The Devil Wears Plaid Part 14

Unable to answer the bold challenge in her eyes, Jamie turned his back on her, turned his back on them all. He paced a few steps away to the edge of the bluff and stood with hands on hips, gazing off into the misty gray haze that hovered over the distant moors. That was when he heard a most unexpected sound behind him.

Emma was laughing.

He slowly pivoted to find his men retreating yet another step, as if they feared a fresh explosion of his temper, this one even more damaging than the last.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Emma asked, her eyes sparkling with tears. His men might mistake them for tears of mirth but he knew better. "The joke is on you. The earl wouldn't waste so much as a handful of shillings to save me. I have no value in his eyes. I was never anything more to him than an empty womb where he could plant his seed. And G.o.d only knows there are plenty of those for sale between here and London."

She shook her head, her husky ripple of laughter mocking them both. "You've tortured my poor family and dragged me halfway to h.e.l.l and back for naught. He's never never going to give you what you want. He doesn't care what you do to me. So there's no longer any need for you to play the gentleman." This time it was her turn to close the distance between them. Stopping so close he could see the agitated pulse fluttering in the creamy column of her throat, the enticing quiver of her bottom lip, she tipped back her head to look him in the eye. "So go ahead, Jamie Sinclair. going to give you what you want. He doesn't care what you do to me. So there's no longer any need for you to play the gentleman." This time it was her turn to close the distance between them. Stopping so close he could see the agitated pulse fluttering in the creamy column of her throat, the enticing quiver of her bottom lip, she tipped back her head to look him in the eye. "So go ahead, Jamie Sinclair. Do your worst." Do your worst."

For one dark moment, Jamie was tempted to do just that. Tempted to seize her by the hand and haul her deep into those ruins where he could show her just exactly what he would do if she were his woman.

Everything he would do if she were his woman. he would do if she were his woman.

"Jamie?" Bon's voice was barely a whisper.

Jamie continued to gaze down into Emma's eyes, transfixed by the unforeseen power of her pa.s.sion.

"Jamie?" Bon repeated, more urgently this time.

"What in the bluidy h.e.l.l do you-" Jamie swung around just in time to see Graeme come staggering out of the trees on foot. Jamie swung around just in time to see Graeme come staggering out of the trees on foot.

Chapter Twenty-two.

GRAEME WAS CLASPING HIS ribs in a white-knuckled grip. One of the boy's eyes was swollen shut and an ugly bruise, already beginning to yellow around the edges, stained his clenched jaw. ribs in a white-knuckled grip. One of the boy's eyes was swollen shut and an ugly bruise, already beginning to yellow around the edges, stained his clenched jaw.

Several of the men rushed to aid him but it was Jamie who reached him first. He slipped an arm around Graeme's shoulders just as the boy's legs began to crumple beneath him.

"Would've been here sooner..." he rasped out, leaning heavily against Jamie's chest. "d.a.m.n horse threw a shoe a few leagues back."

As his men gathered around them, Jamie eased Graeme to a reclining position on the ground, stricken by guilt. He should have known Hepburn wouldn't have any qualms about shooting the messenger. He should have sent Bon-someone who was as crafty as the Hepburn, someone who wouldn't have underestimated the auld buzzard's potential for treachery.

"What did those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds do to you?" Jamie demanded, wincing along with Graeme as he ran a careful hand over the boy's battered ribcage.

"Nothin' I won't survive." Graeme grinned up at him, his split lip giving his smile a rakish tilt. "Got in a few good licks meself, I did. Made those fancy footmen o' the earl's think twice aboot knockin' heads with Graeme MacGregor." Reaching inside his jacket, Graeme tugged out a leather pouch, his hand trembling ever so slightly. "I did just what ye said, Jamie. I gave the Hepburn yer letter and he said to give this to ye."

Jamie accepted the offering, managing a pained smile of his own. "You did us all proud, lad. Especially me."

As Jamie rose, Lemmy dropped down to take his place, tugging Graeme's head into his lap with a gentleness that should have been impossible for his enormous hands.

Jamie gazed down at the Hepburn's missive. No cheap foolscap this but a thick sheet of creamy vellum, folded into perfect thirds and sealed with a daub of crimson wax bearing the Hepburn's crest.

He broke the seal and carefully unfolded the paper beneath the watchful eyes of his men.

Even though he'd never learned to read, Bon bounced up and down on his tiptoes in a desperate attempt to see over his shoulder. "Don't leave us danglin', lad. What does it say?"

It didn't take Jamie long to scan the handful of curt words scrawled on the paper. He refolded it with painstaking care. He had imagined this moment for so long, had antic.i.p.ated the dizzying rush of triumph he would feel.

But as he lifted his eyes to meet Emma's questioning gaze, he felt nothing but a piercing stab of regret. "He's agreed to our demands. The ransom is to be delivered on the morrow."

