Zelda instantly came to her feet and swiftly advanced toward him. “Poor child out there all alone. And after that long ride. Why didn’t you say Chris was with you?”
“I wanted to explain first. I didn’t want him to hear about the constables having come to take him away. Creiggy had whisked him upstairs as soon as everyone realized what was happening.” As Zelda reached him, he debated taking her hand but chose prudence. “Come, say hello to Chris. He’s been looking forward to seeing you.”
He kept pace with her as they walked from the room, her family following close behind. “I didn’t dare leave Chris behind after what Violetta did,” he explained, as they traversed the carpeted hallway. “I told him we’re going hunting. I hope you don’t mind.”
She gave him a jaundiced look. “There’s things enough I mind, but that’s not one of them. You can imagine what I thought when you didn’t come.”
He had no intention of pursuing that topic. “Whatever it was, you were wrong.” He risked a small smile, took note of her response, then took a further risk and grinned. “If you knew what I did to get here, you’d fall on your knees and thank me.”
“Is that a fact?”
But she was smiling now and her color had returned. “You might think about it later,” he murmured, taking a chance and winking. “The falling on your knees part.”
She met his eye and sniffed like women do when they don’t mean it. “Libertine.”
“Nevertheless, I guarantee you’ll like it.”
“I have something you might like as well. Some news.” She hadn’t been going to tell him right away or perhaps at all. She thought she’d first see if he deserved to know. And he’d looked unslept but now she knew why.
At the unmistakable delight in her voice at the word news, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a stop. “What news?”
“Lord, Alec, I can’t tell you now.” She shot a look behind her and hissed, “Move!”
He moved. But he also slid his fingers downward, took her hand firmly in his, and felt a kind of exaltation reserved for heavenly ascensions and Derby wins. He leaned in close and whispered, “Are you sure?”
“Please, Alec, not now.” Another worried glance over her shoulder.
“When then?” It was true. Your heart could skip a beat.
“After dinner. Don’t do that,” she nervously said as he pulled her close. “Let me go. They might shoot you.”
“Then I’d have to shoot back.” At her shocked look, he allowed a small distance between them, although he didn’t release her hand. “I was only teasing, darling. I’m not armed.” He was, of course. He knew the Highland code of honor, and she had four brothers and a father, not to mention the usual Highland home, in which weapons were the decor of choice, the walls awash with swords and targes and firearms. “Chris will go to bed early. Come with me when I tuck him in.”
“If they let you stay.”
His brows lifted. “Seriously? Am I on probation?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely. You must have seen the militant glares.”
“I was mostly concerned with yours.”
“You’re forgiven. How could I not after your explanation?”
“But it wasn’t good enough for your family?” He seemed surprised.
“You’re married.” She lifted her brows in pointed intent. “I believe that’s considered a deterrent to courtship.”
“If that’s all they’re concerned about,” he crisply said, “I can address those misgivings. I won’t be married for long. For any number of reasons, none of which need concern you, I have Violetta in an agreeable frame of mind. Don’t look at me like that. I offered her enough money, that’s all. And she’s getting married to the Marquis of Mytton, so she’ll be advancing in the peerage. A definite plus for Violetta.”
“Mytton! He’s already married.”
“More business for Fitzwilliam. I promised our counselor a peerage, too, if he wants it.”
A teasing light shimmered in her eyes. “You’ve been busy.”
“Just a little,” he said in vast understatement. “All for you, my darling. Now here comes Chris.” Alec bent and held out his hands.
A moment later the fair-haired child charging them, head down, was swung up into Alec’s arms, and after a quiet admonition from his father, quickly said, “Thank you for inviting us for a visit, Miss MacKenzie,” after which he immediately launched into a high-pitched enthusiastic account of their trip, the gun his father was going to give him for hunting, and the horse he’d been riding instead of a pony.
