Earl of Hearts(20)

Maeve clucked and tsked in agreement. "Behave yerself, Red Sammy. His  lordship has proved they're wed so leave them alone. Yer sons will have  to find their wives elsewhere. And it wouldna hurt their prospects if  they washed more often. They're handsome lads, but who's to notice under  all that filth?" She took Nicola and led her to a stool by the fire.  "Make yerself comfortable, m'lady. I'll put on some stew to warm."

Nicola liked the no-nonsense woman and admired the way she maintained  control of four obviously stubborn men. She may not be mother to Sammy's  sons, but they obeyed her and responded to her as though she were.  "Thank you, Maeve. Please call me Nicola. It seems ridiculous to  maintain formality, especially after the kindness you've all shown us."

As she'd taken her seat beside the fire, John had moved to the fire as  well. Was it merely to warm himself? She did not think so. John was  still keeping close to her. She did not understand why. They were  pretend married now and the Frasers had believed their lie.         

     



 

She sighed. It was only a small fib, a necessary misstatement given under dire circumstances.

Lord, forgive me.

Truly, it had felt wrong to lie to Maeve, but she did not have quite as  much guilt about lying to Sammy and his sons. They were unrepentant  rogues, and Angus in particular had not stopped staring at her. Perhaps  that was what John had noticed also.

"M'lord," Sammy said once they'd eaten their stew and washed it down  with a surprisingly good homemade ale. They were all seated on sturdy  benches around the dining table. Maeve was busying herself serving Sammy  and his boys with second helpings, for they had announced they were  still hungry and demanded more. "Yer pretty wife looks ready to fall  asleep on her feet."

John nodded and cast him a wry grin. "Unlike us scoundrels, she isn't used to a harsh life. She's never been on the run before."

Nicola muffled her yawn. "I'd hardly call your hospitality harsh, Mr.  Fraser. You've been most generous with us and I thank you."

"Och, I wish I'd had a girl and not just pigheaded sons. The pleasure is  all mine, I assure ye, Lady Bainbridge." He slapped his hands on his  knees and grunted to his feet. The wooden bench groaned as he eased off  it.

Sammy then playfully caught Maeve about the waist and drew her up  against his portly frame. "Maeve, m'love, would it be all right to offer  yer cottage to these lovebirds for the night? I'd suggest that his  lordship sleep here while ye ladies retire to yer cottage, but ye can  see his lordship wants her warm body beside him and isn't about to agree  to any arrangement that doesn't have her in his arms. So, ye can stay  with me tonight, and everyone's happy," he said with a wicked grin. "Ye  look like ye need a little warmin' up yerself and I'm just the man to  oblige."

Maeve hit him across the head with the wooden spoon in her hand. "Ye big  oaf. Is that any way to talk in front of Lady Bainbridge? Look, the  poor thing's blushing. Och, lamb. Ye must ignore Red Sammy. But ye and  yer husband are welcome to my cottage. Ye ought to be safe enough from  outsiders this evening."

"Thank you, Maeve. I appreciate the offer. You see, I've quickly grown  used to having Lord Bainbridge by my side and would not like to spend  even one night apart."

Sammy and his sons guffawed and John looked surprised.

Sammy gave him a hearty wallop on the back. "Seems the lass can't get  enough of ye. Hungry for ye, she is. And by the look of ye, it seems yer  even hungrier for her. I thought ye Uppity Ups did not like to share  beds." He shook his white-capped head and sighed. "Archie will show ye  the way. It does m'old heart good to see a young couple in love. But ye  mustn't wring him dry, m'lady, or he'll be useless tomorrow. We have a  long ride ahead of us and I plan to have us on the road before the  cock's first crow."

Nicola breathed a sigh of relief once she and John were brought to  Maeve's cottage and finally left alone. John had brought his weapons  along with him, and they'd been given a lantern to see their way around  the small place. Nicola could instantly tell that Maeve was a fastidious  woman. Although small and sparse, her one-room home was neat and nicely  maintained.

