Highlander Undone Page 10

  She took an involuntary step backward, colliding into Jack. He caught her shoulders, gently steadying them before releasing her, and at once her sense of isolation faded. Behind her, his chest felt solid, unexpectedly hard, a warm wall against which she could stand.

  She was not alone. She was in a room full of people, two of whom were dear to her. This was her home now, hers, not Charles’s . . . not anymore. Paul Sherville was here at her sufferance.

  “Major,” she acknowledged him, finally finding her voice.

  His eyes narrowed. “I am delighted to see you have come out of mourning early, Addie. Charles would not have wanted you to pine.”

  She could not believe the sheer audacity of the man!

  “My sister has been kind enough to end her public mourning prematurely as a great favor to me,” Ted said.

  “Ah, yes! So I see.” Sherville cast a long, appraising look over her before turning and looking around. “You’ve quite refashioned the place, haven’t you, Addie? Had electric lighting installed, I see.” He gestured to the new wrought-iron heaters. “And central heating. New paint, new windows. And you’ve turned the entire floor into your brother’s studio. Such munificence! Why, the place bears hardly any resemblance to the house to which Charles brought his blushing bride.”

  She stared at him, transfixed by his brazenness.

  “But then I suppose,” he paused, looking at her in mock concern, “it would be pointless to try to maintain the place as a shrine. Besides, I’m absolutely certain you have memories of dear Charles that no amount of paint or plaster can ever erase or cover. Ever.”

  He was baiting her, the same way he’d baited her when Charles was alive, the same innuendo and suggestion, the cruel gibe couched in casual words. How Charles had laughed.

  “No. But thank God she can cover up his more hideous decorating blunders. I only got a glimpse of some of what had been here and it positively made me shudder. One can only stand so much oxblood,” Jack said from behind her.

  Sherville, unexpectedly thwarted in his game, scowled at this interruption. He turned his full attention on Jack. A new frisson of trepidation shivered through her. Sherville would make crow’s bait of Jack.

  Whatever Sherville saw, it was something unexpected. He was staring hard at Jack, like a man who was trying to see through a London fog to a street post.

  “Have we had the pleasure?” he asked, frowning.

  “If we’ve had any pleasure, I certainly don’t remember it,” Jack said, stepping around Addie and languidly fanning his face with his fingertips.

  Ted caught back the beginnings of a laugh and Miss Drouhin covered a smile with her hand. The officers in the door sputtered.

  “But then again,” Jack continued saucily, “mayhap it wasn’t that pleasurable?”

  “Jack—” Addie hissed.

  She heard Sherville’s teeth click together as his huge hands curled into fists at his side. Jack mustn’t make this man an enemy. Sherville would not react like Corporal Veitch. No, he would bide his time, wait until Jack was unprepared and alone, before striking.

  She could see Sherville’s rage in the set of his jaw, the dull brick-red suffusing his bronzed cheeks. She had to stop this.

  “Major Sherville!” Her voice cracked with urgency. From the corner of her eye she saw Ted move forward, his haste revealing the limp he always so carefully masked. “Major Sherville.”

  “What?” Sherville snarled, glowering down at her.

  Time seemed to slow. She was aware of each person in the room, each nuance. She heard the younger officers’ concerned murmurs, saw Miss Drouhin catching Ted’s arm as he limped past her. And all the while Jack stood in that absurd, nonchalant pose. Smiling.

  “Mr. Cameron is a guest in my house,” she heard herself say.

  “Well, your guest, Mrs. Hoodless, is about to be taught a few lessons in decency.”

  “Again?” Ted said. “Really, Jack, we will have to see about getting you lessons in deportment. You seem to have a knack for upsetting people.”

  Both Jack and Sherville ignored Ted.

  “And you are going to give them to me?” Jack’s dark brows rose. Only the nearly imperceptible quiver in his hand betrayed that he might recognize the danger into which he had stepped; she had to admire that. Otherwise, no one would guess he felt any trepidation at all. “La! How ambitious of you, Major.”

  “You—”

  “No!” Addie cried out. “You will not give anyone any lessons in my home, Major! Mr. Cameron is my guest and I find him witty and amusing and—”

  “Why, thank you, Addie,” Jack cut in pleasantly.

