Chapter 25

I t was a quarter to midnight when Robert finally bid his father a warm goodnight. After the rest of the guests had departed and Jessie and his stepmother had retired, the earl had suggested the two of them share a wee dram for old time's sake in his study before turning in.

Impatient as Robert was to join Jessie in her room, he couldn't deny his father this one simple request, not after all he'd done for him since his return. Besides, to ensure a degree of discretion, he calculated the time it would take to share a whisky and some quiet conversation would be a sufficient interval for Jessie's maid to have finished attending her mistress before he too ventured upstairs.

All was silent in the house apart from the crackling of the logs in the grate as Robert bided his time before the study fire, watching another ten minutes tick by on the mantel clock. He'd just finished off the last of his whisky—the same rich golden brown as Jessie's eyes—when a scream rent the air.

Jessie's scream.

Christ. Robert dropped his glass and sprinted from the library toward the stairs. What in God's name could be happening? Panic searing through his chest, he took the stairs two at a time. He could have sworn her scream had come from the first floor, quite possibly her bedchamber. As he reached her door, he heard a man cursing violently, and then a crash.

"Jessie," Robert cried, then cursed when he discovered her bedchamber door was locked. He took a step back and aimed an explosive kick just below the handle. The door burst open to reveal a scene of nightmarish pandemonium.

Her hair a disheveled mess, her gown torn, Jessie stood by the bed clutching the handle of a broken pitcher. At her feet sprawled Simon, wig askew, his face and one hand bleeding, shards of china and pearls from Jessie's broken necklace strewn about him.

"The bitch bit me then bashed me with the bloody pitcher," he moaned.

With a roar, Robert lunged at Simon, hauled him to his feet, then threw him up against the wall so hard his brother's teeth rattled. It took every ounce of Robert's restraint to stop himself from pounding Simon to pieces right then and there. "How dare you! How the hell did you get in here?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

Simon, bastard that he was, smirked. "Through the front door, of course. I thought I was invited to the party."

"You will pay for this," Robert ground out. "This is unforgiveable. I demand satisfaction."

Simon sneered. "My pleasure. Shall we say short swords, tomorrow at first light in Holyrood Park, at the common between Dunsapie Hill and Arthur's Seat?"

"Agreed." Robert stepped back abruptly and thrust Simon away from him, toward the splintered door. "Now get out, before I slay you like a dog right here and now."

Simon stumbled back into the hall just as MacGowan and Gordon appeared.

Wiping blood from a long shallow cut across his brow, his damned half-brother bowed to Robert, a derisive smile twisting his features. "Until tomorrow then, dear brother. Seven sharp, if you'll pardon the pun. I look forward to the opportunity to skewer you with my sword."

"See that my brother leaves, gentlemen. Take his keys, then lock and bolt all the doors," ordered Robert.

MacGowan and Gordon, both white-faced and grim, nodded their assent and escorted Simon away.

Robert turned his attention to Jessie who'd remained motionless by the end of the bed, her fingers still clutching the pitcher handle. She stared at the floor, trembling.

He approached her slowly, carefully. "Jessie lass," he murmured gently.

She raised her ashen face to his. Tears misted her eyes. "He…he broke your pearl necklace, Robert," she whispered. She took a great shuddering breath and seemed to realize she was still holding the pitcher handle. With a grimace, she tossed it onto the floor with the other shards, then half-stepped, half-staggered toward him.

Robert's arms immediately came up around her, cradling her as she buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking as she gave herself up to tears. Running his hand up and down her slender back, he murmured soothing words into her hair. All the while, anger shook him to his very bones. He'd already noticed bruises about Jessie's neck. He dreaded to think what other injuries had been inflicted.

Oh yes, Simon would pay dearly for this outrage.

When Jessie at last raised her head, he gently brushed away the remaining tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "Jessie, mo ghaoil , it doesn't matter about the necklace," he whispered, holding her gaze, mentally preparing himself for the worst with his next question. His precious, precious lass. "What I need to know is—as difficult as it may be for you to tell me—how…how much did Simon hurt you?"

Jessie's eyes grew wide when she realized what he was asking, and cold dread froze his blood. But then, thank the Lord, she smiled shakily. "Aside from a few bruises, I'm all right, Robert. Unlike yer brother, I'm verra pleased to say. It's true that I bit his hand and hit him with the pitcher, though. It was the only way I could get him off me?—"

"Thank God, Jessie." Robert drew her into his arms again and kissed her forehead. "You fought bravely, my love."

