Maclean Curse - To Scotland With Love Part 12

She grimaced. Though the girl looked angelic with her golden curls and long lashes, she snored like an old bull-which didn't augur well for peaceful sleep tonight.

Imagining Gregor's expression if he heard the delicate Miss Higganbotham's snores, Venetia had to grin. Gregor had the same appreciation for the ridiculous as she did; it was one of the many things they shared.

It was good to remember that, she thought. Lately, she and Gregor had been at such loggerheads.

She sighed a bit at the thought. A deep restlessness stirred her, and she realized that she hadn't been outside all day. No wonder she was feeling out of sorts.

Glancing at the snoring girl in her bed, Venetia changed from her slippers to her half-boots, collected her pelisse, and left, closing the door softly behind her.

Downstairs, she heard the squire and Ravenscroft speaking in the common room. She felt sorry that Ravenscroft was forced to listen to the squire's pedantry, but not enough to become a victim herself. She b.u.t.toned her pelisse to her throat, pulling the collar up about her ears, then stepped outside.

The snow sparkled fresh and clean, and the air was still frosty, though not as cold as the day they' d arrived. She lifted her skirts to clear the top of the snow and made her way to the stables on the snow-packed path, smiling in the crisp air.

The stables were housed in a large barn that held ten stalls and a decent tack room in the back, all heated with a surprisingly efficient woodstove that was tucked safely away from the stores of hay. Gregor 's man, Chambers, was there, as was Mr. Treadwell's groom. Venetia visited each animal, Chambers narrating its ills and treatments. He'd already cleaned most of the injuries and applied an effective poultice to those in need.

After making certain the grooms had the supplies they needed to continue their work, she stepped back outside. Smiling a little, she lifted her face to the bright sunlight and closed her eyes, letting the quiet fill her with peace.

"Don't stand there."

Her peace fled. She opened her eyes and found Gregor standing before her. He was dressed in his multicaped coat, a red m.u.f.fler around his neck, his hat casting a shadow over his eyes.

"Why shouldn't I stand here?"

He took her hand and pulled her forward, his lips curved into a smile. "Look down."

In a line under the deep eaves around the stables was a graveyard of icicles, each one stabbed deep into the snow, a line of wetness connecting them. "Oh."

"They've been falling off all morning." He glanced up. "There aren't many left, but I wouldn't stand beneath the overhang for long."

"I shall pay more attention," she said lightly, noting how the bright sun made his green eyes lighter. He truly had beautiful eyes, with long lashes that hid his expression even as they emphasized it.

Just before he'd kissed her last night, his eyes had darkened in color. A shiver traced through her, and suddenly, every moment of the kiss flashed through her mind, including the way her body had heated and- Goodness! What was wrong with her? She curled her gloved fingers into the palms of her hands to force the thoughts away.

A puzzled look crossed Gregor's face. "What is it?"

She shook her head. "I was merely thinking about the dangerous icicles and glad you were here to warn me."

He half smiled. "I have come to the belated conclusion that the only danger you need to be warned about is yourself." He glanced past her to the stables. "How are the horses?"

"Better than I had hoped. Your man, Chambers, is excellent."

"He ought to be, for what I pay him."

"Oh? How much do you pay him?"

Gregor raised his brows. "Thinking of stealing him?" "Perhaps," she said mischievously. It was an old joke of theirs, to be forever threatening to steal each other's servants. Venetia had never managed to lure any of Gregor's capable grooms or footmen away, but she'd tried, more to tease him than anything else.

His gaze lingered on her lips. "I am glad to see you're getting back to normal."

"I was never gone," she retorted sharply.

Something flickered behind his gaze, and he turned to glance at the barn. "I didn't think you'd be able to stay away from the horses for long."

"I yearn to ride," she said wistfully. The snow-covered woods around the inn seemed to beckon.

"Why don't we?"

She sighed. "I didn't pack my habit. I thought Mother was ill, and I didn't expect to have time to ride."

Gregor reached for her arm, tucking it into the crook of his. "Come, Venetia. Walk with me a bit. You weren't made to be locked inside for days on end."

She had to admit that it was beautiful outside. Plus her fur-lined pelisse and boots were keeping her snugly warm. "Very well, but not for long. Miss Higganbotham is likely to awaken in an hour or so." Venetia planned on having a talk with the young woman to discover what she could about that Henry fellow.

Gregor led her around the stables to a winding trail path that disappeared into the woods. "This goes to the river and then back to the main road. It's a picturesque path."

