Page 13 of Her Magnificent Mistake (Surprised Heirs #1)

CHAPTER 12

H awk marveled at how perfectly Marcia fitted in his arms. As the morning breeze teased his shoulders, he skimmed his fingertips up her arm, marveling at the little bumps which formed beneath his touch.

Her legs straightened in a stretch that managed to push herself deeper into his hold. Or at least, certain parts of her. “Hmmmm, good morning.”

“Aye, it is,” he murmured as he transferred his hand to her tit, cupping the now-familiar weight. “The sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, we’ve nowhere to be and all day to get there.”

Humming in pleasure, Marcia rubbed her arse against his cock, which was once again hard. “I suppose you have some suggestions on how to spend the coming hours?”

He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “I do indeed.”

When she threw her leg over his, he could feel how wet her cunny already was. For him. All for him.

Unlike the three times last night, and the once after midnight when he woke her with his mouth on her core, this time Hawk made love to Marcia at a leisurely pace. Through it all she matched him, taking the lead when he was ready, allowing him to dominate her when the need arose.

It was remarkable how perfectly they suited, and how well she matched his strong desires.

It had been the same ten years ago.

Except now…

Except now they had a future together.

If only he’d spoken to Bull earlier! If only he’d explained to Marcia why he felt they couldn’t be together! If only, if only.

Dinnae punish yerself. Ye’re both young yet, and ye have the rest of yer lives together. All isnae lost.

As he felt Marcia’s cunny tightening around his cock, heard the way her breath hitched as her release threatened, Hawk vowed to wake her like this each morning for the rest of their lives.

Sometime later—after the snuggling and the teasing and a bit more fondling—Marcia’s stomach rumbled. With a huge sigh, Hawk rolled from the bed, smacking her arse on the way past.

“Get up, wench! We have to feed my demanding woman!”

“Demanding, eh?” She rubbed her cheek as she sent him a saucy grin and reached for her chemise. “And what will you be making for my breakfast?”

“Me?” he pretended to gasp, as he jumped slightly to pull his trousers up. “I’m the Baron, ye ken. I have people who cook for me.”

“That you are.” With a gentle smile, Marcia reached for him, tugging his head down so she could kiss him. “I’m happy for you, Hawk.”

He hummed in agreement as he scooped up the shirt he’d worn yesterday and shrugged into it. Well, no one was going to notice that he was wearing yesterday’s clothes, were they? “I never expected for Tostinham to become mine, and I would’ve never asked for my family members to die to make it happen…but I’ll admit that I am the best choice as steward.” He nodded thoughtfully as he finished his buttons. “I love Tostinham in a way none of them did.”

“This place is finally in good hands.” Marcia was bent at her waist, tying up her boots. “Once we catch whoever is trying to kill the Barons of Tostinham, you and Allison can be safe. I told Bull the evidence against you did not make sense, but of course we had to investigate…”

Marcia continued to speak, but Hawk heard none of it after we had to investigate . He stood, frozen, his hands halfway through tucking in his shirt, as the implications hit him.

Had to investigate. Told Bull the evidence against you…had to investigate…

When she straightened and saw his expression, Marcia turned wary. “Hawk?”

“Ye kenned?” he whispered in a strangled voice. “Of course ye kenned.” She and Bull were close, and it was Bull’s case. Of course he discussed it with her. But had she done more than discuss? “Did he send ye here to investigate me? Who else was in on it?”

Marcia was frowning at him, and now her hands went to her hips. He did his best not to notice how delicious she looked when half dressed, thick brown curls falling around her shoulders, and huffing in apparent exasperation, “In on what?”

“Bull’s agency was hired to find evidence marking me as guilty, right? Did he send ye? How much of this was an act? Bull’s amnesia?” Pain was searing through his chest. Had to investigate.

The unconcern when Bull was injured. The sudden need, after ten years, to see him. The flirting, that damned foot under the table?—

Marcia’s expression had gone wary, but now she shook her head. “I thought perhaps at first Bull was jesting, but nay. He says whenever he tries to remember what happened, his head aches, and the doctor says not to push it.”

“Oh, his little mistress, Smith-Smith-Smithity-McSmith-Smith? The medical expert who claims to be yer maid but clearly shares something with Bull?—”

“That is Gabby,” Marcia snapped, frowning at his implications. “ Gabby . Bull’s niece, who is medically trained…just not exactly for humans. I brought her along because she could pose as my maid and could search for the truth among the servants.”

Hands shaking with either anger or devastation, Hawk dragged his hand through his hair. She’d just admitted to coming to Tostinham to investigate ye! “How much of it was a lie? Dear God, Rupert? Rupert has been dallying with my niece? Dallying, just to drop her when inconvenient?”

