Page 31

Thirty

KILMARNOCK ABBEY, EDINBURGH - JULY 17, 1816

Xander,

I do not understand your concern about my friend with the sheep. They are very fond of their sheep.

Cee does not listen to you any more than I do, so that is a fruitless request.

I find myself adrift at the notion that I may have a cousin that was unknown to me. Fortunately, your gentle delivery has eased the shock somewhat. And I have been positively spoiled by the wealth of information you’ve provided. I’m left with absolutely no questions to speak of.

Since I was unable to relay your letter in its entirety to Mother, she has become convinced that whisps have led you to your death. We toasted your short, unremarkable life and Mother has set off to select an outfit for your service. I suspect the veil will be the memorable part of the ensemble.

Best wishes,

Davina

P.S. The ceasg would be lucky to have literally anyone else.

XANDER

Tom was a mess. The linen of his shirt was swirled with rust and mud stains from where it had landed on something I didn’t know the name of. His breeches were creased obscenely—though I imagined I would be the only one to know the reason. If I thought too long about those, I would consider what was beneath them and then I’d accomplish nothing for the next week—at least nothing I could admit to in a court of law.

He hadn’t bothered with a waistcoat or cravat when he set out before dawn, and his open collar revealed the ruddy, reddish-purple marks I’d left behind, a constellation etched among the smooth skin and auburn hair.

At some point, I’d clearly raked my fingers through his hair, leaving it a nest of mussed curls. And those devilish lips were swollen.

Worst of all, he still wore that awestruck, slightly intoxicated look that had me ready to drop to my knees again, if only so it would never leave his face.

Instead, I straightened the collar of his shirt, hiding the evidence of my efforts from the world. Carefully, I tucked it into his breeches, ensuring I kept my fingers away from his overly sensitive member.

“What are you doing?” His words were slurred with pleasure. It was a travesty that he ever sounded otherwise.

I didn’t respond, instead fixing his buttons before smoothing the sides of his shirt. There was nothing to be done about the stains, but it was easily explained away.

His hair took a few moments to smooth into something that was merely disheveled by exertion of a job well done—not the exertion we’d engaged in. Those soft lips were still swollen. My only hope there was that no one had studied him well enough the day before to notice the change. Still, I allowed myself the luxury of dragging a thumb along the lower one. He took it as an invitation to press a kiss there because he was a sweet little grasshopper.

He caught my hand as I stepped back to survey my work. Long, gentle fingers smoothed my hair into something vaguely resembling my usual style. It felt a bit off, but without a mirror, I doubted I could have done better.

Seemingly satisfied, he nodded to himself with a ghost of a smile. “Perfect.”

I quirked a brow in answer but restrained a scoff. If he wanted to think I was perfect, I had no interest in correcting him.

When I held out a hand, he took it without question, letting me lead him out of the shed. As soon as we reached the threshold, I had to drop it. Tom offered the mildest sound of protest.

“Where are we going?”

“You need real clothes. Before anyone sees what I’ve done to you.”

“What if I want them to see?”

“Tom…”

“I know, I know...”

“Besides, this version of you is mine.”

That sentiment seemed to appease him, and we made our way inside the house—if it could be termed that.

There was no sign of Lock or Godfrey, but Sorcha was, to my great astonishment, once again at work removing wallpaper—this time from the dining room.

“They’ve not returned yet?”

“Not yet.”

I leaned against the doorway, Tom hovering too close to my side, but I was unwilling to offer him a reproachful look. Sorcha was proving helpful. She spared a glance at us, before tugging another strip off—almost in its entirety.

“Ye planning on being any help?”

“No. Tom needs to dress before they return.”

“Aye, ye wouldnae want to scandalize anyone with all those spider bites.”

“What?” Tom and I demanded in unison—his tone much calmer than mine.

“The ones all over yer chest in a line down to yer roger.”

“I— What?” He’d gone shockingly pale and I was almost certainly equally peaked.

“Strange spider—that. I’m surprised ye didnae see it when ye were down there, Xander.”

“Sorcha, I—” I started, but in my rising panic, nothing followed.

“Relax. I’ll not tell anyone. It explains a great deal, actually.”

“What?” I demanded.

“Why yer still here. Why ye came at all. Why yer friend with the too-long legs arrived days later with even less warning than ye did and no plans to leave.” She leaned a hip against the wall she was working on, one arm cradling her belly.

“And you’ll simply remain silent about this?”

“Yes.”

“What is your price?” I demanded

“Pardon?”

“Your price? You want something from me in exchange.”

“I’ll not say no if ye want to pay me. But I dinnae need anything—not aboot this.”

“Why?”

She sighed, her gaze flicking to the floor before meeting mine again. “Ye could have had me arrested—as I said. But ye didnae.”

“I’m also keeping you here against your will.”

“If ye think I couldnae have escaped last night when ye had yer wee tryst, yer a fool. Or a hundred times before or after.”

“You knew about that?” Tom asked.

“Everyone with eyes knew about that. Yer not exactly subtle. ‘Oh, I couldnae ask ye to give up yer bed. I’ll take the one over here all by its lonesome with a door and a lock…’” she dropped her voice an octave as she mocked him.

“Does Godfrey…” Tom asked, too warry to finish the sentence.

“Probably… I’m not certain,” I supplied. “But Lock certainly doesn’t?—”

“Dinnae worry aboot Lock. We had a wee laugh aboot ye this morning.”

“What?”

“If ye dinnae want people to find out aboot ye, ye should be less obvious. Of course ye had to flee the damn country if this is how ye keep a secret.”

“I— But— We— You…”

“That’s nae a sentence.”

