Page 94 of The Scot Who Loved Me
“I was still in Scotland when you lived here. I could hardly check on you.”
They were fourth in line from the countess. He’d get this out now because these words were years overdue and this was as close to being alone as he could get. Despite the league’s well-laid plans, there was no telling how this night would end. He wasn’t taking a chance, not with what needed saying.
“You managed to check on me while I lived above Mr. Pidcock’s shop.”
Anne’s mouth firmed, and the small opening he coveted gone. He felt its absence all the way to his toes. It was a sorry victory he enjoyed, unfolding her secret. His feelings were mixed. Exultant and sad at five years... wasted.
“Why didna you come to me?” he asked.
There was fragile movement in her neck. A guilty swallow.
“I couldn’t.”
A polite cough yanked him from looking into her eyes. A gap swelled between them and the next pair greeting the countess. He led Anne over the threshold into the light. Fifty candles burned circles of light in a crystal chandelier above their heads. Light bounced off white marble floors, the effect breathtaking. It was a message from the Countess of Denton:I’m a wealthy, powerful collector of beauty.
Anne’s profile was proud beside him.
“Why did you never come to me?” he asked again. “All this time, I thought you’d forgotten me.”
“I have never forgotten about you because I havenever, neverstopped loving you.” Shoulders square and chin proud, Anne was in high spirits, though her voice throbbed low. “I sought news of your whereabouts since the war. Any scraps I could find. Your time in the prison hulk, your time here at Denton House, and your time on the docks. All of it. But that’s not what you want. You want to know why I didn’t seek you out, and it’s simple. I didn’t think you wanted me.”
Anne’s eyes glossed wetly at the admission, and the beast that drove him to follow her out of Marshalsea sank greedy claws into his heart. The same beast which laughed at his rejection was cruelly laughing again.
“I pledged my troth to Mr. Neville. An old man who did no more than touch my hand. It was not a true marriage, Will MacDonald, but my vows were. And they always will be,” she said fervently, quietly for his ears alone. “If I swear an oath before God and man to be faithful, it will be done...’til death do we part.”
Anne’s pain pierced him. He was stunned and unaccountably angry. Life had been unusually cruel, stealing all that he had held dear. As a boy, his mother, gone. Then clan, country, and his father who he’d not seen since the war. And Anne, the most confounding woman to ever win his heart. She’dknownwhere he was, yet she married another man to help their clan.
What a tangled web.
This woman he loved was layers upon layers of complexity.
Her loyalty was fierce and glorious. It rocked his soul, because wrapped within it was the real treasure he found in Denton House. Anne had never stopped loving him.
Chapter Thirty-One
Molten gold eyes burned with hunger. Anne ripped herself away from Will. She liked her arm entwined with his, but he pulsed with emotion. Anger, amazement, true, true amazement, and love. She’d take them all, though there were enough to make a woman forget where she was standing or if she was breathing. Naught else mattered. They would be together.
Not a war or a woman would come between them.
She touched Will’s sleeve, a promise in it.
Later...
They had but one task tonight—take the gold. In that, they were united. Lightness rippled inside her. It felt like... victory.
She watched Will step forward in the marble entry. A fist curled against his midsection. He bowed from the waist.
“Countess, thank you for inviting us.”
Anne’s heart fluttered with pride. She needed to heal. They needed to heal. But true love was pliable and stalwart. She saw it in Will’s handsome profile, more beautiful and perfect for his goodness. He smiled graciously at a woman who didn’t deserve it. The countess basked in it. Anne took the moment to force herself back into the present. To hear voices cluttering, laughter spilling, the footmen scurrying with perfectly balanced trays. Music played somewhere too. Will was concluding the bland chatter one gave to a host. Hearts would quiver for Will MacDonald well into his advanced years, but she would be the one to walk beside him.
When he stepped aside, Lady Denton buried her hands in dramatic panniers, her wistful gaze following him. Perhaps love for the highlander lived in the woman’s gilded heart. If it did, all hints of gentle emotions faded when Anne sashayed forward.
“Mrs. Neville. How kind of you to come.” The Countess of Denton’s voice dripped with ice.
Anne bowed her head and sank into a deep elegant curtsey. She held it longer than necessary, and her medallion swung forward, a golden pendulum.
“Mrs. Neville... must you?” Lady Denton’s patience wore thin.
