The Devil’s Due by Boucher, Rita (free reads txt) 📗

that he harbored no such hopes. Kate felt a swell of pity. Lord MacLean honestly seemed to believe that his aspect was hideous. But that was no concern of hers. Indeed, if he felt himself unattractive, it was so much the better for her. Heaven help her if he realized how fast her heart was beating, how that smile of self-mockery seemed to squeeze the very breath from her. Even by the measure of Marcus’s expurgated tales, MacLean had been the very model of the irresistible male who knows his own attraction.

She reminded herself that this man did not deserve her sympathy. He would have blackmailed her into his bed. Could any bond that he proposed be trusted? She would have to tread warily. “You agree not to molest me or mine?” Kate chose her words with care. “You give your word that all of us may stay here under your protection in safety?”

“Aye, all.” Duncan almost chuckled as he thought of anyone attempting to trifle with her battle-ax of a maid. “I swear.”

Kate put her hands on her hips, cocking her head to one side as she considered. “Very well,” she said, at last, offering her hand in the age old gesture of sealing bargains.

He clasped her fingers feeling as large as a bear as his huge paws curled around her palm. The nails on her elegantly long fingers were cracked. The palms showed the effects of hard work, chapped and raw with labor. How had she come to this pass? He wondered.

Duncan had no doubt she was a lady; every inch of her proclaimed it, soft as a kitten with claws of steel. Not for a moment did he believe that her name was “Smith.” Whatever her real identity, Kate was deeply frightened of someone or something. He was convinced that it was the terror of that unknown threat that had enabled her to face a hostile stranger with utter fearlessness, caused her to bargain her person away for the benefit of an unknown man’s dubious protection. As he considered the female conundrum, who was trying to conceal her anxiety as she awaited his response, he knew that he would be best served by patiently seeking his answers. Solving this riddle would certainly help to pass the time until Dewey recouped his bequest and fattened the MacLean purse once again.

There was a kaleidoscope of feelings in those enigmatic eyes as he took her hand in his. Beyond the confusion was something that appealed to a part of him that he had thought long dead. Somehow he knew that this was one oath that he would fulfill unbroken, although it was a deuce of a time to become an honorable man. In all likelihood, she would never offer him so much as a finger again. It was a chance that would never be repeated and Duncan had never been known to waste an opportunity. With a wicked grin, he raised her hand to his lips, savoring the delicate feel of her, the flutter of her fingers like a captive bird’s wing. Gently, he caressed her palm with a kiss, following the lines and scars that told him a story of hardship. With tenderness, he touched the delicate tracery of veins until he reached the pounding pulse beat at her wrist. Slowly, he sealed the bargain that he had already begun to regret with a stolen kiss.

His dark head was bent and she could see nothing of his expression. He was trifling with her, she knew it. An odd torpor overcame her, a lethargy that spread from the spot where his lips first brushed her skin. Her knees grew curiously liquid, melting in the heat that was flooding her body, all because of a mere touch on the hand.

Am I going daft? Kate wondered, despising herself for her weakness, yet she could not pull herself away.

When he lifted his head at last, his gaze, a blend of defiance and abiding sadness, held her in thrall. Deep in that gray intensity was a plea for understanding that bound her in a strange sense of kinship, even as his mocking gesture roused her contempt. He raised his other hand as if to touch her cheek, but when he spoke, the spell was broken.

“I swear,” he repeated softly.

“There will be no more of that,” she said, snatching her fingers from his grasp as if bitten.

“I know,” he said, with genuine sorrow as she took a step back, her face flushing. “I know.”

Chapter 4

“We are near ready to go!"

Kate whirled, wondering just how much Daisy had seen. From the vehement tone of her abigail’s voice and the annoyance in her eyes, likely too much. Luckily, it seemed that Lord MacLean's untoward gesture had been hidden from her daughter's view. Kate forced herself to relax, trying to wipe away the traces of her own apprehensions. There was no need to add to the child's burden of fears, especially if they were going to stay after all. Still, the events of the previous night had taken their toll. Gone was the confident, laughing little girl of yesterday afternoon. Daisy was struggling to carry a bundle with one hand while tugging Anne along with the other. The child was clutching at the door sill, her face tear-stained as she wriggled to break free.

With a sigh, Daisy dropped her load and took hold of Anne’s arm, trying to detach her grip. “Had to shut the dog in the pantry, I did,” she explained, panting as she unclenched the small fingers one by one. “She don’t want to leave the beast behind, much as I tell her he don’t belong to us.” She knelt down to sweep the squirming girl into her arms, speaking softly. “We cannot be taking Cur with us, Annie-child, even were he ours to keep. ‘Tis a long hard journey we have ahead."

Although she addressed herself to the wee one, Duncan felt the servant’s smoldering anger. But the older woman's wrath