Chapter Ten

Ten

O ld Fish's whine was borne on the morning wind. "You insult me, Countess. I never indulge in spirits. You should have seen the girl. It was scandalous. Creeping about in her nightclothes. Why, she wasn't even wearing a nightcap!" Indignation trembled in his voice. He might as well have pronounced Prudence naked. "She snatched the whisky and went skipping across the lawn like some sort of wanton—" The rest of his speech was mercifully muffled.

"I never dreamed the old lech had such a vivid imagination," Sebastian whispered.

They stared at each other, paralyzed by the approaching voices.

Jamie popped up the ladder like a wild-eyed jack-in-the-box. He captured Prudence's arm and started back down, jerking to a halt when he realized the rest of her wasn't following.

"Get down there, ye silly chit. Do ye want them to come up here?"

"No, of course not. But what shall I tell her?"

Jamie didn't give Prudence time to ponder. He shoved her across the loft and stuffed her down the ladder. She missed the last three rungs, scraping her shins and landing in the hay as Tricia and Old Fish entered the musty stable.

Prudence stumbled around to face them, disheveled and wide-eyed with guilt. Untidy wisps of hair escaped her braid. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Sebastian's cool confession was still thundering through her brain. The sort of man I am wishes he had taken you that night in the crofter's hut. He wishes he had put his child in you… Her hand flew to her abdomen. Why couldn't she be the sort of girl who fainted?

She would have thought it impossible, but as she stared at her aunt and Old Fish, the butler's eyes bugged out farther. Another half inch and they would surely pop out and roll across the hay. Prudence realized too late the reason for his shock.

Jamie swung off the ladder, landing on the balls of his feet like a cat. "Where'd ye go, luv? The fun was just beginnin'."

He laid his wiry arm across her shoulders. Old Fish cleared his throat. Jamie looked up as if seeing them for the first time.

"Shame on ye, pet. Ye didn't tell me we had guests."

His copper hair was ruffled, as if he had run his fingers through it. His chest was bare, and the first three buttons of his breeches were unfastened. A mortified heat swept up Prudence's throat, and she seriously reconsidered swooning.

Jamie swaggered forward, sloshing whisky over the rim of the decanter. His gaze traveled boldly over Tricia's jade green negligee. She closed it at the throat with a demure hand, blushing prettily. Prudence gaped, so amazed at Jamie's transformation that she forgot her own embarrassment. Ugly or not, he exuded a smug sexuality that was almost palpable.

Tricia's eyes were all for Jamie. Prudence felt invisible. She wondered if anyone would notice if she dropped to her stomach and buried herself in the hay.

"You realize," Tricia said, fluttering her lashes, "I shall have to speak to your master about this little…indiscretion."

To Prudence's amazement, Jamie dropped to one knee at Tricia's feet and brought her hand to his lips. "I'm a poor lad, me lady. I ain't got no other post. Would ye have my lord send me away penniless"—Prudence would have sworn his tongue flicked out to touch Tricia's hand—"and hungry? I am humbly sorry." He looked about as remorseful as a freckled Lucifer.

Tricia gave a breathless cluck. The bows on her towering satin mob-cap trembled becomingly. Prudence had always suspected she slept in her wig. "We shall have to give it some thought, won't we? Perhaps I can persuade Lord Kerr to be merciful when he decides your fate."

A muffled snort from the loft reminded Prudence that Lord Kerr was already deciding Jamie's fate. She blushed anew.

Tricia swept across the stable like a regal queen and stopped in front of Prudence. Prudence stared at the flounces of lace on her aunt's bosom, unable to meet her eyes. Shame flooded her as she realized for the first time that she was guilty of a crime far worse than dallying with Jamie. She was in love with her aunt's fiancé. In another month, even God would have a name for a woman like her—adulteress.

She waited for Tricia to scream at her or box her ears or send her packing. She was acutely aware of Jamie leaning against a splintered post, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk on his thin lips. He was enjoying her discomfiture almost as much as Old Fish. The loft above held its waiting silence.