“Sorcha, I…”

“Still nae a sentence. But ye should ken, it’s illegal here too. Most dinnae care what folks get up to in the privacy of their own beds. Same as London, I expect. But some will. Ye’ll need to be a wee bit more discreet.” She hopped onto the dining table—entirely free of Fenella’s droppings—before scooting back to sit.

“You truly don’t intend to tell anyone?” I reiterated dully, dragging a hand through the hair Tom painstakingly righted.

“As I said. I dinnae care what ye do.”

“You’re remarkably calm about this.”

“Mam wasnae exactly a lady. If ye ken...”

A missing piece slid into the puzzle. “But your father was a steward?”

She shrugged. “He was… fond of her. Offered her a bit of security when her circumstances changed. But she dinnae want me ignorant of such things. Though… she neglected to explain that not all men would be kind like my pa.”

“And you're determined not to give me a name?”

“Yer not my father or my brother.”

“That doesn’t mean I cannot call the man out.”

“Do ye ken how to shoot?”

Not well enough to stake my life on it. “A bit.”

She raised a skeptical brow. “Of course ye do. Regardless, I dinnae wish to marry him. So if ye survive, ye’ll have to duel me to get me to wed him. An that much gun powder cannae be good for the babe.”

“What are you going to do? When the time comes?” Tom asked, earnest interest in his beautiful eyes.

“I dinnae ken. Yer friend upended my plans a wee bit.”

“We’ve time to discuss it,” I added.

“Oh, we do, do we?” Sorcha asked in a tone designed to let me know I had overstepped.

“If you want.”

“Better. But the two of you’se ought to set yersels to rights before Lock returns. He was bringing a few people from town. Dinnae want to bring undue attention to yersels.”

Tom squeezed my wrist before making his way to his room off the kitchens. I lingered as Sorcha pushed herself off the table and returned to the wall she had been peeling.

“You could stay here. If you wanted.”

She turned back to me, lips parted and brows raised. “I’ve fleeced ye for years. What makes ye think I willnae rob ye blind?”

I shrugged. “It wouldn’t shock me if you tried. My sister has as well. And Gabriel would’ve. It’s the Hasket way—seems I’m the odd one out, if I’m honest.”

“I’ll agree yer an odd one. But sharing a bloodline disnae make us kin.”

“Technically it does. But I take your meaning. Gabriel is gone, and I cannot ask him. But I believe he gifted me this place as an escape. He knew someday I would need a place away from society—and father’s reach. That he won it in an ill-considered game of hazard and left behind a child in the process so perfectly summed up his life that I honestly do not know what to do besides laugh.”

“And ye would just let me live here until what? I’ve annoyed ye too much?”

“Davina perpetually annoys me and I’ve not done a damn thing about it except settle funds on her and try to keep her out of ruin.”

“I’m not yer sister.”

“No, you’re my niece.”

“And the babe?” She rubbed a hand along the curve of her belly again. It was a protective gesture I’d seen Mother do with Davina.

“Do you want to keep the babe?”

She blinked slowly, something like surprise. “I cannae give a babe the life it ought to have.”

“Yes, you can.”

“What do ye mean?”

I shrugged. “Well, at precisely this moment, it doesn’t look like much—though that is entirely your fault. But a babe could have a good life here. Both of you. If that is what you want.”

“Yer willing to let both of us stay here? Indefinitely?”

“With Davina in London, I rather think I might find myself adrift without someone to humble me in every conceivable manner.”

“And ye’ll just house a bastard bairn?”

“As you’ve rightly pointed out—I’ve engaged in less… legal activities this very morning.”

Her expression was entirely unreadable.

“Think about it, Sorcha. I do not need an answer today. We can figure everything out. But I’m not your enemy, and this isn’t a trick.”

I turned to the hall only to find Tom standing a few feet away, refreshed and handsome.

“This is nice,” I said, stepping into him and tracing the neck of his slate, floral waistcoat.

“ That was nice.”

“You heard that?”

“I did. And it was very nice.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek, his free hand catching the other to keep me there.

“She is my niece, I want her safe and comfortable. Anyone would do the same.”

He chuckled, nuzzling my cheek. “No, they wouldn’t. Trust me.”

That was the moment I remembered his family. “Michael?”

“Mother was particularly cruel. And she encouraged it in Hugh and me as well. I was younger when Father died, and Michael took over the estate on Hugh’s behalf. It was harder to reconcile the things she said about him with the way he cared for us and our home. But no, not every family protects by-blows.”

“You’re not capable of cruelty, Tom.”

He hummed, dipping for another kiss. I slipped my hand between our lips. “If you do that we’ll never stop.” The words came out garbled against the back of my fingers.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he whispered before kissing my fingertips.

“Lock will be back at any time. We’ve already been caught once today.”

“Fine, if you want to be sensible about it. I need to split the logs for Fenella’s fold. Do you want to help?”

“No, but I want to watch.”

“You watched plenty yesterday. Come, I need a hand.” Tom caught my arm and tugged me along down the hall.

“I’ll give you a hand…”

“You just turned me down, now you want to?”

“That was before I knew the alternative was woodwork.”

He tipped his head toward the sheet. “Come, I’ll roll up my sleeves for you.”

That was a tempting offer, even in spite of the edge of embarrassment that he’d noticed my appreciation. “Fine, but only if you loosen the cravat too.”

“I cannot do that—I was bitten by a rabid spider.”

His lips were trapped between his teeth in an effort to restrain his smile, but I could not. Still, I let him drag me out onto the drive where I was greeted with a disgruntled bleat from Fenella, grazing along the drive and leaving piles for aesthetic and aromatic purposes.