Page 39 of I’ve Grown Accustomed to My Scot

She laughed aloud this time. “Much!” she agreed. “And you are a better lover than he could ever be.”

Immediately, Grace bit her lip, and he could see she was wondering if she had gone too far, but Rory forced himself to smile back. Yes, she had reminded him that Buckingham had touched her, kissed her, but he told himself that none of that mattered. Why should it? Rory had touched and kissed many women in his life, and if she was not concerned about his past, why should he be concerned about hers?

“Why don’t we go home,” he said, his lips against her hair, “and you can show me what a good lover I am. I would be happy to follow your guidance. Tell me what you want and I will obey, my love.”

Desire flared in her eyes before her lashes came down to shield them. “That sounds . . . interesting.”

Rory could see she was no longer worrying about Buckingham or the stares of those about her, and he adjudged the evening a triumph.

*

When they reached Aunt Jennie’s Mayfair house, they could see that it was lit up instead of being dark and quiet, as it normally was at this time of night.

Rory felt a moment of trepidation. Had something happened?

When they stepped inside, Hocking met them, his usually impassive face flushed and alive with emotion. “The master is home!” he burst out. “The earl is back!”

Rory felt immense relief. “Uncle James?” He hurried toward the sitting room with Grace trailing behind him. There they found Jennie in the arms of James, Earl of Strathmore, and their faces were wreathed in smiles.

“James is home!” Jennie said breathlessly, as if they couldn’t see for themselves. “He is here!”

James gave her a fond look and kissed her temple, before standing to greet Rory. “Nephew, it has been a while. You are grown,” he added with surprise. As if, thought Rory, he should still be the child he had been when last they met on a visit by the Strathmores to Scotland.

“I am,” Rory agreed, as he was clasped in his uncle’s arms. James was still tall and fit, and his eyes were bright, but these days his hair was more grey than brown, and his skin had the tanned look of a man who is often at sea.

“And this is your wife?” James was looking at Grace. “Jennie has told me you were ‘unexpectedly’ married, Rory.” His smile was curious and a little teasing.

Rory laughed. “Yes, ‘unexpectedly’ is right. This is Grace, and we are married.”

Grace began to curtsy, but James took her hands in his and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “We are family,” he said. “No need for formality here.”

Rory could see that she was moved by that kindness.

“What will Maxwell say?” James asked with amusement. “Jennie says he doesn’t know. You are brave to keep this from him, Rory.”

Rory didn’t want to think about Maxwell, so he changed the subject.

“Aunt Jennie received your letter. You said you couldn’t come home because you—”

James waved a hand to stop him. “I had hoped to arrive before my letter,” he said, with a glance of apology at Jennie. “After I sent it, I changed my mind. There are others who can sort out any problems with the ship. I did not need to stay. I missed my wife and I knew I needed to see her.”

Grace made a soft sound, and Rory saw that there were tears in her eyes as his aunt and uncle gazed at each other as if they were still newly wed. He remembered how worried he had been that their union might be broken by his uncle’s absence, knowing that once something was broken it was so much more difficult—sometimes impossible—to repair.

Jennie looked teary too, but very happy. “There is much for you to catch up on, James, but not now. You are tired from your journey.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue and then his expression softened at what he saw in her gaze. “Yes, I need our bed,” he said.

“We both do,” Jennie agreed, but whatever was passing between them was definitely not tiredness.

James slid his arm about Jennie’s waist. “I am exhausted,” he teased.

Rory and Grace wished them goodnight and watched them leave the room.

Grace smiled. “It has been a very strange evening,” she said, “but it has ended well. Don’t you think?”

“I do,” he agreed. “Come to bed, wife.”

She met his gaze boldly, “Are you tired too, Rory?”