  “For once, just shut up, Jack,” Ted said.

  Jack lifted his brows but shrugged apologetically.

  She was breathing too fast. Her pulse was pounding in her temples. But it had worked. She had drawn Sherville’s attention away from Jack.

  He was staring at her as though she had just sprouted wings. His cruel nature had never been more apparent. He looked like he wanted to strike her.

  “My.” He leaned forward, pitching his voice so only she could hear him. “You sounded quite fierce there for a minute, Addie. Quite unlike Charles’s timid little bride. She would never have raised her voice to me. I wonder what has inspired this transformation?”

  Then he straightened, tugging at his uniform jacket. “Your wish is, of course,” he said loudly, glancing at the others, “my command.

  “Forgive my overly zealous attempt to defend your finer feelings. I only sought to serve the memory of your husband, my dear friend. In his memory, I promise to take every care of you . . . just as he would have done.”

  The junior officers relaxed. For a minute it must have seemed as though their pedagogue was about to tumble from his pedestal by committing the grave social transgression of bringing scandal to the home of a grieving officer’s widow. This was more like it.

  It was, indeed, a pretty sort of apology, if one didn’t recognize the threat it hid.

  “Might I prevail upon you gentlemen to await me in the park?” Miss Drouhin suddenly asked. Having let go of Ted’s arm, she’d moved to the doorway and stood now, her yellow dress the bright center of an encircling group of uniformed men, a tiny buttercup in a field of red poppies.

  “I rather fancy a ride later this afternoon,” she continued, her easy tone implying that she had seen nothing untoward. “Something spirited. None of your soft English hacks. Might one of you kind gentlemen arrange it? Perhaps you, Major Sherville?”

  He tilted his head in gracious acquiescence. “Of course, Miss Drouhin.”

  “A spirited horse it shall be, Miss Drouhin,” another man chimed in.

  “Jolly good, Miss Drouhin.”

  “Phyfe.” Sherville turned to Ted. “I find I rather fancy the notion of my own visage glaring down at me from above the drawing room mantel. I shall make arrangements for an interview,” he said.

  “What a coup for you, Ted!” Jack crowed.

  Ted shot Jack a lethal glance before returning his gaze to Sherville. “I hesitate to be indelicate, Major, but since we are all friends here . . . I am terrifically overpaid for my work and what with Army pay and all, do you think you can . . . I mean . . .” His apologetic shrug lacked sincerity.

  Sherville’s face flooded with color.

  A young lieutenant snorted. “Sherville can afford a dozen of your dabs, fellow! Found Ali Baba’s mine in Arabi or so the rumors say. What of it, Major? Find the thieves’ cavern, did you?”

  Another young officer shook his head vigorously. “That’s not it. I heard he saved some heathen prince’s life and was rewarded with the bastard’s weight in gold and gems.”

  “What’s the truth of it then?” a third asked.

  “What did you do, Sherville,” one of them asked, “save some heathen prince or other?”

  Sherville pursed his lips smugly. “I wouldn’t want to bore the ladies with the tale.”

  “How modest,” Ted murmured dryly
.

  Miss Drouhin tossed her head, her pale curls bobbing like newly minted guineas. “Please, Major. You’ll tell me, won’t you? I would purely love to hear a story of manly courage and stoutheartedness.” Her long-lashed eyes fluttered in Ted’s direction.

  “I shall attempt to entertain you on our ride, Miss Drouhin.” Without asking her permission, Sherville regained Addie’s hand but this time she did not give him the pleasure of trying to pull away.

  “I am sure we will meet again, ma’am. I look forward to it more than I can possibly say.” He bowed low at the waist. The other men had moved into the hallway with Miss Drouhin, making plans to meet later. Jack had retreated a few feet away and was lounging against a table, but Addie sensed that for all his vagueness, he was attending every word Sherville uttered.

  “I must say, my dear,” Sherville said, “I am impressed with the extent of your renovations here. Very impressed. Charles must have left you quite substantial means to provide for yourself. Just be careful you don’t overdraw on the income from his . . . investments.” He pronounced each word carefully, giving them odd added emphasis.

  Addie frowned in bewilderment.

