Claimed By The Laird Part 19

Lucas laughed. "You may call me whatever you wish."

"Don't tempt me," Christina said.

"As I said, I don't use the t.i.tle." Lucas turned her around to face him, his hands warm on the chilled skin of her bare arms. His gaze slid down her body and Christina suddenly realized that the fine material was plastered against her, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. She saw a muscle flicker in his jaw. His gaze came up to hers, fierce and hot, sending a deep pulse of need beating through her. Then he turned abruptly away.

"You had better take the rest off yourself," he said shortly. He strode across the room, returning with the robe that Annie had laid out for her by the fire.

Christina's fingers shook as she tugged on the stubborn laces of the chemise. Lucas had gone back to the fireside and was adding another log to the grate, his back ostentatiously turned to her.

"How is it that you are a prince if you are illegitimate?" she asked as she struggled to peel off her chemise and petticoats.

"My grandfather asked the Czarina Catherine to legitimize me." Lucas's tone was level but she wondered how many hurts and humiliations it concealed. "He did it for my mother's sake. He thought it would make matters better."

"And did it?"

"No." There was dark humor in his voice now. "It made matters much worse. I was still a b.a.s.t.a.r.d by birth and most people would not let me forget it." He shifted, stretched. "Once I was big enough to fight, though, the taunting stopped soon enough."

It would not have been as easy as that, Christina thought. There would have been a hundred snubs and slights, a thousand. Not only to him but also to his mother. Those were the insults that would have proved impossible to ignore.

Lucas turned his head. His dark gaze snagged with hers and Christina felt her heartbeat increase. She felt so vulnerable beneath that gaze. It felt as though some small, fragile link in the chain had been reforged between them, a bond that frightened her and that she did not want.

"Get into bed," Lucas said. "You need to rest."

She had wanted him to leave but now, suddenly, she did not want to be alone and she was too tired to question why. She smothered a yawn as she swung her legs under the covers and lay back against the pillows.

"Tell me about Peter," she said. "Tell me about your brother."

Lucas's expression softened. He came back to the bed and she felt the mattress sink a little as he sat down beside her. Her eyelids were already closing. Lucas started to tell her about his mother's marriage to Prince Paul Galitsin, about Peter's birth, their childhood in the Galitsin Palace, vivid details of his life before the death of his mother had seen him thrown from his stepfather's house and sent him over a thousand miles across the world to Scotland. His words were soft and mingled with the stroke of his fingers against her cheek or her hair; her head swam with tiredness and the beginnings of fever. She felt hot and thirsty. Lucas brought her a gla.s.s of water and held it gently to her lips. Then his voice resumed again, with tales of life on the streets of Edinburgh, and his voice mingled with the sound of the sea and the wind in the pines outside, and she slept.

She woke some time later, still hot and confused, with dreams and reality merging. She was running through the loch, the water dragging at her skirts, Eyre reaching to grab a handful of the material of her cloak. She felt darkness and panic. She sank like a stone and felt the waters close over her head. She could not see, could not breathe.

She opened her eyes. The lamp had burned down low and everything was in shadow. For a moment she was confused, then she recognized the familiar contours of the room: the fireplace, the chest of drawers by the window, the high-backed chair over which was draped a shapeless pile of clothes. Relief chased through her that she was safe. Her racing heartbeat slowed and instantly she became aware of other things that the fear had blotted out: the warmth and rea.s.surance of another body beside hers, the strength of the arms that held her.

Lucas.

She was so shocked that she tried to sit up. Immediately her head swam and she lay back down, letting the pain ease to a dull ache, allowing Lucas to draw her closer to his side as he murmured something in his sleep and pressed his lips to her hair in a fleeting kiss.

Her memory came flooding back.

She felt warmth steal through her as she remembered how Lucas had saved her life, and turning her head slightly, she breathed in the scent of his skin. It felt wonderful, so familiar and yet so exciting. She ran a hand gently over his hair. It felt soft and silky beneath her fingertips. Lucas stirred a little but did not wake. For a moment she thought that her heart would break with such a poignant mixture of love and pain. She had wanted to lie with Lucas like this. Before their quarrel, she had ached to be able to openly share such love and intimacy. Now she did not know what to do, what to think. He had hurt her and misled her, yet her instinct still whispered that he was an honorable man, that everything he had done had been for his brother's sake, that beneath the lies and the deception she knew him still, knew him in her heart.