Tricia gently cupped Prudence's chin, tilting her face upward. Her soft, tinkling laugh filled the stable. "Why, you cunning little creature! Who would have thought it? My Prudence and the coachman!"

Tricia's eyes danced with warmth and delight. She pulled Prudence into her arms. Prudence hung limply in her aunt's embrace, her eyes wide circles of shock. Jamie lifted his hands in a baffled shrug. Old Fish opened and closed his mouth like a beached herring.

There was no mistaking the bemused pride in Tricia's voice as she led Prudence toward the door. "Come, you naughty child, we have much to discuss. You should have come to your aunt sooner. I thought all you were interested in were those dusty old books of yours." As they ambled into the awakening morning, Tricia cast Jamie a coquettish look over her shoulder. "Men can teach you what pleases men, but it takes a woman to teach you what will please you."

Prudence dared a glance back. Sebastian was leaning out of the hayloft, listening with interest.

"Don't think I'm judging you, darling," Tricia went on. "Most of the women I know cut their proverbial teeth on groomsmen and houseboys. But you should learn to protect yourself from mishaps. It would be exceedingly awkward to explain away—"

As Prudence's cheeks flamed bright red, Tricia mercifully became aware of Old Fish following behind them, ears perked to their conversation.

She gave the butler an airy wave. "Bring a tray of chocolate to my chamber, Fish." Prudence cringed as Tricia gave her a motherly squeeze. "It's just as well my Sebastian is in Edinburgh. I shall have time to prepare him for this. He's quite protective of you, you know. I believe he thinks of you as far more than a niece."

A cold shiver raked Prudence's spine. Tricia knew, she thought. Oh, dear sweet Lord, she knew.

A frown furrowed her aunt's brow. "I do believe he thinks of you as a daughter."

Behind them a pained yelp was muffled to a strangled cough. Tricia spun around as the door of the hayloft swung shut with a bang.

Prudence was reading in her room two nights later when a knock came on her door. It was followed by an aristocratic sniff. "Lord Kerr wishes your presence in the study."

"Very well, Fish."

Prudence smoothed the skirt of her pale green watered silk gown and slipped on her spectacles. She studied her reflection in the mirror, then dropped the spectacles back in her pocket. Tugging two strands of hair free from her tight chignon, she fluffed them around her face, then sighed. Her nose was still too pointy, her eyes too big.

"‘Vanity of vanities; all is vanity,'" she murmured to her reflection.

She waited at the door for Old Fish's doddering steps to recede before slipping into the hall. As she approached the study, the door opened and her aunt emerged. Tricia hastily shut the door behind her.

She captured Prudence's hands and brought them to her rouged lips. "Courage, my child," she whispered. "I begged him to go gently with you."

Then Tricia was gone in a cloud of musky gardenia and Prudence was left to face the heavy door alone. Sebastian's gentleness was the last thing she needed. She pushed open the door.

Nothing was visible of Sebastian but a thatch of sandy hair, a cloud of smoke, and a pair of polished top boots resting on the windowsill. She cleared her throat.

He scraped the chair around and jerked the thin cheroot out of his mouth. "Good evening, Miss Walker."

She bobbed a curtsy. "Good evening, Uncle Sebastian."

His lips twitched. He took a long drag of the cigar, and a thin wisp of blue smoke wafted out the window. He indicated the leather chair in front of the desk. Prudence sat.

Sebastian thumbed through a sheaf of papers, his heavy brows drawn together in a stern line. "Miss Walker, your aunt has asked me to speak to you about a certain breach of propriety that occurred at Lindentree during my recent absence."

"What might that be, sir?"

He kept his gaze on the papers. "I am referring to a pilfered decanter of Scotch whisky. In the future, if you care to supply either yourself or your male companions with spirits, you are to come to me and I will dole it out to you." He looked up at her then, and his eyes were sparkling. He seemed to have difficulty catching his breath. "Your aunt is deeply concerned about a moral decline which has led you to become a thief in your own home."

