Seducing the Highlander (26 page)

Adain felt regret for his vehemence. He had further shocked Lady Gillian on a night when she hardly needed more disheartening news, but it couldn’t be helped.

Did the woman really think he’d hand her over to a monster like the Earl of Kleiss, English or not? It was obvious her uncle was not an admirable man in any way, but to bargain his lovely niece into an arrangement with one of the most notoriously ruthless and violent men in Scotland was downright cruel.

And she
was
lovely.

Even pale and understandably distraught, she had a delicate beauty that would please any man, especially a lustful bastard of Kleiss’s reputation. The fragile bone structure of her face, coupled with large, long- lashed blue eyes and a soft rose mouth, gave an impression of feminine grace, as did the slenderness of her body. She was young, but, from the full curve of her breasts, not too young to be wedded and bedded. At his guess certainly no more than eighteen. Now that he could see her better, he realized her gown was finely made but not new, and the cloak she’d worn against the chill of their ride was mended in several places.

“You withdraw the offer?” She stared at him, clutching the wineglass so tightly her knuckles were white. “Sir, you must tell me why. I beg you.”

Adain rubbed his jaw, wondering darkly what to say. How the bloody hell had he gotten in this predicament anyway? It was actually none of his affair, but the girl was suddenly alone and unprotected, and apparently also penniless. Her uncle hadn’t carried more than a few coins, not even enough to pay for her room for the night. No wonder the old greedy rat had refused to stop. It hadn’t been an option.

“Let me put it this way,” Adain explained with reluctant honesty. “You’d be better off as a plaything for those three bandits, shared between them until they had their fill and let you go. Marriage to Kleiss is a sentence of rape and degradation until the day you die, which, if you are anything like his other four wives, you will do quickly.”

Even her lips had gone white now, she was so pale. “He is that awful?”

“Aye, lass,” Adain confirmed in a gentler tone, “and I’d not deliver any woman into his hands.”

Lady Gillian sat very still in the plain chair near the fire, the leaping flames lending hollows to her beautiful face and gilding her pale hair. Slowly, she said, “I am glad you told me, but I am unsure now what I am supposed to do. He is expecting me. That aside, I truly have no place to go, or if I did, no means to get there. The carriage is his, sent by Lord Kleiss to bring me to him.”

It was one hell of a dilemma, that was for certain, and Adain didn’t have an easy solution for her. “I am surprised he didn’t send an armed escort along with the carriage to protect his future bride.”

“He sent money to hire one.” Her soft mouth twisted. “However, my uncle spent it at once. He had an ungovernable penchant for wine and cards, Mr. Cameron. It had ruined him. The small amount my aunt left me on her death he appropriated to appease his creditors into giving him more time. From the moment I arrived on his doorstep not even a month ago, he started to arrange this marriage, his pressing debts an issue.”

“One look at you, and I suppose he knew he’d get a tidy sum from the right man.” Adain didn’t bother to hide his disgust for the beautiful Lady Gillian’s deceased relative. “No doubt he described you in detail to Kleiss when he wrote him and offered you, counting on his lordship’s lecherous tendencies and rich purse. It is a despicable exchange, flesh for coin.”

The indirect compliment on her looks brought a little color into her cheeks. Gillian said, with admirable calm given her circumstances, “But then again, that is your opinion, and you are a good man, or certainly seem to be, and my uncle was not. I did not wish him dead, but will not miss his acrimonious nature. I was hoping my new husband would be an improvement.”

“He wouldn’t be; take my word.”

His conviction obviously shook her. “Mr. Cameron, since his lordship has already gone to some trouble and expense, do you think he will want the contract honored if he finds me suitable?”

Suitable? That didn’t do her justice in the least. Moreover, at least on short acquaintance, she seemed to be not only alluring physically, but intelligent, and certainly had remarkable courage. Most females he knew would have gone into a fit of hysterics if accosted on the road, dragged summarily from their carriage, and then witnessed a bloody—all too short, in his opinion—fight. Add in her uncle’s unfortunate demise on top of the mix, being stranded in a foreign country . . . and aye, the girl was resilient, even after getting the news about her intended’s true nature.

Julia had those same characteristics. He thought it with a flash of the old familiar pain that didn’t seem to ease. The woman he had once been engaged to marry would probably have reacted in a similar brave way as Lady Gillian: with an uplifted chin and squared shoulders.

Julia
. No, he couldn’t think about her. He’d done that too much already. She was another man’s bride and out of his reach. He needed to move forward, not stay mired in regrets of what could have been.

In fact, he needed a distraction.

Lady Gillian might serve nicely.

He may have just met her, but Adain knew there was no way he was going to allow this beautiful girl to marry the deviant earl just because she felt she had nowhere to turn. Surely, with her looks and shapely form, she could easily find another man to wed. One who needed a wife, who would respect and care for her, rather than regard her as property and use her body for his depraved pleasures. With some assistance to escape her situation, she could make a good marriage.

“Kleiss isn’t going to have you,” Adain said firmly, the statement both so authoritative and presumptuous it startled him. “Yes, I agree you need the protection of a man, but not a lawless, immoral blackguard. I won’t allow it.”

She also seemed disconcerted at his proprietary declaration. Her fine arched brows, a darker shade than her shining honey-colored hair, lifted a fraction at his brash statement. “Sir—”

“I am offering mine temporarily. In the morning, we’ll ride on to Castle Cameron. Once safely there, you can review your options, my lady. They exist, believe me.”