At that, Marcia’s expression hardened into a scowl, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “He would never —and that concern is a little rich, coming from you.”

Hawk whirled about, stomping toward his closet to find a jacket. “How many times do I have to apologize for that?” he snapped, knowing full well he hadn’t apologized enough, but too shaken to try now.

It was all a lie.

“At least one more!” he heard her yell from the other side of the room. “Where are you going?”

“I’m getting dressed!” Hawk shook the coat at her, realized he’d mislaid his tie, and decided it didn’t matter. “So we can go down to breakfast.”

Since she was still standing there in just her drawers, stockings, and boots, it was a foolish claim, and the way she rolled her eyes proved it. “Surely, after yesterday and your talk with Bull, this is not a surprise to you.”

“What? That ye and Rupert and yer cousin showed up on my doorstep to prove me guilty of murder? That ye lied and manipulated?—”

“I never lied to you!”

“Och, so ye admit ye manipulated me!” Hawk tried to shove one arm into his jacket, missed, tried again, realized he was holding it backwards, and decided he was too angry to care. “Dear God, Marcia!” he cried as he tossed the damn thing to the carpet. “Did ye fook me because ye were manipulating me? Ye were trying to get closer to me? Is that why ye went through my finances?”

Her chin rose in defiance of his accusations.

“I fooked you because you said you still loved me.”

“I do love ye!” His hands were balled into fists at his side, as he practically vibrated with anger. “Answer the God-damned questions!”

His shout seemed to echo about the room in the sudden silence.

Slowly, Marcia uncrossed her arms and lowered them to her side. Holding his gaze, she took a deep breath, held it…and then nodded. “Fine. I-I used what we once had to try to get closer to you and find the evidence the Crown was demanding.”

He remembered what she’d told him yesterday—Christ, had it only been yesterday?—about the Crown and public opinion being against him. He remembered how relieved she’d been when he swore that he hadn’t hurt his family; it had been Bull’s response as well.

Relief. Because they’d been sure he was guilty.

And so, in a dull voice, he announced the truth. “Ye were part of it from the beginning.”

“I am an active partner in the agency, Hawk. It is not just my brother’s—I always have been an equal partner, but Bull named it after himself to protect me and my reputation. Gabby and her brother and our other cousins all help with our investigations, but the agency is ours .” She took another deep breath and held his gaze. “My brother never knew why I agreed to take this job but I needed to see you for myself. I needed to understand how, a decade later, I could still be in love with a murderer.”

Her words…they made sense, but they couldn’t salve his hurt heart. “I’m no’ a murderer,” Hawk whispered.

“I know. Now. Then…I thought you guilty.”

One of her hands reached for him and she took a step toward him. Unable to help himself, Hawk stumbled back.

Had it only been last night that he’d stood here and lifted her, feeling like the strongest, most sure man in existence? Now his knees were rubbery and his chest weak and he felt as if his heart was stuttering.

She’d stopped. “I am sorry, Hawk. I am sorry I hid the truth of my actions from you. But…” She swallowed and dropped her hand to her side once more. “I would do it again if necessary. To protect innocents, I needed to know the truth.”

“I’m an innocent. So is Allie.”

Marcia immediately nodded. “Yes but I did not know that until you allowed me into your life. Into your heart.”

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry.

Was last night…was right now all part of the manipulation? Part of the deception? But no, his desperate mind scrabbled for another reason, any reason. “Ye came to Tostinham because of the rhododendron.”

Gently, Marcia shook her head. “We approached you at Lady Mistree’s ball to see what we could learn. When you invited me here, I…I used Rupert’s fascination with flora and fauna as an excuse. I tried to be the woman I thought you wanted.”

“Ye were all I ever wanted,” he rasped. All that simpering…she’d admitted it had been an attempt to attract him, but he hadn’t realized why.

“And when you made me see that, I was free to be myself. By the time we climbed Pook’s Glen, knowing you still loved me and that I still loved you…” Her lips curled ruefully as she shrugged. “It was everything I had dreamed of in a reunion.”

His eyes fluttered shut on a curse. “But ye let me fook ye, still thinking I was a murderer.”

“No. I…” She blew out a breath. “Perhaps. None of us had found the evidence we sought, I could not be certain you were not a murderer, but my gut was telling me you were innocent. It was not until Bull’s injury that I could explain why.”

And they still didn’t know who was guilty.

“Perhaps they really were accidents,” Hawk muttered hopelessly. Well, anything appeared to be possible. Anything could be true, including the fact that his woman could believe him of murder, could come here and believe him a killer.

Marcia merely eyed him pityingly, as if she thought him naive. “All those deaths, innocent? No. There are too many coincidences.”

