Caught by the Scot

  “I will see to it,” he said. “I have a recipe for a most excellent one.”

  To Conner’s amusement, Thea was looking from Lance to Jane and back as if they’d suddenly sprouted extra heads. “Jane, surely a mustard plaster won’t be necessary. You’ll feel much better after a hot bath.”

  “Oh, you don’t know. I catch every sniffle that comes by. It’s one reason my sister-in-law wished me gone. She felt I’d brought a number of infections into the household which threatened my nephew’s health.”

  Footsteps sounded and everyone turned toward the door just as Spencer appeared carrying a small, worn trunk.

  “Jane, there are your clothes.” No one looked happier about the arrival of Jane’s trunk than Thea. “Spencer, carry that to Miss Simmons’s bedchamber. The maid knows which one it is.”

  “Aye, miss.” Spencer disappeared from sight.

  “I’m being such a bother,” Jane said, obviously miserable. “I wish I could just change into fresh clothes and dry my hair, and all would be right. But I know how things are with me; if I get even the slightest bit wet I start to sneeze, and nine times out of ten it goes straight into an earache, and nothing will help but sleeping with a roasted onion tied to my head.”

  Thea blinked. “Did you say a roasted onion?”

  Lance looked at her with true astonishment. “Surely you’ve heard of that remedy.”

  “No. Never.”

  “Everyone knows that if you’ve an earache, a roasted onion will draw out the illness.” When Jane sent him a thankful look, he added in a gentle tone, “My youngest sister has the same issue—if the air’s the slightest bit damp she takes ill, and often has an earache. A roasted onion tied to her ear clears it each and every time.”

  “It’s an old cure and quite dependable,” Jane agreed. “I did not believe it would work myself, until I’d tried it.” She sent Thea an envious look. “I daresay you rarely take ill.”

  It was true; Conner could count on one hand the number of times he could recall Thea’s being ill. She was an amazingly strong woman, in body as well as spirit. She’d take well to the sea, or she would if she didnae have her heart set on establishing herself in a home and never traveling again. For some reason, the thought depressed him. He’d never thought about Thea’s being at sea, but he could easily imagine it now that they’d traveled together.

  “I’m sadly robust,” Thea told Jane. “My father says I have a stronger constitution than anyone in my whole family, as I ride so often, and in all weather.”

  “For once, I find myself in agreement with your father,” Conner said.

  “A momentous day indeed.” Thea sent him a humorous look as she rose and assisted Jane to her feet. “Since your bedchamber is warm, we will get you out of those wet clothes. Hopefully the hot bath Mr. Douglas kindly requested will arrive soon.”

  “That would be lovely.” Jane pulled the pelisse tighter. “Do you think we might see if there’s an onion to be had in the kitchen? Just in case. I fear if we do not bespeak it tonight, it might be made into soup or something not as helpful.”

  “Of course. I’ll ask the maid when she brings the bath.” Thea slipped her arm around Jane’s shoulders.

  As she reached the door, Conner said, “I’ll bespeak dinner.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.” The warmth of her look made his chest tighten in the oddest way.

  Conner had captained ships over wild seas, fought in blood-soaked wars, and captured numerous enemy ships after deadly battles. He’d been rewarded for those efforts with awards, gold, decrees, and even a bit of fame. Yet he would trade them all for just one warm look from Thea.

  Bloody hell, what’s happening to me? He rubbed his neck, wondering at the power of Thea’s glance as Lance followed her and Jane to the door, offering a steady stream of advice that included vinegar-soaked handkerchiefs to calm a cough, extra blankets to induce a sweat, and laudanum in warmed milk to encourage sleep.

  Conner had a moment’s satisfaction when he noted the irritated set to Thea’s mouth. Och, lass, if the man irritates you now, he’ll infuriate you after you’re married.

  Lance hovered in the doorway, watching the women until they disappeared up the stairs. Then he sighed, leaning heavily against the doorframe. “I hope Miss Simmons will recover.”

  “She’s nae yet ill,” Conner pointed out in a dry tone. “She’ll be better after she’s warmed up and had a hot meal.”