Sebastian's attempt at sternness failed as he blew a cloud of cigar smoke up his nose and collapsed in a wheezing, sputtering heap. His muscular shoulders heaved. He threw back his head, mopping tears of laughter from his eyes as Prudence flew out of her chair in an indignant fury.

"Isn't that just like her! She chastises me for stealing the whisky, but not for dallying with the coachman!"

She paced the study in long, swishing strides. "That's the first time Tricia has ever looked at me with anything resembling pride." Sebastian hiccuped. Prudence turned on him, planting both hands on the desk. "Go ahead and laugh. It's not your reputation in shreds. You don't have Old Fish looking down his nose at you as if you were Jezebel and the whore of Babylon rolled into one."

Sebastian clapped a hand over his mouth in mock dismay. "Miss Walker, your language. You shock me!"

"After a morning of Tricia's tutelage, I could shock you even more."

He sat up with interest. "Was it bad?"

"Horrid. Not even Papa's Icones Anatomicae prepared me for that." She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. "She taught me things that would make your toes curl."

He fanned himself with the papers. "You don't say? Do go on. You know, you should get angry more often. It's enchanting. Your eyes snap, your cheeks pinken. Quite an amazing transformation from my meek little niece."

Prudence dared to sit on the edge of the desk. "Niece? You wound me. Tricia swore you thought of me—"

They shouted in unison, "—more as a daughter!"

Prudence snatched the papers from Sebastian and beat him about the head as her own fury dissolved in mirth.

"Careful, careful," he said. "Take pity on a wounded man, won't you?" He raised a hand, too weak with laughter to defend himself.

She dropped the papers. "I forgot. How is your shoulder?"

"Much better. The butter and eggs did the trick. I'd be fine if Boris didn't think me a scone. He keeps sniffing me and licking his chops. Of course, after three days of Jamie's company, even Boris has his charms."

One of the papers had slid off the desk. Prudence stooped to pick it up.

Her smile faded as she glanced at it. "A masked ball prior to your wedding." She handed him the invitation. "How quaint."

He smoothed the creamy vellum. "And original. How did Tricia ever think of it? Perhaps the ten masked balls we attended last month inspired her."

Prudence drew her spectacles from her pocket and put them on. "You should enjoy it, my lord," she said, her voice as cool as the steel frames against her skin. "You have such an affinity for masks."

She turned to go.

"As do you, Miss Walker."

Prudence paused, but did not turn around. She knew he was no longer smiling. She managed to keep her back straight and her hands steady until she had left the study and pulled the door shut behind her.

She leaned against the door, welcoming the dig of the oak paneling into her spine. There was no sound from within the study. Tears scalded her eyes, and she realized with a shock that they were not tears of guilt, but tears of anger. The rage felt good, cleansing her of the melancholy that threatened to buffet her. She jerked off her spectacles. Damn Tricia anyway!

Tricia. It had always been Tricia. Bright, tinkling, gay Tricia. Prudence would simply have to understand that Tricia needed the money more than they. Tricia was an orphan. Tricia had no one. Prudence and Papa must be content with their books and each other. Prudence would understand. Prudence was such a good girl.

She dashed the tears from her eyes with a clenched fist. She was tired of understanding. She was tired of being a good girl. Being a good girl meant giving up Sebastian and his lovely mouth forever.

A bust of Plato sneered down at her from a velvet draped pedestal. Prudence shoved her spectacles on his marble nose and started for her room, jerking out hairpins as she walked.

···

Prudence sought out Jamie the next day. As she neared the holding pen, his amorphous form solidified into angular sinew and muscle. Sunlight sharpened his hair to carrot orange, and she shielded her eyes from its brilliance. He was straining against a blob of russet—the mare Tricia had presented to Sebastian as an early wedding gift. Early and premature, Prudence dared to hope.

