The Rake of Glendir Read online

  ‘Lord Glendir is a most…intriguing man, is he not?’ she said, still reeling from their encounter, her lips still thrumming from his passionate kiss.

  ‘Aye, he’s a scoundrel, right enough,’ Vimes agreed amiably, steering Amelia back into the house and ringing for the housekeeper, who was horrified at her dishevelled appearance. Blaming it on nerves and a tendency to sleepwalk, Amelia found herself ushered up to bed with a hot brick and a nip of brandy and fell into a deeper sleep than she could have thought possible after her recent worries, a hand pressed to her mouth as if in wonder. Almost as if the mysterious Lord Glendir had, with that sudden and shocking meeting of mouths, kissed her cares away. Temporarily at least.

  * * *

  For the mysterious Lord Glendir himself however there was little sleep to be had that night, as he tossed and turned, alone in his room in Glendir Castle. The bed was too big for one, and Jasper was surprised to find himself feeling lonely. He, who had made a life for himself in the shadows, determined never to be tied down. Oh, there had been plenty of women, but never one he had wanted for more than a mere dalliance. Yet tonight he was feeling his isolation keenly, and couldn’t help wondering if the feelings were connected to his coming across Lady Amelia in the woods. She was undoubtedly hiding something, and he had enough secret business of his own to be worrying about some woman’s affairs, and yet…something about the young woman had captivated him, something more than just her obvious physical charms. Why on earth had he invited her for dinner? But then, why not? If she was only here for a few days…

  Telling himself that he was tired, and unsettled at being back at Glendir, Jasper resolved to put Lady Amelia out of his mind for now. But the sky outside was growing as pink as the heather on the moors beneath before Jasper finally drifted off, only to have his dreams invaded by visions of beautiful girls in flimsy white dresses, running through the woods calling his name.

  Chapter Two

  Amelia woke the next morning with a start, after a dream filled with the laughing eyes and full lips of Lord Glendir. That image left her with a restless longing, and she sat up, shaking her head to clear it, and swung her legs out of bed. As her feet touched the cold floor she was reminded of the sensation of running through the damp grass the night before and her mouth curved into a smile. It had been foolish maybe, but also freeing. As for her encounter with the laird…Amelia’s face flamed at the memory, but her smile remained. Widened in fact, as she thought that for the first time since childhood she did not have to endure a day of social calls with her aunt or learning to play the piano or working at that blasted sampler. After she had written to Madeleine, she decided to explore her new surroundings while she had the chance to do so, though in a rather more conventional fashion than last night.

  ‘Are you well, miss?’ The maid’s voice cut through her thoughts as she bustled in and began to brush and plait Amelia’s abundance of honey-blonde hair.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Sally,’ she replied, closing her eyes as the tugging at her hair caused her scalp to tingle pleasantly. She only had vague memories of her mother, but she did remember having her hair brushed and plaited by her, and now always found the sensation comforting.

  Thinking of her mother made her think of her father, banishing her unexpected good mood. Of course he had been adamant Amelia accept Horatio’s proposal—what father of a young and attractive unmarried girl wouldn’t be? She knew her father only wanted the best for her, and to his mind that would be marriage to a wealthy and well-connected man. Yet Amelia had not expected her father to insist even after her repeated refusals, or, when Horatio had made unwanted advances on her after the soirée her aunt had thrown, to intimate to his daughter that perhaps she should have accepted them.

  Although he had always been an authoritarian man who displayed little affection for his daughter, she had never expected him to try to force her into a liaison she didn’t want. She suspected his insistence that she marry Horatio had a great deal to do with his recent financial difficulties, and wondered if her father had got himself into deeper water than he cared to tell her. Even so, his betrayal had upset her enough to send her bolting to Trevan. Quite why Lord Winters was so insistent that Amelia be his bride was the one thing she couldn’t fathom. She was pretty enough, she knew, but there was no shortage of other attractive girls in London who, unlike Amelia showed no reluctance to marry him. Although she had grown up expecting to make a good marriage, she wanted it to be with the right man. The wrong sort of husband would constrain or even control her, and she knew that would plunge her into misery. Just as her mother had been with her father, or so Aunt Matilda had insinuated in her infrequent letters.