  Lance frowned. “You do not understand the effect of cold on someone with naturally weak lungs.”

  That was probably true. “Still, Thea has the situation well in hand. You know how she is—once she sets her mind to something, nothing will stand in the way, nae even weak lungs. She’s a force of nature, that one.”

  Lance stiffened. “I beg your pardon, but Miss Cumberbatch-Snowe is a wonderful woman.”

  “I meant what I said as the highest compliment.”

  “It sounded like a critique. Women were not designed to be ‘a force of nature.’ ”

  “Mayhap nae the women in your life, but in mine they havenae been so weak.”

  “They are the weaker vessel. And while I don’t know about women who sail, I know without hesitation that Theodora is a lady first and foremost, and would never wish to be described in such a way.”

  Conner didn’t believe that for a second and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to say so. He had to settle for a terse, “Only Thea knows how she wishes to be described.”

  Lance nodded stiffly, but after a moment, he sighed. “I’m sorry if I’m overly protective. I’ve never been engaged before and I’m not sure what’s—how I’m supposed to— Not that Thea would like it if—” He caught Conner’s amused gaze and slumped, a sail suddenly without wind. “She can be prickly at times.”

  Well. That was something. “We all are.”

  “True. Theodora is sometimes a little lacking in empathy. And she can be out of sorts at times, although that’s to be expected, considering the stress our elopement has put upon her tender sensibilities.”

  Tender sensibilities? Bloody hell, had the man carried on even one real discussion with his intended?

  Lance waved a hand. “But that’s what a husband is for. Females tend to be emotional, and it is up to us to calm their many fears and protect them from the harshness of life.”

  Conner chuckled. “Laddie, I fear you’re in for a sad surprise. Thea will nae welcome someone protecting her, nae withoot her say-so. Hell, she barely allows me to offer oop advice, and those are just words.”

  Lance’s smile never wavered. “Things are different between Theodora and I, aren’t they, seeing as we’re to be married.”

  “There’s that.” The words burned Conner’s throat, and he wished he had whisky to wash the hurt away.

  “Douglas, forgive me for saying this, but I still find it odd that you stopped at the same inn as we did.”

  “Mere coincidence,” Conner lied without a pause.

  “Perhaps, although . . .” Lance’s eyes narrowed. “Are you following us?”

  “I was here first,” Conner pointed out. “Which means the real question is: are you following me?”

  Lance flushed. “Of course not! I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “Ah. Then I was right to begin with; mere coincidence.”

  The squire nodded and then frowned, realizing the conversation somehow wasn’t going the way he wished, but was unable to see his way clear.

  Conner sighed. The squire’s reasoning was lacking, a major weakness for a man hoping to be a life mate for a lively lass. Och, Thea, when will you see this man is nae right for you?

  That thought was followed by a more chilling one: What if you dinnae realize it until it’s too late?

  His first impulse was to tell Thea every ridiculous thing the squire had said so far, but he immediately realized the error of that. There was no telling Thea anything; she’d regard anything Conner told her with suspicion.

  I must ma
ke certain she sees and hears Lance’s foolishness for herself. Conner thought of the week of travel they faced, and swallowed a scowl. A week might not be enough. He wished he could lengthen the trip two entire weeks, or even three, but if he drew it out too much, Thea’s irritation with him would overshadow her calm reason.

  The most Conner could do was add three, perhaps four, more days to the journey. And to make certain that Thea got the true measure of her intended, from now on, Conner would be there every damned step of the way to subtly highlight the man’s flaws.

  But that presented another problem. He now had less than two months left to marry, and he couldn’t do both—continue on this journey to prevent Thea from making the biggest mistake of her life, and secure a bride of his own.

  To be honest, he was quickly coming to the dismaying conclusion that there was only one lady of any quality he was willing to marry—Thea. He thought of the reasons she’d said she wished to marry, the desire for commitment, and sameness, of hearth and home and a husband who valued those things as well. Conner wanted none of it. He’d been looking for a marriage that would allow him the freedom to continue his life upon the sea, not banish it.

  There was no bridge between their two visions of the future.

  So that is that. She will never be mine. Never. It was a startling, depressing thought.

