Page 77 of Rogue with a Brogue
“In this bed. I told ye we’re nae leaving.”
“Excellent. History will record it as the battle of the feather bed.”
His lean body shook with laughter. “‘They’d thought the bed mended, but by the end feathers flew once more.’ Ye know, I’d wager we could split this mattress open again with just the two of us.”
She deliberately rocked her hips, feeling his cock move inside her. “What are we waiting for, then?”
By the time they did leave the bed she was fairly certain feathers had begun drifting out of the knife hole she and Sarah had sewn shut the day before. Because it was growing dark and they didn’t dare light a lamp, though, she couldn’t be certain.
“I’ll button ye,” Arran said, moving around behind her and pulling her simple green muslin up over her shoulders. He kissed one bare shoulder blade, then closed the fastenings up her back. “Are ye ready fer what comes next?”
“I’m ready. As long as everything is where Uncle Sean says it will be, I have the easy task.”
Arran turned her around and kissed her softly. “Nae. Ye’ll have Howard Howard with ye,” he drawled, running a finger down her cheek. “Only three eyes between ye.”
Mary took a deep, slow breath. “We should be going.”
“Aye.” He gazed into her eyes for a long moment, then visibly shook himself. “Aye. Give me yer hand, then.”
She did so, and he clasped it in his. Together they left the room and headed downstairs to find her aunt and uncle together with Peter and Howard all beginning a light supper in the small drawing room and going over their plans for the night once more. As she took her seat she wondered if their hosts knew what she and Arran had been doing upstairs. As Arran had noted previously, it was a very small, very quiet house.Oh, dear.
“Good evening,” she announced, too cheerily, as she sat.
“Good evening, my dear.” Aunt Sarah exchanged a look with her husband. “Sean says we’ll have a late moon tonight. That should help you, shouldn’t it?”
“Aye,” Arran answered, taking the one remaining seat at the foot of the table. “It will. And the two of ye will have yer excuse fer not seeing anything amiss with our spy until morning.”
“I still don’t like the idea of coming to his aid at all.” Sean passed a basket of hot bread down the table.
“If ye help him oot, Fendarrow willnae have any reason to disbelieve yer story. We’ll nae cause ye more harm than we already have. I’ll feed the fellow a tale. Ye just go along with it.”
Peter, seated beside Mary, handed her a platter of roasted chicken. “Ye’d best eat generous, my lady,” he said. “Ye’ll need yer strength, and ye didnae get much rest upstairs.”
Uncle Sean stifled a cough, while Aunt Sarah made a choking sound. At her left elbow Arran threw a piece of bread, which slapped Peter in the side of the head. “Ye idiot,” he said, without heat. “Dunnae embarrass my bonny lass or I’ll leave ye here to walk back to Scotland.”
“I apologize, my lady,” Peter said dutifully.
“That isn’t necessary.” Mary took a large piece of chicken and passed the platter on to Arran. “I’m quite famished, actually.” She favored the footman with a grin.
They reviewed the plan Arran had set out once more, though Mary didn’t think she would feel any calmer after a hundred rehearsals. She just wanted it to be over with—and she wanted not to have to go through it at all. Or rather, she wanted Arran not to have to go through with his part.
“I know you need to leave,” Sarah commented, “and I know why, but part of me still wishes you could stay.”
“I wish that, too,” Mary returned. “Perhaps when we’re settled there will be some way you can come and stay with us.”
Sean nodded. “I would like that. And I know Sarah would. We have our friends here, but it’s good to have family again.”
Mary knew what he meant. And even under the very best possible scenario, neither she nor Arran was likely to have any more contact with their families. They’d both turned their backs on arranged marriages and destroyed potential alliances, and they’d more than likely shattered a very delicate, flimsy truce. Sarah and Sean could well be all they had. And the odds of the two couples ever seeing each other again were actually very small. But since tonight they all seemed to be pretending that everything would be perfect and splendid at the end of this journey, she supposed she could say they would all spend Christmas together and everyone would agree.
At the end of the meal Susan came and cleared the dishes while Peter and Howard retrieved their luggage and brought it down to the kitchen by the back door. Nervous anticipation ran through Mary. It was time to go.
Arran shrugged into his heavy coat, pulled a pistol from the pocket and checked it, then returned it again. He’d said he meant to do his utmost not to kill anyone, and she certainly believed him. But her father and Charles and the rest of them were beyond angry, and she’d heard with her own ears that they meant to kill Arran. No matter what, that was not allowed to happen.
“I’d be happy to lend you a hand, Arran,” her uncle said slowly. “Waiting here and doing nothing doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Ye’ll nae be doing naught,” Arran returned, bending down to loosen the knife in his boot. “Ye’ll make certain the lad on the hill sees ye down here so he knows it wasnae ye up there.”
“I understand. I still don’t like it.”
