For a paralyzed moment, Kiri wasn’t sure how much to say. Though she had met the headmistress briefly in her brother’s house, she didn’t really know the woman.
But Adam trusted Lady Agnes completely, so Kiri could, too. “I was captured by smugglers, and Mr. Mackenzie helped me escape. For propriety’s sake, he thought it best to come here.”
Lady Agnes laughed. “Propriety, Mac? That could ruin your reputation. But come along in. Shall I take you to the kitchen for food, or a bedroom for rest?”
“The bedroom, please,” Kiri replied. “With a washbasin, if possible.”
“It looks like you had a very muddy ride,” the headmistress agreed. “What about you, Mac?”
“I could use some food, Lady Agnes.”
“Then I shall meet you in the kitchen after I have settled Lady Kiri.” Lady Agnes lit a candle for Mackenzie, then turned and gestured for Kiri to come with her.
As Kiri went up the stairs, she said, “You seem so matter-of-fact, Lady Agnes. Does this sort of thing happen often?”
“Various forms of mayhem arrive with some regularity.” The older woman chuckled. “Having been a surrogate mother to a generation of high-spirited, rebellious boys has made me very hard to shock.”
Kiri would love to know what Mackenzie had been like as a boy, but she was too tired to ask. Lady Agnes’s obvious affection spoke well for the man, though.
“Since Westerfield is on the road to Dover, I usually have a guest room or two ready just in case. I’ll get a pitcher of water from my bedroom.” The headmistress retrieved the pitcher, then took Kiri into a bedroom that was well furnished if not lavish. If Kiri hadn’t been so muddy, she would have dropped facedown on the coverlet.
Lady Agnes set the pitcher on the washstand and lit the fire laid in the fireplace. “Hot water would take time and delay your rest, so I assume cold will do?”
“That will be lovely.” Kiri sighed. “This morning started in such a normal fashion. I had no idea what the day would bring.”
“Someday you’ll tell this story to your grandchildren and it will seem like a jolly adventure. But it will take time to see the day like that.” The older woman smiled. “You’ll find clean nightclothes in the wardrobe. Sleep well, Lady Kiri. Tomorrow you’ll find the world a new normal.”
Lady Agnes left, closing the door behind her. Numbly Kiri undressed, hanging Mackenzie’s damp cloak and her muddied skirt over chair backs by the fire. With luck, they would dry overnight. Both badly needed brushing to be presentable.
After a quick wash, she pulled on the nightgown. It was short on her, but no matter. She crawled in the bed and pulled the covers over her head. The mattress seemed the most comfortable she’d ever slept on, probably because every muscle ached.
Yet despite her fatigue, her mind was spinning. Kiri had enjoyed occasional kisses from her more attractive suitors. She’d enjoyed Godfrey’s quite a lot. That was a good part of the reason she had considered marrying him.
But the unrespectable Damian Mackenzie was in an entirely different class. Even now, thinking of their embrace sent liquid heat flowing through her. Was that because he was more experienced? A worldly man who surely had his choice of worldly mistresses?
Or was there some vital, unexpected connection between the two of them, like blending rose and frankincense to create more than the sum of the parts? Given how dazed Mackenzie looked after their kissing session, she was inclined to think there might be something special between them. The only way to be sure was by more kissing, but that might be hard to arrange since they would go their separate ways in the morning.
If anything was to be done, it must be tonight.
Mac was halfway through a platter of sliced ham and cheese when Lady Agnes joined him in the kitchen. She waved him to stay seated when he started to rise. “Don’t interrupt your midnight supper. You look as if you need sustenance.” She took a chair on the other side of the scrubbed pine table. “Unless you are drinking two glasses of that very fine claret you provide, one of those drinks must be for me.”
“Perspicacious as always, Lady A.” He handed her the glass. “Keeping you in wine and spirits is a small price to pay for the sanctuary you provide when needed.”
