Chapter Twelve

 

Alex’s head jolted up from its resting spot on the back of the tub. The sudden motion sent waves of cool water splashing against his exposed knees, waking him completely. He’d sent the servants away so he could have peace and quiet for the night, so it wasn’t any of them.

Damn Ian and his lousy timing.

“Come in!” he barked, and reached for the towel on the floor.

The door flew open as if the king himself demanded entry. Preparing himself for either a dire emergency or a siege, Alex hastened to his feet and reached for his claymore. The towel had already slipped from his grasp and was all but forgotten on the floor. It wasn’t until he’d pushed his dampened hair from his eyes that he realized his guest wore a pale-green dress.

Maggie? “God’s teeth, woman! What’s this about?” he demanded, belatedly covering his waist with the towel.

She scanned every inch of the room before settling her gaze on him. He hadn’t the slightest idea why she was acting so peculiar, but she wasn’t leaving until he had answers. “Has something horrible happened?”

Her breasts heaved in a pleasing fashion as she took a deep breath. “Nay. I wasn’t given the chance to speak with you privately earlier, and I wish to do so now.”

Alex glanced from her to his door, then back again. “It must be dire for such a grand entrance. Has Bonnie Prince Charlie taken over England?” he quipped. In a more serious tone, he added, “Do ye ken I could have skewered ye before realizing who ye were?”

Maggie put her hands on her hips. “It wasn’t as if I barged in without knocking. If I wished to cause you harm, I wouldn’t have announced myself, now, would I?”

He had to admit she was right.

With hands outstretched, he indicated the room was empty. “It doesna get any more private than this. Ye may as well speak.”

Alex hadn’t meant to be so abrupt. He had planned to speak with her, but not until he’d gotten a good night’s rest. The past two weeks had taken a toll on him and his mind was anywhere but where it should be.

The scowl she was wearing told him she would have no tolerance for his excuses, so he offered none.

“Well, aren’t you the perfect host,” she remarked caustically. “I see I’ve bothered you, so I promise I won’t take much of your precious time.”

Alex rolled his eyes heavenward. “Maggie, I’m exhausted. Ye caught me off guard, is all. I wasna expecting anyone tonight.”

She straightened her spine. “I came here to thank you for your assistance, but I see I’ve disrupted your quiet evening. Perhaps we should have this conversation another time, then.”

It was far too late for that now.

Alex rubbed one bleary eye with his palm. “Yer thanks are not necessary, Margaret. I did it gladly.”

“Are you certain of that?” Though her words were benign, her voice held an edge. “You acted to the contrary today, grabbing the duke by the lapels and barking at me. One could hardly have called you civil.”

He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth should have crumbled. “What did ye expect from me? I’ve been searching for this elusive thief for two weeks. I’ve had little sleep, little food and I come back to find ye in the duke’s chamber. How should I have reacted?”

Maggie’s jaw dropped. “First, there was nothing untoward going on. Second, I don’t recall asking you to involve yourself. You stepped in the middle of a private arrangement when you offered your assistance, MacKay!”

It wasn’t the accusatory tone or the expression on her face that set him off, it was the phrasing. “‘Private arrangement’? Ye make it sound as if ye were anxious for him to fuck ye! Is that how it was, lass? Did ye want him to disgrace ye?”

She took the remaining few steps between them, drew her hand back and slapped him. Hard. The sting of it was nothing compared to the hurt he now saw in her eyes.

“You had best be listening, because I will not repeat myself. I have never and will never desire the Duke of Westingham. I wasn’t offering myself for my own pleasure nor was I doing it to spite you. I had a family to save. I wasn’t thinking of myself like you were when you bedded that whore at the inn!”

Whore at the inn? “What in the devil are ye talking about?”

She poked him in the chest, emphasizing each word. “That doxy from the porch!”

It came back to him in fragmented form—the woman supine on the porch, Maggie rubbing her hand before storming off, the proposition he received the night before. But it still didn’t make sense. Even if Maggie had been watching him, she would’ve known he hadn’t bedded the woman. “I didna do any such thing! What would make ye think it?”

“She told me!”

He didn’t know whether to laugh at her naïvete or be affronted. “I didna succumb to her charms. She told ye that to get back at me, Maggie. I wouldna do that to ye.”

The fire was still alight in her eyes, but there were also unshed tears. Her voice lost some of its bravado. “How can I be sure of it?” She backed away from him, and even the short distance felt like miles to him. “Especially when you told me you’d return for me, but you didn’t. You didn’t want me at your meeting with the duke. You didn’t come to see me first!”