Reason told her that that was sentimental nonsense. She had trusted Lucas and he had broken her heart. She would have been prepared to marry Lucas Ross, and no barriers of status or age or wealth would have stood in her way. She did not know this man, Lucas Black, Prince Lucas Orlov, laird of the Black Strath.

Lethargy stole through her, weighing her down. She did not know which to believe, head or heart. She lay awake for a while. She wondered if Eyre really did know her ident.i.ty and if he would come in the morning to see if she was dead or to arrest her for smuggling. She wondered who had betrayed her. Gradually, though, the rea.s.surance of having Lucas beside her and the steady sound of his breathing helped her to relax. She was warm and she was safe. Anything else could wait until the morning.

LUCAS WOKE WITH the distinct impression that something was wrong. There was a rattle of bed curtains and then Annie's cheerful voice. "Good morning, my lady. I thought you might like your breakfast up here and a bit of peace and quiet to start the day before..." The words ended in a shriek, hastily suppressed. Rolling over in the bed, Lucas saw that the maid was standing staring at him, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other over her heart in the time-honored gesture of shock. Thank G.o.d he still had his clothes on, or her shock would have been larger and so would her scream. And thank G.o.d she had already put down the breakfast tray.

"Ma'am..." Annie said. "Mr. Ross!"

Lucas heard a sudden, urgent rustle of bedclothes beside him as Christina woke. Her gasp echoed Annie's. He put out a hand and grabbed her, knowing she was about to bolt.

"Don't leave," he said pleasantly. "It is your room."

Christina was staring at him with eyes full of sleep and confusion. She looked soft and tumbled and completely adorable to him, her face pale and her blue eyes huge.

"What-" she began.

"Please don't ask me what I am doing here," Lucas said. "Unless you have lost your memory."

Color came into her face and her gaze snapped awake. She looked like the starchy duke's daughter now, except that behind the haughty facade he was certain he saw a glimpse of fear. She had been vulnerable the previous night. She had allowed him to help her. Now she was regretting it, but he had no intention of letting her step away from the intimacy between them.

"How are you?" he said. "Has the fever gone?"

"I am very well, thank you," Christina said shortly.

"Ma'am," Annie said again, almost beseeching, looking from one of them to the other. "Oh, ma'am!"

"It's all right, Annie," Christina said, reaching for the robe Lucas had pa.s.sed her the previous night, a practical affair of figured silk. "Mr. Ross is-"

"Lady Christina's betrothed," Lucas finished for her.

"I was going to say leaving," Christina said.

"That isn't going to solve anything," Lucas said. He looked into her stormy blue eyes. Again he saw that flicker of vulnerability behind the confusion.

"Christina," he said fiercely, "I am not going to hide away. I am not going to pretend that nothing happened between us. We are betrothed and I am not going to leave you."

Again their gazes clashed. "You have to go," Christina said, but he could hear the fear in her voice now.

"Stop pushing me away," Lucas said harshly. "Yes, I misled you and I am sorry for that, but you are using it as an excuse to run from me. You trusted me before and you can trust me again. I swear it."

"Begging your pardon, milady, Mr. Ross..." Annie's nervous voice cut straight across the tightly spun tension. She had drawn back the curtain, letting bright sunlight flood into the tower room. It brought with it the sound of carriage wheels rumbling over the gravel, doors slamming, voices.

"Your sisters are here, milady." Annie shot Christina a nervous glance out of the corner of her eye.

This time Christina did leap from the bed. Lucas caught a glimpse of creamy skin as she grabbed the robe close, knotting it about her waist with hands that shook. "They aren't supposed to be here until later this afternoon!" She was looking seriously upset now. "How can I..." Her gaze skittered to Lucas, then veered away. "Lucas, you really must go." She made shooing motions with her hands. "We'll discuss everything later. If you go down the tower stairs-"

"I'll appear directly in front of your sisters coming out of the secret stair that leads to your bedroom," Lucas said. "Yes, that would work."

Christina pressed her lips together in a thin line at his sarcasm. "Then take the main stairs," she said.

"And risk Galloway thinking I'm a thief creeping out with the family silver? No, thank you." Lucas stood up, reaching for his jacket. He might have wished for something a little more sartorially elegant when making his debut in front of Christina's family, but it could not be helped.

"Accept it, Christina," he said. "I am your fiance, and I am going downstairs with you to meet your sisters, and I will not skulk around pretending that I am just the gardener."