She sipped the claret with pleasure. “Will tonight’s misadventure damage your relationship with your smuggler friends?”
“I’m too good a customer. After they sleep off their bumbo, the only one who will still be angry is the unpleasant fellow who wanted to rape and murder Lady Kiri.”
Lady Agnes winced at the thought. “You’ve often called here unexpectedly, but never with a damsel in distress in tow. And Ashton’s sister, no less!”
“I didn’t know who she was until later, but she was obviously a young lady in need of help.” He thought of how she’d broken the shackle and fought through the cave. “Though she might have managed to escape on her own. She’s amazingly intrepid.”
“Well, she is Ashton’s sister, and they resemble each other greatly. Like him, she’s an expert in Kalarippayattu.” Lady Agnes took a piece of cheese from the platter. “Her mother’s family has a very old tradition of retaining a Kalarippayattu master to teach the sons of the family. And the daughters, if they’re interested.”
“So Lady Kiri learned from the same master who taught Ashton. That explains a great deal.” Mac grinned. “She almost crippled me for life before I convinced her I was trying to help. She makes me think of the stories of ancient Hindu warrior queens that Ashton would sometimes tell late at night.”
“Kiri is a direct descendant of those warrior queens,” Lady Agnes said seriously. “One reason her family moved to England was so the girls could find British husbands, but there aren’t many men who can fully appreciate Kiri’s unique qualities.”
Of course a beautiful young woman with a good dowry would be in the market for a husband. Perfectly logical, but Mac found that his food had lost its savor. He wrapped the slab of ham in cheesecloth and returned it to the pantry. “I’m for bed now, Lady Agnes. My usual room?”
She nodded. “Move quietly. It’s right next to Lady Kiri’s since those were the only guest rooms made up.”
With a candle in one hand, he bent to give her a one-armed hug. “Thanks for always being here, Lady A.”
She hugged him back. “And my thanks to you for keeping my life from becoming dull, Mac.”
“You never lack for excitement running the school,” he said with a laugh.
He had just about enough energy to make it up the steps and into the sanctuary of his usual room. Because of his disreputable activities, he ended up here with some regularity. It was always good to see Lady Agnes, even though she was not enthusiastic about his dealings with smugglers. She knew they were necessary, though.
He lit the waiting fire, then stripped down to shirt and drawers, adding the gray wool banyan that hung in the wardrobe. Then he sat in the comfortably worn wing chair by the fire, stretched out his legs, and tried to settle his mind.
He’d always lived a complicated life that ran along the ragged edge of the beau monde. The friends he’d made here at Westerfield were true, and they would have welcomed him into their social world. Others would not have been so charitable. Since he’d started life without wealth, a title, or even legitimate birth, he preferred to live in a less rarified social stratum where he could be accepted as he was.
He didn’t miss attending boring routs and other ton events, but he’d be lying if he didn’t envy his legitimate friends the security of knowing they belonged. Life was interesting on the edge, but sometimes . . . tiring.
Thinking he needed some brandy, he collected his flask, managing to knock over a wooden chair on his way back to the fire. He hadn’t drunk enough to be that clumsy, so it must be fatigue. Yet still he watched the flickering flames, reluctant to go to bed.
He knew who and what he was. But he was human enough to regret what could never be his.
Chapter 7
Kiri was pulled fro
m deep sleep by a muffled bang in the next room. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Ah, yes, insult, horse theft, smugglers, kidnapping, escape—and Damian Mackenzie. The man she’d been ready to knife, who had transformed into a protector and ally.
The sky was still dark and she sensed that she hadn’t slept long. Someone, probably Mackenzie, had dropped something or banged into the furniture to wake her.
Mackenzie. Damian. Knowing he was in the next room, probably stripping off his clothing, sent a wave of heat through her body.
She was a normal female who had always admired attractive males. But though she enjoyed hugging and kissing, she hadn’t realized the power of passion. She wanted to walk into his room and rip off any clothes that covered that powerful body and wrap herself around him. The thought was equally exciting and alarming.