Inwardly he vowed, And I promise you that come tomorrow, you will never have to worry about my cur of a brother again.

As if hearing Robert's thoughts, the hall clock portentously began to herald the hour of midnight. The duel was no longer tomorrow. It was today.

As the last of the chimes ceased, Gordon appeared in the doorway again. A wide-eyed Alison and grim-faced Mrs. Bowie hovered behind him, the cook bearing a tray of tea and scones.

"Forgive my presumption, milord," Gordon began, his gaze fixed discreetly on a point somewhere on the other side of the room. "I thought perhaps Miss Munroe would like some…assistance."

Robert reluctantly released Jessie from his embrace, but continued to hold her close, his arm about her waist. "You are quite right, Gordon." He turned to the female servants and addressed them in turn. "Alison, please find some suitable night attire for Miss Munroe and take it to my suite, along with a basin of warm water and some linen bandages. Mrs. Bowie, I thank you—please take the tray to my sitting room." He didn't much care what the servants thought about the fact Jessie would be installed in his rooms. The whole evening had ended in disaster. The servants' sensibilities were the least of his concerns.

He returned his attention to the butler. "How fares the rest of the household, Gordon?" No doubt others—including his father—had heard Jessie's scream and the ensuing commotion.

Gordon was succinct in his appraisal. "All is secure downstairs, milord. MacGowan has explained the situation to his lordship. Lord Strathburn kindly requests that you speak to him when ye have the opportunity. Her ladyship hasna stirred from her rooms. The other servants havena been told anything, other than to mind their own business."

"Well done, Gordon. I'd also like a horse to be readied and brought round to the front of the house." Robert needed to visit Leith Docks to ask Drummond to be his second for the duel.

"Verra well, milord. I'll send word to the stables in the mews."

Once Gordon had departed, Robert drew Jessie closer and gently tilted her chin upward so he could gain her attention. During his exchange with the servants, she'd remained mute and strangely still. She was clearly in shock.

"Jessie lass," he said softly, nothing but relieved when she met his gaze. "I'm going to carry you upstairs to my sitting room." He'd noticed that her feet were covered only with silk stockings when she'd stepped toward him, and he didn't want her cutting her feet on all the shards of broken china.

Without hesitation, Jessie reached for him, and he swung her up into his arms. He kissed her temple, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat. Her complete trust in him meant so much.

His suite lay on the second floor, occupying the north-eastern corner of the house. As Robert carried her into his sitting room, he was pleased to see a fire burning brightly in the grate and that Mrs. Bowie had laid out the tea and scones on a low table on the hearthrug. Robert gently eased Jessie into a leather chair by the fire, then, ignoring the well-intentioned pot of tea, went to a sideboard and poured a tumbler of whisky. Returning to the fireside, he pulled up a low footstool and sat in front of her, offering her the glass. "This will ease the trembling, my love."

Jessie dutifully took a few sips of the strong liquor, coughing a little, but it seemed to revive her. Almost straightaway she seemed less disconnected from her surroundings…and from him. She gave him a small smile, a glimmer of golden warmth returning to her brown eyes. "This is no' how I envisaged our evening would end."

Relieved to see her spirit returning, Robert smiled back. "No. It certainly hasn't progressed the way I had anticipated either." He reached out slowly, and tenderly pushed a tangled lock of hair away from her face. "Jessie, would you mind if I let the rest of your hair down?" he asked, praying she wouldn't reject his touch. If she did, he would understand. "I must confess I have been dying to do just that, all evening."

"Of course," she said softly, then blushed as she put a hand to the collapsed arrangement of curls. "I know I must look a fright."

"Never. You could never look anything but beautiful to me." Robert leaned forward so he could more easily loosen the remaining pins, and in no time at all, her red-gold curls were cascading about her shoulders. He sat back again on the stool and forced his hands to stillness. His fingers were itching to ease the ruined dress from her shoulders so she could don something else—even one of his robes—but he would not push her for further intimacies after what she'd been through.

Besides, he had other matters to take care of.

He smiled ruefully. "As much as I would like to stay with you a while longer, unfortunately, I am going to have to leave you. I need to tell my father about what has happened and… and I need to make some arrangements for first thing in the morning."

Jessie frowned in confusion. Arrangements?

