My Highland Rogue Read online

  Now she placed her palms against his face, encouraging him to lose his mind like he had last night. Yet it was daylight and there were people milling about. Reason enough to keep his head. Yet a part of him, atavistic and wild like Highlanders of old, wanted to pull her behind the nearest bush and make her his.

  He’d always given the illusion of being somewhat civilized with an undercurrent of strength. The kind of man who didn’t accept orders from anyone, but gave them. The kind of person who didn’t tolerate cheaters or liars.

  For years McBain’s scalding words had been buried deep inside him. All this time he’d been determined to prove him and Sean wrong. For all of that effort, for all of those years, he’d been rewarded. Not simply with Jennifer’s understanding and love, but the knowledge that nothing or no one would ever be able to separate them again.

  “I love you,” he said softly. Words he’d once found difficult, but were easy to say to her.

  She looked at him solemnly, her smile fading.

  He wanted to be her hero, but he didn’t want to pretend that he was more than he was.

  “I’ve done things in the heat of anger, Jennifer, but I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve never deliberately harmed another human being, but I’ve been called ruthless. Maybe I am. I need you to know that. I know that I’m no angel.”

  Her knuckles brushed his cheek. He placed his hand on the back of hers, pressing it against his skin.

  “I never wanted you to be a paragon of virtue, Gordon. Only to be yourself.”

  He smiled, the expression coming up from the inside of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy or carefree. “I’ve never been anyone but myself.”

  “I’m so glad for that.”

  He kissed her softly. “While you’ve always been an angel.”

  She pulled back. “I’m not a paragon, either, Gordon. You mustn’t make me out to be that way. I have a temper.”

  “I remember,” he said with a smile.

  “I get annoyed from time to time.”

  “Again, I can attest to that.”

  “I get impatient.”

  He remained silent.

  Even as they sat there still embracing, the day was brightening and warming. As if nature had taken a hint from their joy and was now replicating it.

  He lowered his head and softly kissed her. Five years ago they had been more circumspect. Now he didn’t care. Let the world watch them; it didn’t matter.

  How had he lived for five years without kissing Jennifer?

  His arms tightened around her.

  Yes, he’d laughed. He’d greeted each day with enthusiasm, eager for that day to be a success. Something had always been missing, however. Maybe the essence of hope. Or Jennifer, being close to him.

  Now he almost felt drunk, as if he’d imbibed an entire bottle of wine. Bubbles of excitement raced through his veins.

  This was the woman he loved, had always loved, would always love. No one would ever know her as well as he did. No one would ever understand him like Jennifer. They had the rest of their lives to love each other, and that thought was both heady and exciting.

  “I’ll come to you tonight,” she whispered.

  “No.”

  “No? Don’t you want me?”

  “Don’t want you? I’ve wanted you every day since I first knew what it was to want a woman. How can you ask me that? But one of us has to be sensible.”

  “Why?” She wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her cheek against his chest.

  “Jennifer.”

  She stood and stepped back. “Then go. I wouldn’t want you to appear dishonorable to anyone.”

  “You’ve done that ever since you were a girl,” he said.

  “Done what?”

  “Started a fight when you were in the wrong.”

  She frowned at him. “I’m not wrong now. I’m annoyed at you. I’m irritated. And I am, if I must admit, more than a little hurt. I offer myself to you, and all you can say is I’m picking a fight.”

  “I love you.”

  That stopped her in midtirade.

  He stood and joined her. “I love you and I don’t want to do anything to dishonor you.”

  “And you think loving me would dishonor me?” She shook her head. “Never, Gordon.”

  He dropped his head, his cheek against hers. “Here I am, struggling to maintain my honor, and you’re doing your damnedest to be a temptation.”

  “Very well,” she said. “Will you, at least, join me for dinner?”

  “All alone, just the two of us?” he asked. “Whatever will the servants say?”

  “Do you care?”

  “Not one jot,” he said, smiling.

  She had a glint in her eye. He knew that look. Jennifer would be up to mischief. Or perhaps seduction.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jennifer took her time dressing for dinner. She wore one of her newer garments, something Ellen had insisted she include in her wardrobe.

  “Who am I going to wear new dresses for?” she’d said at the time.

  “You never know what’s going to happen,” Ellen had responded. “You need to ensure that you have a wardrobe commensurate with any activity.”

  “My activities consist of taking care of Adaire Hall. Occasionally, I’ll ride out to visit a neighbor. Or I’ll take a carriage to Edinburgh to see you. Beyond that . . .” Her words had trailed off to meet Ellen’s frown.

  “You’re not on the shelf, you know,” her godmother said. “It’s still possible for you to find someone to fall madly, deeply, passionately in love with.”

  Jennifer hadn’t responded. She was already madly, deeply, and passionately in love with Gordon. Just because she hadn’t confessed that fact to Ellen didn’t change the reality of it.

  However, arguing with Ellen was a losing proposition.

  The only time she’d wanted to get a new wardrobe was after her mother had died, but Ellen had been adamant about honoring Mary’s wishes.