"You've already been here?"

"I took one of the horses out this morning to see how the roads look." Gregor stopped walking, his expression suddenly serious. "Venetia, you do realize what the arrival of the squire and his daughter means for us?"

"I shall definitely get less sleep. Miss Higganbotham snores even worse than Ravenscroft."

He choked back a laugh. "That little thing snores?" "Terribly. Whoever marries her is in for a horrid surprise."

"I daresay." Gregor pushed a branch out of the way and stepped back, allowing Venetia to precede him. "Walk carefully," he ordered. "Some places are slick."

Venetia wondered if Gregor had always been so peremptory in his manner and she simply had not noticed, or if it was something new. It was entirely possible that he'd always been so and she'd ignored it. Perhaps it was time she paid more attention.

When a large drift of snow fell from a tree and landed on the path before them, Gregor took her elbow and helped her step over the mound. "If it continues to warm like this, we may be able to leave soon."

"Providing, of course, that you don't lose your temper again."

He gave her a mock scowl. "If you would stop crossing me, I wouldn't lose anything, much less my temper."

"I haven't crossed you."

"Oh? What about an hour ago?" At her blank look, he added, "In the common room, with the squire."

"Oh, that. You made me quite angry."

"I made you angry?" Gregor appeared astonished. The trees overhead drooped heavily, the snow outlining each limb. "You were so ungracious. I could hardly turn that poor girl away; she was almost frozen to death!"

He sighed. "I was trying to protect you. Squire Higganbotham is the G.o.dson of the Duke of Richmond."

"I met the d.u.c.h.ess once. She struck me as a horrid scandalmonger."

"The worst, and the squire is not the sort of man to understand the word discretion. I spoke with him this morning, and he plans on going straight to London. It is entirely possible you will meet him at some future function."

Venetia moaned. "Where he will discover that I am not Miss West and that Ravenscroft is not my brother."

Gregor's expression was grim.

Her heart sank. "There will be no explaining it away." "No," Gregor said shortly. "Now you see why I attempted to turn them away. I thought if they only saw you a moment, we could dismiss any future recognition."

He was right. She fiddled with a b.u.t.ton on the front of her pelisse, knowing she should say something apologetic but unable to find the words.

"I was not being coldhearted."

She kept her head down. "I didn't say that."

"You thought it. I saw it in your eyes."

She peeked up at him. She had thought it. And loudly, from the dour expression on Gregor's face. Blast it, what had happened to their comfortable friendship? They had been at loggerheads since his arrival and she wasn't certain why.

Of course, he was mainly at fault; he'd been quite rude in his treatment of Ravenscroft, which had sparked her protective nature. She rather glumly wished she hadn't reacted quite so strongly and championed Ravenscroft; she was sure that had galled Gregor. But really, what else could she do when he'd practically called her a fool and worse?

She sighed. "Gregor, I don't know what's happened to us since we arrived here, but we seem out of step in some way."

His expression softened. "Perhaps we are just experiencing each other under different circ.u.mstances."

"What do you mean?"

"In the past, we've used each other's company to alleviate our boredom with life. Now, we must accomplish something together-namely, saving your reputation. That is very different from enjoying a simple canter in the park."

"That doesn't explain why you suddenly believe I've lost my common sense."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I don't think you've lost all of your common sense, just a portion of it."

She couldn't smile back. Something else had changed, too. It had changed with the kiss neither of them was willing to mention aloud. They'd been friends since childhood; she'd seen him fall from his horse and knock loose a tooth when he was nine, and he'd seen her covered in mud at age seven after she'd climbed out of a window in a disastrous attempt to avoid a dreaded dancing lesson. These events and hundreds of others had given them a protection from any sort of romantic involvement.

Venetia grimaced to think of her parents' noisy, emotional relationship. She would never make a fool of herself over something as silly as "grand pa.s.sion," if it even existed-especially not with Gregor.

She'd seen how he reacted to the heartsick women in London who'd succ.u.mbed to his devastating smile and brilliant green eyes, and she was not about to see him wince whenever she was present. She'd protected her heart by keeping a litany of his faults foremost in her mind and by chastising herself if her imagination should wander. But now, with one kiss, her layer of protection seemed to be tearing as easily as a gauze curtain.

She straightened her shoulders, pushing away her unease. This was nothing. When they returned to London, things would return to normal and they could go back to their lovely, easy relationship. All she had to do was keep this tension between them at bay until they were in better circ.u.mstances. She glanced at him through her lashes.