He only managed to hold Emma's gaze for an elusive moment before she turned and disappeared into the ruins without a word.

EMMA SAT AT THE EDGE OF the round stone platform that had once housed the old bell tower of the abbey, hugging one knee to her chest. The roof and most of the walls of the structure had collapsed long ago, leaving the platform open to the sky and reachable only by a flight of narrow stone stairs worn nearly smooth by rain and time. the round stone platform that had once housed the old bell tower of the abbey, hugging one knee to her chest. The roof and most of the walls of the structure had collapsed long ago, leaving the platform open to the sky and reachable only by a flight of narrow stone stairs worn nearly smooth by rain and time.

The wind that usually raged so pa.s.sionately over this mountain had subsided to a mild breeze that sighed against her cheek and toyed with the loose tendrils of hair at her nape. The moon hung over the uppermost peak of the mountain like a glowing pearl, twice the size it had been in Lancashire yet still far beyond her reach.

A loose pebble went skittering off the far edge of the platform.

She turned, unable to stop a treacherous surge of hope from leaping in her heart. But it was only Bon who emerged from the shadows at the top of the stairs. He hovered at the fringes of the moonlight, plainly uncertain of his welcome.

"Don't worry, Bon. It's safe," she a.s.sured him. "I'm not armed."

He moved to stand beside her, his snaggle-toothed grin no longer menacing to her eyes but winsome. "The way ye were handlin' that bow today, I'd wager a man's heart will never be entirely safe as long as ye're around."

"Perhaps that's why your cousin is so eager to be rid of me," Emma replied lightly, hoping to hide the bitter edge in her voice. "Why aren't you down there celebrating with him? He must be beside himself with joy. After all, the earl is about to give him his heart's desire."

"He still won't tell me or any o' the lads what that is. And it's not like Jamie to keep secrets from me."

"This may be the first time he's ever had one worth keeping."

"We wouldn't begrudge him nothin' he wanted," Bon admitted. "He's sacrificed too much for us. He's allus been a canny lad, ye know, haulin' around books he was barely big enough to carry. He could have stayed down there in the Lowlands and made his own fortune like a proper gent. But when he heard his grandfather was ailin', he came back here. To take care o' us. To take care o' everyone on this mountain who've always depended upon the Sinclairs for their survival." Bon hesitated as if he longed to say something else. Something more. But he finally just ducked his head, gazing down at his feet. "I just come to tell ye I'm sorry we ruined yer wedding. And I hope ye and the earl will be"-he cleared his throat, plainly struggling to choke out the words-"verra happy together."

"Thank you," Emma whispered, the sudden tightness of her own throat making it impossible for her to offer him any other absolution.

After he had made his way back down the stairs, leaving her alone, she turned her face back to the moon only to find it shimmering behind a watery veil. The girl who had gazed upon that same moon from her bedchamber window as it drifted over her father's orchard seemed like a stranger to her now-a naive child who had believed a man's quality could be measured by the eloquence of his speech or the fine cut of his coat.

How was she to accompany the earl's men back down that mountain on the morrow and pretend she was still that girl, who had never tasted Jamie's kiss, never felt her body begin to melt beneath the smoldering heat of his desire for her? How could she be content with jewels and furs and gold or even a nursery full of children conceived not out of love or pa.s.sion but desperation and duty?

After feeling her body and her heart come alive beneath Jamie's touch, how would it be possible to lie night after night in long-suffering silence with the earl grunting and heaving on top of her, her teeth clenched to keep from screaming? Especially now that she knew he might not be a kindly old man after all but a murderer, ruthless enough to cut down his own son for daring to love the wrong woman.

She blinked back her tears, bringing the moon into crisp focus. She wasn't wasn't the same girl she had been and she would never be that girl again. No matter the cost, she was no longer willing to deny her own pa.s.sions, her own desires, simply to preserve the peace of those around her. Her mother had spent Emma's entire life living just such a lie, sacrificing her own happiness so she could go on making excuses for Emma's papa. the same girl she had been and she would never be that girl again. No matter the cost, she was no longer willing to deny her own pa.s.sions, her own desires, simply to preserve the peace of those around her. Her mother had spent Emma's entire life living just such a lie, sacrificing her own happiness so she could go on making excuses for Emma's papa.

But she was not her mother. And she was no longer the girl who had stood before that altar in the abbey of Hepburn Castle, prepared to pledge her heart to a man she would never love.

All she needed was someone to help her prove it.

JAMIE BRACED BOTH HIS hands against the rough stone of the abbey's altar. That single stone had somehow survived the devastation of battle and years of neglect, proving there were some things even time could not destroy. hands against the rough stone of the abbey's altar. That single stone had somehow survived the devastation of battle and years of neglect, proving there were some things even time could not destroy.