There were feminine frills, some pretty dishes on display. Lace runners  on a few, small tables. Lace curtains. These little details had been  lacking in Sammy's abode. Although his cottage was much bigger, it had  suffered from the lack of tender care by the rowdy men who lived there.

Sammy and his boys were not the delicate sort, certainly would never think to dust shelves or wash floors or not slam doors.

They were not the sort to decorate with lace either. No, they would smuggle lace, for certain. But never keep it for themselves.

"John, what happens next?" She did not know what he had in mind for  sleeping arrangements, but whatever he decided was fine with her. She  was tired, practically dead on her feet, and wished nothing more than to  close her eyes. All the fight had gone out of her when he'd taken her  hands in his and declared he was her husband.

Her lips were still tingling from his gentle kiss.

Their marriage was a lie, but John had spoken those words with such  gentle affection that the lie had sounded splendid to her ears.

"We'll have to share Maeve's bed." He took her hand in his, sounding  more remorseful than pleased. "I'm sorry, Nicola. But they'll grow  suspicious if we don't sleep together, and then that whelp, Angus, will  be claiming you for his own."

She laughed lightly. "All these seasons on the shelf and suddenly I'm the belle of the Highlands ball."         

     



 

He frowned at her. "You were always the prettiest girl wherever you went. You're the one who chased the men away."

"Until Somersby." She slipped her hand out of John's grasp and put it to  her lips to stifle a sob. "Oh, John. I don't want to think about him  tonight. How could I have been so stupid? How could I not see the man he  was?"

"No one saw it, Nicola." He placed her hand back in his and led her  behind a curtained area of the cottage that served as Maeve's  bedchamber. The bed was small, hardly big enough to hold one person.  Perhaps it would fit two people if they snuggled tight. John was big and  broad shouldered, but she was fairly slight in build.

Besides, she and John had been pasted to each other for days. Surely, they could manage to spend the night squeezed together.

In truth, it would be heaven for her.

He stayed her hand when she started to remove her shawl. "Don't undress.  Just take off your boots. We may have to make a run for it if Somersby  or his men show up."

She nodded, turning away slightly to hide her disappointment.

She was ready to strip down to nothing for this man, but his mind was on  his duty and not on laying claim to her body even though she was his  pretend wife. And now he wasn't even looking at her, but was striding to  the window to peer out into the blackness.

"Bollocks," he muttered, striding to the door to make certain the latch  was secure. He then lifted Maeve's table, which was made of thick,  sturdy oak, and set it firmly against the door.

"What are you doing?" That table appeared to weigh as much as a horse. Yet, John had lifted it as though it was nothing.

"Sammy's boys are curious."

She gasped. "Were they peeking in?"

He nodded. "Still are."

"What?" She raced to the window and saw their shameless faces grinning back at her. "How dare they!"

John caught her by the waist as she made to open the window to punch the  closest of Sammy's sons in the nose. "They mean no harm."

"No harm?" Her hands were still curled into fists and she was furious.  That John managed to remain calm only brought her anger to a boil. "They  need to be taught a lesson."

She reached for the window again, but John held her back. "Enough,  Nicola. We need them on our side, not turning us over to Somersby."

"But they're your friends. They wouldn't dare …  would they?"

He finally released her and ran a hand through his hair in obvious  consternation. "Red Sammy's an odd duck. No telling what he might do if  you insult his boys, even if they are misbehaving."

"Well, they're not going to gawk at me all night." She hung her shawl  over the window like a curtain and heard their grumbles. "I'm going to  bed."

She stalked back to their bedchamber-oh, goodness! Had she just thought of it as that? Their bedchamber?

John cleared his throat. "I'll join you shortly."

She sank onto the straw mattress and tugged off her boots. "What are you going to do in the meanwhile?"

"Decipher Somersby's book, especially the ledger entries."

"Me, too!" She forgot her anger and her eyes widened in anticipation. "Bring it here. We can look at it together."

"No."

At times, John could be as infuriating as Sammy's wayward boys. "No?"  She rose and came to his side as he dug through his saddle pouch to  retrieve the book. "How can you deny me? It's my book, since I'm the one  who found it."