“Are you the same Lady Patience that is married to that scoundrel Julian MacTavish?” The softly spoken question reverberated with humor, and Patience arched her eyebrows at him.
“I am indeed, sir,” she said. “And what of it, might I ask?”
“I’ve heard he has been neglecting his wife.”
“I had heard that rumor as well, sir.” Patience schooled her features into a serious expression and nodded. “Do you suppose he intends to remedy that woeful situation?”
“Aye, that he does.” A wicked gleam in his eye, Julian smiled. “How can he no’, when he’s married to the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“With words like that, I think MacTavish will find his wife eager for him to correct such a deplorable state of marital bliss.” She laughed as she met his mischievous gaze, and his mouth curved into a sinful smile.
“And what types of pleasure do you think MacTavish’s wife would enjoy the most?” Julian’s brogue whispered against her skin like a wisp of heather from the highlands.
“As I recall, there is one particular pleasure she likes very much. Of course, it does require one to remove their clothes.” Patience looked up at him innocently then smiled as his eyes darkened with desire.
“You are a sassy wench, Lady Patience. I will remember that when we get home.”
Julian swung her around the dance floor, and she basked in the heat of his passionate gaze. A bolt of desire sliced through her as she imagined herself entwined in his arms once they were home. Patience’s body grew warm at the delightful images flowing through her mind, but in the next instant, her happiness was overwhelmed by fear and confusion.
Wheels from an overturned carriage spun wildly in the air before fire and smoke surrounded her. No matter what direction she moved, the smoke made it difficult to breathe while flames painfully seared her skin. As the fire raged around her, she tried to find a way out, but she couldn’t move.
Suddenly the flames were gone, and in their place was the image of her arm and face covered with horrific scars and mottled flesh. Frightened by the terrible image, Patience gasped as a chill wrapped itself around her and the images receded into the background.
“Patience. What is it
a shùgh mo chridhe
?” Julian’s voice was rough with concern as he stared down at her. “Tell me what you see.”
“What?” she whispered in a state of bewilderment.
Someplace deep inside she noted that even with a frown of worry on his face, her husband was still devastating to the senses. As her bemusement slowly faded, she regained her focus on her surroundings. Suddenly, she realized Julian was literally carrying most of her weight as he continued to twirl her around the dance floor.
“You must put me down, Julian. Someone will think something is amiss.”
“That is stating the obvious, my bonnie lass,” he said in a grim voice. “But I think it better we leave the floor rather than me setting you on your feet and you tumbling to the floor.”
“Yes,” she said hoarsely. “I think you’re right.”
With two more graceful turns, Julian maneuvered them close to one of the open doors leading out onto the terrace. As they reached the edge of the dance floor, Julian set Patience on the floor in a fluid movement that disguised the fact that he’d been carrying her throughout the dance. His arm still wrapped around her waist, he held her close so she could lean against his side. The moment they merged into the throng congregating around the dance floor, several people expressed concern for her. With a polite, yet firm manner, Julian brushed their fears aside as he guided Patience toward the door leading into the dark.
Even the cool air on her face did little to make her feel better. It was far too reminiscent of the icy cold that had engulfed her as her vision had faded. With a small sound of dismay, she glanced down at her arm as she remembered the mottled skin she’d seen on her arm and face. She was no more vain than the next person when it came to being badly scarred. But it was the pain one would have to suffer for such horrible scars she had no desire to endure.
“It will soon pass,
mo leannan
,” he whispered against her brow as he guided her toward the outer edges of the walled terrace that overlooked the gardens.
Patience loved hearing him call her sweetheart in Gaelic. It was a soothing sound that warmed and reassured her that she was safe with Julian at her side. With a nod, she breathed the cool air into her lungs as the weakness and disorientation that always accompanied her visions began to ebb away.
When they reached the waist-high wall that bordered the terrace, Julian slowly withdrew his support while ensuring she wouldn’t collapse at his feet. Without thinking, Patience stared down at her arm once more, fully expecting to see scarred tissue. The untouched skin made her drag in a breath of relief.
