Page 13 of This Laird of Mine

“What are the stakes?” Jules asked distractedly.

“We found some seeds to use as checks. No one need lose any money over the game.” Jane paled as though she suddenly realized the cut of her words. “Oh, Jules, I did not mean—”

“Sounds well enough. Let us have at it,” he interrupted, not wanting to hear her apology. He knew he had no funds. Obviously they all knew he had no funds. Why pretend otherwise?

Cards. It was the distraction he needed. As Nicholas and Jane turned back toward the manor, Jules allowed himself one last look at Claire. Their gazes met. He thought he saw a tear on her cheek, but he couldn’t be certain because she turned and headed back toward the loch.

He frowned. Why was she crying? Surely not for him.

He watched until the sight of her bright copper head disappeared from view, and once again the loneliness of his life settled about him. The thought that he had contributed to her sadness twisted his insides into a tight, throbbing knot. He spun away and strode back to the house.

He had a wife.

He wanted to ignore her. He wanted to make her go away. But whether she stayed or left, he suddenly realized, nothing would be the same ever again.

Nothing.

The next morning, Claire snuggled deeper into the covers. Sleep had eluded her during the night no matter how hard she had tried to gather it to her. As a result, her head felt like a leaden weight on the pillow as she stared into the dusky gray of dawn.

She had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening away from Jules and his friends. No one had come to find her, to offer her a meal, or to even see if she had returned from the loch. Her throat tightened for a heartbeat before she shoved her sadness away. Jules and his friends had ignored her yesterday. And she had made it easy for them to do so.

Today, she would not be a passive miss. No, today she had plans. She would start her day by tackling the house. She had learned how to keep a house over the years. She would apply that knowledge here, and turn around what she could in the manor. Then she would see about winning over his friends. If they started to trust her, perhaps Jules would as well. And then, finally, she would play up to her husband. She had to find some way to win his heart.

Her eyes opened into the twilight. What was she willing to do to win his affection? Would she willingly give herself to him if it helped achieve her goal? Was she that kind of woman?

She hoped not . . . and yet . . . he was her husband. Such things were allowed, even expected between a man and his wife. Even so, self-doubt crept past her determination. What if he’d left her alone last night because he didn’t find her in the least bit tempting?

He had walked away from their kiss as though it had cost him nothing at all, while she had spent the better part of the night trying to forget the feel of his warm, seductive lips on her mouth.

She sighed at the memory. If he had been so immune to her, then why save her from the snake? Why kiss her at all? She frowned. He had to find her at least somewhat appealing. She had left behind that gawkish, unrefined girl she had once been years ago. She could do nothing about the brightness of her hair, or the paleness of her skin, but she had learned proper manners and ways of holding herself that could at least accentuate her finer points. She had a small waist. And more than once men had commented on her upright posture. That was a good thing in a refined wife, was it not?

Claire closed her eyes once more, still hanging on to hope that sleep might yet come. One night of her bridegroom ignoring her would not turn her from her plans. Too much was at stake with Penelope, Anna, and Eloise. They needed her to be strong.

And as for his friends? She had seen the way Nicholas had appraised her yesterday. He, if not all of them, suspected all was not as she claimed between herself and Jules.

Claire released a groan and turned her face into her pillow, shielding herself from the faint light of dawn and the challenges awaiting her with the coming of the new day.

She had to make Jules fall in love with her. The memory of his arm curled around her waist brought heat to her cheeks. She drew in a breath, then recalled the soft scent of mint that had curled around her senses when he had drawn her close.

She would do whatever it took to make certain her girls would have the future they deserved. As their guardian, she had to see her plans with Jules through. Despite her claims yesterday, she would do anything at all to make that happen. Anything at all. Her life and her reputation did not matter. It was the three young women whose livelihood she controlled because they had no one else. That knowledge alone would steady her in her task.

As soon as morning arrived, she would begin again, and do things right this time.

The thought had barely formed when a loud explosion vibrated just outside her window. Caught between sleep and awareness, Claire twisted out of the tangle of sheets and sat up, staring into the predawn light.

Her head ached dully, and she had the uneasy feeling something disturbing had happened. What could make that kind of noise so early in the morning? The sound came again. Two, three times. Whatever the sounds were, they were coming from beneath her tower window.

“For heaven’s sake,” Claire cried, throwing off the covers and jumping out of bed with more energy than she truly felt after a night of little sleep. She hastened to the shutters and released the latch, then peered out into the faint light of dawn. Beneath her she could make out three dark shapes. Men.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw not just any men, but Jules, David, and Nicholas. Another clatter of noise filled the peaceful morning as each man pointed a blunderbuss level with the grass and fired.

The shutters opening must have made a sound because Jules turned toward her. A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Did we wake you?” he called from below.

He was hunting. Beneath her window. Nothing suspicious about that. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Claire released a long sigh. He would not make her task an easy one. “How are the pheasant this morning?” she asked, ignoring his barb.

“We’ve taken four already,” David called up to her.

“Sounds like we will feast for supper tonight,” she said, smiling at her husband with as much friendly candor as she could muster so early in the morning.