Page 48 of The Last Debutante
She gazed thoughtfully at the keys, playing lightly once more.
If only she knew the whole story of that supper, that infamous, meticulously planned supper, which had been intended to put to bed some of the more egregious complaints the Brodies and Campbells had harbored against each other the last two centuries. Jamie’s first thought—when Cormag Brodie had said whatever it was he’d said (his words lost along with the pig that had been roasted for the occasion), and Geordie had flipped the table, sending crystal, china, wine, and pig flying—was that he was right to have wanted a much smaller affair. His second thought—as Cormag had lunged, his hands grasping for Geordie’s throat—was that perhaps it would be best if the Brodies and the Campbells never dined together.
The melee had spilled into the old bailey, with Campbells swinging fists at Brodies, and Brodies swinging swords at Campbells. It had ended when Cormag swung his claymore wide, striking Geordie in the neck. If Geordie had not been so agile, he might be headless now. If Cormag had been a little less meaty, he might have lost his life as well, but the knife Geordie managed to stab into his leg had not penetrated so deeply as to drain his life’s blood.
As three men struggled to drag Cormag away, Isabella had said, “I canna enter into a permanent union with a man whose brother would wish my brother dead. I’m sorry, Jamie.” She’d followed her kinsmen out, daintily holding up the hem of her gold gown so as not to drag it in the blood and muck.
It had been a moment when Jamie could not think of what to say. He was the sort who needed time to think, to mull, when presented with a weighty matter such as the end of an engagement and the crash of dreams for a happy union and a family. He was the sort to choose his words carefully... so he hadn’t spoken at all.
He had not called her back.
The end of his engagement to the fair Isabella had been a blow to Jamie’s heart, and, admittedly, his ego. He’d been quite fond of her, and supposed he still was. She was pretty, with wide green eyes and copper hair. But he was a laird, and women did not cry off from engagements to lairds.
“It must have been horrid for everyone involved,” Daria said, as if he’d just told her the story aloud.
“Aye. In more ways than I could ever explain.”
“Well,” she said, looking at him from the corner of her eye, “I am a good listener.”
He laughed. “I’ve said enough, aye? It was a night for the ages, one that shall go down in the annals of family history; a night in which Geordie lost his voice and I lost my fiancée.”
“Your fiancée! How did youloseher?”
“In the usual way,” he said, smiling a little. “She cried off, since her brother had just been stabbed by my brother.”
Daria’s eyes widened with surprise and fixed on him, as if she expected him to tell her that he was jesting. Her gaze did not waver, and neither did his. Jamie noticed—and not for the first time, no—that she had long, darkly golden lashes and brown eyes flecked with tiny bits of blue and gray, rimmed with black. Eyes that could live forever in a man’s memory.
“You must not tell me any more,” she said, her gaze dropping to his mouth. “Or I shall feel quite sad for you and be resolved to help you. I think there can be nothing as dangerous as resolving to help one’s captor.”
“Diah,I could no’ bear your help, I am certain of it.”
“You,sir? I think you could bear nearly anything.”
A soft smile played on her lips. He wondered if she was flirting with him now, hoping that he would agree to take her to Edinburgh or give her grandmother undeserved leeway. Daria Babcock might believe she knew the ways of men... but Jamie Campbell knew women.
He leaned closer. “And what of you,leannan? How is it that a woman as lovely as you has descended from a woman who is as mad as a hen?”
She closed her eyes and bent her head closer to him. “You’ve quite clearly become very fond of my Mamie.”
He couldn’t help himself; he grazed her temple with his lips. “I assure you, I have no’.”
Her smile deepened; small dimples creased her smooth cheeks. “But are you not the least bit curious to see how she fares?” she asked, and tilted her head to one side as Jamie moved his mouth to her jawline.
“No,” he said, dipping to her neck.
“But we had an agreement,” she murmured.
“We have only one agreement,leannan. One thousand pounds in exchange for you.” He couldn’t seem to stop himself from cupping her face, his fingers splayed against her head. He tilted her head back and moved to kiss her, but Daria quickly inserted her fingers between them, pressing against his mouth.
“You promised me I would see her. Duff said he sent a messenger with the letter I wrote her and she wasn’t there. I’m worried, and you promised.”
Damnation.She had him. She’d seduced him with her smile and her beauty and her unfailingly spirited nature, and even worse, she knew that she had. Jamie could see it in the dance of her eyes, the curve of the smile on her lips. “You want my promise, lass? You have it,” he said, and grabbed her hand, pulling it away at the same moment he pressed his mouth to hers, claiming it, drawing her lower lip in between his teeth.
She was lush, her lips, her body, all of her. He anchored one arm around her and pulled her closer. This woman was irresistible, with her smile and her glittering eyes, and Jamie kissed her with a surrender that surprised him.
Her mouth, as soft and succulent as he’d remembered from that hazy dream in her grandmother’s cottage, was warm, andDiah,moving erotically against his mouth. The kiss was molten; it had the potential to melt him into nothing.
It wasn’t enough—he needed more. He suddenly twisted her about and draped her over his lap, her face between his hands. She gave a small cry into his mouth when he did it, but then she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding herself tightly to him.