He wondered how many christenings it had seen, how many weddings, how many burials. How many lives had begun there? How many had ended?

The small church had been a ruin for as long as he could remember, no doubt destroyed in one of the many wars and skirmishes that had left their scars on this rugged and beautiful land. Even though it had been reduced to little more than roofless walls and moss-covered rubble, an air of dignity still hung over the place, as if neither G.o.d nor time had forgotten this had once been holy ground.

He ran his hands over the pocked stone, wishing he had the words to express the tumult he was feeling. Although he'd always been a believing man, he'd never been a praying one. He'd a.s.sumed it would be best if he and the Almighty didn't discuss their differences of opinion.

For how could G.o.d claim vengeance was His when Jamie could feel the weight of it resting so heavily on his own shoulders? They'd always been strong enough to bear that burden in the past but now he felt as if it was dangerously close to crushing his heart. Tomorrow he would send Emma down the mountain. He would never again sleep with her warm body tucked into the shelter of his own. Never again hear his name on her lips. In a few days she would be standing before an altar just like this one, preparing once again to become the Hepburn's bride.

He dug his fingertips into the stone, wishing he could smash the altar to rubble with his bare hands.

"Jamie?"

At first he thought he had imagined that melodic whisper of sound, that it was nothing more than a product of his own feverish longings.

Relinquishing his grip on the altar, he slowly turned.

Emma stood there at the edge of the moonlight like the ghost of all the brides who had come to this place to pledge their hearts to the men they loved.

"What do you want?" he asked hoa.r.s.ely, no longer able to pretend her answer didn't matter to him.

She lifted her chin, her gaze as cool and steady as it had been on the night she had pointed his own pistol at his heart. "I want you to ruin me."

Chapter Twenty-three.

SWALLOWING HER TREPIDATION, EMMA drifted toward Jamie, exposing herself fully to the moonlight and his burning gaze. In that moment he looked like every virgin's worst nightmare-desperate and dangerous and only to be approached with tremendous caution, if at all. drifted toward Jamie, exposing herself fully to the moonlight and his burning gaze. In that moment he looked like every virgin's worst nightmare-desperate and dangerous and only to be approached with tremendous caution, if at all.

"I've always been a very good girl," she said, each measured step carrying her closer to him, "and a dutiful daughter-the one who was always called upon to set the example for my younger sisters. It was always 'Yes, sir' and 'No, ma'am' and 'As you wish.' I wore what my mother selected for me. I ate everything that was put in front of me, whether I liked it or not. I went everywhere I was told to go and did everything they asked of me." She stopped just out of Jamie's reach. "But I will not marry the earl. And you and I both know there's only one sure way to convince him I'm no longer fit to be his bride."

Jamie didn't say a word. He just continued to gaze at her, his expression as unreadable as the petrified pages of the Holy Bible moldering in the corner.

She managed an awkward laugh. "Bon was right all along, wasn't he? I know you've convinced yourself you'd have to be content with proving the Hepburn murdered your parents. But wouldn't your vengeance be even more satisfying if you returned his bride to him having been ravished by a Sinclair? Especially a Sinclair who just happens to be his b.a.s.t.a.r.d grandson."

"More satisfying for me, certainly." Jamie folded his arms over his chest, the smoky heat of his gaze making her shiver somewhere deep inside. "What about that ramshackle manor house in Lancashire you love so well? If the earl demands his settlement back, how will your father keep his creditors from seizing the house and tossing the lot of you in the poorhouse?"

"I'm confident the earl will graciously insist he keep the settlement. Especially if he doesn't want everyone in London to learn that he's suspected of having his own son-and the mother of his grandson-murdered in cold blood."

Jamie c.o.c.ked his head, eyeing her with reluctant admiration. "I never would have guessed such a bonny face could hide such a ruthless streak."

She flashed him a bitter smile. "Since coming to the Highlands I've had the opportunity to learn from the best."

"Your home may be spared and your father may avoid debtor's prison but have you thought about the consequences you'll suffer once you return to England with your family?" Jamie moved forward to circle her while he spoke, his husky burr weaving a web she no longer had any desire to escape. "The earl has a tongue like a viper. Rather than let anyone believe he was fool enough to let his young bride be stolen out from under his nose, he'll start spreading rumors that you went into my arms-and my bed-willingly. And even if he doesn't, it won't matter to society if you were seduced or raped. The shadow your first fiance cast over your reputation will be nothing compared to this. Decent folk will turn their heads when you walk by in the street. No one will receive you. You'll be a social pariah and you'll be giving up all hope of ever finding a husband or having a family of your own."

"Then I'll be free to return to Lancashire and live out my life in peace." She faced him, giving her curls a bold toss. "If I get bored, I can always take a strapping young lover. Or two."

