A Stranger's Promise (Lords of Chance Book 1) Page 12

  Charlotte noticed him and started to rise, but he motioned her to remain seated. He approached softy, then knelt on one knee by her side and studied his young nephew. Odd the lad should find his father’s room. Of all places, why had he run here?

  With a sigh, he gently gathered the boy in his arms and carried him back to the nursery with Charlotte walking by his side in silence.

  It wasn’t until he laid the boy on his bed and drawn a blanket over his sleeping form that Charlotte began to apologize.

  He shushed her with a finger on her lips. “You look fair exhausted, lass. Do no’ fret. Get some sleep before our hellion awakes again.”

  She smiled, an unguarded smile that warmed his soul. His gaze dropped to her lips. He’d thought them so kissable from the start. For a moment, he almost reached out to trace the velvety softness with this thumb—but then, she’d reserved such intimate gestures for her fiancé.

  Yet she cared for him. He’d seen it that evening.

  Captain Edwards be damned.

  He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She tensed, but he bent down and pressed a kiss on her forehead. As she remained motionless, he stepped away, noting the pink flush on her cheeks.

  He strode out the door, happier than he’d been in longer than he could remember.

  Chapter Ten

  Charlotte stood rooted to the spot, her lips still burning from his touch. What was he doing to her? Their social positions set them worlds apart. He knew that. Why toy with her like this? He was tempting her because he was a man. Jane and Oliver were evidence of his rakish ways. Her heart softened. Yet, time and again, she’d witnessed his honorable, gentle side and, unlike many men of his station, he was taking responsibility for his illegitimate offspring, even if it was late in the game.

  She was honestly surprised he hadn’t fathered more than these two children. He had merely to walk into the room and her heart skipped a beat. He’d turned her insides molten hot when he’d waltzed her across the nursery room floor. Just the memory of his lips on her forehead sent butterflies skittering across the insides of her stomach.

  She released a sigh. Why torture herself like this? The devil with that. She wanted him to kiss her, crush her to his chest, and… Her head whirled with thoughts of him gently laying her on his bed and coming down on top of her. Her heart beat fast. This had to end. He was her employer.

  Charlotte tucked the covers more closely around Oliver before checking on Meg and Jane. She found them fast asleep. She straightened the nursery, then banked the fire for the night. When she was done, she dusted her hands and started toward her room, but stopped when the nursery door creaked open.

  Her heart leapt. Alistair? Unable to stop the smile, she took a step toward the door. The smile died on her lips.

  Captain Edwards, coatless and swaying on his feet, entered.

  “Sacre-bleu,” she swore. “Why are you here?”

  “Why elshe?” he slurred the word.

  “You’re drunk,” she said in disgust.

  As he stumbled toward her, she retreated. “Leave, now.” She pointed to the door.

  “Leave? You need me.”

  “The devil I do. Get out.”

  He lurched forward and seized her by the waist.

  “Get your hands off me!” Charlotte batted his chest.

  He drove her backwards. Her back hit the wall. Pain lanced through her left shoulder blade. Fear spiked, but she forced a hard voice. “Don’t be a fool.”

  “You want me,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re my mistress, Charlotte. Come to bed.”

  “Your mistress?” He’d gone mad. “I am not your mistress.”

  His fingers dug into her shoulders. Charlotte twisted in an effort to break free. He grabbed her chin and forced her face upward, then mashed his mouth against hers. Bile rose. Tears threatened.

  Think, she ordered herself. Think. Charlotte willed her muscles to relax and she started to fall. She ripped her mouth from his and drove her forehead into his nose. A sharp pain stabbed deep into her skull. The captain yowled and stumbled back, clutching his nose.

  Charlotte’s vision blurred. She glimpsed the poker leaning against the hearth. Ignoring the pulsing pain in her head, she grabbed it and brandished it like a sword. “Leave, before I give you a solid drubbing.”

  “Losh, what’s happening?” Meg’s sleepy voice sounded from the door.

  Captain Edwards staggered sideways, blood seeping between his fingers from his nose. He swung his gaze onto Meg, then spun and lurched out the door.