She bit her lip. Decent females did not do such things, and despite Kiri’s rebellious streak, she was decent. Or at least, she had been raised well. But she couldn’t let the most appealing man she’d ever met ride away, never to be seen again.
Mackenzie had made it clear that a great and impassable social chasm divided them. She agreed it was great, but impassable? That she was less sure of.
If the gap between them was to be bridged, she would have to make the first move. And tonight might be the only chance she would have, despite her fatigue and the staggering impropriety of what she must do.
Her heart accelerated with anxiety. It would be . . . hard to bear if he laughed at her overtures. No, he wouldn’t be cruel, but he might very well reject her politely. He must meet endless numbers of attractive, experienced women. Why would he want to involve himself with an inexperienced mixed-blood female?
And yet—there had been that blazing reaction when they came together. She was sure such passion was rare.
Whether passion was enough remained to be seen. Reminding herself that she was a daughter of warrior queens, she rose and lit a candle from the fireplace. She donned a robe as a gesture to propriety. Candle in one hand, she left her room and tapped on the door of the next room. She held her breath, hoping he was awake still.
Almost as much, she hoped that he wasn’t.
Her tentative knock was met with a low-voiced invitation to enter. She drew a deep breath and opened the door.
Mackenzie sat by the fire, his face weary and his long legs stretched out in front of him. He also wore a robe that was too short as he sipped from his silver brandy flask. As firelight sculpted his strong features, he was far more handsome than was safe.
He looked up—and choked on his brandy. After a brief coughing fit, he gave her a ferocious glare. “You’re supposed to be sleeping the sleep of the innocent, Lady Kiri.”
She closed the door behind her. “Not as innocent tonight as I was last night.”
He looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for kissing you.”
She raised her chin. “I’m not sorry.”
“Very well, I’m not sorry, either,” he said wryly. “But I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Perhaps not.” She wouldn’t be standing here with bare, cold feet if not for that kiss. “But what’s done can’t be undone. You . . . intrigue me, Mr. Mackenzie. I would like to see you again in London.”
His amusement died. “The feeling is mutual, Lady Kiri. But no, we can’t see each other in London.”
“Do you have a wife?” she asked, steeling herself for an answer she wouldn’t like.
“Good God, no!” he exclaimed, his expression horrified. “But we come from separate worlds. They must remain that way.”
“Why?” She moved toward him. She was descended not only from warrior queens, but great beauties who were famously alluring. A war had been fought for the right to marry one of her great-great-grandmothers. Summoning all the ancestral sensuality she could imagine, she imagined herself beautiful. Desirable.
“Jesus, Lady Kiri!” He bolted from his chair and retreated as if she were wielding her new dagger. “You are not making it easy to do the right thing!”
“Call me Kiri.” She smiled with wicked delight at seeing how she affected him. Apparently she had inherited some of the family allure. “I am not interested in making this easy for you. What I want is to know if this . . . means anything.” She cornered him by the window and raised her face for a kiss, resting her hands lightly on his arms.
“Damnation!” Swearing, he dropped his flask and drew her hard against him.
Fire flared again, the flames fanned by the fact that they wore only thin nightwear. She felt his bones and muscles and . . . more. Much more.
His mouth was hungry, giving no quarter. Her fear dissolved, leaving only desire and soaring excitement. She hadn’t imagined this fierce rightness. It was real, more real than anything she’d ever experienced. . . .
Mac’s wits fled as Kiri melted against him with shocking intimacy. She was intoxicating, as irresistible as air to a drowning man. He inhaled her fierce, lovely essence as he caressed her sweetly curving body. The bed was only a few feet away. . . .
No! He’d always prided himself on his control, but it took every last shred of discipline to put his hands on her shoulders and shove her an arm’s length away. She swayed, staring at him with huge, vulnerable green eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or howl. Dropping his hands, he said, “You are sent by the devil to tempt me for my sins, Lady Kiri.”
