorry to bother you, but Cook and I would like to go to the Red Lion if you dinnae mind? We’ll be back before luncheon is served and—”
“The Red Lion? Why?”
She clasped her hands together, looking so excited he half expected her to give a childish hop. “There’s a visitor! A messenger from a real, live prince! He’s from a foreign land, although I dinnae know which one, but he brought a bearded soldier with him, too, just like the pictures one has seen in the papers. They say it looks as if Russians have invaded the Red Lion!”
The world swirled, tightened, and turned black. Buchan heard himself say in a hollow tone, “Of course you may go.”
And there it was; Tatiana’s cousin had sent for her. Buchan had known it would happen all along, yet he wasn’t ready for the horrible emptiness that rang through his soul at the realization that he’d never see Tatiana again.
His life suddenly seemed so . . . lost.
Dr. Fraser grasped Buchan’s arm, concern on his face. “You’ve gone pale. Perhaps you should lie back doon.”
“’Tis naught.” Buchan stood. He’d thought it would be better if he never saw Tatiana again, if he simply let her slip away without a good-bye. It would be less painful, he’d told himself. That was how he’d planned this final moment.
But he’d been wrong; a few more precious moments would be worth everything. If he could see her even for one second, even if she were walking away, it would be worth any amount of pain.
Buchan grabbed his coat from Murray’s hands, recovered his cane from where it leaned against the wall, and limped toward the door.
Dr. Fraser called after him. “Where are you going? You should nae be traveling yet, my lord. You’re still weak . . .”
The voice faded as Buchan made his way down the hallway. He hoped to God he wasn’t too late.
Buchan reached the inn, his heart sinking when he saw the crowd of people in the courtyard, talking animatedly. Townspeople, servants, inn guests, all of them were standing with their eyes shaded against the midday sun, looking down the road. Away from the inn.
Buchan climbed out of the coach and found Mrs. Drummond near the door.
Her eyes round as saucers, she said in an excited voice, “Lord Buchan! Ye will never believe it! A courtier came to the Red Lion! A real prince sent him, too! And he had some of Mr. Drummond’s whiskey and liked it so much, he purchased a keg for the prince!”
Buchan gripped his cane tighter. “He’s gone?”
“Aye, a guid five minutes ago.”
He’d missed her. His lip trembled and he bit it with a fierceness that brought blood to his mouth. He would not mourn this moment. He would live through it and past it and in time, his life would return to normal.
But even as he had the thought, he knew it was a lie.
“Lord Buchan!” Mr. Drummond approached, beaming. “We had quite an exciting morning, we did. I’m sorry you missed it, but ’tis guid to see you oop and aboot. Would you like a wee dram before you return home? Ye look a bit pale. The illness, no doubt.”
Why not a wee dram or twenty? What better thing had he to do with his life now? “Aye,” he managed to choke out.
He followed Drummond into the inn, trying not to remember Tatiana in every corner, or the way her smile had lit his heart. He tried not to think about how he’d miss her and her laughter, and the way she’d challenged him with every look.
“I hope you dinnae mind that the private parlor is in a bit of a mess,” Drummond said over his shoulder as he led the way into the room. “The prince’s men were here all morning. They were quite fond of my whiskey, too, I dinnae mind saying, although ’twas a bit early to imbibe, in my opinion. But ‘tis noon now, and that is a different thing altogether.”
Buchan nodded, looking at the numerous glasses and empty plates on the table. “It seems the prince’s men travel in style.”
“Och, they do, at tha’. One of them wore a uniform and Mrs. Drummond said it quite set her heart a flutter.” The innkeeper chuckled. “’Tis a guid thing we dinnae ha’ to compete against wealthy princes and their guards, isnae it?”
Buchan found he couldn’t answer, so he made his way to the window. Outside, the townspeople remained congregated, talking to one another, enjoying their impromptu gathering. “I suppose you are glad to finally know the truth about Miss Romanovin.”
Drummond appeared at Buchan’s side with a glass of whiskey. “Miss Romanovin? Wha’ has she to do wi’ a prince?”
Buchan’s hand closed automatically about the glass, but his gaze now locked on the innkeeper’s broad face. “The prince . . . he is her cousin.”
Drummond chuckled. “Och, you have nae begun to believe the lass’s wild stories from a few weeks ago, have you?”
“Of course I believed her. And now this prince sent someone for her. Surely that proves her story.”
“That’s quite a coincidence, isnae it, that an envoy of a prince happens by here? Miss Tatiana laughed aboot it and said ’tis proof tha’ if you wished fer something hard enough, it will come true.”
Buchan tried to wrap his mind around the words the innkeeper kept spouting. “She says it’s a coincidence?”
“Aye. It has been weeks since she claimed to be a princess.” Drummond chuckled. “Can you imagine tha’, thinkin’ ye were royalty of a foreign country? But such is the way wi’ a head wound. Fortunately, she came aboot.”
“But she wrote to her cousin the prince every week, asking him to come for her.”