  Charlotte dropped the poker, rushed to the door and shoved it closed. She stood with her weight against the wood and drew a long, shaky breath.

  “Did the man threaten you, now?” Meg demanded.

  Charlotte turned, but didn’t leave the door. Meg stood in the doorway to her room, a shawl tossed over her nightdress and her big eyes filled with concern.

  “No harm was done.” Charlotte smoothed her dress to calm her nerves. “He was drunk. Most likely, he’ll never remember the incident.”

  Meg’s eyes narrowed. “We should tell his lordship. He’ll boot the man straight out.” She crossed to the hearth and picked up the skeleton key on the mantle, then went to the door. Charlotte stepped aside and she locked the door.

  Meg straightened and handed her the key. “We should keep the door locked until the man is gone. Are you sure you’re all right, Miss?”

  Charlotte gave her a shaky smile. “I’m fine. You go to bed. We’re perfectly safe now.”

  Meg hesitated, then nodded and bid her good night.

  Charlotte glanced at the door. She’d been a victim of Captain Edwards’ temper before. She’d thought him a mere pompous bully, but now... Fear rippled deep inside her, and even though she knew full well she’d locked the nursery door, she couldn’t relax until she’d dragged a chair and propped it under the knob as well.

  * * *

  Charlotte had just sat the children at the breakfast table when a sharp rap on the nursery door made her jump. Exchanging a quick glance with Meg, she strode to the door. More relief than she cared to admit flooded through her when she opened it to find Lady Cassilis’s maid in the hallway.

  “Good morning, Miss Atchenson.” The young woman greeted her with a nervous smile. “Her ladyship requests your presence. At once.”

  Charlotte winced.

  The maid’s smile turned sympathetic.

  “Och, I will watch the lad and lassie,” Meg offered. “You’d best do as Lady Cassilis bids. ‘Tis better for all of us when she’s not kept waiting.”

  “Right then.” Charlotte heaved a breath.

  She darted to the mirror and quickly tucked in a few stray locks, then twirled, inspecting her new green muslin gown for anything out of order. This was the first dress Fanny had made for her. It would have been better not to accept the dress. But how did a governess refuse her employer’s gift?

  “She’ll not find a thing to complain over, lass,” Meg assured. “Unless it’s the gown’s too fine or you are late in arriving.”

  Charlotte snorted. “Most likely both,” she said, and left with the maid.

  Lady Cassilis thinned her lips upon Charlotte’s arrival. Sitting at her secretary desk in a yellow morning dress, the woman clucked her tongue and shook her head in disapproval.

  “You are such a pretentious servant.” Her eyes raked Charlotte from head to toe. “Look at you, so finely dressed. Not one to know your place, are you?”

  So, Meg had been right. Charlotte kept her eyes downcast, dipped into a respectful curtsey and murmured, “Good morning, my lady.”

  The woman humphed. “Fetch my rouge from the dye-shop. Be quick. I need it before Lady Ann arrives this afternoon.” She turned away and began shuffling the papers on her secretary desk.

  “Pardon?” Charlotte asked, confused.

  Lady Cassilis glanced up, but her maid quickly stepped forward. “I’ll be happy to explain it further to Miss Atchenson, my lady.” She offered a curtsey of her own.

  The woman nodded and turned back to her business.

  Charlotte followed the maid out the door and back to the servants’ stairs.

  “I am afraid it’s my fault she’s asked you to do this.” The young woman lifted the hem of her dress and revealed her bandaged left foot. “I twisted it on the stair last night. It’s well enough for the castle, but not for a walk to the dye-shop in Maidens. Her ladyship could ask another, but…” the young woman smiled a bit ruefully.

  “Her ladyship doesn’t care for me,” Charlotte finished with a dry laugh. “No matter. I am happy enough to help.”

  “It’s not far,” the young woman assured. “Maidens is straight down Piper’s Brae, and it’s a pleasant enough day for a walk.”

  “I’ll just fetch my bonnet and coat.” Charlotte smiled brightly, then hurried away.

  “I will never understand the workings of her ladyship’s mind,” Meg tut-tutted in the nursery a few minutes later as Charlotte tied her bonnet. “What did you do to the woman? Why does she hate you so?”