  Lord Winters would, she would stake her life on it, be exactly the wrong sort of husband. He seemed a cruel, cold sort of man that made her skin crawl, and she had heard rumours about him that suggested he was both a bully and possibly even dangerous. Lord Glendir now, she could not imagine as a husband at all. He was a complete rogue, certainly the sort of man she should keep well away from, and yet Amelia couldn’t prevent the pleasant warmth the memory of his touch ignited in her belly.

  Amelia took her breakfast in her rooms and busied herself writing her letter to Madeleine, briefly explaining her predicament. She was sure Madeleine would be able to help and even provide letters of reference so that she could secure herself a role as companion or chaperone. It wasn’t the future she had envisaged for herself, but at least she would have her independence, and the money from the sale of Trevan would be enough for her to secure lodgings, perhaps even a small cottage. That sounded infinitely preferable to being trapped into a loveless marriage with a man she despised. Having written her letter, Amelia decided to have the coachman take her into town with Sally to post it herself when the housekeeper approached her with a card in her hand.

  ‘From Lord Glendir, my lady. He requests your presence later for dinner.’

  Amelia frowned even as her heart leaped. She had not expected his dinner invitation to be a genuine one. Where on earth was she supposed to find a chaperone at such short notice? She could barely go alone, and taking Sally would be most unsuitable. Any respectable young lady would be affronted, she knew. But being a respectable young lady hadn’t worked very well for her so far, and it was not as if she had to see any of these people again. Including Lord Glendir, she thought with a pang, doubting indeed that she would ever meet anyone quite like him again., She may as well enjoy her freedom from Society’s restraints while she had it, she decided, handing the card back with a flutter of excitement at her own boldness to Mrs Brown, Trevan’s long-time housekeeper.

  ‘You may send word to Lord Glendir that he can expect me around seven,’ she said, intending to sound confident and firm in her decision, and annoyed when her voice came out girlishly high and breathy. Mrs Brown raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Amelia made to leave, then remembered something Jasper had said to her the night before.

  ‘Mrs Brown?’

  ‘Yes, mam?’ The woman’s tone was completely respectful, but Amelia was sure her expression was nothing short of disapproving.

  ‘My aunt…did she know the old lord Glendir well? The new lord indicated that they were acquaintances.’

  Mrs Brown’s eyebrows nearly shot into her hairline, though her voice remained bland.

  ‘I believe they were close acquaintances, mam. They visited each other often. Your aunt was a very…independent woman.’

  Amelia nodded. So she had not been imagining the insinuation in Jasper’s comment. Did that mean his offer of dinner was based on the presumption that she was like her aunt? Yet Matilda, from what Amelia knew of her, had been no flighty woman but a force to be reckoned with and utterly her own mistress. Amelia gave a little nod.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Brown,’ she said quietly, and left for the coach, Sally following close behind. On the journey into the nearby town, over roads that were a great deal rougher than Amelia was used to, Sally regaled the gossip about Jasper Glendir. ‘Th
e Glendirs made their fortune raiding and smuggling, so people say, and then came into favour with the Crown when they helped to put down one of the Jacobite rebellions, but they’re still known for being awful wild, and this latest one is a notorious rake.’ Sally’s voice came out in a rush, so anxious was she to impart this news. Amelia merely muttered something non-committal in return.

  Inside, though, Sally’s words gave her cause for thought, and she found herself too distracted by them to properly enjoy her visit into town, no matter how many pretty ribbons Sally exclaimed over. She fingered a tartan shawl, feeling its rough plaid, and found herself wondering how Jasper would look in a Scotsman’s kilt, his legs bare. She dropped the shawl, flushing as an unmistakable voice came from behind her.

  ‘How much for this good plaid?’ the figure behind her asked the shopkeeper. Amelia froze. Surely she must be mistaken, yet as she slowly turned she knew she would forever recognize that voice from now on, with its soft Scottish burr.