There were so many things she questioned him on, he didn’t know where to begin. “I didna want ye at the meeting with the duke because I didna want ye in the same room with him. Do ye have any idea how it made me feel, Margaret?” He leaned in closer, his ire rising at the memory of it.

“Why didn’t you come to me before the meeting and tell me what you’d found? Fi was right! You had no intention of seeing me again.”

“Hell, woman, do ye believe everythin’ ye hear?” Alex threw his hands up in the air. “Fi knows nothing of who I am. Of course I wanted to see ye again!”

She turned away from him. “Why should I believe you?”

He stormed toward her. “Why shouldn’t ye? Ye are so quick to believe others over me. Why is that, Margaret? Tell me.”

 

Maggie couldn’t stop herself from trembling. She knew the reason why she didn’t believe his word was true. Confessing it was something else.

“Ye have so little faith in me. Am I such a monster, Maggie?”

She turned abruptly and nearly ran into him. Droplets of water were dripping off his hair and running down his chest, causing his skin to glisten in the candlelight. She took a timid step back, and he followed.

“I never accused you of such. Stop putting words in my mouth.”

“Then what is it, lass?” He took another step forward, and she another back. “Ye have chosen the word of a whore over mine. Ye have chosen to believe a jealous friend’s word over mine. What am I to believe ye think of me, then?”

Her breathing was becoming so rapid her chest hurt. Or perhaps it was constricting because she didn’t want to admit the truth. “It isn’t that I believe them over you.”

Alex cocked his head. “Which is it? Ye cannot believe me and not believe me at the same time.”

“I don’t believe you because I question why you desire me,” she whispered, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t see the judgment in his.

With a growl low in his throat he reached out and grabbed her by the waist. He hauled her against his dampened body until her breasts were crushed against his chest. “Ye are quite maddening at times, Miss Fraser.”

His warm breath tickled her skin. The possessiveness he was exhibiting made her entire body tingle with anticipation. She wanted him to want her. Lord, she couldn’t think straight.

She reminded herself to breathe.

And that’s when he leaned down and kissed her. It was by no means a gentle kiss, which made it all the more titillating. She tried to shift her position, but he was holding her so tightly that movement was impossible. Shamelessly, she pressed herself harder against his erection. His tongue delved deeper into her mouth, his presence taking her over. Already she was unbearably wet for him.

When he pulled away, her fingers found their way to his cockstand and stroked him through the towel. He backed her up until her backside met the edge of the desk, then turned her to face away from him. With one quick movement, he cleared the stacks of paper and inkwell with his arm.

“Perhaps I can make ye believe me, aye?”

Heat flushed Maggie’s cheeks as he rucked up her skirts and leaned her over the unyielding top of the desk. The towel he’d wrapped about his waist was now in a heap on the floor beside them, his well-muscled thighs pressed against the backs of hers.

“What are you doing?” she questioned, knowing it mattered not. She would welcome anything he did to her if it ended the ache between her legs.

Without a word, he touched the inside of her thigh and slowly blazed a trail upward. He slid two fingers inside her, the slickness there allowing him in without resistance. He entered her with another finger, stretching her opening farther.

“I havena been able to stop thinking about ye, Maggie.” His other hand reached around and stroked her breast through her clothing. “I spent many a night dreaming of ye.”

His admission made her heartbeat quicken. “You did?”

“Oh, aye,” he responded, slowly withdrawing his fingers. “I recalled everything about ye, in vivid detail.”

“Oh?” It felt unbearably hot in the room. She was suddenly envious Alex was naked.

“Mm-hmm.” Her breathing hitched as he pushed his fingers inside her again. “Do ye like it when I touch ye there, Maggie?”

“Yes.” The simple acknowledgment heightened her need for release.

He ran one finger down the length of her spine, eliciting a quiver that arched her back. “Ye are so responsive, lass.”

As she willed her body to still, she prayed he wouldn’t do that again. His featherlight caresses were enough to drive her to madness. Any semblance of control she had was quickly fading, leaving nothing but raw lust in its wake.

His hands wandered across her back, her bottom, and around to her mound. He rubbed the swollen nub over and over again until she felt her knees start to tremble.

“Aye, Maggie.” Gently, he urged her legs apart with his knee. He pressed his thick erection against her entrance and grabbed hold of her hips. “Ye are better than any fantasy.”

He thrust deep, filling every inch of her with his cock. She clutched the opposing end of the desk to keep steady. “Oh,” she moaned, relishing the size of him and the pleasure he brought.

