She could not tell Mr. Pike any of this. First, because he might take word of her back to the duke. She may not know much about men, but she knew they didn’t like to be told to do things or made to feel they must. And there could be nothing flattering in what Jack Pike might say about her to the duke. Second, she could not tell him she hoped to marry his master because . . . because . . . because Jack Pike was arousing very strong feelings in her.
Oh, to be in a warm, dry place with this man.
Naked.
“Aren’t you pleased I came in his place?” His eyebrows were raised in a leer, his lips curved in a sly smile. The damn man knew what she was thinking. Or feeling. About him. “I can be most amusing, Lady Kinmarloch.”
How dare he? No man had ever had the gall to speak to her this way. Or look at her this way. The Countess of Kinmarloch in her own right. A proud title for a proud woman.
But she was still a woman. And this man made her wet with desire between her legs.
How she hated him for that.
But she needed Jack Pike, his information, and maybe his help. He might be her path to the chance, as slim as herself, that she could get the duke to marry her.
“Come have tea,mo luran,” she said to the most beautiful man she had ever seen. “Come see the keep of the earldom of Kinmarloch.”
Seven
Dinnae expect too much, she had said. And Jack hadn’t. A countess in muddy breeches, looking half-starved, herding sheep? Most assuredly, he was not expecting much.
But he was not prepared for the wreck of the castle he encountered. Only the keep still stood intact, and it was cold, damp, and leaking rain. One small fire was lit, barely heating the cavernous space.
“Mr. Pike, this is Mags.” Mags was a tall, slender girl with a limp, red hair like a sunset, and a face like an angel. “Mr. Pike is the new duke’s man. The purported new duke’s man.”
The girl bobbed.
“I am enchanted to meet you, Miss Mags. I continue to be astounded by the beauty of Scotland’s women. You put me in mind of Hestia, the Greek goddess of fire, seeing you stand by the hearth that way.”
He was pleased the young woman’s eyes met his and she smiled and blushed before she went back to making tea. Now, there was a proper response to Captain Jack Pike. He turned to Helen, as if to say,See, that's what a normal female does when she receives a compliment from me, you cold-blooded, breeches-wearing harpy.
But the countess was scowling. Her heavy brow was knitted. She took him by the elbow. “Come this way, Mr. Pike. Let me show ye the outer walls.” She yanked him back outside.
In the rain, Helen pushed him against one of the outer walls she was meant to be showing him and leaned close. “Ye are to stay away from Mags. Do ye hear me, Mr. Pike? I want yer word on it. Nane of yer flirtation and fooling.”
He peeled Helen’s fingers of steel off his elbow. “I was not flirting. I was complimenting. A small tribute. She’s just a girl. What do you take me for?”
She put her fists on her narrow hips. “I take ye for a man. A cocksure man with a smooth tongue and pleasing ways. A filthy animal of a man who is used to getting what he wants because he’s pretty and his talk is pretty. But Mags is under my protection.” She looked pointedly at his groin. “Take yer prick to the public house at Cumdairessie and get it wet there. But nae here. Nae in Kinmarloch.”
“Now, my lady, are you saying I can’t speak sweetly to any of the young women of Kinmarloch?”
“Aye.”
He laughed. “What about Dunmore? Can I engage in flirtation and fooling there, as you put it?”
She squinted at him. “I cannae tell ye what to do in Dunmore. But I will remind ye that ye are the duke’s man and ye represent him. The women and girls of Dunmore are under his protection, and therefore, yers. And if John MacNaughton is a good man and a good duke, he would hang ye up by yer thumbnails if ye were to take advantage.”
Oh, damn.
Damn, damn, damn. Fuck.
It had not even crossed Jack’s mind. Of course, if he became the duke, he would be a swine, an absolute villain, if he were to couple with a woman who lived in his duchy. Because the woman would feel obligation. She would come to his bed because he was the duke, her lord and master. Not because he was Jack Pike, master of the bedchamber.
And even if he were willing to be a villain, and he very well might be if he stayed chaste long enough up here in Scotland, there would be no pleasure in it for him. No pleasure besides the same fleeting pleasure his own hand gave him.
Because he would not know if the woman really wanted him.
Fuck.