“I see,” Hawk said quietly as he stumbled backward, away from her. “I think…” He scooped up his boots. “I think I need to be alone.”

If she responded, he didn’t hear it.

Despite his claim that he needed to be alone, he stumbled through the halls of Tostinham, searching for a distraction. He needed someone, anyone, to talk to, so he could ignore the conversation running on repeat through his mind.

I love you.

Ye let me fook ye, still thinking I was a murderer.

Ye were part of it from the beginning.

I thought you guilty.

Oh Christ Almighty, how had they fooked this up so badly? Groaning, Hawk clutched at his hair and tipped sideways against the papered wall of the corridor hard enough to bruise his shoulder. That was going to leave a mark.

So was Marcia. Not against his shoulder but against his very soul.

She’d come to Tostinham thinking him guilty. She’d gone to bed with him thinking him guilty.

Nay, she didnae. She believed ye innocent by then. She said that .

She had said that, but could he believe her? After she’d admitted to manipulating him?

She’d only manipulated ye in order to learn the truth. She thought ye a murderer .

The coincidences were compelling.

“Nay,” he whispered, tugging at his hair, hoping the pain would distract him. He needed to move, to escape. He needed to…to not think. Not think about what this meant.

And he’d been so bloody happy just an hour ago!

His feet turned him down the corridor toward the blue suite where Bull was convalescing, but when he realized that he did an about-face and hurried toward the servants stairs. He couldn’t speak to Bull, not now.

Not after hearing what he now knew.

Perhaps Allie…they’d become closer, perhaps she could offer him some insights.

But nay, Allie was in Pook’s Glen today. She and Rupert had plans to take a picnic up the burn, and it was already late enough in the morning, so they’d almost certainly started.

Hawk emerged into the kitchens and the smells made him remember, with guilt, how he’d promised to fetch Marcia some breakfast. Well, he could always ask someone to send her up a tray.

To his surprise, Gabby was fixing tea. “Hello Hawk,” she announced cheerfully. “Bull is feeling better this morning.”

“That’s…um…” Hawk looked around. “Miss…Lindsay, aye?” If she was Bull’s niece, she’d have to be a Lindsay, not a Smith-Smythe-Smith. “I cannae find anyone.”

“Well, who do ye need?” She moved fried eggs from a pan to a plate, and he realized she really was quite confident. Can Marcia cook like that ? What else didn’t he know about her? “Most everyone is at their duties. Allie and Rupert left for the Glen.”

“Oh, thank ye. Um…have ye seen Artrip?” Perhaps the butler could arrange a tray.

She covered the plate of eggs and moved them to the tray with the tea. “I have not seen him, no. Not since…I suppose since this morning, before Allie left.”

Something…

Something settled in Hawk’s gut.

Suddenly, all thoughts of his anger and confusion toward Marcia seemed irrelevant. His chest went cold as he focused on Gabby’s words.

Before Allie left.

“Did…Did Allie and Rupert take anyone with them when they went up to the burn? A footman? Artrip?”

Gabby shook her head as she picked up the tray. “No, just the two of them. If you will excuse me, I need to get this up to Bull. Protein is the best for healing, but a nice cup of tea never hurts.”

He wanted to ask her to stop in on Marcia, but he couldn’t make his voice work. Because Allie was up Pook’s Glen with a madman on the loose.

As the door closed behind him, Hawk bolted toward the back gardens and the stables. He’d head up the burn, and God willing, Allie would be safe when he got there.

M arcia didn’t bother wiping the tears from her face.

She had sat in the window seat, her fingers wrapped around the blue glass pendant, worrying it back and forth on its chain in an absent-minded manner as she stared out the window. After Hawk had left, she’d managed to get dressed and pin up her hair, moving as an automaton.

But once she sat here in the window seat, once she saw him mount the horse and go racing off toward Pook’s Glen without a jacket or hat, once she saw his fear and anger in the set of his shoulders, his desperation just to be away from the house…she couldn’t fight the tears any longer.

She’d done that.

She’d hurt him, the way he’d once hurt her.

How could she have been so stupid? Last night, this morning…she thought she’d had everything. She did have everything!

Because she foolishly thought he understood. She thought, now that Hawk knew the truth of the investigation, now he’d spoken to Bull, he’d understood her involvement in it, and had forgiven her.

He hadn’t.

He hadn’t known, hadn’t understood. Hadn’t forgiven her.

Likely never would forgive her.

She sniffed, lifting the pendent to press the colder-than-it-ought-to-be glass against her lips, and wished that it were real. Wished that the magic sprite who lived inside it could make everything better.

Make it better.

Behind her, the door opened as a man’s voice yelled, “Marsh!”