  Charlotte shrugged and they shared a laugh and, after seeing the children busy with their lessons, she hurried downstairs.

  What had she done to antagonize Lady Cassilis? While the woman had detested her from the start, she’d apparently added another level of venom after Charlotte had caught her on the beach with that pockmarked man. Was the man a secret lover? Charlotte snorted and rolled her eyes. What man would willingly embrace such a bitter prune?

  Heavy mist shrouded the castle lawn as she hurried across the grass, still wet from the night’s storm. She grimaced as cold water soaked through her thin boots. She hated wet feet.

  As she neared the marshes and the Swan Pond, Alistair’s mention of a man with a red-feath
ered, green hat sprang to mind. Now that she thought of it, Oliver had worn such a hat in the stables. It was a rather odd style of hat. She wouldn’t have thought it popular enough for two of them to be seen around the castle. She’d have to ask Oliver where he’d come by the thing and where it now was. Lord Cassilis would want to know about the hat. It was too—

  She started at a thundering of hooves behind her. She turned. In the mist, she discerned a rider galloping her way. As he approached, she hurried to the side of the road. Before she realized his intent, he veered her way, swooped down, and hauled her across his lap.

  It had to be Captain Edwards.

  “Devil take you!” She pummeled his chest with her fists. “Unhand me, you fool—

  “There, there, lass,” rumbled a familiar deep voice. “Och, you’re even smaller than you look.”

  Charlotte froze, torn between shock, relief—and anger. “Damnation! Have you lost your mind?” she demanded. “What gentleman snatches a lady off the street? I thought you—” She broke off.

  Alistair chuckled and let the horse canter a few paces more before slowing the animal to a walk. His strong thighs shifted beneath her as he twisted her around, so she sat sideways across his lap.

  He’d forgone the coat, vest, and cravat in favor of a loose, white, puff-sleeved shirt with a large green Cassilis plaid thrown over his broad shoulders.

  He caught her chin with his thumb and tilted her head back toward his. “Where did such a wee thing like you learn to swear like a sailor?”

  She squirmed, embarrassed. “It’s a detestable habit. My great-uncle was a navy man. He raised me as his own after my mother died. But I offer it as no excuse—”

  Alistair chuckled. “I need no apology, lass. Far from it. I confess, I find you a damn sight more interesting than the ladies at Culzean, nattering behind their fans.”

  The compliment made her heart skip a beat. “You would dash their hopes if they heard you say that, my lord.”

  “Hopes?” His lips curved into a smile above his dimpled chin. “I’ve given them no such thing. Truth be told, I can’t tell you how many guests I even have—or half of their names.”

  They shared a laugh.

  His arm flexed about her waist and his expression grew serious. “Why are you walking alone?”

  Charlotte shifted uneasily, too aware of the firm, muscular thighs beneath her bottom and the hardness of his chest pressed against her shoulder. Biting her lip in an effort to clear her thoughts, she replied, “Lady Cassilis sent me on an errand, my lord. She is in need of her rouge before luncheon is served.”

  He brought his horse to a stop and stared down at her. His eyes darkened. “My name is Alistair,” he whispered. “Say it.”

  Her stomach flipped and she managed a whispered, “I can scarcely call you that, my lord.”

  His thick lashes lowered. “Why not? A lass who raps my knuckles with a spoon shouldn’t balk at addressing me by my given name.”

  She blurted, “You were misbehaving.”

  “Was I?” he teased.

  The seductive timber of his voice made her shiver. It was time to direct the conversation to safer territory. Biting her bottom lip yet again, she began, “It is my duty—”

  “If you bite your lip one more time, Charlotte, I will not be held accountable for my actions,” he warned.

  She started, unable to look away from the raw hunger in his eyes. Her breath quickened as his arm tightened around her waist.

  Neither moved.

  A gull cawed in the skies overhead. The wind rustled through the trees, bringing with it the rich scent of damp earth and wet leaves.

  The pounding of horses’ hooves on the moist ground broke into the moment.