While Chris rattled on, his voice swooping higher and higher, Zelda gave him her full attention, and Alec contentedly gazed at the woman he loved, inhaled her sweet, heady scent, felt the warmth of her body against his, and didn’t care whether he was on probation or not.
He’d managed more difficult situations than this.
No one had threatened to kill him—or at least not yet, he drolly thought, glancing at the four men a short distance away measuring him for his coffin.
Dinner was awkward, although he’d sat through worse. One didn’t occasionally make the effort during the Season without having attended a dinner party in which liquor alone served to preserve one from gross incivility.
And he was in good company tonight; the Scots liked their whiskey.
Fortunately, on Zelda’s suggestion, Chris had been included in the guest list. Unaware of the charged atmosphere with the reassuring ordinariness of his father’s expression and conversation, the young boy kept up a continuous chatter. To which Zelda mostly responded, although Alec easily replied as well when required. He also caught Zelda’s admonishing glances from time to time when he held his glass up to be refilled. But a good many drinks aside, he was disturbingly sober.
While the MacKenzie males were clearly unhappy.
He practically leaped from his chair when Zelda said after dessert, “It’s getting late, Chris. Your father and I will take you up to the nursery.”
“Don’t be long,” Sir Gavin growled.
Zelda looked up as she took Chris’s hand. “For heaven’s sake, Da. You’d think I was ten.”
“We won’t be long, sir,” Alec politely replied. Having been seated across from Zelda, he walked around the end of the table and took Chris’s other hand. “It’s been a long day for a youngster. I expect Chris will go directly to sleep.”
“But I’m not tired, Papa!” A common childish protest at bedtime.
“Then you may stay up once you’re in bed. I brought some of your books along. If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen,” Dalgliesh said with a faint dip of his head, and as the trio exited the dining room, Alec spoke quietly for Zelda’s ears alone. “They haven’t shot me yet.”
“You shouldn’t have drunk so much. I was beginning to panic.”
“No need. I’m sober. Raw nerves.”
She cast him a playful look over Chris’s head. “You?”
He grinned. “I know. The world must be coming to an end.” He blew her a kiss. “We’ll have to build a new one for ourselves.”
“I’d like that.”
“We’ll go wherever you want. We’ll engineer our own Arcadia. You decide where.”
“Are we going somewhere?” Chris interjected, having heard the last comment addressed to Zelda in a normal tone of voice.
“We’re thinking about it,” Alec said. “Miss MacKenzie’s going to decide where.”
“May I help decide? May I, may I? Creiggy says I know my atlas better than you did at six.”
“You’ll have to ask Miss MacKenzie. She’s in charge.”
Chris’s astonishment was unmistakable. His father had always been the ultimate arbiter in every decision; even Creiggy deferred to him in the end. “Since when?” he guardedly said, his gaze shifting from one adult to the other.
“Since a month ago.” Alec’s smile was as bland as his voice, but then epiphanies needn’t be all rattle and thunder.
“Really,” Zelda said on a smal
l indrawn breath.
“Did I forget to mention that?” His voice was soft as silk.
“Are you going to get all lovey-dovey like Henry and Baptiste’s sister? They’re forever doing this.” The little boy pursed his lips in a parody of kissing. “Creiggy says they better get married soon or she’ll know the reason why. Are you and Miss MacKenzie getting married, Papa? I hope so.”
“We thought we would.”
“When, when?”
Alec caught Zelda’s eye and grinned. “It depends on a few things.”
“What things?”
“Grown-up things.”
“You’re not going to tell me,” Chris said with a boyish pout.
“You’ll be at the wedding, so you’ll know when.”
“Oh, good. Are we going hunting tomorrow? You promised.” A six-year-old’s attention span was limited, especially a six-year-old who’d been generously indulged in his whims.
“Yes,” Zelda said, understanding the required answer. “You’ll have to dress warm.”
“Creiggy packed me all warm stuff, didn’t she, Papa? She’s from here, you know. She knows what to pack.”