  ‘My lord,’ she said, a slow burn creeping over her face. For all her proud wilfulness to the housekeeper, now that she was faced with him again she was as shy as an untutored country girl.

  In the daylight he was even more handsome than he had appeared before, with the afternoon sun bringing out the copper and gold in his hair—which he wore unselfconsciously loose—and showing the full intensity of those catlike green eyes. His figure too was every bit as strong and well-proportioned as she had reckoned it to be last night.

  When she had been pressed against it.

  The memory had her cheeks fully aflame and she cursed herself for having spoken, but it was too late now. He smiled at her, an easy smile that belied the heat leaping into his gaze. The little shop seemed all at once far too warm.

  ‘My lady. How lovely to see you again. Are you buying new dresses? I thought yesterday perhaps you had forgotten to bring all of your things from London.’ Understanding he was referring to her undressed state the night before, Amelia tossed her head at him, trying for haughtiness.

  ‘Not at all, sir. I am more than provided for. I came to look for ribbons to update my bonnets.’

  Jasper bowed his head to her, his eyes searching hers in a way that made Amelia feel lightheaded. Although his words were entirely proper, the look in his eyes was anything but. ‘I’m sure you will look very pretty, ribbons or no. But this tartan you are looking at is hardly fit for a bonnet.’

  ‘No, I was just admiring the richness of the material.’ And imagining you in a kilt. ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘Blankets,’ he said bluntly, ‘in time for winter. The cold sets in quick here, and some of my tenants will struggle to keep warm, especially with taxes going up yet again due to the war in France.’

  Amelia was surprised at his obvious concern for his tenants, but also pleased. Rake and smuggler the man may well be rumoured to be, but he clearly had a heart, as well. He ordered a dozen thick blankets then held out his arm to her.

  ‘Allow me to escort you?’ His eyes swept over her body as he looked down at her, coming to rest for just a moment on her mouth. The mouth he had so fiercely claimed. Amelia looked away, her stomach fizzing with an unfamiliar but not unpleasant sensation as she took his arm and allowed him to walk her out onto the street, Sally following behind with her mouth blatantly agape.

  Amelia was acutely aware of his nearness, and of the heat radiating from his body. How might it feel to have him pressed up against her again, to let him touch her as he had so nearly done the previous evening?

  ‘Are you well?’ he asked, noting the flush in her cheeks. She nodded vehemently.

  ‘Very. It is a little warm.’

  Jasper raised an eyebrow at that, as though he knew exactly what was causing her sudden rise in temperature, especially given that the September wind was growing increasingly cool. He insisted on taking her back to her waiting gig, walking at a stroll. She was certain he knew the effect he was having on her and was trying to prolong her torment.

  ‘You got my message?’

  ‘Yes. I sent a reply that I would attend at seven. I was wondering who else you had invited?’ After all, perhaps he merely planned a welcome soirée with a few of the neighbouring families, although he hardly seemed the party planning type.

  ‘No one,’ he said. ‘It is your company I seek, my lady. I’m sure you can entertain me quite sufficiently.’

  Amelia pulled up short at that, whirling on him in indignation. ‘You assume a great deal.’

  ‘On the contrary. You can refuse my invitation you know.’

  ‘I may well do so.’

  He made no answer to that but walked her the rest of the way in silence, then stopped and turned to her, his voice low. ‘Amelia…’ The way he spoke her name, it sounded like a caress. ‘I have no intentions of ravishing you. It’s just dinner. Unless—’ he flashed her a wicked look ‘—you should ask me to.’

  ‘Just dinner it is then,’ she said firmly, but her heart pounded in her ears as he helped her into the gig and even gave Sally a hand up. So he could be a gentleman, as well as kind-hearted. He was in fact entirely unlike any man she had ever met.