Unfortunately, she was still excruciatingly aware of him, and couldn't help but notice the way his cravat was simply knotted to fill the opening at his neck, his strong throat rising from there. Despite her best intentions, she found herself imagining what it would be like to trace the line of his throat with her fingertips or, even better, her lips.

The thought sent a cascade of shivers through her.

"Venetia?" His voice was warm, concerned. He leaned closer, his gaze dark as he captured one of her hands in his. "Are you cold? Perhaps we should go inside-"

"No, no! I am fine. I was just thinking about this mess." Venetia looked down at his gloved hand, which was large and well shaped. She had placed numerous cups of tea in his hands and had grasped them getting in and out of carriages without ever noticing them.

Yet suddenly they seemed so...virile. So seductive. The heat of his skin through the gloves tugged at her, and her blood leapt at the feel of that hand clasped between her own. Would their kiss feel as powerful now, when she wasn't so tired, so drained? Surely, her powerful reaction last night was merely due to- "Venetia?"

His voice seemed richer, deeper than she'd ever heard it; the soft timbre made her skin p.r.i.c.kle in the most annoying way. She looked into his eyes. She had to think of something to say to break the spell, to stop herself from leaning toward him, from seeking yet another kiss like the one she'd had before, wondering if it would taste as good, if her body would leap in response the same way.

Her hands were shaking, her knees weak, all from wondering about that embrace. Goodness, she couldn't keep thinking like this! Yet it was a lost cause. She wanted him to kiss her again, she wanted to taste him, to have him touch her, mold her to him, take her- His gaze darkened. "d.a.m.n it, don't look at me like that."

She tried to swallow. "What do you mean?" But she knew exactly what he meant; she could hide neither her excitement nor her curiosity.

His brows snapped down, and an almost savage look crossed his face. "Don't, Venetia. I am not used to resisting temptation, much less from you."

Heart pounding, Venetia ripped her gaze from his and stared down at the tips of her boots. It was madness to tempt him, to tempt this feeling, whatever it was. She'd stand there until her heart ceased pounding against her throat and her body stopped feeling as if she stood before a blazing fire.

A small voice whispered, But what if she did look up at him? What if she threw her arms around him and kissed him the way they'd kissed last night? What if it not only felt as good but even better?

Venetia fisted her hands, fighting the urge to look up and step forward...right into his arms. But that would be reckless and imprudent. Her relationship with Gregor was worth more than a mere kiss. She was in charge of herself and her feelings, and she would be utterly foolish to put their friendship at risk.

But somehow, in thinking about why she shouldn't look at Gregor, Venetia did just that.

The second their eyes met, Gregor made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a groan and swept her into his arms, pulling her hard against his chest. Instantly, warmth enveloped her. "I warned you," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and shivery. "Now, my love, you'll pay the price."

Chapter 9.

Ah, me wee la.s.sies, there's only a very few who will tell ye how things really are. Cherish those as tell ye the truth, whether or not ye wish t' hear it.

OLD WOMAN NORA FROM LOCH LOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD EVENING.

H er pulse thundering, Venetia stopped thinking and gave herself up to the kiss.

Pa.s.sion roared through her, exhilarating her like the wild dawn rides through the park she and Gregor loved. The feel of his hot mouth over hers and the pressure of his strong hands as they molded her to him spurred her to want more. Her desire flamed higher, grew wilder.

She moaned against his mouth, her body on fire. She pressed against him, restless and hot, her tongue teasing his.

She savored the way he was holding her, his hands cupping her intimately, lifting her from her feet as he held her against him. Her hands slid down his back, over his hips, grasping him and- Gregor set her on her feet, grasped her wrists, and pushed her away.

They stood panting heavily, their breaths puffing in the cold air as they regarded each other with a mixture of amazement and uncertainty.

Gregor shook his head. "We are mad, the two of us."

Venetia's cheeks flushed; her heart thundered in her ears. Mad didn't begin to describe it. What had she been thinking? This was Gregor, for heaven's sake. She knew the cost of such wanton behavior with him, knew the ultimate outcome.

Embarra.s.sed, she tried to free her wrists, but Gregor held her tight.

"Be still," he admonished, his gaze burning into hers.

She wished with all her heart that she could run away or take back the last few moments and make them disappear.

But that was impossibile. What had happened between them would be there forever.

"Gregor," she whispered, "what are we going to do?" The question hung between them.