“Look at all the shops out on the portico!” Rhianna squealed, nearly shaking Mena in her exuberance. “And can ye believe how grand those hotels are? How close are we to Hyde Park? Should we find a paperboy so that we can see what events are happening and decide what we want to do before we get to Grandmama’s? I’ve heard they sell papers on every corner here. Why does it smell like food in the middle of the station, do they have vendors?”
Coming up behind her, Liam playfully clamped his gloved hand over his daughter’s mouth. “Breathe, nighean,” he commanded gently, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “We’ll have time to see what there is to see.”
“Can I take yer carpetbag, Miss Lockhart?” Andrew asked, nudging his sister who still vibrated with excitement, taking in the grandeur of the station as if frustrated that she couldn’t look everywhere at once.
“Yes, you may.” Mena gently hinted a correction of his grammar, handing it to him. “What a lovely offer.”
“I think Miss Lockhart is in danger of turning ye into a gentleman, my son.” Liam offered Andrew a proud smile, one that the youth returned.
“One of us has to be,” Andrew ribbed back.
Liam’s warm sound of amusement could almost be called a laugh, and drew the admiring gazes of the few women who weren’t already staring up at him with frank appreciation.
“You’re our only hope for a gentleman in the Mackenzie family, Andrew, dear.” Mena relaxed into the jovial moment, thoroughly enjoying the familial teasing. She appreciated it almost as much as she did the tranquil, heavy-lidded expression Ravencroft wore, and the secret pleasure it brought her to know that she was the one responsible for it.
“Aye, lad,” Liam concurred. “Miss Lockhart called me a ferocious barbarian.” His eyebrows lifted in ridiculous mockery of an innocent expression, something his sinister features could never hope to attain. “Can ye imagine?”
A blush crept above the high collar of her gown as she recalled the conversation they’d had before their frenzied interlude in the rail car. He not only reminded her of the uncontrolled passion they shared, but also of her admission.
She’d fallen for him. Fallen in love with him.
What does he feel for me? she wondered. Desire, of course, and perhaps a bit of protective tenderness. But could his emotions possibly resemble the depth of her own?
“Aye,” Andrew chuffed. “Only Miss Lockhart can speak to ye like that.” His eyes, a shade paler than his father’s, glimmered with mischievous meaning, and Mena knew her color only intensified.
“Well,” she said with an overabundance of cheer. “Let’s do go see what the footmen are doing about our luggage.” Threading her arm through Rhianna’s, she bustled toward the growing pile of baggage on the platform, purposely not making eye contact with the wicked marquess. Every time she looked at him, her belly quivered. She knew how tender that hard mouth could feel on almost every inch of her body now. How one would assume his large hands to be brutish and unwieldy, but they could coax such unimaginable pleasure with their surprisingly deft touch.
She’d tasted the barbarian beneath the fine suit, and that knowledge caused her most secret muscles to clench with delight. Though she’d learned to live a lie, she’d never quite mastered the art of deception, and the children were obviously picking up on the thread of heat between her and their father.
They’d have to be more careful until the future could be discussed.
“Where’s Uncle Thorne and Russell?” Andrew queried, trailing behind them.
“They had some … family business to attend.” Mena noted the slight change of Liam’s tone as it lost its cheer. “In fact, I must join them once ye’re on yer way to yer grandmother’s.”
“Are ye coming with us, Jani, or are ye going with Father?” Rhianna asked as they threaded their way through the dispersing crowd. Theirs was the last train from Scotland to arrive, and this close to supper, Mena couldn’t imagine many other departures.
“There is business I must attend with the marquess after I see to your things,” Jani said, a dark shadow of sadness settled over his dusky skin.
Mena reached for him covertly, and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“They do have vendors,” Andrew exclaimed, pointing toward a steaming cart of what appeared to be candied nuts and caramel-dipped autumn fruits.
“Oh, Papa, please say we can have some!” Rhianna begged.
Fishing coins from his jacket, Liam motioned to a footman. “All right,” he said indulgently. “Ross will take ye to the vendor and conduct ye to Lady Eloise whilst I see to a few things. I’ll be joining ye shortly.”
The press of bodies gave them an excellent excuse to stand close to each other, and Mena enjoyed Liam’s proximity while they watched after his children as they bounded through the crowd like frolicking deer.
“Do you remember being so young?” she asked, feeling a little wistful. “When the world held such excitement and curiosity, when everything seemed so possible and wondrous and the days were endlessly carefree.”
Liam’s hand covertly caressed the small of her back, and though he stood behind her, Mena didn’t have to see his face to understand the meaning in his touch. “I never experienced such things as a youth, didna understand what those words meant; though … I’m beginning to now.” His words brought tears to her eyes that had nothing to do with steam or coal smoke. There was such yearning in his touch, so much gentle reverence in his voice that her heart crested with hope. She wanted to be the reason the second half of his life was carefree. She wanted to give him the peace and comfort he so ardently deserved.