Her gaze was luminous suddenly, as if unshed tears threatened to spill over her long lashes. “You do not know me and I am English. Why would you go to such trouble on my behalf? You said yourself the earl was ruthless. What if he takes exception to the fact that I never arrive? Eventually he is bound to find out about the events of this evening and that I left with you.”

He looked into her eyes and responded softly, “You do not know me and I’m a Scot. Why would you travel with me willingly to my home and trust yourself into my care? The answer is because it is the best thing for you. And as for the earl, I will deal with him if need be. In fact, I invite him to try to claim you.”

Evidently, she remembered his eager rush into the fight on the road, for a small frown furrowed her smooth brow.

No
, he thought,
do not ask me about the demons that currently occupy my soul.

The arrival of a serving maid with their food fortunately prevented her from saying anything.

Good, because the last thing he wanted to admit was that his motives were not entirely based on chivalry when he made his offer.

It had been a long time since he’d felt even a stirring of interest in a woman besides Julia.

 

 

The madness of the day continued, compounded by something she had never felt before.

Clad in only her shift, her body so weary she ached, Gillian slipped under the blankets and closed her eyes. Unfortunately, as tired as she was physically, her emotional state left her mind in turmoil. She knew sleep would be elusive this eve.

Though he seemed a much better alternative than Kleiss, it was a shocking notion to agree to ride off with the young man who had suddenly taken charge of her. Adain Cameron carried an air of command so easily. It seemed as effortless as the way he wielded his sword. She sensed in him goodness and compassion, but also something more.

Though she tried always to stifle it, her intuition was a part of her, as natural as breathing. She was not sure why, but she could feel the thoughts of others, sometimes with such an accuracy that it was uncomfortable.

This eve, she’d learned a great deal about Adain Cameron.

She had to admit he fascinated her.

He might be brave and valiant enough to ride boldly to rescue a woman he did not even know, but he was wounded inside. His heart bled. She had felt it in small bursts during their conversation. A turn of his head, a twitch of his sinewy hand as he looked away, the ferocity with which he had rushed to her rescue . . . not to mention the bleakness in his unusual silver eyes.

This man had a past, of that she was certain, and she would venture to guess there was heartache involved and he suffered still. Gillian couldn’t help but wonder what woman would choose another over him. Not only was he a skillful warrior; he was undeniably handsome and, from the quality of his horse and clothes, affluent. He’d paid the innkeeper in gold. The way he spoke indicated he was well educated too.

Restively, she rolled over.

His room was next to hers and she knew he did not sleep either. At first she could hear him pace, those restless footsteps muffled but still audible. Now and then he threw more wood on the fire. When the pacing ceased she could imagine him as he sat sprawled in a chair next to the hearth, his long legs extended, still drinking as he stared into the embers. Cameron had ordered whiskey and taken the bottle with him when they retired, and every so often came the clink of glass on glass as he poured himself another measure. Gillian had the feeling he often sought to numb himself in such a way.

The ache of his frustration and loss came through with amazing clarity, even though he appeared so self-possessed and confident.

There was no chance of her finding slumber unless she talked to him.

About what?
she asked herself wryly. She didn’t know what was amiss with her attractive rescuer, and whatever kept him from sleep was not her concern, except she owed him a very great debt.

The least she could do was to offer him some company, if he wished it. She had lost her parents when she was twelve to a virulent fever that had ravaged the countryside. Never would she forget the awful, overwhelming sense of loneliness as she had adjusted to her orphaned state, even though her aunt had taken her in and had been a caring, wonderful woman.

Adain Cameron was
alone
.

Gillian slid out of the bed and donned her rumpled gown again. It was now well past midnight and the inn was quiet, the hallway deserted as she cracked the door and peered out. She didn’t bother with her stockings and shoes, and the bare floor was chilly.

As she lifted her hand to rap lightly on his door, she wondered if he would turn her away. She’d had a sheltered upbringing but knew enough about masculine pride to realize men viewed emotional turmoil as a weakness. Her widowed aunt had often discussed her deceased husband, relating not just his positive attributes with fondness but his foibles also.

Gillian knocked.

She heard the creak of the chair as he stood, and the slight unsteadiness of his footsteps as he approached the door. It was jerked open, and he frowned when he saw her standing there. “Is something wrong, lass?”

“No, not precisely.” She offered him a tentative smile. “May I come in?”

Those silver eyes narrowed as he registered her bare feet peeking out from under the hem of her dress, and the loose tumble of her hair to her waist. “Mayhap I should take you back to your room, Lady Gillian.”

“I do not wish to go back to my room. Please, may I just come in? It is rather chilly here in the hallway.”

Adain Cameron hesitated a moment, but then stepped back to allow her to enter his room, his expression inscrutable. She guessed that if their circumstances weren’t so unusual he would be more concerned with propriety. She had no chaperone and was in his care. Her reputation was probably ruined anyway, but from what he’d told her earlier, it was better than marrying the nefarious earl.

“Now, what is so urgent? You have had a trying day, lass, and it is very late.” He had discarded his coat and wore only a white, full-sleeved shirt, half-unbuttoned, doeskin breeches that hugged his muscular thighs, and fitted boots. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, and also his unique scent, a tang that reminded her of pinewoods or an autumn afternoon.

“Neither of us is asleep,” she said quietly. “I thought maybe we could . . . well . . . pass the time together.”

There was a short silence, loaded and powerful. He hesitated to speak, and then exhaled raggedly. “How did you know I wasn’t asleep?”

Gillian looked into the silver depths of his eyes. “I just knew. I am restless myself.”