  Charles hadn’t left her anything but gambling debts. She’d paid them off with moneys from her own inheritance. Her present comfortable circumstances were solely the result of the inheritance left her by her grandfather.

  “Is that really any of your concern, Sherville?” Ted said.

  “Oh, yes. As Charles’s friend, I am obliged to make his widow my concern. His death quite ties us together.”

  And without waiting for an answer, he left, Jack’s blue eyes marking his exit.

  Addie repositioned the pot of vermilion paint, her expression thoughtful. Jack had left a quarter hour earlier with Zephrina Drouhin. The petite American girl had prevailed upon him to escort her to the park. Not that he’d been too hard to convince.

  Through the entire sitting, he’d put himself out to entertain Miss Drouhin. And heavens, Miss Drouhin had certainly been charmed by his droll wit. Judging by the frequency of her giggles, one would have thought Jack was Mr. Wilde himself.

  Paul Sherville hadn’t been nearly as amused.

  The confrontation with her husband’s boon companion had left Addie drained until slowly a fragile sense of astonished gratification had replaced her numbness. She’d actually faced the specter of her husband in the guise of Paul Sherville and she had done so without backing down or running away.

  It had been years since she had felt so . . . effectual. For months, she had been telling herself that Charles’s old cronies no longer had any power over her but today, for the first time, she not only knew they could not hurt her, she believed it.

  She could ignore Paul Sherville. She could ignore his jeers and barbed asides and veiled threats. If he proved too much a nuisance, she would publically snub him and damn the scandal. For Charles’s parents’ sake, she had bowed to society’s dictates and worn these hypocritical widow’s weeds. No more. She would accept the consequences of her behavior and bear them gladly.

  Jack Cameron, on the other hand, would have to beware the next time he met Paul Sherville—or any of Sherville’s friends. Jack had made Paul look like a fool and Paul would make sure Jack paid for that entertainment. Paul always made sure people paid. Nothing, and no one, protected Jack from him. His only hope was to avoid Sherville.

  Addie frowned.

  Jack had come to mean a great deal to her. From the day they’d met, she’d felt an affinity with him, had enjoyed his company, and felt herself relax in his undemanding presence. But lately she’d realized she felt more for him than friendship.

  Jack Cameron was physically attractive to her. She wanted to finish what she’d begun in the studio earlier that day. She wanted Jack to kiss her. Truly wanted him to do so, not merely decided she would test her ability to respond to a man’s touch. She would not fool herself in this: curiosity did not motivate her. Desire did.

  The thought surprised her. She had not felt like this in years. Not since those first days of her marriage when she’d anticipated her husband’s arrival with a healthy, pleasurable curiosity. Pleasure had not been a key ingredient in Charles’s lovemaking, but neither had pain. Indeed, Charles had set about the business of consummation with prosaic industry. While two nights of marriage had been dissatisfying, they had not been terrifying.

  And afterward, thank God, he had seemed to consider the withholding of his marital attentions to be a form of punishment. He’d never appreciated that emotional castration—the form of hurt Charles had specialized in—had been a more than adequate deterrent to sexual interest.

  So, while the mysteries of the marriage bed were no mysteries, the mysteries of passion were. Now, unbelievably, this pale dandy had reawakened her desire.

  Jack. The sensations he awoke in her were nearly painful in their incipient stirrings. Like being numbed by the cold and then sitting too close to the fire—

  “Addie, do stop disarranging my paints,” Ted said.

  She came round with a start, her cheeks growing hot. “Sorry.”

  “You’re flushed, Addie,” Ted said, studying her with concern. “Don’t worry. I’ll make certain Miss Drouhin leaves her hounds at the door from now on.”

  Dear Ted. He had been prepared to aid Jack, in spite of his physical impairment.

  “Thank you.”

  “It will be my pleasure. Such hulking creatures tend to block the light, anyway.”

  “I mean thank you for endeavoring to aid Jack.”

  “‘Aid Jack’?” Ted repeated uncertainly.

  “Yes.” Addie answered his bewilderment with her own. “When Major Sherville looked about to assault him.”