“She did the first few weeks, to be sure. But nae after that. Nae that it would matter.” Drummond went to the small desk in the corner of the room and, pulling a key from his pocket, he unlocked the end cubbyhole and pulled out four letters. “These are the miss’s letters. Mrs. Drummond and I thought it best nae to send them on, fer they’d only embarrass the lass once her mind returned to her.”
“You never told her?”
“She dinnae need the stress of an argument, did she? Puir thing—hurt so badly tha’ she suffered delusions.” Tsking, Drummond slid the letters back into the cubby. “I have to admit, though, there was a moment right after the prince’s men arrived tha’ I thought mayhap we’d been mistaken. One of them took one look at her, and it was as if he knew her. But ’twas obvious she dinnae know him, and then—” Drummond shrugged. “She must ha’ looked like someone he thought he knew, for he ne’er said another thing to her.”
“They dinnae speak?”
“She served the whiskey, so I suppose they did. They were only here for an hour or so, for they were on a quest of some sort. A lost duchess, I believe ’twas. Can you imagine losing a duchess?”
Buchan’s mind whirled with thoughts, none of them coherent. How had this happened? Why had Tatiana stopped claiming to be a princess? There were only four letters, too, which meant . . . Dammit, he didn’t know what it meant. But if she didn’t go with the prince’s men, then— He put down his glass. “Where is she?”
Drummond looked surprised. “Miss Romanovin? Why she’s in the kitchen, of course. Where else would she be?”
Buchan didn’t remember making his way from the parlor to the kitchen, but within seconds he was there. She stood at the sink, drying dishes, a towel in one hand, the sunlight warming her chestnut hair through a half-open window. It was all he could do not to reach for her. “Tatiana?”
/> Tatiana felt Buchan’s presence before she heard him, a warm tingle that raced along her skin and quickened her breath. Slowly, she put down her dish towel and turned around.
He stood just inside the doorway, tall and broad, pale from his illness, and so dear that her arms ached to hold him. His deep brown gaze fixed upon her in an unnerving way, his hands curled tightly closed as if to hold himself back.
She tried to find words, but could not. After her cousin Nik had left, she’d thought about what she’d say to Buchan, and she’d planned a very sensible and calm speech, but now she couldn’t remember a single word of it.
He found his voice first. “Your cousin sent someone for you after all.”
She nodded.
“You dinnae go with him.”
“Nyet,” she said breathlessly, finding her words at last. “I—I decided to stay.”
“Why?”
She hid a smile and looked at him through her lashes. “You know why; I still have many things to learn from Mrs. Drummond. She needs me, too.”
His lips twitched, humor softening his gaze. “From Mrs. Drummond, eh?”
“She is teaching me her scone recipe this afternoon, and she’s promised to show me how to make the stewed apples that you like so much, and then—”
Tatiana was in Buchan’s arms before she could finish, his hard, warm mouth over hers as he kissed her with a passion that left her panting against him, weak-kneed and—to his chagrin—laughing.
He held her tightly, his forehead to hers. “You would tease me even as I feared the worst.”
She twined her arms about his neck. “You looked as if you could use a laugh.”
His gaze grew serious once more. “I never thought I’d laugh again. I thought you’d gone.”
“I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave you.”
He gave a broken sigh and buried his face in her neck, lifting her until her feet were off the floor, her body against his, his breath warm against her skin. She soaked in his nearness, his strength. For the longest time, they stood just so, neither willing to move.
Finally, he sighed and slid her back to her feet. “I don’t understand what happened.” He laughed a bit. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“It’s simple. My cousin came, although not the one I expected.”
“Your cousin? Nae an envoy?”
“Oh, Nik was here, but for some reason, he was posing as a groom.”
“Why?”
“He would not say.”
“Oh?”
She pulled back and looked into Buchan’s eyes. “When I first arrived here, I wrote to Alexsey, but it was Nik who came for me. He said he’d gotten a letter . . . from you.”
Buchan nodded. “It was obvious Alexsey wasn’t getting your letters—which, by the by, were never mailed. The Drummonds kept them to save you from embarrassment once you came to your senses and realized you were nae really a princess.”
She groaned. “They didn’t!”
“I saw them myself just now. They’re locked in the desk in the parlor.”
“Ah well. I suppose I can’t blame them. It was a difficult truth to swallow. So how did you get a letter to Nik?”
“You mentioned he was in London, so I wrote to a friend who works with the Home Office and explained what had happened. I enclosed a letter and asked him to find your cousin and deliver it.”
“He said it reached him six days ago as he was leaving to look for our grandmother, who is missing, and he came right away.” She looked at him with wonder. “You believed me, that I was who I said I was.”
“Aye, even though I soon wished it was nae true.”
“Why did you wish that?” When he didn’t answer, she said softly, “Tell me, Buchan. I must know.”
He cupped her chin and tilted her face to his. “I wished it because while I could and would have a housemaid to wife, I could nae have a princess.”