He saw right through her bravado, just as he had the first time she had said those words. He reached up to trace the delicate curve of her jaw with the backs of his knuckles, his voice even more gentle than his touch. "There are other considerations, la.s.s. What if I should put my babe inside you?"

Emma didn't bother ducking her head to hide the blush she could feel creeping over her cheekbones. She knew it was no use. "You may find me distressingly naive but thanks to my mother's tutelage I'm not completely ignorant of the ways of the world. Or of men. If there weren't ways to prevent such things, then there would be more by-blows than legitimate heirs walking the streets of London."

He nodded, conceding her point. "So you truly believe this is the only way to keep the Hepburn's lecherous hands off you? To make sure you're free to live out your life as the mistress of your own fate?"

She nodded, her voice finally deserting her now that her courage was spent. There were a thousand other reasons for going to his bed that she might have confessed to him in that moment had pride not stilled her tongue. She could have told him she wanted to feel alive at least one more time before burying herself beneath the crushing censure of society. That she didn't think she would survive spending the rest of her life alone without first spending one night in his arms.

"Then what choice do I have?" He leaned down, his lips grazing hers like the brush of angel wings.

Emma's breath caught in her throat. How was it that she could feel more like a bride standing here in this crumbling ruin of a church than she had ever felt in the Hepburn's majestic abbey?

"Wait here," he whispered, drawing away from her with palpable reluctance.

She waited in an agony of suspense until he returned with the blankets from her bedroll draped over one arm. This time when he took her hand, she went with him willingly. As he led her out of the moonlight and into the shadows, she laced her fingers tightly through his, not wanting him to know she was quaking all the way down to her toes.

He led her to the corner of a small chamber where two walls still stood, defying the ravages of time. They had set up camp in the trees bordering the bluff so Emma knew Jamie had deliberately chosen this spot to protect her from his men's prying eyes.

But before he could spread out the blankets, she grabbed his arm. "Wait!"

He eyed her warily, plainly fearing she had changed her mind.

She inclined her head toward the crooked stone arch that had once housed a door, indicating that it was his turn to follow her. Judging by the look in his eye, he would have followed her to the very ends of the earth.

They climbed those worn stone steps to the old bell tower, emerging in a misty pool of moonlight. She took the blankets from Jamie and spread them out in the center of the tower, leaving only the sky and the moon to witness what was about to happen.

When she was done she faced him, feeling impossibly shy. "So what's it to be, Mr. Sinclair? Do you plan to seduce me or ravish me?"

His lazy grin made her heart double its rhythm. "Both."

He drew her against him, surprising her anew with his size, his strength, his irresistible heat. For a long moment, he simply held her, letting her grow accustomed to the feel of his arms around her, the whisper of his breath in her hair. She rested her cheek against his chest, feeling each shuddering beat of his heart as if it were her own. After a moment, she grew bolder, slipping her hands around his waist and beneath his shirt, marveling at the smoothness of his skin, the supple flex of the muscles beneath her palms as he lifted one hand to stroke her hair.

"Oh, dear," she mumbled, suddenly overwhelmed by the magnitude of what she was about to do with this man.

"What is it?"

She kept her face buried in his chest. "My mother's instructions seem to have deserted me. I'm not entirely sure how we should proceed from here."

"Why don't you leave that to me?" he murmured, tipping her chin up with one finger and lowering his mouth to hers.

He gently feathered his lips over hers, his undeniable expertise leaving little doubt that he knew exactly exactly how to proceed. He didn't kiss like a man who considered it simply a means to an end-some sort of quaint ritual required by females to coax them into taking off their clothes. He kissed her slowly and with exquisite deliberation, as if he would be content to spend all night just making love to her mouth. how to proceed. He didn't kiss like a man who considered it simply a means to an end-some sort of quaint ritual required by females to coax them into taking off their clothes. He kissed her slowly and with exquisite deliberation, as if he would be content to spend all night just making love to her mouth.

She had always scorned women who swooned at the slightest provocation, but the tender flick of his tongue over hers left her so breathless and dizzy that she felt her knees go weak and her ears begin to ring as if there were still bells in the tower. She might have succ.u.mbed to the temptation but she didn't want to miss a moment in Jamie's arms. So she simply closed her eyes and hung on, tasting his tongue with her own until she heard a groan rumble up from deep in his throat.

When her eyes finally fluttered open, she was surprised to find them both on their knees in the middle of the blankets. Perhaps Jamie's legs had failed him as well.

"That went very well indeed," she murmured, sighing against his lips. "What would you suggest we do next?"

He leaned back to survey her face, his expression disarmingly earnest. "I thought we'd both take off all our clothes."

Apparently she had been wrong about the kiss. "But... but... then we'd both be... unclothed."

He pondered her words for a moment. "Well, if you'd like, you could just take off your your clothes. I could keep mine on... for now." clothes. I could keep mine on... for now."