  The confusion evaporated from Ted’s expression. “I see.” He sounded amused. “I hate to admit this, Ad, but rescuing your tame cabinetmaker was the furthest thing from my intentions. It was you I was concerned about. I didn’t want you to witness anything unpleasant. I feared things might become, well, to be frank, a trifle grisly.”

  Addie scowled, disappointed and angry. “You mean that if I had not been there you would have simply stood by and let Paul Sherville batter Jack?”

  “Probably not,” Ted allowed. “Regardless of her self-professed taste for brutality, I would still be loath for Miss Drouhin to witness any fisticuffs in my studio. Bad for business. Besides, she’d enjoy it far too much.”

  “I refuse to believe you would not aid Jack should the need arise.”

  “Did I say that?” Ted asked blandly. “How perfidious of me.”

  “Oh!” Addie sputtered. “I thought you liked Jack.”

  “He’s an enigma, our Scottish friend. I admit I like a good puzzle.”

  Addie continued as though Ted hadn’t spoken. “He is not so different from you, Ted. He is as absurd and mild-mannered and as imperturbable.”

  The smile that had been hovering around Ted’s mouth faded. “Tell me, Addie, what would you do were you to discover that Jack was capable of great passion, say, even of rage?”

  “Jack? In a rage?” Addie chuckled. “I seriously doubt whether Jack has ever even been in a snit.”

  “Yes, Addie,” Ted said, “but what if you discovered that there was a point he could be pushed past, albeit with much concentrated effort, where he would be capable of . . . violence?”

  She couldn’t really give his question the consideration he obviously wanted her to; it was too patently absurd.

  “I should have to swear off men entirely, I suppose,” she replied glibly. “Become a papist and take the veil. I rather like the thought of me in one of those fetching little habits, drifting through the cloisters—”

  “Really, Addie,” Ted broke in. “I am serious.”

  For some reason Ted’s insistence distressed her. She did not like conjecturing about some hypothetical potential of brutality in Jack’s character.

  “As serious as you are about Miss Drouhin?” she asked, seeking to change the subjec
t.

  Her impulsive question met its mark. “Miss Drouhin?”

  “Yes. Miss Zephrina Drouhin. The American heiress that was perched on that chair fifteen minutes ago. You know, blonde, petite . . . inclined to giggle.” She couldn’t refrain from adding the last, even though she knew it to be catty. But the way she had commandeered Jack still rankled.

  “I seem to recall her, yes.”

  “Seeing how her face is even now staring at you from that canvas, I’m glad.”

  “Serious about her? I don’t know what you mean and why ever are you interested in her anyway?”

  “I’m just interested, is all. I’m a scientifically minded sort of woman. All manner of combustibles intrigue me. And the atmosphere in here when you two share the same air is decidedly incendiary.”

  Ted did not respond.

  “Come on, Teddy. You and I have never stood on ceremony. What is it with that girl? I swear, I have never seen a female make such a concentrated effort to annoy someone as Miss Drouhin does you.”

  “A right little bitch, isn’t she?” Ted asked, giving up trying to evade her questions.

  Addie tried to call up a severe expression of reprimand. She failed. “Well,” she conceded, “yes. Why does she act like that?”

  “The truth?”

  “The truth.”

  “I believe Miss Drouhin fancies herself in love with me.”

  Addie stared, open mouthed, at her older brother. “Oh, my.”

  “Really, Addie, for the sake of family pride and my own finer feelings, you should at least try to feign a certain understanding of the poor girl’s fascination.” Ted let slip a short laugh. “It isn’t as if she’s particularly happy about it.”

  She gave an apologetic smile. Ted was undeniably handsome but she took his good looks for granted.

  “Why isn’t she happy about it?”

  Ted leaned against the worktable, clearly amused. “Miss Drouhin considers herself a ‘real tough American.’ A forthright, energetic, and ‘bald-faced’—her term, believe me—‘gal.’ She has told me she plans to acquire a similarly naked-faced husband.”

  “Yes?”

  “Unfortunately Daddy Drouhin has different ideas. Seems the only thing in the world Daddy ever really wanted was a coronet. All of his hard work, all his prospecting, the years he and Zephrina’s mother roamed and searched and picked their way from mining town to mining town and finally to that spectacular silver strike in the American west, means nothing if he can’t see his blood mixed with European aristocracy.”