He pulled back and pushed in again, and then again. “I remember yer eyes are a beautiful green.” Another thrust. “And ye have a strawberry beauty mark just above your navel.”

He drove inside her, going impossibly deeper. “When ye smile, ye have a dimple on yer left cheek.” His rhythm picked up, and Maggie felt her walls start to clench around him as his bollocks hit against her nub. It felt so naughty to be taken against the desk with her skirts up around her waist, their urge to copulate had been too strong to hold off. The angle at which they were made his thrusts deeper, bringing every nerve ending inside her to attention. She took a hasty breath and held it, fighting against the release that was about to come.

“Ye aren’t just a passing fancy, Margaret.” He tightened his hold on her hips and drove harder. The scent of his bergamot soap heightened her senses even further. She closed her eyes against his delicious assault. “I told ye before, Maggie. You…are…mine.”

“Oh God!” she cried, grabbing hold of his thigh to keep him still as her body shuddered and pulsed around him. Her breaths were shallow and quick. “Alex,” she whispered, putting all of her weight onto one arm. Her knees were trembling so hard she wondered if she’d ever be able to stand again.

Even if so, it would have been worth it.

 

When both of them were satiated, Alex grabbed the towel and cleaned them. After helping Maggie right her clothing, he picked her up and set her on the top of the desk. He braced his hands on either side of her.

“Och, lass. How could ye even think I didna want to see ye again?”

She stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “I thought perhaps you’d taken my maidenhead so your enemy could not.”

She was being sincere. He couldn’t be angry with her for thinking it. “Nay.”

From down the hall came the faint sound of knocking. Alex grumbled. “What now?”

“It’s all right.” Maggie was far too enthusiastic about dropping the subject. “We can talk another time—”

“Dunna be silly. Whomever it is can wait.”

Maggie glanced from him to the door. “It may be important.”

As if on cue the knock came again, but this time louder.

He rarely had visitors, especially this time of evening. Perhaps she was right. Reluctantly, he donned a clean pair of breeks and a shirt. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He planted a kiss on her lips and went to see whom he needed to thrash for interrupting.

* * * * *

Maggie pushed the mare to her limits trying to make it back to Fi’s before she was discovered. From the privacy afforded by the darkened hallway in Alex’s house, she’d listened long enough to know that in the morning he’d be leaving for the prison where her uncle was held. He’d be gone for days again. As much as she wanted to stay and at least say goodbye, she didn’t dare chance it.

One of the men at his door was her brother.

The last thing she needed was to be discovered at Alex’s house. There wouldn’t be any way to explain her presence there without telling the truth, and that wasn’t an option. If Robert caught her riding back to Fi’s at night—especially unescorted—she would be in more trouble than she cared to contemplate.

She just prayed Alex would know why she’d left and forgive her.

* * * * *

The Fraser house was filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, but Maggie had no interest in eating. Between her concern for Alex and her uncle, her stomach couldn’t take it. Her nails were bitten down to the nubs of her fingers, giving her mother yet another reason to criticize her…and even more reason to be on edge. After three days at home, it was becoming a vicious cycle. If it hadn’t been for her brother’s visit with Alex, she would have stayed at Fi’s. She’d been lucky enough not to be discovered where she oughtn’t, and now that her family was aware her uncle may be released, it was only a matter of time before they sent for her. That’s when they would discover she hadn’t been visiting her cousin in the first place.

She was daring, but not foolish.

Her father had been the first to greet her home. Maggie hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him until he met her at the gate with a wide smile upon his weathered face. She’d nearly cried when she hugged him. In the short time she’d been gone, he seemed to have aged a decade.

Even her mother had been happy to see her. Maggie hadn’t expected the fierce hug she received when she walked through the door—her mother wasn’t the affectionate sort—but she accepted it gladly. Her cousins and aunt had welcomed her as well, and for a while it felt nice to be home again.

A very short while.

In less than a day’s time, her mother began picking her apart like a bird would a fish. Maggie took it with grace, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from speaking her mind.

She hadn’t much cheek left to bite.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall broke her from her thoughts. She set down her book when her brother peeked around the corner.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said with a cheeky grin. “The library is one place mother doesn’t visit often.”

Maggie tried not to smile. “You know us far too well.”

He came in and sat across from her in the high-backed burgundy chair. “Cook is saving the bread for tonight’s sup, but there are tea cakes left from yesterday. I can bring you some if you’d like.”

Maggie shook her head. “Thank you, though.”

“You’ve eaten like a bird since coming home, Maggie. That’s not like you,” he teased.