“Tell me what the
an dara sealladh
, showed you,
mo leannan
.” His brogue gained strength as the Gaelic rolled off his tongue. From the moment they’d met, Julian had only to speak and she was putty in his hands. She shook her head.
“It was nothing.” She dismissed his concern with a shake of her head. Despite her determination to shrug off the vision, it was difficult to completely ignore the vivid memory of her burned face and arm.
“That is no’ an answer, Mrs. MacTavish.” The commanding note in his voice said he would have the truth from her one way or another.
“But it is the only one I can give you, Julian. There was no rhyme or reason to it.” Patience eyed him with a small amount of frustration. The dark frown of worry on his face made her soften her tone. “I saw an overturned carriage with its wheels spinning wildly in the air. Then I was surrounded by flames and smoke. You
know
my gift is sometimes nothing more than symbols representing things happening around me.”
“Aye, but your aunt wrote me that you had the same vision when you were with her last week.” He paused for a moment as his large hand caressed her cheek. “She said you were left quite shaken by it.”
“Aunt Matilda is far too busy meddling in the affairs of the Rockwood family and not her own personal matters,” Patience said with exasperation.
“I think that is something akin to the pot calling the kettle black, considering you are here tonight meddling in your sister’s personal affairs.” The amusement in his voice made her jerk in surprise.
“Who told you?” Patience exclaimed then quickly shook her head as she rolled her eyes. “Aunt Matilda.”
“Aye,” he chuckled. “She’s a veritable fount of information when it comes to the Rockwood clan. But she was right to send me word of your vision and its effect on you.”
“I’m so glad you’re home,” Patience said softly as she brushed her fingers across his temple. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“No’ as much as I have missed you
mo ghràdh
.”
The Gaelic term for ‘my love’ filled her heart with happiness. From the moment they’d met it had been Julian’s brogue that had seduced her. He whispered more endearments as he pulled her into his arms. How she’d missed him these past two months. The nearness of him made her tremble, while the potent, male scent of him filled her senses.
“You tremble, lass,” he murmured with a hint of laughter in his voice as he bent his head to nibble at her earlobe. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” she whispered as her body responded to the playful nip on her ear. “I’m only afraid you’ll leave again.”
“You need have no’ fear of that,
mo ghràdh
. I’ve no intention of doing so.”
Julian’s fingers caught her chin and tilted her head up to kiss her hard. Muscular arms held her in a tight embrace. Her hands splayed against the lapels of his jacket, the hard, solid muscles of his chest pressed into her palms and made her ache to see him undressed. The furious beat of his heart pounded against her fingertips betraying his excitement.
His tongue slipped past her lips and mated with hers in a furious duel of heat and passion. A primitive need threatened to consume her as her body craved what she’d been denied for so long. In a wanton display of desire, she pressed her body into his and rubbed her hips against him in a silent demand for what only he could give her.
A dark growl vibrated out of his chest as he roughly caught her hand and dragged it down to where he was rock hard beneath his kilt. Knowing he held tight to the tradition of wearing nothing beneath his Scottish garb, her fingers grabbed the side of his tartan and quickly scrunched it up. The plaid material fell over her wrist as she slipped her hand beneath his kilt to slide her palm up the inside of a sturdy thigh before grasping him firmly.
Thick and hard against her fingers, she stroked his erection in an upward movement until her thumb ran over the tip of him. A small droplet of wet desire clung to the swollen cap of his hard length, and she smeared it over his foreskin. The low groan rumbling in his chest indicated how much he liked what she was doing. She stroked him slowly again, and another guttural sound escaped him as he thrust his hips forward against her hand.
Dark hair fragrant with a mixture of soap and bergamot brushed her cheek as he lowered his head to caress the side of her neck and shoulders with his mouth. She tightened her grip on him and slid her fingers upward with a small jerk then back down to where his sacs were. The tips of her fingers scraped across them, and he jerked at the light caress.
Julian sucked in a sharp breath, and in the next instant, his hands were resting on her shoulders as he held her at arm’s length. The desire blazing in his gaze threatened to singe her as she looked up into his dark brown eyes. His breathing harsh and rapid, Julian shook his head as if to clear it.