  And neither would his inheritance. So be it, then. The bloody Campbells can have it. Odd as it was, he regretted losing Thea more than the inheritance. Och, Anna, you would be surprised to know that, wouldn’t you?

  “Mr. Douglas?”

  Conner realized he’d sunk into a brown study, and the squire was now looking at him in concern. “You look distressed. Are you worried about Miss Simmons, too?”

  Conner forced a smile. “Nae. I’m sure Thea has the sickroom well in hand. I was just feeling the weight of my thoughts. It’s been a long day, has nae it?”

  “It has.” Lance raked his wet hair from his face. “I should probably call for a bath as well. I don’t wish to take ill during my own elopement and I definitely feel as if I might be catching a chill.”

  “Och, you need a wee dram, that’s all.”

  The squire brightened. “That could be just the thing.”

  It certainly could. Conner retrieved his glass and carried it to the sideboard. He splashed whisky into his glass and a clean one. Then he brought them to the fireplace and handed one to the other man. One could never know too much about one’s enemy. “It’s Meldrum’s, the best there is.” Conner held up his glass, admiring the amber liquid. “Slainte.”

  “Slainte.” Lance took an experimental sip. “That’s quite good.”

  “So ’tis.” Conner sat in a chair and nodded to the one across from him. “Have a seat. You’re in nae hurry, are you? It will be some time before you can call for a bath, as the kitchen maids will be busy filling one for Miss Simmons.”

  “True.” Lance took the chair, looking about the parlor as if seeing it for the first time. “MacLeish was right; this is an excellent inn.”

  “One of the best. So, squire. Tell me aboot this farm of yours.”

  13

  At a quarter after six, Theodora and Jane made their way to the dining room. Warmed by a bath, clothed in a dry gown, and snuggly wrapped in Theodora’s best shawl, Jane seemed much more like herself, both chatty and breathless.

  “I do hope there’s some fish to be had,” she said as they reached the top of the stairs. “That’s good for the digestion, and I always take a little stomach complaint when I get a cold.”

  “In addition to an ear infection?”

  “Oh yes.” Jane nodded vigorously. “People with weak lungs are very susceptible to other complaints, especially when there’s a full moon.”

  Theodora decided not to point out that there wouldn’t be a full moon for another week. Ever since her teeth had stopped chattering, Jane had been an unending litany of specious cures. “Perhaps it’s the damp air,” Theodora said. “We’ve been traveling along a river all day.”

  “We must be close to the ocean, too.” Jane reached the bottom step. “I could smell the salt water all afternoon.”

  Theodora joined her. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken; the road north curves inland.”

  “Does it? Then I must have been imagining it.” She cast a shy glance at Theodora and said in a far-too-casual voice, “It was quite thoughtful of Mr. Douglas to make certain I had a fire and a hot bath.”

  “So it was.” Theodora adjusted her lace shawl.

  “He’s quite handsome, too. Very.”

  The way Jane said those few words made Theodora look at her sharply. “I suppose he is handsome.”

  “Suppose? Oh, he is definitely handsome. Why, he’s one of the handsomest men I’ve ever met!”

  Thea just looked at Jane.

  “Those eyes!” Jane sighed.

  Here we go. Would she ever have an acquaintance who didn’t fall in love with Conner? “He can be very useful when the situation demands it.”

  “I vow, but I shiver every time he looks my way. Surely you feel the same.”

  “No.” She winced—she hadn’t intended the waspish note in her voice.

  Jane looked disappointed. “I thought him thoughtful and charming.”

  “He can be. He’s also exceptionally good at ordering people around. Perhaps too good.”

  Still, Theodora had to admit Jane was right—it had been thoughtful of him to see to Jane’s comfort in ordering the bath, and she’d been very grateful for his assistance, especially as Lance had fallen into hovering do-nothing-ness. Conner never hesitated; he decided on the best course of action and efficiently saw to it that it was done. “He’s a ship’s captain, which is why he is often so commanding.”

  “I find that very reassuring in a man.”

  Theodora sent the younger woman a sour look. “Yes, well, I find it annoying. Since he captains a privateer ship, he is far too used to getting his own way.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “A privateer? That’s just like a pirate, isn’t it?”

