His Duty, Her Destiny. Juliet Landon

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СКАЧАТЬ quite anxious about you.’

      ‘George, I’m twenty-four, not twelve. Why should she be anxious?’

      ‘Vultures, love,’ he said, rising again. ‘Too many vultures.’

      ‘What are they…something legal, is it?’

      ‘No, vultures are nasty big birds that the king keeps in his menagerie at the tower. They tear juicy bodies to pieces with their greedy beaks, bone, fur and all. Some men are like that, and some will protect you from vultures. Fergus is one of those. I know him better than you, and if he says he wants you it’s not because he wants your wealth or ancestral links. Why else d’ye think he came round here early if not for a sneak preview after all these years? Eh?’

      ‘Curiosity, I expect.’

      ‘Yes, and now he’s seen you, not even your insults have put him off. He still wants you, love. I told you.’

      She stared at him, stuck for words. ‘I…I thought…he…’

      ‘He’d go off with his tail between his legs? Hah! You should know him better than that, lass. He’s got more between his legs than a tail.’

      ‘George!’ Her heart lurched uncomfortably, making her aware of the sharp pain of her wound.

      ‘Sorry. I’ll go before I say any more. See you this evening.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t look like that. You’ve got four brothers, remember. You must have seen.’

      ‘I didn’t look,’ she called after him.

      ‘Little liar.’ He laughed. ‘Swimming in the river? You too?’

      Yes, she remembered that, and the time she’d followed them and got out of her depth and was rescued by Ramond long before the others even noticed, so intent were they on watching Fergus. He had always been graceful and strong, excelling at everything, leading them into risky situations, yet always emerging first, triumphant. She recalled how he had ridden bareback the stallion that none of them would go near, how the maids would giggle and ogle him, how shamefully excited and angry she had felt when she discovered he had kissed one of them. How she had longed to be the one instead of a nobleman’s chit for whom he had no time. Whatever she had done, there had always been time to dream and then to weep with forlorn childish tears. How she had hated and adored him.

      Nicola had known that Fergus Melrose would be there—Sir Fergus, as she was now supposed to call him—and while she tried to convince herself that she didn’t care, that she would not dress to impress anyone, least of all him, the end result would have done justice to a Botticelli goddess floating in from the sea. Blue silk, very full, very sheer and diaphanous, very low-cut and high-waisted, very suitable for the kind of open-air feast that Charlotte enjoyed most.

      Her hair, severely pulled back into a long sleek plait that reached her waist, was crowned with a garland of blue flowers echoed by a tiny nosegay tucked into the vee of her bodice to hide the top edge of an unsightly red line. Pendant pearls from her ears were the only other adornment and, if she did not quite believe the mirror that told her she looked ravishing, then she had to take account of her maids and the stares of the guests. Especially from two of them.

      ‘Since no one has yet offered to introduce us, my lady,’ said a personable young man to Nicola, ‘then I must needs do it myself. I asked my brother to, but he has declined.’

      ‘And who is your brother, sir?’ As if she couldn’t have guessed.

      ‘Over there,’ he said, glancing with a certain relish across to where his elder brother lounged against a marble table laden with food. ‘Sir Fergus Melrose.’

      Nicola followed his glance, relieved to have a genuine excuse to look at him so soon after her arrival. Then, seeing the message that awaited her, she wished she had not done. The business of the day is not yet over, he was telling her. You’ll not get rid of me so easily.

      ‘My name,’ the young man was saying, ‘is Muir. I expect he’s mentioned me.’ His merry brown eyes were revealing far more than his name—his admiration, for example, his interest in every detail of her appearance as well as in some that were hidden. In that respect, he was easier to read than his brother, more affable, more extrovert in his much-padded pink satin doublet that made her wonder how he managed to squeeze through doorways. The pleated frill below his belt was skimpy enough to reveal what older men kept politely concealed.

      ‘Master Melrose,’ said Nicola, averting her eyes from the pronounced bulge, ‘why did your brother refuse to introduce us? Would he not approve of us being acquainted?’

      ‘Apparently not. In fact, he was quite specific about the problem. He said I’d get under his feet. Wasn’t that discourteous of him?’ Like a watered-down version of the original, he was almost as tall, almost as dark, but not nearly as imposing as the brother he criticised; even without the gathers, Fergus’s shoulders were wide and robust, his chest deeper, his neck more muscled, his manner more dangerously mature, less boyish.

      ‘Extremely discourteous,’ Nicola agreed, bestowing on Muir her most charming smile as long as the two grey eyes glared at them from across the garden. ‘Surely he must have known we’d meet, somewhere?’

      ‘Not if he could help it, my lady. It was your brother who invited me here. Fergus is trying to persuade me to go back home to Scotland. I came here to the capital for a wee visit, but I didn’t think it would be quite so short.’

      ‘And what is the purpose of your short visit? Business?’

      ‘Er…not quite.’ His smile was mischievously rueful. ‘An affair of the heart, my lady.’ Clapping one hand to his heart was too dramatic for it to have been genuine. ‘I had to make myself scarce.’

      ‘I see. In some haste, I take it.’

      ‘In great haste,’ he agreed, grinning.

      She felt the hostile glare still upon them both and assumed that the younger Melrose was not averse to queering the pitch of his elder brother by telling her of things that ought to have been private. Also, that in revealing his own penchant for non-serious affairs of the heart, he might in fact be offering her the chance to flirt with him and thereby to annoy the arrogant Fergus. With an air that exposed intentions unashamedly several stages ahead of hers, Muir Melrose wore his virility like one who had just discovered its purpose and was ready to put it to good use.

      At once, she knew what she would do, that she would have to be careful, and that between them they could make Fergus Melrose’s ambition somewhat more difficult to achieve. It would not be hard to do and must surely be more fun than today’s worsening relationships.

      ‘Then you cannot go home soon, can you? Not immediately.’

      ‘It would be a great pity—’ he sighed ‘—now we’ve been introduced. Would you allow me to call on you, perhaps?’ When she purposely kept him waiting for an answer, he pleaded, gently, ‘For the summer months?’

      ‘Oh, not months,’ she said. ‘Weeks…days…’

      ‘My Lady Coldheart,’ he said, pulling a tragic face, ‘you cannot be serious. Are you so very hard to please, then?’

      ‘Alas, I am indeed, Master Melrose. My standards are high, you see, and my interest appallingly short-lived. I’m afraid I send men packing, as your СКАЧАТЬ