With a sense of mounting horror, she suddenly recalled Robert's exchange with Simon before he'd been forcibly ousted from her room. The memory returned to her in full force, as if a veil had been ripped away from her eyes.

Her heart seizing, she reached forward and gripped Robert's hands. "Ye're making arrangements for the duel," she breathed. "Please do no' do this, Robert. I ken what Simon did was wrong, unforgiveable. But dinna risk yer life or yer freedom, defending my honor. After all ye've been through, I dinna want ye to throw it all away because of me."

Although it was customary for gentlemen to resolve disputes of honor in this way, Jessie also knew that dueling was heavily frowned upon by the law. If Robert were caught engaging in an essentially illegal act whilst on probation—and indeed, if Simon were killed—there was no doubt in her mind that the consequences for him would be dire. There would be no escaping an execution this time.

Robert raised her hands to his lips and gently kissed her fingertips, his blue eyes dark with emotion. "You are worth immeasurably more to me than my own life, mo chridhe . Defending your honor is definitely worth the risk. Besides"—the expression in his eyes suddenly changed, grew bleak, and he ran a hand down his face—"I feel partly responsible for what Simon has done."

Jessie's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "Whatever do ye mean? Ye ken Simon has been looking for an opportunity to have me, ever since I met him. Ye canna blame yerself for what that monster tried to do tonight."

Robert stood abruptly and paced to the sideboard. He poured himself a whisky and took a swig before he turned back to face her. The pull of his skin across his cheekbones and the rigid lines bracketing his mouth clearly marked his anguish. "Earlier this afternoon, I paid Simon a visit at his lodgings, and made it clear he would not be able to continue to leach off the family's fortune. I also warned him not to go anywhere near you again. I think I goaded him into taking rash action. If I had known that he would go so far…to hurt you to get back at me?—"

He broke off and ran a hand through his dark hair. A stark look of self-recrimination clouded his eyes.

Jessie rose from her seat and approached him. "Do no' dare blame yerself, Robert Grant," she chided gently. "The only ones to blame for what happened tonight are yer brother…and Lady Strathburn."

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think my stepmother is involved in tonight's events?" he asked. "I know I said earlier that she would possibly go to great lengths to maintain the upper hand in this family. But to orchestrate a direct attack upon you?" He shook his head. "Surely she wouldn't sink so low."

Jessie frowned. "I dinna know exactly, it's just a suspicion I have." She crossed to the fireplace, head bent, chin resting on her clasped hands as she contemplated how best to put her thoughts into words. The fire crackled and a log fell, shooting sparks toward the hem of her gown, but she didn't care. Turning back to Robert, she began to explain. "Earlier this afternoon, Lady Strathburn made it abundantly clear that she does no' want me to become her daughter-in-law. I have no proof, but I strongly suspect this attack was designed, in part, to get rid of me. Perhaps she thought if Simon…if Simon ‘ruined' me, so to speak, ye would no' wish to marry me."

Robert put down his glass and strode over to her. He tilted her chin up, capturing her gaze. "That would never be the case," he said in a velvet-soft voice. "Nothing could stop me from marrying you." He trailed a fingertip along her jaw and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "If that was my stepmother's plan," he continued, his voice developing an edge of steel to it, "she has not planned well. All she's done is guaranteed that her son will be run through with my sword."

Before Jessie could even draw a breath to reply, Robert pulled her into his arms. With a shaky sigh, she gave into the impulse to rest her head against his broad chest, to breathe in the now familiar scent of his soap and the heady essence of the man himself. She could hear his strong and steady heartbeat thudding beneath her ear, feel the rise and fall of his ribcage as he drew breath. What a wonderful, wonderful man he is.

She closed her eyes, wishing she could stay like this forever, but even though her body began to relax, her thoughts were still awhirl. There was something about this whole turn of events that made her extremely uneasy. This was not just about her. It was almost as if the attack on her tonight had been engineered to provoke Robert.

She sensed treachery.

Aye. That was it. Treachery. Icy tendrils of fear curled around Jessie's spine.

She straightened and gripped Robert's arm. She had to make him see that he was in danger. "I verra much think that all this business has more to do with getting rid of ye, Robert, rather than me. The more I consider everything that's happened, the more I'm convinced that ye're being manipulated into doing something that will bring about yer own downfall."

Sharp interest sparked in Robert's eyes. "I'm listening."