She bit her lip. “Why can’t I be reward instead of temptation? Or are your sins so great they are beyond forgiveness?”
“Many people do not forgive easily.” He stalked out of touching distance as he thought of all the things he’d done that he wished he hadn’t. Sorting through his past, he said, “The best I can say for myself is that I’ve never killed a man without good reason, nor lain with a woman I didn’t genuinely like.”
Her dark brows drew together. “Men sleep with women they don’t like?”
She really was essentially innocent despite her fiery nature. “Sometimes,” he said dryly. “As do women on occasion. Lust is not the same as friendship or caring.”
She thought about that. “I would think that lust is enhanced by caring.”
He tried not to be distracted by her elegant bare feet. “It is. That’s why I only choose women I care about.”
She tilted her head to one side, her dark, silky hair sliding over her shoulders. “To me, the . . . the attraction between us seems rare and special and not to be wasted, but I have little experience. Am I wrong? Is such powerful desire common?”
“It is indeed rare,” he said, knowing only the truth would do. “But passion is pain, not pleasure, if there is no honorable channel for it. To my regret, that is the case here.” He regretted it hugely. “Our mutual attraction can be no more than a bright, passing moment.”
Her lush lips tightened. “I am not convinced there can be nothing between us.”
“A major drawback of passion is that it melts the brain,” he said sharply. “There are only two possibilities, Lady Kiri. Do you wish to have an affair? A well-bred virgin who did that would ruin her life. Courtship? Your entire family would rise up as one to drive me from your door—and they would be right to do so.”
“I just don’t see an impassable social gulf.” Her brow furrowed. “Yes, you are in trade, but you are not a ragpicker or fishmonger. Your father was a lord and you went to school with my brother. You look and talk like a gentleman. Can’t we meet and dance at a ball? Ride together in the park?”
Mac shook his head. “Your brother is an important reason why this must end tonight. I respect him too much to want to hurt him or you. Not to mention that Ashton once saved me from being beaten to death by an aristocratic bad loser and his cronies.” He caught her gaze, needing to convince her he was right. “The ability to feel passion is a gift, Lady Kiri. What you feel for me you can also feel for another man who will be the honorable partner you deserve. Wait for him.”
“Can’t we even be frien
ds?” she asked quietly.
If her aim was as good with a dagger as it was with words, any man she confronted would be dead. When he was sure his voice would be level, he said, “I wish that was possible. But given the force of the attraction between us—no, Lady Kiri, we cannot be friends. No one would believe there was nothing more between us. And they’d be right, because I would never be able to keep my hands off you.”
His words made her pale, but after a long moment, she inclined her head with graceful acceptance. “Then I thank you for your honesty, Damian Mackenzie. As I thank you for your aid in escaping the smugglers. Sleep well.”
“I will be gone by the time you rise tomorrow morning.” He hesitated, then added, “It has been a pleasure meeting you.”
“A pleasure and an education.” She gave him a ghost of a smile. “A pity that you are honorable but not respectable. I would have preferred it the other way around.”
He almost laughed. “Be gone, you minx. A week from now you’ll thank me for my forbearance.”
Her smile faded. “I wish I was sure of that.” Then she was gone.
He fought a desperate desire to go after her, bring her back to his room and his bed. Not only because she was beautiful and utterly desirable, but for the wit and strength and vitality that lit up any room she entered. He’d never met a woman like her.
A beautiful woman, not his.
Chapter 8
Kiri managed to fall asleep after leaving Mackenzie’s room but her dreams were full of smugglers and threatening knives and intoxicating kisses. Not restful.
She woke to the shrieks of the young and energetic and guessed that the school playing fields were behind the manor. Though Kiri felt neither young nor energetic, she made herself get up to face the day. She discovered that a silent maid had entered, removed her skirt and cloak, and returned them brushed and wearable.