“To . . . wife?”
He frowned. “What did you think I’d want? A royal mistress?”
“I’d hoped you’d wish to marry, of course, but you never seemed interested in having a wife or—”
He brushed a kiss over her mouth, stopping her words. “I dinnae dare think of such. All I could do was tempt you to my side with books. Lots and lots of books. It was all I had.”
She had to laugh. “It worked. But I’ll tell you a secret: I don’t read as fast as you might think. Several of those books have slips of paper marking where I stopped because I wanted to see you again.”
He chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “And here I was giving you the thinnest books I could find.”
“I thought so—especially when you suggested the book of poetry that was so short.”
“Aye, and I thought I was fortunate you were too polite to borrow more than one at a time.” He brushed a strand of her hair from her cheek. “Tell me, lassie, how is it that nae one in your cousin’s party recognizes you?”
She smiled. “When I saw Nik in the courtyard I pretended I didn’t know him, and he was kind enough to take my lead. He’s always involved in some sort of court intrigue, and was quick to follow.”
“But . . . he just agreed to let you stay?”
“Oh, I had to convince him. That took some time, and a lot of whiskey.” She met his gaze honestly. “I must tell you something, though. When I first saw Nik, I thought about going home. Of being somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. But then I realized that my home isn’t a place. It’s a person.” She took a deep breath, and then plunged ahead. “Buchan, that person is you. You are my home.”
“You—” His voice broke and he tightened his hold. “You would give oop so much for me. Can you? Dare I even ask?”
“I’m not giving up anything but familiarity and that is not enough. That’s what I told Nik. There’s nothing for me in Oxenburg. My parents are gone, and I have no sisters or brothers. It’s just me and, occasionally, my cousins. They are all settling down now, except Nik, of course. He’s too involved in schemes to ever marry, I fear. Fortunately, his love of schemes helped me find a way out of my situation.”
“Oh?”
“Da. You see, he decided that although he came in search of me, he would never officially ‘find’ me.”
Buchan looked at her. “So Princess Tatiana—”
“—has disappeared forever. It is the only way. Nik pointed out that if I marry, I would take on a new name, making me even harder to find, were someone to attempt such a thing, which they will not.” She slipped her arms around Buchan’s neck. “And that brings me to an important point.”
“Aye?”
“I’m glad you admitted you wished to marry, for I suddenly find myself in dire need of a husband. To hide my disappearance well and truly, I must marry, and quickly.”
“Must you now?”
“Da. I was thinking that perhaps we might do one another a favor. You can marry me and help me hide from the weight of my name.”
“And in return?”
“Oh, there are a number of things I could do for you.”
His hold on her tightened and he said in husky voice, “I imagine there are.”
“For one, I could help you put that library into some sort of better organization.”
His lips quirked. “Are you criticizing my library?”
“Never, my love. But I do think I could be of help.”
“I have nae doubt.” He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek, marveling at the love shining in her eyes. “I really am the luckiest man in the world.”
Her lips curled into a smile. “Oh?”
“Aye. When we marry, I will get a wife who knows how to make scones.”
“And stew, and venison pie, and soon, stewed apples.”
“I’m obviously getting the better half of this arrangement.”
“That would be true, except for the library.”
“Which now holds a number of books you’ve only partially read. A library that apparently needs organizing.”
“Challenges I’m eager to meet.” Her eyes twinkled up at him. “But . . . you had to know there would be a ‘but.’ ”
“Which is?”
“I will not wash any more dishes.” She showed him her red, chafed hands. “Ever. And we will pay our scullery maids so well, they will enjoy their work.”
He captured one hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, his voice husky as he said, “Och, Lady Buchan, you need never worry aboot that. I know what these lovely hands were made for, and I intend to see them well used.”
She chuckled. “Lady Buchan. I like the sound of that.”
“Guid. For if I have anything to do with it, you’ll be hearing it for the next hundred years.” Still astounded at his good fortune, and amazed at the woman standing in his arms, he bent and kissed her with all the love in his heart.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the third book in the Oxenburg Princes series!
MAD FOR THE PLAID
By Karen Hawkins
Coming Summer 2016!
Prologue
To: His Royal Highness
Prince Nikolai Romanovin of Oxenburg
Holyroodhouse
Edinburgh
Sir,
As you will recall, two weeks ago you escorted your grandmother, the Grand Duchess Natasha Nikolaevna, to Castle Leod, where she is visiting my grandmother, the Dowager Countess Cromartie. I’m sorry we did not get to meet, but that is not surprising, as I was informed that you stayed less than ten minutes.
Soon after you left, your grandmother discovered her black leather travel case was not with her trunks. She assures me it is quite important and that she must have it with all possible haste, and thus requests that you send it at your earliest convenience.
Yours sincerely,
Lady Ailsa Mackenzie
Castle Leod
September 12, 1821
* * *
To: Lady Ailsa Mackenzie
Castle Leod