Jessie took a deep breath and prayed Robert would believe her. His very life might depend upon it. "We know yer stepmother has always wished Simon to be the next Earl of Strathburn," she said carefully. "This afternoon, I rather got the impression that she was counting on ye being executed…but then ye were released, foiling her grand plans."

"I agree," said Robert. "But go on. I interrupted you."

Jessie nodded, relieved he was prepared to hear her out. "I may be wrong, but I think yer stepmother had a hand in arranging Simon's attack, knowing that you would undoubtedly challenge yer brother to a duel. She would know the conditions of your parole. That ye need to stay out of trouble. If you violate those conditions—and ye're caught dueling—ye could be arrested and imprisoned again. Or worse. Aside from that, I also find it more than a wee bit passing strange that Simon seemed so ready to agree to a duel in the first place. I suspect that half the Scots Guard stationed in Edinburgh Castle will be waiting for ye in Holyrood Park come dawn. Although I dinna possess the slightest bit of evidence, I think yer stepmother and brother have set a neat trap to get rid of at least one of us, if not both, in one fell swoop."

Robert ran a hand down his face. Jessie was right. There was a ring of truth to what she'd just suggested. Indeed, the more he thought about it, he really couldn't fault her logic.

It was true that his stepmother had always wanted to supplant him in favor of Simon becoming the next earl. Caroline was more than capable of plotting tonight's attack, and Simon would be more than willing to participate in a plan that involved ruining both him and Jessie at the same time.

It also made perfect sense that Simon would only agree to a duel if he thought there was no real chance he would get hurt—which would undoubtedly be the case, if there were soldiers lying in wait.

Simon was a bully and a coward at heart. He was more likely to turn tail and run than face a swordfight he had no chance of winning. Yet Simon had been the one to suggest the time and place for the duel without hesitation.

It was more than passing strange as Jessie had suggested.

But his brother must face the consequences of his actions. Of that there was no doubt.

Robert let out a long sigh. "Jessie, I think you might be right. But I can't let this go, despite the danger. After what Simon has done, he needs to be taught a lesson."

Jessie shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. "Please do no' do this. I couldna forgive myself if something happened."

Her bottom lip trembled and as tears welled, Robert knew without a shadow of a doubt that Jessie cared for him; perhaps even loved him. While his heart clenched to see her so desperate with worry, his blood sang.

"I will be all right, my love," he whispered, brushing her tears away with gentle fingers. "Trust me. I have a plan."

"But—"

She got no further. Why use words when he could show Jessie how much he cared for her?

Capturing Jessie's beautiful face in his hands, Robert kissed her with sincere and tender reverence, his mouth gently claiming her. Loving her .

She sank into him, immediately pressing her soft curves against his body, reaching up to clasp her hands around his neck to draw him yet closer. His mouth firmed against hers, his tongue teasing the full curve of her lower lip, seeking access to the velvet sweetness within.

Parting her lips on a sigh, she surrendered completely as Robert slowly deepened the kiss. Her tongue danced with his, tasting and teasing and exploring him just as thoroughly as he tasted her.

God in heaven, his Jessie was as ardent as she was fearless. Her encounter with Simon obviously hadn't reduced her enjoyment of kissing. As for her enjoyment of anything else of an intimate physical nature, when the time came, Robert vowed he would be patience itself. She would dictate the pace of their loving. He would follow her lead.

But now was not the right moment to take things further. He had a matter of honor to attend to.

With a groan of frustration, Robert broke the kiss, reluctantly dragging his mouth away. He looked down at Jessie, watching her eyes flutter open before her gaze reconnected with his. A slight smile curved her lips. "I know you must be exhausted, and will no doubt want to retire for the night, but would you mind if I wake you on my return?" he asked, relieved some of her calm had been restored. "I still need to see my father. And I need to pay a quick visit to Drummond at the docks…to put a few things in place for the coming morning. But then… At least I was hoping…" He drew a breath and stroked her cheek. "I'd very much like to continue this particular conversation… But only if you want that too…"

"Of course," Jessie murmured. "I would like that verra much. I would do anything for you."

Robert's mouth slanted into a smile. "Hopefully I won't be longer than an hour or so. I'll ring for Alison to assist you while I'm gone." As he took his leave, he consoled himself with the thought that the sooner he made the necessary arrangements for dealing with Simon, the sooner he would be back to show Jessie exactly how much she meant to him.

How much he loved her .