She stuck out her tongue in mock retaliation and gave him a half smile. “I’m just not hungry. I can’t force myself to eat.”

He met her gaze. “It’s Uncle. You’re afraid we’re getting our hopes up for naught, aren’t you?”

That wasn’t completely accurate, but she couldn’t tell him about her concern for Alex. It saddened her she couldn’t confide in Robert about it, but it was best if she kept quiet. “I will feel much better once he comes home,” she answered honestly.

“As will we all.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I know you don’t think much of him, sis, but if it wasn’t for Alex, we would certainly have lost everything.”

Maggie opened her mouth to speak and promptly snapped it shut. Of course her brother didn’t know she had attempted to save Uncle Hamish herself; no one did. The fact they believed Alex was their only saving grace irritated her to no end.

But the truth was they were right.

She pushed herself out of the chair and walked to the open window. It was a dreary day, but the air was fresher there than it was in the corner of the room. Maggie inhaled deeply, thankful that her brother didn’t follow her.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Maggie. I just wish you’d see Alex isn’t the selfish monster you think him to be.”

All Maggie could do was nod.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your reading,” he offered. She heard his clothing rustle as he got to his feet. “I’ll take my leave so you may get back to it. But you will attend sup tonight, little sister, or I’ll drag you kicking and screaming.”

His attempt at humor earned him a feeble smile from Maggie. He left the room without another word.

Maggie slumped against the windowsill. Why had it taken so long for her to realize why she’d done it? Of course she wanted to see her uncle released and the family’s lands saved. But she’d had another motive, and that was to get the approval of her family.

Or perhaps just her mother’s.

* * * * *

The early-morning dew clung to Alex’s boots as he traipsed through the grass. He was promised that today he would meet with the sheriff, but first he wanted to pay another visit to Hamish Fraser.

As soon as his foot hit the floor of the prison, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t like Stonehaven. The place was damp and dreary; the scent of unwashed bodies and fecal matter cut off his breath. He coughed from the sudden assault and proceeded to the gaol keeper’s office.

The portly man glanced up from his breakfast. “Yer here to see Hamish Fraser, aye?”

Alex gave a nod. How many prisoners here would have given anything for the meat pie the keeper had just devoured by himself? Some of them were emaciated. Hamish had lost a great deal of weight, but he still had some meat on his bones. A small percentage of the others were nothing but bones. Knowing he couldn’t do anything to help them bothered him greatly.

“Go ’head. I ken ye know the way?” the keeper asked.

“Aye.”

It took him aback they let him go, unguarded, through the prison. Either he appeared to be trustworthy or they simply didn’t care. Alex was inclined to think the latter.

“MacKay,” whispered one of the prisoners as he passed.

He glanced back at the gaol keeper. The man wasn’t paying any heed, so Alex approached the bars. “Aye. Have ye anything else to tell me?”

The man nodded, grasping the bars with dirty hands. Alex tried not to react to the stench just inches away from his nose.

“Since ye came yesterday, I’ve found six others here that have lost their lands to the English, one way or ano’er.”

When last he was here, Hamish told Alex there were more prisoners who’d found themselves in similar predicaments. Some lost their lands for crimes they didn’t commit. Others were there for legitimate reasons, but their families sold nearly everything to the English just to survive.

The implication made him sick.

“Tell me everything ye heard,” Alex ordered, wishing he could eliminate the Sassenachs who were taking over Scotland piece by bloody piece.

* * * * *

With reluctance, Maggie kept her promise to her brother and joined her family for the evening meal. Though she still hadn’t gained much of an appetite, the small piece of lamb she did have was wonderful. The company, on the other hand, left much to be desired.

The first twenty minutes of the meal, Maggie had to endure the idle chitchat of her two female cousins. There were innumerable topics they could have discussed, but Harriet and Violet couldn’t see beyond the latest gossip. Maggie made several attempts to change the subject but each time she did so, one of the girls would find a way to bring it back to recent scandals.

“Have ye seen the Murray boy lately? I was told he was sent away to the colonies for peeking in Mrs. McPheter’s window,” Violet noted.

“Are ye certain, Vi? I thought he ’ad run away to the Continent,” Harriet chimed in.

Maggie rolled her eyes. Honestly. How do these rumors get started? “I believe you’re both mistaken. The Murray boy is attending Eton this year and is off to Windsor. May we please change the subject now?”

Her father hid his smile behind a forkful of lamb. “Margaret’s right. Enough of the tongue wagging.”