  “In more ways than one,” Theodora said drily. They reached the parlor and Theodora opened the door and gestured for Jane to continue in.

  The innkeeper’s wife and her maid had just placed the last dish on the table, and they curtsied and left. The men stood by the fire, both dressed for dinner. Though soberly dressed, Conner’s dark hair, pale blue eyes, and sharp expression gave him a decidedly rakish look, and Theodora’s heart gave an odd leap when their gazes met.

  As if they were in private, his gaze raked over her with warm appreciation and she had to fight the urge to cover herself. How did his mere gaze always make her think of the most inappropriate things?

  He bowed. “Good evening.” His deep voice, warmed by his Scottish lilt, made Theodora shiver. “You both look as lovely as a fresh moon upon a glassy sea.”

  Jane was instantly cast into a flutter of stutters and blushes, which irritated Theodora for no reason she could think of.

  Lance, looking quite handsome in his blue coat and buff breeches, stepped forward. “I hope you’re ready to eat despite the early hour, for we’ve enough food for five or six more people.”

  “We are quite ready for dinner,” Theodora assured him, glad to have something to focus on other than Conner.

  Jane smiled at him now. “I’m sorry we’re late, but Theodora insisted I should have a shawl, one to match my gown, and it took a while to find it. She has been so, so kind. No one could be kinder.”

  Lance turned an admiring gaze on Theodora. “She is an angel, isn’t she?”

  Jane nodded with such enthusiasm that her curls bounced. “Oh, she truly is.”

  Irked at the wry, amused curve of Conner’s mouth, Theodora said in a cool voice, “It was nothing.” She looked at the table. “I’m suddenly famished. Do I smell roasted beef?”

  Lance brightened. “The cook has outdone herself. There’s beef, fish, an oyster sauce, a goodly duck, turnips, two pastries
, a ragout—come and see for yourself.”

  They were all soon seated, Lance gallantly filling their plates. Outside, dusk rode heavy on the light coming through the window. The room felt cozy, with lamps and candles that spilled a golden glow over the table and set the glassware and crockery agleam.

  They ate, and talked, awkward moments smoothed by Jane’s breathless chatter. During a pause, while Lance extolled the virtues of the oyster sauce, Conner leaned back in his chair, his gaze resting on Theodora’s face, his expression oddly somber.

  She’d never seen him so serious or quiet, and she couldn’t help sending him a concerned glance. She was wondering if she dared ask him what was amiss in front of the others when Jane, picking up her spoon to taste her plum pudding, shot Conner a curious glance. “Mr. Douglas, may I ask you a question?”

  Conner, who’d rejected the pudding in favor of another glass of whisky, sent her a measuring look. “Please. Call me Conner.”

  “Oh, I could not.”

  “Och, but you could.” He smiled at Jane over his whisky glass, his warm accent caressing each word. “And you must.”

  Theodora had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes.

  Jane flushed and couldn’t have looked more pleased. “I suppose I will, if you insist.”

  “I do. You said you have a question?” Conner reminded her gently.

  “Oh yes! As we were entering the parlor, Theodora said you were a privateer.”

  “Did she?” Conner’s dark gaze rested on Thea’s face once more, and he noted with pleasure the way her cheeks pinkened as if he’d touched her. After admiring the delicate hue of her blush, he reluctantly turned his attention back to Jane. “Aye, I am a privateer.”

  Jane leaned forward, her shawl slipping from one shoulder. “What exactly is a privateer?”

  Over the years, numerous women had asked Conner this same question, and he usually used it as a way to open a dalliance. But tonight he had other goals in mind, so he merely said, “We protect our country by waylaying our enemy’s vessels and keeping them from attacking our merchant ships.”

  Jane’s mouth formed an impressed “O,” while across from him, Thea raised an eyebrow, and he knew she was holding back a tart comment. Their thoughts were uniquely aligned, which was why he’d always felt such peace in her company. Or used to. Now, he felt an oddly restless longing, and a wistful sadness as if he regretted . . . well, everything. He hid a grimace. Bloody hell, I’m maudlin.