Christina gave a sharp sigh. "Annie," she said, ignoring him, "please would you bring me my cream muslin with the crimson ribbons?" She turned to Lucas. "I am sure you are acquainted with the correct etiquette on these occasions, Your Highness. It is customary for a gentleman to leave a lady's chamber whilst she dresses."

"Highness?" Annie squeaked, looking as though she was about to faint. "Oh, my lord!"

"No," Christina said, "a prince. The cream muslin?"

"Yes, ma'am, right away." Annie threw Lucas a dubious glance over her shoulder as she scurried toward the chest of drawers. "A prince!" he heard her say under her breath. "Only fancy!"

"I'll wait for you in the dressing room," Lucas said. "And, Christina-" He touched her wrist lightly. "We are engaged."

"To save my reputation," Christina said frostily. "Yes, I do understand that we must maintain that pretense in public, at least for a while."

"To h.e.l.l with that," Lucas said. He bent his head and took her mouth in a hard kiss, allowing his feelings to show, the frustration and the desire and the need. He felt her hesitate, and then she kissed him back with the same turbulent pa.s.sion. He could sense anger in her. She nipped at his lower lip and it felt as though she wanted to hurt him, but there was a longing there, too. He kissed her deeper, more fiercely, and she responded with a fire that drove all other thoughts from his mind. He had his hands on her shoulders, about to push her back on the bed and tear the robe from her when Annie's loud clearing of the throat recalled him to sanity. Breathing hard, he released Christina and stepped back. Her eyes were dark and hazy and her lips were swollen from his kisses, and he felt such a violent pang of l.u.s.t that he swore under his breath.

Annie closed the door of the dressing room pointedly behind him, and Lucas threw himself down into an armchair to wait. He could hear the low voices of Christina and the maid through the door but could not distinguish the words. He sat back with a long sigh, feeling the tension wound up tight inside him. He was going to use every means possible to win Christina back. He would fight for what he wanted. He had not been sure that he would get a second chance. Now that he had one, he was not going to waste it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

CHRISTINA LED THE way downstairs, very conscious of Lucas's tall figure at her side. She had not wanted to accept his support. She had wanted to push him as far away from her as possible, because she was afraid. But Lucas had refused to go.

She had woken earlier that morning and found herself lying in his arms with her head against his chest and his heartbeat strong and steady in her ear. It had felt so good, so right, despite everything that had happened. She was so unaccustomed to being cherished. She wanted to open her heart to the sensation, to give herself up to it, and that was why she was afraid. To open her heart to Lucas again, to risk loving him, to give him her trust, was too dangerous. Twice now she had seen her world torn apart. It was better, safer, not to take the risk again. Yet even so she felt as though she was fighting a battle she might lose. She could still feel Lucas's kiss and the urgency of his hands on her body. She shivered with longing.

There was mayhem in the hall. Gertrude was barking orders at a hara.s.sed Galloway whilst Thomas the footman ran ineffectually back and forth, confusing everyone's luggage. Angus was doing nothing, as usual. Christina's sisters Lucy and Mairi were talking to the duke, who had evidently been disturbed from his studies by all the noise. Richard Bryson was speaking urgently to Allegra, whose face was pale and set.

"Tina!" Mairi spun around when she saw her sister. She grabbed Christina and pulled her in for a hug against her enormous pregnant belly. "There you are! We had almost given you up!"

"Where have you been, Christina?" Gertrude demanded. "There are a hundred and one things that need doing! I cannot be expected to organize this all on my own! How are you, Mairi," she added, eyeing Mairi's b.u.mp with disapproval. "I cannot imagine why you thought it appropriate to travel in your state of health. Anything might have happened!"

"It's lovely to see you, too, Gertrude," Mairi said. "You seem gloriously the same as ever."

Her gaze had moved to Lucas, and she was staring. So was Lucy, who had come over to greet her. Christina knew that plenty of women stared when they saw Lucas, but she could see that there was a different quality to her sisters' interest. Mairi looked surprised, Lucy interested.

"Ah, Ross!" Gertrude pounced before anyone could speak. "Help Thomas with the luggage, would you?" Her eye fell on Richard Bryson. "What is he doing here?" She sped away.

"Well!" Mairi said. "I know that you are very democratic in your beliefs, Prince Lucas, but I think that Gertrude asks a little too much of her guests."

"Good morning, Lady Mairi," Lucas said, smiling as he took her hand. "It's a pleasure to see you again." He turned to Lucy. "Good morning, ma'am. You must be Lady Methven. I apologize for the lack of a formal introduction."