She folded her arms on the fence. The air was laden with moisture, and the sultry heat sent sweat rolling down her sides, pinning her heavy damask dress to her stays like a second skin.

Jamie tugged the lead, guiding the wild-eyed yearling in a trotting circle. "Hullo, luv," he said. His voice was dry. "How could ye stay away so long? Are ye tryin' to break me proud heart?"

She gave him a reproachful look. "It didn't look so proud when you were drooling at my aunt's feet the other morning."

"Jealous, sweeting?"

He clucked, and the spindly horse trotted within his reach, shivering and prancing. He soothed her with an expert touch on her haunches. She stopped shivering and slipped easily within the circle of his arms. He drew a halter over her head.

"You're very good at that," Prudence said.

"Never let it be said Jamie Graham don't know how to gentle a lady. What did ye expect? Ridin' crops? Whips?"

She shrugged. "Some men take ‘breaking a horse' literally."

"Some men are fools." He turned his back on her to run a brush down the mare's flank. Though he hummed softly under his breath, his jaw was taut.

Prudence climbed up to sit on the fence. Her stockings snagged on the rough wood. "You don't like me very much, do you, Mr. Graham?"

His even strokes did not falter.

She took a deep breath. "I need your help. I want Sebastian."

"Ye don't need me for that. Go find him. He's never minded obligin' a lady in need."

She flushed and looked down, toying with the dusty folds of her skirt. "Not like that." She struggled to find the words, any words, that might leave her a few shreds of dignity. "I want him to care for me."

"Oh, bloody hell!"

Jamie threw the brush. It struck the fence with a bang. Prudence flinched and the mare loped away, seizing her sudden and unexpected freedom.

Jamie turned on her, his eyes blazing almost as bright as his hair. "Has it ever occurred to ye, Lady Walker, or whatever it is ye fine folk call yerselves, that with me ain't the safest place to be?"

A hot wind barely stirred the air as Prudence glanced around. The meadow was isolated. Even the brick chimneys of the house were hidden from view by a slight rise in the land.

The muscles in Jamie's arm knotted. "I may not be big, but I'm strong. I could pop yer wee neck 'tween me thumb and forefinger." He snapped his fingers to demonstrate the ease of it. "If Sebastian is too besotted to kill ye, I am the next most likely choice."

"Kill me?" Even to herself her voice sounded as if it were coming from very far away. "Why would Sebastian want to kill me?"

"'Cause with one dainty sigh, ye could send us all to the gallows. Word's out there's a steep price on yer head and Sebastian's got his orders to follow like any other man."

The sun paled before Prudence's eyes. "I don't believe you. You shouldn't tease so. It's cruel."

"Cruel?" He puffed out a sigh. "I've been watchin' ye the last few weeks. Ye don't ask fer much, lass. The least I can give ye is the truth." He buried his fists in his pockets. "Don't worry. Sebastian's a good man. He'll make it quick and painless if he's able."

It might be quick, she thought, but it was far too late to make it painless.

She clambered down from the fence, praying her legs would support her. "Such lies are very unbecoming, Mr. Graham. If you didn't want to help me, a simple ‘no' would have sufficed."

"Believe what ye will, lass. But take care."

Jamie clucked softly and the mare trotted to him. As Prudence walked back toward the house, he watched her go, his cheek pressed to the horse's silky mane.

The sun scorched the back of Prudence's neck. Her sturdy shoes rustled the dry grass. She couldn't remember the last time it had rained. Or could she? She squeezed her eyes shut and almost stumbled. When she opened them, they burned as hot as the air.

Jamie was lying, she thought. She said the words aloud and it made her feel slightly better. The petty little wretch, she added to herself, was only jealous of the attentions Sebastian had paid her.

Are you so sure? whispered a small voice inside her head.

She knew that voice. It was the voice that reminded her she was too old to waste time woolgathering about a husband and children. It was the voice that soothed her back to sleep when she awoke tangled in the bedclothes, her body aching with some nameless longing, her cheeks wet with tears. It was the voice that kept her sane and safe by quenching all of her dreams and yearnings.