Harriet and Violet promptly immersed themselves in their meal, at a loss when it came to polite conversation. If ever there were two Scots girls who were meant for the ton, it was them.

“Margaret, dear, why aren’t you eating?” her mother asked, drawing attention to her nearly full plate.

“I…er, I’m not very hungry.”

She clicked her tongue. “Such extremes, Margaret. Either you are eating for everyone or no one at all.”

Maggie felt the heat rising in her cheeks. With her entire family watching, it wasn’t the time or the place to have such a conversation. She addressed her father. “May I please be excused?”

He glanced from his wife to his daughter. “Aye. Ye are excused.”

Maggie pushed away from the table as gracefully as possible and left the room. Tears stung her eyes as she went to her chamber, feeling that old familiar heartbreak of never being able to please that woman.

After more than an hour of pitying herself, Maggie went in search of her mother. What she had to say couldn’t wait ’til morning.

She found her in the parlor. “Mum, may I please have a word with you?”

Her mother glanced up long enough to nod, then continued with her sewing.

“Why do you judge me so?” The words had come out sounding harsher than she intended, but there was no correcting it now.

Her mother dropped her sewing. “Pardon me?”

Maggie lifted her chin before continuing. “You have little to say to me unless it’s a criticism for something I’ve done, or haven’t done, or haven’t done well enough. I’ve yet to hear an encouraging word from you, and I would like to know why.”

She narrowed her brown eyes at Maggie, causing her wrinkles to stand out in the candlelight. “That’s absurd! I rarely criticize you.”

Maggie’s hands tightened into fists in her lap. “That is not so. You criticize me about my eating habits, about the way I braid my hair, what I wear, who I befriend, who I avoid, what I say, how I say it. There’s nothing for which you haven’t corrected me. And it hurts me, Mother. Especially when you say those things in front of others. Do you have any idea how it makes me feel?”

Her mother stood abruptly, spilling her sewing onto the floor. “I will not be spoken to like this!” she cried, almost in hysterics. “I’m telling your father of your insolence and he’ll whip you within an inch of your miserable life!” With that, she stormed away.

Maggie’s entire body was shaking from the confrontation, but she didn’t regret it. For only a moment she considered leaving the house before her father got wind of it, but she decided to stay right where she was. She was tired of running away from things. It would end here.

* * * * *

Maggie sat by the window in the library and watched the horses running in the field. She would have loved to go riding, but her backside was still tender from the whipping she’d received the other night. Fortunately, her father had taken it easy on her.

It had been worth it for the weight she’d gotten off her chest.

Her mother hadn’t spoken to her in days. Her criticisms had been painful, but the silence wasn’t much of an improvement. Every meal was an uncomfortable affair. When the two of them passed in the hallway, her mother wouldn’t even look at her.

Maggie sighed. On top of it all, she was anxious to know about her uncle. She’d been hoping Alex would have sent word by now, but she hadn’t heard a thing. Maybe they would hear something before evening came.

Tap, tap, tap. The knocking was so quiet Maggie barely heard it before the door opened. Her mother peered around the corner. “May I come in?”

Maggie straightened on her perch, intrigued but leery. It was unlike her mother to visit the library when Maggie was there, especially in light of recent circumstances. “Of course. Please, come in.”

Maggie watched her mother cross the room and take the seat closest to the window. She always admired the woman’s elegance—the way she glided when she walked, the way she seemed to melt into a chair rather than plop into it. There were many things she admired about her mother. Just not everything.

“This isn’t easy for me, Margaret,” she began as she picked at her skirt. “I… I’ve been thinking about what you said the other evening.”

Maggie didn’t say a word. She didn’t even dare to blink.

“I thought your words were cruel and untrue.” She lifted her head and made eye contact with her daughter. “I have always told myself I would not treat any of my children the way my mother treated me.”

Her pulse quickened. “Grandmother criticized you?”

“Oh, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “Painfully so.”

Maggie shifted to face her mother directly. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, Margaret.” She vehemently shook her head. “I am the one who is sorry. I never intended for history to repeat itself.”

It was difficult for Margaret to believe her sweet, wonderful grandmother who passed years ago could have caused anyone anguish. But there it was, in her own mother’s eyes.

“Nothing I did was ever good enough. None of my friends were high enough in society. I couldn’t sew. My skills on the pianoforte were lacking.”

Maggie guffawed. “That’s preposterous! None of those things are true. And you’re a very gifted player.”

Her mother grimaced. “Not according to your grandmother.”

The two of them talked for the better part of an hour. Their conversation didn’t right the world, but it was a beginning.