"This is Prince Lucas Orlov," Christina said tightly, "or Mr. Black as he would prefer to be known." She absorbed another pang of shock as she realized that Mairi and Lucas knew each other. That must mean that Jack and Lucas must be acquaintances, or perhaps even friends. She did not know what to think about that except perhaps it was a close-run thing which of them she would like to shoot first.

"How do you do?" Lucy said, smiling charmingly. "Robert has mentioned your name. He and Jack are joining us later," she added. "They will be delighted to see you again."

"Robert, as well!" Christina burst out. "How marvelous! The entire family knows Lucas except for me!"

"I think you know me fairly well," Lucas said, with a smile that brought the color up into her face.

"Lady Christina and I are betrothed," he added. "I hope you will wish us happy."

Mairi gave a little whoop. "Christina, darling!" Her eyes were bright with interest and speculation. "You are a dark horse. I didn't know you even knew Lucas!"

"I'm not at all sure I do," Christina said drily.

"Did he say betrothed?" Gertrude's voice cut across them all like a knife through b.u.t.ter. She rushed back across the hall, eyes bright with the excitement of scandal. "Did I understand you right?" she demanded of Mairi. "Christina is betrothed to the gardener?"

"Are you feeling quite the thing, Gertrude?" Mairi asked. "Lucas may choose not to use his t.i.tle, but he is scarcely a gardener. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Probably the fact that Lucas has been tending the garden here at Kilmory for the past six weeks," Christina said.

"My name is Lucas Black, Lady Semple," Lucas said, "and I am-"

"A Russian prince," Mairi said mischievously. "So you need not worry that the family escutcheon will be blotted, Gertrude. Prince Lucas outranks us all."

"Russian?" Gertrude said, looking down her nose as though Lucas had announced he was something appalling. "A prince may be all very well, but not if it is a foreign t.i.tle. That does not count."

"I don't think Lucas needs to account to you for his antecedents, Gertrude," Christina said. She had spoken without thinking, rushing to Lucas's defense, her mind already jumping ahead to the hurtful vulgarities Gertrude would utter once she knew Lucas was illegitimate. She saw him looking at her. The warmth had deepened in his eyes, and he took her hand in his again.

"Thank you," he said, nothing more than that, but his touch and his smile made her feel hot.

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" the duke said plaintively. "A Russian prince? In my garden?"

"I apologize for the masquerade, Your Grace," Lucas said easily. "I wished to be incognito for a while and it seemed the easiest way. I hope I did no lasting damage to your magnificent roses."

"Delighted, of course, old fellow," the duke said vaguely. Christina wondered with irritation whether her father was so wrapped up in his studies that he was not really paying attention. "You certainly worked wonders in my grotto," the duke continued. "The benefits of a cla.s.sical education, what? Eton and Oxford, was it?"

"No, Your Grace," Lucas said. "The back streets of Edinburgh. The fact that I now have a substantial business empire I ascribe to all I learned in that period."

Christina noted that Gertrude's lips were now so pursed she looked like a tightly pulled reticule drawstring. "Trade!" She sniffed. "Well, it may do very well for Christina at her age, but nothing other than an English duke will do for my Allegra."

Allegra stepped forward. Her face was set. She looked pale but determined. She had Richard Bryson by the hand.

"Actually, Mama," she said, "I am already married. Richard-" she pulled Bryson forward "-is my husband."

There was a thud as Gertrude fainted.

"MY DEAR OLD FELLOW," the duke said to Lucas. "What can I do for you? Come to ask my permission to wed my daughter, what?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Lucas said. He had a great deal more than that he wanted to ask Christina's father, but he thought he would start with the easy questions first. They were in the ducal library, supplied with plenty of coffee by a sullen Alice Parmenter. Jack Rutherford and his brother-in-law, Robert Methven, were present, as well. They had arrived in the early afternoon; Jack had at first seemed inclined to punch Lucas when he had discovered what had happened with Christina, but fortunately Robert had a cooler head and talked him round. Lucas had then told his future brothers-in-law of his suspicions that the duke had been involved in Peter's death, and they had agreed to support him in a confrontation. Lucas wanted no further deceit or secrets. The matter had to be resolved now.

"Well," the duke said, his gaze riveted on his coffee cup, "it's all rather difficult, don't you see? I'm not at all sure I can give permission."

"I beg your pardon, sir?" Lucas, whose mind had jumped ahead to how he might phrase his questions about Peter, was brought up short.