She stomped up the hill. Of course she was sure Jamie was lying. After all, Sebastian had come to her when he was wounded. To her—not to Jamie or Tricia.

And why wouldn't he? the voice asked. Especially if you won't be around long enough to betray him .

But he said he wanted her.

He spoke of need, not caring. The bulls in the field have the same needs. Why not want you? Why not slake his lust on you rather than some loose-tongued housemaid? You won't be around later to cause any embarrassing scenes .

Prudence gave herself a harsh shake, fighting to silence the rational demon within her. "Sebastian has shown me only kindness," she said aloud, ignoring the curious stare of a gardener watering the hedges.

What better way for Sebastian to keep an eye on you than to be always underfoot? What better way to seek out your weaknesses, await the opportune moment to silence you forever?

She stumbled to a halt as all the voices of her reason blended into one devastating truth.

If the kitchen blew up again, who would be suspicious if she happened to be standing beside the oven? And no one would be shocked if a bite of her own cooking killed her. Sebastian would cut such a dashing figure in mourning! The grim black would set off the sandy highlights in his hair to perfection. Her nails dug into her palms as she strode across the lawn.

Sebastian's own words condemned him. If you see my face, your life will be worth naught. Neither to me or my men . A stark chill cut through the heat, making her shiver.

Sebastian. Beautiful, considerate Sebastian. A thousand small kindnesses crumbled to bitter ash in the wind. Sebastian handing her a book she was too short to reach. Sebastian trimming her kitten's claws with his own tiny dagger, his hands deft and gentle. Sebastian wrestling the icing bowl away from her, demanding the last lick with that slow, sweet grin of his.

Not sweet, she corrected herself coldly. Cunning. She dashed away a tear before it could fall. He might murder her, but he would not make her cry. Sebastian Kerr wasn't worthy of her tears.

She marched up to the front door and flung it open. Before she could take three steps inside the house, Sebastian emerged from the parlor.

He looked up from the book in his hands and grinned. "There you are. I've been waiting for you. I think I've found something in this book about the properties of mercury." He pulled out a creamy envelope tucked between the pages. "And this came in the post today. You'd best open it first. It looks important."

She stared at him. She wasn't prepared for this, for his devastating good cheer, his rumpled shirt. He had abandoned his boots again and his hair tumbled loose around his face. He looked good enough to eat—luscious and forbidden, like the ice cream Tricia had once brought from London for one of her parties. Prudence had eaten it until her stomach ached, then been sent to bed without supper for her gluttony.

Pain knifed through her heart. What a fine actor he was! She couldn't bear it. She wanted to hurt him as much as he'd hurt her. Her furious passion disappeared behind an icy veil.

She looked him up and down, her lips twisted in a smile of cool disdain. "Perhaps you should fetch your boots, my lord. If you keep going about garbed in such a manner, everyone at Lindentree is going to know you're nothing but a common peasant."

His smile faded. His hands dropped to his sides. Her heart spasmed in regret as a raw, bewildered pain touched his features. It was gone so quickly, she might have imagined it, and was replaced by something dark and wary. She gathered her skirts, but he did not move.

She was forced to brush past him to reach the stairs. As her breast grazed his unyielding chest, he caught her wrist in a bruising grip, pulling her against him. His eyes searched her face.

She returned his gaze with insolence, terrified he would hear the wild thudding of her heart, the mad rush of blood through her veins. The tension in his body strummed so tight, she expected him to shove her against the wall and throttle her right there in the entranceway.

They both heard the telltale scrape of a chair behind them. She called toward the dining room in a parody of calm, "I'll be taking dinner in my room, Fish. I have a terrible headache."

Sebastian released her abruptly. As she climbed the stairs beneath the probing heat of his gaze, she discovered she wasn't lying. Her head was pounding nearly as hard as her heart.