She knew it wasn’t him, but couldn’t help the way her heart leapt as she spun about.

It was her big brother who all but fell into the room, his face lit with some kind of urgency that flashed to concern when he saw her tears. “Whoa, Marsh, what is it? What’s wrong?”

She was already standing, already throwing herself into her brother’s arms. Bull caught her, cradling her, protecting her the way he had since she’d discovered the hole in the wall between their townhouses sixteen years ago and become her best friend.

“Marcia?” his whisper was harsh. “Are ye hurt?”

She shook her head. “Hawk. I…I…”

“If he hurt ye, I’ll kill him.”

It was said so matter-of-fact, she had to snort. “No, I think you will find that is my job. You are supposed to trust me and support me and believe in me enough to believe that I could kill him if I needed to. And maybe hold back his arms.”

“Och, aye, forgive me.” His arms tightened around her, although his tone had lightened. “Could I perhaps be permitted to beat seven kinds of shite out of him as ye hold him down?”

Her lips twitched, even as she straightened and tried to wipe at her cheeks. “He did not hurt me. I hurt him . He had not realized I came to Tostinham as part of the investigation. He did not realize I manipulated him when I…when I…”

“Ah.” Bull cleared his throat and shifted her against his shoulder. “I suspect we’re getting into territory ye’d rather me no’ question, and I’d rather not ken, is that correct?”

“Yes,” she sniffed.

“Do ye love him?”

She smiled sadly up at her brother. “Always.”

“Well, then, let me just say to ye what I said to him yesterday: Yer past is yer past. Whatever happened all those years ago, whatever happened last week…if ye love him, and he loves ye, then it’s the future that matters. What ye can build together.”

She sighed. “I suppose you are right.”

“Of course I am. I’m quite brilliant.”

Marcia jabbed him in the side. “You are a swell lad, and you have a head to match.”

It was one of their Uncle Duncan’s favorite jokes, and made Bull grin as he caught her finger. “Seriously, Marsh, it will be aright, if the two of ye can just sit down and talk things through. He’ll come around, because I ken he loves ye. Yesterday he gave me the strongest impression he did want a future with ye.”

She sniffed, her tears stopped. “He asked me to marry him.”

An almost imperceptible stiffening was Bull’s only reaction, before he relaxed and pulled her into a closer hug. “I’m happy for ye both,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

And Marcia knew he meant it.

Was Bull right?

Could Hawk forgive her?

Could she explain herself well enough that he would understand why she’d done what she’d done? Or would he hate her forever?

No. Not Hawk . He wasn’t a man built to hate.

She sighed against Bull’s shoulder. Hawk couldn’t hate her or anyone . “I suppose I ought to go looking for him. I saw him riding off toward the burn.”

Bull’s fingers tightened on her arms. “The burn—was anyone with him?”

Shaking her head, she pulled away. “No, but he seemed upset.”

“He shouldnae be out there, no’ alone.” Frowning, Bull stumbled toward the window seat, and for the first time since he had burst into the room, Marcia noted how pale he was. “Nae one should.”

“What is it, Bull?” She followed him, reaching for her brother, helping him ease down onto the cushions. “You are still weak? Where is Gabby?”

“Och, she went to fetch me breakfast. When I told her my memory had returned, she said?—”

“Your memory returned?” Marcia shrieked, smacking his shoulder. She immediately rubbed it. “You remembered who attacked you? Was I right? Was it because whoever it was mistook you for Hawk? Dear Lord, and you let me prattle on—you remember the murderer?”

Nodding grimly, Bull gathered her hand in his. “Aye, and that’s why I ken ye cannae allow Hawk and Allie to be out there, running about unprotected.”

Her stomach dropped down around her knees.

“Who was it, Bull?” she whispered. “What happened?”

“When I arrived at Tostinham and learned ye were up Pook’s Glen with Hawk alone, I didnae ken about yer past with him. All I could think of was how vulnerable ye’d be, how ye’d appreciate my support, and how ye’d need backup. I rushed off, and I even found the place where ye’d left yer horses.” He winced and rubbed at the back of his head. “But as I swung down from my saddle, I heard a noise above me. There’s a cliff up there, ye ken?”

She nodded eagerly. “About twenty feet above the spot where we left the horses! I remember that is what helped protect them from the wind.”

“Aye, well, it didnae help that day. I glanced up and saw movement. I didnae think much of it, until I saw the stone hurtling down toward me. Right before it struck, I saw a man standing up there, looking down at me, glee on his face.”

Her eyes had gone wide as her heart pounded with fear. “Who was it?”

Bull swayed, clearly not fully recovered, even as he met her gaze. “It was Artrip. The butler did it.”