  The realization that the horsemen were already upon them struck them both at the same time, and they turned their heads in unison to face the newcomers.

  Nicholas arrived in a jingle of bits and creaking leather, three other riders in tow. The distinct twinkle in his blue eyes announced he’d just witnessed their near kiss and seen it for exactly what it was.

  “A good day to you.” He grinned. “We’re out for a bit of hawking, my dear fellow. Care to join us?”

  “Not at all,” Alistair answered mildly. “Please, as you were.” He backed his horse off the road and waved them on with an impatient hand.

  Nicholas laughed, nodded farewell with an even wider grin, and trotted his horse down the road, his companions falling in line behind him. As the last horseman passed, Charlotte stiffened.

  Damnation. There he was again. Captain Edwards—with angry eyes and—she stifled a laugh—and a large, purple bruise on his nose. He shot her a glare and her amusement vanished. For one long, horrible moment, she feared he would stop and confront her. Instead, he stuck out his jaw and rode on.

  Once out of earshot, Alistair remarked, “Captain Edwards seems quite taken with you.”

  She snorted. “Hardly.” Perhaps she should let him know of the Captain’s advances last night. The man certainly deserved the consequences.

  “Do you not find him an honorable, tall, strapping fellow? Rather fetching?” Alistair asked.

  “Honorable?” she blurted. “He is a despicable man.” Realizing her mistake, she hurried to add, “Forgive me, my lord, I should not speak of your guest in that manner.”

  He threw his head back and gave a deep laugh. When his eyes met hers once again, they were filled with obvious relief. “Please, I beg you, speak more ill of the man. It brightens my mood.”

  She blinked, then found herself mirroring his smile. “Then…you do not care for him?”

  “I cannot bear the pompous fool,” he admitted. “He’s a chaperone to Lady Brexley, nothing more.”

  The pompous fool. Her mood shifted and she glanced away. She had to tell the truth. “I was once engaged to him.” She kept her eyes directed at her lap. “Indeed, he is pompous beyond belief.”

  “Were you madly in love?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  She snapped her head up. “Devil take the man, but no. My father owed him a great deal of money. Truth be told, I was payment—and at sixteen years of age, I knew of nothing but how to agree.” She hesitated. “The scandalous circumstances surrounding my father’s death inspired the Captain to seek his freedom—for which I will ever be grateful. The man cares more for his reputation than anything else.”

  “Ah, yes, the ten shillings.” Alistair snorted under his breath.

  It took a moment for the words to sink in. She frowned, astonished. “How would you know that?”

  His green eyes twinkled. “I heard this tale from your very own lips, Charlotte.” His grin went lopsided. “That first night, when the highland whisky loosened your tongue.”

  Her cheeks warmed.

  He cocked a brow. “We had best be off to Maidens for Lady Cassilis’s rouge. We will make a quick ride of it. It’s not far.”

  He kicked his horse’s flank, and the animal broke into a trot. Charlotte threw her arms around Alistair’s neck. He laughed and urged the horse on as she buried her face against his shoulder and held on for dear life.

  Ten minutes later, Alistair slowed the horse to a walk and Charlotte surveyed the small fishing village of Maidens perched on the shores of the Firth of Clyde. Gulls circled overhead as Alistair clattered down the cobbled lane, past the market cross to the dye-shop just off the main square.

  He halted before a small, stone building, then dismounted and lifted her down from the saddle. Placing her lightly on her feet, he kept his strong hands around her waist until she looked up. He really did have the most unusual eyes, bright green, flecked with gray and blue and ringed with thick, dark lashes.

  “My lord.” A male voice intruded upon the moment. “A good day to you.”

  A small smile played over his lips as Alistair stepped back and Charlotte faced an old man with snow-white hair standing in the door of his shop.

  “A right good day to you, Sean,” Alistair replied.

  “I’ve a message for Nicholas,” the old man said. “If you’d be so kind as to tell him. He asked me to keep an eye out for strange happenings in Maidens, no matter how small.”

  Alistair lifted an inquisitive brow. “What have you found?”

  “It’s Thomas, my lord, Thomas Graves. You’d recall him, I’d think.”