“No’ here,
mo ghràdh
,” he ground out harshly. “I intend to bed my wife in the privacy of our own bedroom, because once I start, I’ll no’ be able to let her out of our bed.”
“Then I suggest we leave now, Mr. MacTavish, or I’ll be tempted to punish my husband by dancing the night away with as many men as possible.” The look of possessiveness that darkened Julian’s face made her laugh. “I take it you disapprove of my alternate plan of action.”
“Aye,” he snapped as he pulled her back into his arms. “You are mine
mo ghràdh
, and do no’ you ever forget it.”
“I won’t,” she said as she pull his head down and kissed him gently. The sudden echo of a cane tapping the flagstone patio made Patience jump, and Julian slowly released her.
“Lady Patience?” The aristocratic notes of the dowager Countess of Lyndham’s voice filtered through the air. Patience moved out of the darkness followed by Julian.
“I’m here, my lady.”
“Excellent, someone said you had come out to the terrace,” the woman said as she lifted her lorgnette to inspect Patience’s appearance. “You’re flushed, child.”
“Am I?” Patience touched her cheek with a small laugh of embarrassment.
The stately dowager countess braced both hands on the top of her cane to study Julian who had moved to stand at Patience’s side. The woman arched her eyebrows as her gaze ran up and down him. With her eyes still focused on Julian, the elderly woman’s mouth twisted in a small smile of appreciation.
“
Now
I understand why your cheeks are hot with color, Lady Patience,” the woman said with a distinct note of amusement in her voice. Patience could feel her cheeks grow even hotter beneath the dowager countess’ amused look. With a laugh, she shook her head at the elderly woman.
“Lady Lyndham, may I present my husband, Julian MacTavish,” Patience said with a distinct note of happiness in her voice. Lady Lyndham extended her hand, and Julian kissed the woman’s fingers with a small flourish.
“I am honored to at long last meet the
elusive
Dowager Countess of Lyndham.” Julian’s smile was designed to melt a woman’s heart, and for a brief second Patience experienced a twinge of jealousy.
“Elusive?
Ha
,” the elderly woman said with an unladylike snort of laughter. “You might be able to charm all the women here, but I’m far too old for flattery, my boy.”
“I can no’ believe that, my lady. A woman should never tire of being told how delightful her company is, no matter her age.”
Lady Lyndham laughed again as she dismissed his flirtation with a wave of her hand, but there was a distinct look of pleasure on her face at Julian’s compliment. The dowager turned toward Patience.
“My dear, might I borrow your carriage to take me home? My grandson is otherwise occupied, which is an excellent sign of his reconciliation with Constance,” the dowager said with a smile. “But I have no idea how long they’ll be, and I confess I am weary from all the excitement.”
“Of course,” Patience exclaimed as she noted the sudden look of exhaustion that had settled on the elderly woman’s face. “We were actually about to leave as well.”
“It would be our pleasure to take you home, Lady Lyndham.” Julian offered his arm to the woman. “Shall we?”
With a pace that matched the dowager’s, Julian escorted the elderly woman back into the well-lit ballroom.
§ § §
Patience’s eyes fluttered open as she covered her yawn with her hand. Dawn was barely peeking in through the bedroom curtains, and she smiled with happiness. Julian was home and all was right with her world.
“You’re beautiful,
mo leannan.
I will never be able to have enough of you.” The husky words startled her, and she jerked her head in his direction.
“You’re awake.”
“Aye.” Propped up on his elbow, Julian cradled his head in his hand as he stared down at her. “I have been for some time now.”
“And you didn’t wake me,” she teased as she remembered how they’d spent themselves in passionate lovemaking when they’d returned home last night after seeing the Dowager Countess Lyndham home.
“No, I’ve been watching my wife as she slept.” There was something almost reverent in his voice that tugged at her heart. Patience turned on her side and reached up to trail her fingertips across his cheeks until they came to rest on his lips.
“I hope I didn’t snore,” she said with a mischievous smile.