“Darragh hasnae taken a woman to his bed in years. If he is tempted by ye, it can only be love.”
“What ye mean is that lust has caught up to him, and I am now the outlet to take out his frustration on.”
“Daenae be so pessimistic.”
“I am a realist. Other than ye and his maither, there are nay other women in his vicinity. Of course, I awakened his desires.”
Talia was disappointed. There was usually a line separating unmarried women from married women, a code of conduct. One side should hold their illusions and romanticism dear, and the other side should be more practical, cynical if necessary. It seemed as though they had crossed into each other’s territory, as if they had never known the other.
She envied Amber. How is marriage so good that she had yet to shed the illusions of maidenhood? Then she soured, because life had not been so good to her and forced her to mature at a young age.
“I am of the mind to believe ye are wrong,” Amber said indignantly. “He isnae chained inside these walls. He could have sought relief outside if he so desired it.”
“And ye’re sure that he hasnae? What about the maids? There are a bunch of them to choose from.”
“Me husband tells me everything, so do the laundry maids.”
“Ye’re frustrating. Why do ye insist that he loves me?”
“Because ye would be perfect together.”
“How do ye ken that? Up until now, ye hadnae suspected anything.”
It would be unnecessary to ponder his feelings. Whether he liked her or not was of no importance, because Talia had not an ounce of love for him.
She tried not to draw a connection between his disappearance and her melancholic state, for she would not like the conclusion.
13
“Miss Collins, it is always a pleasure meetin’ ye.” Mr. Ewen Brodie pressed a kiss to her bare wrist.
Talia smiled. No, a smile was too benign for what she did. She swooned, baring all thirty-six teeth, her face alight, her eyes sparkling, her stance… Well, his tight grip kept her upright anyway.
She had never been kissed so intimately, so daringly. Ewen looked up with the slow sensuality of a feline locking eyes with its prey and fixed his striking blue eyes on her.
“Summon Mrs. Thomson,” she instructed the maid who had walked her to the morning room.
“Mrs. Thomson is under the weather at the moment.”
The words carried to her on the wings of a flock of canaries and settled on her shoulders like a breeze. She was well awareof Amber’s condition; she herself had prepared a brew for the woman that morning.
Ewen’s touch addled her brain. She could only stare transfixed as his thumb massaged the pulse in her wrist.
“Then fetch Lady McGhee.”
He worked his way down to her fingers, then she felt the circumference of his bicep as she squeezed his arm to keep her upright. Her mouth went dry at the sheer strength she felt in them.
“Nay one has seen the mistress all morning, miss.”
“Whatever shall we do?” she sighed and let herself be led into the room without the presence of a chaperone.
Orlagh was jittery with nerves, pacing about her room, as she awaited the knock and the familiar face of her trusted maid. She needed to leave the door to her chambers unlocked so her partner in crime could easily meet with her. The iron bolt beckoned, but staying near the wardrobe so that she might hide if someone else came in was more important. It was imperative that she not be discovered.
Because her heart beat so loudly, she could not hear the footfalls of servants or the heavy-footedness of her son. If he, of all people, came upon her, her plan would go to hell.
Just as she had decided to press her ear to the door and listen for the footsteps of her maid, the familiar face burst into the room, looking very much elated.
Orlagh rushed to her and took her hands in her own, overwrought. “Did ye do it?”