  “Wearing one color or another will not make you mourn your mother more or less. Besides, she was insistent that you not wear mourning for more than a month. You know that well enough.”

  “It doesn’t seem right,” Jennifer said at the time.

  “It was right for Mary. It was her only wish. She didn’t want to see you buried beneath yards of crepe. How does that show respect?”

  She had looked at her godmother. “Then why did you wear black for Colin for so many months?”

  “That was entirely different.”

  Even though she thought she’d been rational, she’d lost that war with Ellen.

  This dress was emerald, a shade of green she especially liked. The collar was lace, as were the cuffs. Although it was three years old, it was still flattering, accentuating her waist and both the curve of her hips and her bosom.

  She did her hair herself, pulling it up and pinning it so that it fell in a cascade. If she was more talented with curling tongs, she would’ve used those, but every time she tried, she burned herself. She didn’t want to mar this evening by being in pain.

  A touch of rouge to her lips and a final inspection and she was done.

  How had she lived without seeing Gordon every day? How had she been able to sleep, rise, do all those tasks that needed doing without the promise of being able to talk to him, embrace him, and kiss him?

  The Hall was too large, too filled with people, too oppressive and demanding. It required sacrifice and she’d done exactly that for years. Now she was tired of it, and pushing back for the first time.

  She didn’t want the responsibility any longer. She wanted Lauren to have her baby and take over her rightful duties as the Countess of Burfield. Jennifer didn’t want the staff to come to her with problems or issues.

  All she wanted was to be with Gordon.

  He had already told her so much about those missing years, but she wanted to know everything. Whom he met, the people he employed, what he did every day—she wante
d to share every aspect of his life.

  Everything in her life had changed in the past two days. It was like living in a world filled with clouds, and all of a sudden, the sun shone through. Or having no hope, and suddenly being suffused with it.

  She smiled at herself in the mirror and left the room, anxious to see Gordon again.

  Instead of going into the drawing room to wait for Jennifer, Gordon remained at the base of the stairs. He felt strangely out of place in this Adaire Hall. Five years ago he’d known every inch of the place. He and Jennifer had haunted the upper floors, explored the attic, and as children, had taken over an unused room as their own private domain.

  The countess had never fussed at him for being here. Or at the both of them for being hooligans in the house during rainy or snowy days. Instead, she would ask what they were playing at, and he would stop to explain.

  He was only five when the earl died suddenly. All he knew about that time was that the countess took to her rooms and didn’t leave them for two years. It was Harrison who’d coaxed her out of her hermitage, but not out of kindness or concern. He’d been expelled from his father’s alma mater and sent home in disgrace.

  Gordon had often wondered if the countess had put all three of them together in the schoolroom to force Harrison to behave. Jennifer loved reading and had a natural ability for recall, often putting the two boys to shame. He was better with numbers and mathematics. Harrison’s talent was in feeling slighted. As the new Earl of Burfield he made sure that everyone knew of his elevation in rank. Even as a child he’d been insufferable.

  The countess had once been a beautiful woman. One side of her face was unmarred by the fire that had nearly taken her life. The other resembled a melted candle. He’d been fascinated by her scars as a boy, had wanted to reach up and touch her face, but had never done so. He had asked her, once, if it hurt.

  She’d tilted her head and regarded him through her one good eye. He knew that she couldn’t see well enough to read, although she could discern shapes and colors.

  “Not now,” she said. “It did in the beginning.”

  She’d been his tutor in many things, giving him an education he hadn’t received from either of his parents. She taught him how to speak to people properly, to treat a woman with respect, and even corrected his table manners.

  Evidently, he’d reminded her of her younger brother.

  “He was as stubborn as you,” she often said. “Impatient, too. As if he couldn’t wait for life to start for him.”

  “Does he live in Edinburgh?” he’d asked.

  “No,” she said, sounding sad. “He’s gone to live in New South Wales.”

  He’d patted her hand that day, feeling a compassion for her that had startled him.

  Adaire Hall wasn’t the same without the countess. It was like the house’s heart had been extinguished.

  He wished there was a way to tell her how much he appreciated everything she’d done for him, especially in educating him. He’d often wondered if she’d had to go against McBain’s wishes to do so. Had the man acceded to her request out of respect for her? Or simply because the issue hadn’t been important to him? For whatever reason, Gordon had received an education in excess of his position in life, and for that he would always be grateful.

  He had reason to be thankful for her lessons in other subjects, especially in the past five years.

  One day, the countess had been doing an inventory of the silver in the butler’s pantry and had called him over to the table.

  “Do you know what this is, Gordon?” she’d asked, holding up a curious looking piece of silverware.

  “It’s a knife.”

  “It’s not just a knife. It’s a butter knife.”

  She taught him how to identify various spoons and forks as well. He learned when one was used and how he was to use it. Because of her, he learned not to stuff his napkin in his collar or slurp his soup.

  She’d never been unkind to him. Never once had she mentioned his station in life, or uttered a harsh word. Whenever she corrected him, it was done with grace and sometimes humor.

  He’d grown to feel more for the countess than any other adult at Adaire Hall.