  As the carriage moved away, Amelia couldn’t resist a last look back at him, watching his long lean strides down the street. The strength of her desire for him had taken her completely by surprise, and although she knew she should turn his invitation down flat, a part of her whispered that she may never have such a chance again, to be courted by such a handsome man. Particularly if it was her intention to live as a spinster. Would it hurt to allow herself a few days of flirtation? He may be rumoured to be a rake, but he had assured her of his intentions, and she thought he was gentleman enough not to attempt anything untoward. Amelia nodded to herself. Dinner it would be then.

  And that will be all, she tried, but didn’t quite manage to convince herself.

  Chapter Three

  Jasper too was trying to convince himself of his intentions that evening as he paced restlessly, wondering if Amelia would indeed arrive. She would make a pleasant distraction while he attended to the business he had at Glendir, the presence of a beautiful and obviously willing woman would make this necessary visit to his ancestral home to track his quarry much more interesting. And yet, something about her made him feel almost guilty at the thought of just dallying with her and then going their separate ways.

  He wondered if being back at Glendir was making him soft; made him wish for things he had never before wanted or needed. Jasper was on the verge of doing the decent thing and rescinding the invitation when he heard his valet open the large doors to the hall and heard Amelia’s voice, soft and sultry. A sudden heat flooded him at the thought of her here, alone, in his house. Suddenly Glendir seemed less full of ghosts.

  When she was shown in by his valet, he crossed the room and kissed her hand, feeling the slight tremble of her fingers. Nervous or excited? One glance at her wide-eyed face told him it was a mixture of both. He smiled as he held out her chair. ‘Some wine, my lady?’

  ‘Please.’

  She would need some, Amelia thought, if only to settle the fluttering in her stomach Right up until the last minute she had intended to back out and send word that she would not come, yet here she was, and in her most daringly low-cut gown with her curls pinned loosely yet artfully by Sally and her cheeks and lips softly rouged. Her appearance seemed to be having the desired effect, as she noted Jasper’s gaze lingering on the tops of her breasts as he sat opposite her.

  When he raised his eyes to hers the heat in them thrilled her. She was not imagining it, this sudden and strange chemistry she had with this man.

  ‘You enjoyed your trip to town today?’ he asked, though he looked as if he would have liked to say a great deal more.

  She nodded enthusiastically, her eagerness a deliberate attempt to cover the growing restlessness that churned inside her and made her long to feel his hands on her again.

  ‘Very much so. People here are so much friendlier than in London.
My father always swore that Scots were a taciturn lot, but…’ She broke off, wondering if she had offended him, but Jasper only laughed wryly.

  ‘The people here won’t simper or fawn like your London dandies, but when they give their friendship they give it honestly enough. You might not find any balls to attend this weekend however.’

  Amelia thought about that. ‘I could happily never attend another ball with the “dandies” you refer to again, but I do like to dance. You have dances here, surely?’

  Jasper grinned. ‘Indeed we do. I’d be honoured to teach you a traditional Scots jig before you have to move on. Perhaps a little caber tossing, too.’

  Amelia laughed. ‘I think you would be better at that than me, my lord,’ she said boldly, eyeing his strong arms. The look Jasper gave her was full of such searing heat she dropped her eyes, flustered, and scolding herself for her coyness. She had come here with every intention of remaining cool and yet every time she saw the man he seemed to reduce her to a bundle of excited nerves. Quickly she sought to change the subject.

  ‘Do you intend to stay here and oversee the running of your lands then? Only I had never heard of the old Lord Glendir having a successor.’

  Jasper frowned, his eyes turning serious. ‘I was expecting it to be a short visit only as circumstances dictate I am usually needed elsewhere. There is an overseer in place who I employ to run my estates. Although—’ he frowned ‘—things do seem to have slipped a little since my grandfather’s death. Hence my reason for going to market today. My grandfather was always mindful of his tenants’ well-being and they loved him for it.’

  Amelia looked confused. ‘Did not the estate pass to your father?’

  Jasper was quiet a moment, his eyes seeming to cloud over. ‘My father is dead.’

  Amelia closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could kick herself. She said the only thing she thought might ease the brooding silence, sharing a part of herself that she so rarely admitted to. ‘My mother, too, is dead. I barely remember her, yet I feel the loss of her keenly. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.’