A half hour later, a six-year-old who insisted he wasn’t tired was fast asleep, the long journey north having taken its toll. Leaving Chris with a young maidservant who promised to call them if he woke during the night, Zelda took Alec down a flight to her bedroom. “We can’t stay long,” she said as Dalgliesh shut the door behind him. She was standing in the middle of the room, smiling at him. “Ask me now.”
“When did you know?” He slowly measured her with his gaze, his expression speculative. He pursed his lips. “Are you sure?”
Her eyes were bright in the candlelight, aglow with pleasure. “I knew two weeks ago. I thought you might notice. And I’m sure.”
“I should have noticed. I’m sorry.”
“You were working day and night. You’re forgiven.”
He hadn’t moved from the door. “Things can go wrong.”
“Nothing’s going to go wrong.” He didn’t speak for so long she thought he might be averse to the news. “Would you rather I wasn’t having this child?” she asked, not sure she wouldn’t shatter in a thousand pieces if he said yes.
“God no. Don’t even think it.” He moved then, crossing the small distance between them in three long strides, taking her in his arms, holding her close. “I’m pleased beyond words.”
She lifted her face and met his gaze. “You don’t seem pleased.”
“I am.”
His voice was without inflection. He seemed uncharacteristically at a loss. “I’m having this baby whether you like it or not,” she said, incontrovertible resolve in her words. “I don’t care what—”
He stopped her protest with a gentle finger to her mouth. “I want you to have our baby. Don’t think for a minute that I don’t want this child. I just never thought—or hoped, I suppose . . . that something like this could really happen . . . to me.” That he would achieve such happiness, that such delight would be his. He wasn’t in the habit of being happy. “Now that it’s actually happened”—he sucked in a breath—“you’ll have to give me some time to get used to it. And you’ll always come first in my life, you and this child,” he said, his voice strained, his throat jammed, wanting everything to go right, not sure he could bear it if it didn’t.
“And Chris,” she kindly said.
It felt as though his heart was in his throat. He quickly swallowed. “And Chris,” he answered. “Truly, I’m so very happy about all of this, I can’t begin to tell you how I feel.”
“You can tell me later,” Zelda softly said, gazing up at him, her heart in her eyes. “Don’t cry or I’ll cry.”
“I never cry.” He never had in memory. Although he wasn’t so sure right now. A child, his and Zelda’s child. What had he done to be so extraordinarily rewarded?
A door closed downstairs.
Zelda drew in a quick breath. “We should go before they come up.”
He stepped away. “Let me talk to them.” Quarrelsome men he could deal with; it wasn’t so impossible as this. “I’ll make it clear to your family that I won’t be repeating my mistakes. That’s what they want to hear. And Fitzwilliam is buying off two magistrates. He promised me the speediest divorce in history.”
She laughed. “He’d better hurry.”
“I’ll make sure he knows the schedule has tightened appreciably.” He smiled. “By the way, you’re not allowed to ride anymore.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“I’ll show you what I dare later. Very gently. Don’t worry,” he pleasantly said, a seasoned player at this particular game. “You’ll be satisfied. I’m very good at consoling you.”
Her face lost its petulance. “You do have an engaging manner.”
“Practice,” he said with a grin and ran for the door.
He heard her shoe hit the door as he escaped into the hall.
CHAPTER 31
ALEC ENTERED THE dining room under the punishing gaze of the MacKenzie men. The table had been cleared, two port decanters resided on the polished mahogany, and on his entrance, each man set down the glass they were holding.
To free their gun hands?
Not that Alec cared to test the truth of his drollery, with the woman he loved waiting for him upstairs. And, of course, the larger issue of his marriage to Zelda required that he mind his manners. Regardful of those constraints, Alec schooled his expression to a bland courtesy, shut the door behind him, and calmly met the brooding scrutiny of his tribunal. He took note of the absence of servants; the men hadn’t wanted witnesses. He’d expected no less. Breaking the cool silence, he said, “I have come to present my case. If after hearing me, you have any questions, I’m prepared to answer them.” What he refrained from saying was that he’d have Zelda for his wife whether they liked it or not.
