Chapter 24

R obert was quietly pleased that the gentlemen of the party did not want to linger over whisky and port after dinner. Indeed, within half an hour, the entire company had repaired to the drawing room. Jessie and his stepmother dispensed tea to all the ladies while Gordon poured coffee for the gentlemen.

Stationed by the fireplace with Drummond, Robert watched Jessie ably filling Lady Arniston's fine bone china teacup, fully aware his mouth was curved in a besotted smile. His fiancée had played the role of secondary hostess to perfection tonight. For someone who'd not yet had the opportunity to be formally introduced into polite society, he was quietly impressed. Jessie's manners were impeccable, and she displayed a natural, canny ability to converse easily about a wide range of topics with all of the assembled guests. Without a doubt, his Highland lass would suit him exactly as a wife.

Drummond smiled knowingly. "So it looks as though ye've been lured and verra much snared by a veritable siren. I always thought that ye would fall hard for some bonnie lass one day. I just didna think it would happen so quickly after ye arrived home."

Robert grinned. It was useless to try and hide his feelings. "Neither did I, my friend, and I have been well and truly ensnared by Jessie. Although, I'm ashamed to admit, our first encounter was a near disaster—entirely my fault—and I'm amazed she appears to reciprocate my feelings, considering the inopportune circumstances."

Drummond raised a bushy eyebrow in query. "So ye came upon her dishabille ? Ye trod on her toes? Ye spilt yer whisky on her dress?" When Robert shook his head at each of these suggestions, Drummond gave him a good-natured poke in the ribs. "Come on. Out with it, man."

Robert grimaced at him over the rim of his whisky tumbler. "I shot her. In the arm. Thought she was a deer."

Drummond's hearty guffaws drew bemused looks from all of the ladies and gentlemen, including Jessie. She caught Robert's eye and raised a delicate eyebrow in query. He shrugged a shoulder before shooting Drummond a pained look.

Heedless of his discomfort and the questioning stares, Drummond slapped Robert on the shoulder. "Ye truly have been away from the Highlands too long when ye mistake a lass for a hind. I'm astounded Miss Munroe would even speak to ye, let alone wed ye!"

"So am I, Drummond," returned Robert jovially. "It must be fate that drew us together, that's all I can say. It certainly wasn't because of the charming court I paid her."

Drummond swallowed the last of his whisky and placed the empty glass on the mantelpiece. "I willna stay for tea with the gentlefolk, Robert, but I'll expect ye on the morrow at the docks to farewell the Phoenix . She's verra much packed to the gunwales and ready to sail on the first high tide."

Robert clapped his friend on the back in a gesture of farewell. "Aye. It's about time she was on her way back home to the Caribbean. But don't look for me at the crack of dawn. I think I shall be keeping gentlemen's hours tomorrow."

Drummond winked at him. "Quite rightly so. I'll expect ye'll be needing to regain yer strength after tonight."

It took all of Robert's strength to resist the urge to cuff Drummond behind the ear as he walked his friend around the drawing room to say his farewells.

"Would you like me to help ye undress, miss?"

Jessie started at Alison's question, nearly dropping her unread book, Pamela , onto the hearthrug in her bedroom. She sighed. Lost in delicious thought ever since Robert had bid her goodnight in the vestibule not five minutes ago, she'd been unable to concentrate on the story about the plight of the young maidservant who in many respects, reminded her of herself and her own situation...until she'd met Robert.

Giving herself a mental shake, she turned to face the young maid. "No, I think I shall stay up a wee while and continue reading," she said, brandishing the ignored novel in the air. "I really canna put it down. If you dinna mind lighting a few more candles, and turning down the bedcovers, that's all I need. I'm quite used to looking after myself."

Even to her own ears, her excuses for denying Alison's help sounded weak. Jessie blushed, knowing her real reason for staying awake must be patently obvious; that she was waiting for Robert to visit her room. Could Alison tell how hopelessly distracted she was? And why?

But Alison, discreet as ever, did not even blink. "Aye, of course, miss." The maid bobbed a curtsy and, after quickly fulfilling Jessie's few requests, took her leave.

Left alone, Jessie dropped poor Pamela onto a nearby table before sinking into the soft armchair by the fire. Kicking off her new brocade shoes, she elevated her recovering sprained ankle onto a small ottoman. No, reading was definitely not on her mind as she stared into the bright flames licking the fresh logs in the grate.

She smiled as she pressed her hand to her hot cheek. She could have sworn the flesh still tingled from where Robert had placed a tender goodnight kiss. The memory of his intensely blue eyes—the way they'd also caressed her face and figure, promising so much more—made her shiver with desire all over again.

How long would it be before Robert came to her? Although he evidently wanted her to be his wife, part of her still wanted, needed him to tell her he truly cared for her. He'd called her his love, mo ghaoil and mo chridhe —my heart. But could he say he loved her? An experienced, worldly man like him? They'd met a week ago, after all.

Jessie closed her eyes against the light of the flames and smiled, recalling all their encounters, the intimate moments they'd shared since they'd met. She suspected it would not be long before she found out the answer to her question…

A sound—her bedchamber door clicking shut—made her jump. She was not sure how long it had been since she'd drifted asleep, but she suspected only a short space of time had passed. The fire still burned brightly in the grate and the candles on the mantelpiece had not burned down at all. The flames guttered slightly in the slight draft that had come in through the door, making the shadows dance.

Her pulse thrumming in anticipation, Jessie sat up straight and turned her head toward the door, expecting to see Robert. But no one was there. Frowning in confusion, she rose from her chair…and was immediately grappled from behind by a man she knew instantly.

Simon .

Oh God, no! The smell of brandy and his cologne assailed her senses as he roughly hauled her against his chest, his arm like a band of steel about her neck, crushing the breath from her.

A scream rose in her throat, but Simon's hand smothered her mouth and nose, stifling all sound.

"Ah, sweet Jezebel." Simon's breath was hot and foul in her ear. "I've been waiting too long for this moment."

Blazing, white-hot anger speared through Jessie, lending her strength. She struggled, legs kicking, hands grasping at the arm across her neck, but it was all for naught. The brute dragged her inexorably backward toward the bed as if she were only a rag doll. A strangled sob caught in her throat as her bodice ripped and a rain of pearls pattered across the floor. With renewed vigor, she twisted wildly and clawed at the hand covering her face.

Simon hissed as she drew blood. "Bitch," he cursed as he flung her face down on the end of the bed, roughly pushing her head down into the coverlet whilst his other hand gripped her throat. "I was prepared to be gentle with you, but it seems you like it rough."

Jessie couldn't breathe. This could not be happening. Any minute now, Robert would come in the door and stop this. But now Simon was pushing up her skirts…

No, no, no . She had to free herself. She had to. Jessie thrashed again and managed to turn her head to the side. And screamed.

"Shut your mouth." Simon clamped his hand over her face again, abruptly cutting off her cry. She jerked and when his hand slipped, she bit into his flesh as hard as she could. She'd do anything to make him stop what he was trying to do.

Simon released her, shouting a string of oaths. As his weight shifted, Jessie rolled to the side and instinctively reached for something to use as a weapon. Her hand came into contact with the pitcher on the nearby washstand. She grabbed it and swung…