The Flame on the Moor by Neal Fiona

Author:Neal, Fiona [Neal, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Fiona Neal
Published: 2016-08-07T04:00:00+00:00

* * * *

“You did what?” Deirdre felt her fury mounting so that she barely resisted picking up the fine blue and white china vase from the drawing room mantel and hurling it at her uncle. Yet, she controlled herself, refusing to cause a spell that could possibly kill him. Still, her rage boiled, causing her to feel dizzy, and she sat on the red damask sofa.

“Why, Uncle Robert? Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I do, my dear. But Ian will merely keep your jewels safe for you.” He took out an enameled snuffbox and began to turn it over in his hand.

“I know the law, but I feel there is another reason for your actions.” She leaned forward, staring at him. “What is it?”

“Nay, there is none.”

But the alarm in his eyes confirmed her suspicions.

“Haven’t I always kept them for you?” he continued. “Besides, if I know you, you will sell the jewels and give all the money to the poor.” He set the snuffbox down.

Stunned, Deirdre sat motionless. Did he read minds? Nay, he knew her—too well. “Uh, do you really believe that I would do such a thing?”

He gave her a penetrating look. “It is only right Ian keep the jewels in his counting room at Kilbraeton.”

Oh, Uncle Robert, you may be signing my death warrant. Without access to her jewels, she could not make restitution or help the poor. This marriage was supposed to provide her with the means to do both. Instead, it now robbed her.

What plot did her uncle and husband hatch between them? But their schemes would prove fruitless. She refused to accept defeat. She would get her jewels. Let Ian try to stop her.

Still, the situation need not be reduced to that if Ian fell in love with her, and the Avenger of Scotland’s armor showed serious signs of weakening. Then she would get her property, make restitution, and he would never know the difference.

Besides, she thought smugly, if Morag had not interrupted them this morning, Deirdre believed Ian’s lovemaking would have proceeded to its logical conclusion, no matter what he had proclaimed! Well, Lord Kilbraeton had a few surprises in his future.

Her uncle continued to look at her, expecting some comment. She swallowed her anger and disappointment and decided to play along. “Perhaps you are right.”

“Well, your marriage has already produced a peaceful effect on you.” He looked pleased. “Last month, nay last week even, you would have argued with me until we were both hoarse. Who knows?” He glanced at her stomach. “By the time you reach your majority, you may be expecting another kind of little gem.”

If I can seduce Ian into my bed, that may happen.

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