His hands folded before him, his gaze steady, he went on in a cool, dry voice. “First, I want you to know that my divorce is before the courts and my barrister promises me swift action. Second, several weeks ago, I asked Zelda to be my wife, she accepted and made me happier than I’d thought possible.” He stopped for a moment, his eyes open and unseeing. Then, because he was here for a reason, he blinked and went on, although more slowly. “Happiness is a new sensation for me. All my life I’ve carried the imprint of my father’s cruelty, so the joy I now feel is unthinkably sweet. For that alone I’d marry your daughter and sister. But I also love her for herself. She’s a gift I don’t deserve. But she’s accepted me, and with all due respect,” he said with his heart if not tact, “I mean to keep her.”
Aware of the continued, uncompromising silence, in an extraordinary act of submission, he went on to reveal what only a handful of people knew. “My marriage was a forced marriage. Not for the usual reasons or only partly for the usual reasons. Zelda knows the circumstances. I’ve told her. You may ask her if you wish.” He couldn’t, in the end talk, of Violetta and his father to these strangers. “I’ve not been private with the Countess of Dalgliesh since our wedding day four years ago.” He took a small breath, the memory of his wedding night still capable of making him want to retch. “The countess has been warned off in the strongest possible terms. She’ll not trouble Zelda or myself or anyone in my family. I’ve taken every precaution to assure Zelda’s safety and happiness. As for—”
“That’s enough my boy,” Sir Gavin gruffly said. He’d known Alec’s father; a foul, depraved man with a vast fortune and no soul. Sir Gavin’s heart when out to Alec for a childhood such as his. “Come. Sit. Hugh, pour Dalgliesh a bumper of port. A damned fine vintage, if I do say so myself. Move over, Robbie. Make way for your sister’s betrothed.”
“There’s one thing more, sir,” Alec said, moving toward the chair pulled out for him, not sure he wished to disturb the precious détente. But the news he had to tell them wasn’t inconsequential. Nor would it wait. “It
has to do with Zelda, with me as well. Us together,” he deliberately added.
“No need, my boy,” Sir Gavin bluffly asserted. “Everyone knows about the bairn. Her maid broadcast the news below stairs the first morning Zelda came back.” He gave Alec a mindful look as he sat. “I expect ye’ll see that she’s married in good time.”
“God yes. You can be sure of that.”
Sir Gavin chuckled. “Aye, ye’ll want your heir all right and tight in the peerage.”
Alec shook his head, then studied the port in his glass for a moment before looking up. “I never considered having children until I met Zelda. So an heir’s not my first consideration. I have other titles and fortune enough so no child of mine would be without resources. Rather, I’m concerned for Zelda. I don’t wish to see her viewed with censure by society, and for that I’ll move heaven and earth to ensure a prompt marriage.”
“You’d best keep your notions about children to yourself, my boy. Zelda’s mad for bairns.”
Alec smiled. “Too late, I’m afraid. But she knows I’m more than willing to alter my views. You might say she was instrumental in my transformation.”
“She’s a right powerful lassie, no doubt o’ that,” her father proudly said. “Not even daunted by Chinese bandits, damn her spunk.”
“Keep it in mind, Dalgliesh.” Zelda’s oldest brother, Hugh, grinned. “Nor does society’s censure matter to my sister. She’s not in the least conformable.”
“He’ll find out soon enough,” Robbie cheerfully noted. “Ye can’t return the merchandise though, laddie.”
With a grin, John raised his glass to Alec. “And stay clear of her when she’s got a quirt in her hand.”
Sir Gavin chuckled. “Now, boys, dinna scare off the bridegroom.” Leaning over, he topped off Alec’s glass. “Drink up, laddie. We’ve a wee bit o’ celebrating to do.”