Page 76 of Return of the Scot
She clung to him, a gasp of pleasure and a little laugh at his eagerness.
“Ye’re a naughty duchess,” he murmured against her ear.
“And this is how ye’ll punish me.”
“Aye, over and over.”
And if by sending her body into one rollicking spasm after another was what he meant by punishment, Jaime took it with relish.
18
Lorne held Jaime’s hand as they walked along the beach, their bare toes sinking into the sand, and the gentle laps of the North Sea washing over their feet. The day had been uneventful, to which they’d both been grateful as they’d spent the majority of it in pleasant company with each other, basking in newlywed bliss. Knowing that the peace of it was going to come crashing down on them soon seemed to make them both eager to soak it up.
Jaime let go of his hand as she bent to pick up a shell.
“As a wedding present, I think I shall build ye a bigger pier, my duchess. Perhaps even a dozen, so ye can bring every one of your ships to Dunrobin if ye choose.” Lorne paused, looking out at the ocean, then turned back to his wife. “What say ye, sweetling?”
Jaime smiled up at him, lips parting to speak when above her head he saw the flag waving frantically from the top of the garden steps. The very one he’d asked Mungo to use as a signal if riders were approaching.
“We need to go. Now.” Lorne gripped Jaime’s hand and started to run, with her keeping stride beside him.
The delirious bubble of newly wedded bliss was effectively popped.
They hurried through the garden, both of their boots forgotten at the beach as they rushed to the castle before they were seen. Everyone knew the plan was to make it seem as though the castle was nearly deserted. They rushed up the stairs and through the door of the kitchens. The staff was in an uproar over the approach of a single rider.
That was interesting. Not a carriage or a trio. But a single. Had to be Jaime’s investigator.
As they made their way to the great hall at the moment the single rider came through the gate, they learned it was indeed Mr. Bell. Jaime rushed to greet him, tugging him inside. There was a measure of relief at the wayward siblings not yet arriving, yet a heightened level of nerves.
“They will be here within a few hours, maybe less,” the man said. “I passed them on the road to get here to warn ye.”
“Thank ye, Mr. Bell. We are grateful for your devoted service,” Jaime said. “We’ve had a room made up for ye and will send up a plate. Ye must be exhausted.”
“I am grateful to Your Graces for your hospitality.”
“’Tis us who are grateful,” Lorne said. “Ye’ve been extremely instrumental in this whole affair.”
“I am glad to be of service.”
Mrs. Blair ushered the investigator up the stairs toward his guestroom.
When they were alone in Lorne’s study, Jaime said, “There was a part of me that hoped none of this was true. That we’d find out we were wrong.”
Lorne nodded grimly, pouring them each a small glass of whisky. “I know, lass, ’twas the same for me. I still can no’ believe that my brother would do this. After all that I gave him, did for him.”
Jaime linked her hand around his when he handed her the cup. “I verra much feel the same way.”
The minutes ticked by like hours. They tried a game of chess, reading aloud from The Iliad, and when those distractions didn’t take, they made love on his desk. At last, they were warned of an approaching carriage.
“He’d better have our ancestor’s sword with him,” Lorne muttered.
“What?”
Lorne glanced down at his beautiful bride. “He stole it when he left. A sword used by our ancestor, who fought alongside William Wallace in the War of Independence.”
“My goodness. Why would he take that?” She wrinkled her nose.
“I have no idea.”