  Going from the Hall to the gardener’s cottage had always been a jarring journey. He was learning how to have manners at the Hall only to return to the cottage to see that neither of his parents cared overmuch about polite behavior.

  What would the countess say to see him now? He’d thought of her from time to time in London, as he had risen in reputation. She’d given him something that had taken him years to identify: confidence. He knew how to handle himself in a great many situations, all because of the Countess of Burfield.

  Because of her, he wasn’t intimidated by a title or a man’s birthright. Instead, he was impressed by a man who was determined in the face of obstacles.

  A sound caused him to look up. Jennifer was descending the stairs, her eyes not veering from his face. She was even more beautiful than she’d been in his dreams. Her green eyes were sparkling at him and a small smile curved her pink lips. The dress, an emerald green, revealed her curves and matched the color of her eyes perfectly.

  He moved to the bottom of the stairs, holding out his hand.

  She placed hers in it and smiled up at him.

  “You dressed for dinner,” she said.

  He had changed into a black suit and white shirt.

  “As did you. I like your dress.”

  He brought her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her fingers.

  “What a shame no one else can see you as I do. You should live in Edinburgh, and reign over a literary salon. People from all over Scotland and England would come to see just you.”

  “You’ve learned flattery, Gordon.”

  “No, only to speak the truth.”

  He walked beside her to the small dining room only a short distance from the kitchen. Until that first dinner with Lauren, he’d never taken a meal with Jennifer there. They’d eaten together at the loch, mostly sandwiches she’d made for him, or whatever treats Cook had given them. Never here at the Hall.

  One of the footmen helped her with her chair, a task he wanted to do. If his hand slipped and grazed her upper arm, he would be able to measure if his touch gave her goose bumps. Perhaps he might even bend and brush away the hair at the nape of her neck and kiss her exposed skin.

  It seemed to Gordon that there were entirely too many people in this small dining room, all of them pleasant, smiling, and essentially intrusive. Finally, after the first course, Jennifer dismissed them with a smile and they were alone.

  “How is Lauren?” he asked.

  She blew out a breath and shook her head. “I haven’t the slightest idea. The midwife says that everything is proceeding as it should be, but I can’t see how that’s right. It seems to be taking entirely too long.”

  “I have to confess my ignorance about labor and birth. However, didn’t you tell me that Lauren’s father hired Mrs. Farmer?”

  She nodded.

  “Surely he would have selected the best person available?”

  She frowned at him. “You’re being entirely too logical.” Her frown melted into a smile. “The woman is annoying and I want to be annoyed at her.”

  “You can still think she’s a gorgon. Just a skilled gorgon.”

  They smiled at each other.

  “Any moment now you’ll get to meet Mr. Campbell. I’m certain that the gorgon sent word to him that his grandchild was about to be born. I only hope that he arrives after Harrison does. Otherwise, there’s bound to be trouble.”

  Perhaps it was time someone held Harrison to account. He’d always been treated as if he was better than anyone else. More privileged, more talented, more adept at everything, even though he wasn’t. It had begun back in the schoolroom they’d shared. Their tutor had a tendency to forgive Harrison’s behavior as high spirits. When the man started scoring Harrison’s tests with the same willful disregard for the truth, Gor
don realized that the tutor was afraid. Not of Harrison, but of the guardian. Bringing the young heir’s inadequacies to McBain’s attention might cause the tutor to be dismissed. Therefore, Harrison was allowed to get away with a great deal more than Gordon or Jennifer.

  The safest way to handle any discussion of Harrison was simply not to say what he thought. His opinion hadn’t changed in the past five years. In fact, he’d grown even more disgusted with Harrison’s behavior, because he had it on good authority that the man wasn’t faithful. The vows he’d taken in a church were simply suggestions for other men. They didn’t apply to him.

  Wait until Harrison learned that Gordon wasn’t so lax. He had every intention of demanding payment for the debt Harrison owed him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  During the second course Gordon told her about some of the people he employed in London. More than a few of them were fascinating individuals. Men who had come up in life through sheer grit and determination. Women who’d turned their backs on their individual pasts in order to believe in a better future.

  His life wasn’t here, but by marrying him Jennifer would have to leave Adaire Hall. Was she prepared to do that? Would she trade the life she knew for one with him?

  Now was not the time to ask her to be his wife. That was for later, perhaps. Or even tomorrow beside the loch. He had planned what he would say. The words wouldn’t be difficult. In fact, they’d be the easiest ones he’d ever speak.

  “What the hell is this, Jennifer?”

  They both looked toward the doorway. Harrison stood there.

  The current Earl of Burfield was a big man, tall with broad shoulders, but he’d recently started going to fat because of his indolent life in London. He slept most of the day, spending his nights at either the gaming tables or in a private card game. When he wasn’t gambling, he was drinking or eating or involved with one of the women he brought to the Mayfair Club.

  Harrison had tried to entice every one of Gordon’s female employees to his bed. They’d all refused him. Gordon had a rule that fraternizing with customers was grounds for being fired. That hadn’t delayed Harrison all that much. He’d simply gone outside the club to find his female companions.