A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  “Will you put some tea on Miss Taylor? Hamish shall be staying for some, will you not?”

  He smiled, turning his gaze onto Rose. “Of course. I would not think of leaving you at such a time.”

  “Such a time?” Rose asked, finally finding her feet and stepping forward. His gaze lingered on her and dropped to her lips. Goodness, her stays were tight. He had to be remembering, surely? It was as though unspoken words whooshed through the air between them.

  I remember.

  So do I.

  I want to kiss you again.

  I want you to kiss me again.

  “Hamish was quite the hero,” her aunt gushed, leading him through to the drawing room.

  Rose followed them and perched herself on the sofa next to her aunt. Once more Hamish’s frame filled the small chair and, she was sure, threatened to snap the delicate thing in half. He would require very sturdy furniture at Baleith Castle.

  “Hero?” Rose repeated.

  From the way her aunt smiled at him, she had to wonder if she had not awoken in a dream. What had happened to the cool woman who had practically thrown the man out?

  “I was coming out of the chandlery,” Aunt May explained, “and I had my basket full of candles. Before I knew it, some young urchin shot by and pulled the basket clean from my arm.”

  “Goodness, were you hurt?”

  “Only mildly.” She motioned to Hamish who did his best to look bashful, bringing a smile to Rose’s face because bashfulness really did not suit a man of his stature. “Hamish here saw what had happened, leapt on his horse, and dashed after the boy.” Her aunt drew a breath. “Goodness, I feel all lightheaded when I think about it.”

  Rose patted her aunt’s hand. “What happened to the boy?”

  “I had a stern word,” Hamish said. “He’ll be doing a little work for me, as I dinnae think he’s a bad lad. Just desperate.”

  “That was kind of you, my laird.”

  “Needless to say, he got quite the clip around the ear and a good telling off. I dinnae think he will be causing trouble again, not if I can keep watch over him.”

  “It seems you did my aunt quite the favor.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Not at all. I did what any man would.”

  Aunt May shook her head. “And yet no one else did. You leapt into action without a moment’s thought.”

  “Ye forget I trained as a soldier, Mrs. Merriweather.”

  “Nonsense. Your actions were a mark of your character.”

  Surreptitiously, Rose gave herself a tiny pinch. She bit back a yelp. Yes, she was certainly awake and Aunt May was certainly mooning over a highlander.

  “I am only glad to be of service.”

  Miss Taylor entered the room with tea and biscuits. She placed them on the table to the side and retreated with a quick smile toward Rose. Miss Taylor was far too observant. Did she notice how Hamish kept looking at her? How she kept returning the look? Aunt May did not, thank goodness, though it certainly seemed as though she had changed her opinion of him. Maybe it would not be so hard to gain her aunt’s approval of a courtship after all.

  That was if he wanted to court her.

  Aunt May served the tea. Rose had to mask a giggle at the sight of the tiny china cup in Hamish’s large, capable hands. She took her own cup and squeaked when it nearly tipped upon her—entirely her own fault, of course, for not concentrating. She was far too clumsy sometimes.

  “Did ye finish yer business in town, Mrs. Merriweather?”

  “I did, thankfully. I was quite shaken after that incident so I am grateful you saw fit to escort me home.”

  “I wouldnae have abandoned ye at such a time, and I’m glad I have the chance to take tea with ye.”

  “And without any burnt bread this time,” Rose put in.

  “Aye, no burnt bread.”

  Her aunt fingered the empty cup in her hand. “Yes, that was…well, our cook is normally so careful. Let me assure you that will never happen again, Hamish.”

  Hamish. Rose smiled to herself. One heroic moment and he was no longer my laird, said with an air of disdain. Now he was Hamish, said with warmth.

  “I am grateful to see ye again, Mrs. Merriweather,” he continued. “I was hoping to invite ye and yer niece to dinner at Baleith Castle.”

  “Oh.” Aunt May stared at her cup.

  “There will only be a handful of guests, but I’m told it’s the done thing for the laird to host a dinner every summer.”

  “Yes, Laird Malcolm did make it a tradition,” Rose said. Though they did not usually attend, in spite of being invited.

  “I should very much like yer company.”

  “Well, I…” Her aunt pressed her lips together. “Very well. It is only one dinner after all.”

  Rose had to pin herself to the seat to prevent herself from leaping upwards. Inwardly, she grinned from ear to ear. Outwardly, she kept a polite smile on her face, catching Hamish’s eye every now and then. Aunt May dominated the conversation with talk of the conservation of the castle and the new fabric she had purchased today. Hamish was enthusiastic about the castle and did an admirable job of listening to her aunt’s plans for the fabric and her previous projects. Rose herself could hardly summon a word. In her mind, she was already at the castle, dressed in her finest gown, eating dinner next to Hamish, then perhaps dancing with him.

  And another kiss. In her fantasy there was definitely another kiss.

  “Well, I had better leave ye ladies for the day. I’ll send a formal invitation shortly.”

  He rose and they followed suit.

  “I must thank you again for your help,” Aunt May insisted.

  “Yes,” Rose agreed. “Thank you so much for helping my aunt. It could have been a grave situation indeed without your assistance.”

  “Not at all.” He smiled into her eyes, setting her aflutter. “Good day, ladies. I shall look forward to seeing you at my house next time we meet.”

  Rose felt as though she must have been holding her breath until he’d left. Taking in a long breath of air, she tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach. Butterflies? No, make that jackrabbits. Bouncing around in excitement. She would actually get to go to a formal dinner at the castle…and she would get to see Hamish again.

  “Thank you for accepting the invitation, Aunt May. I know you do not like dinner parties.”

  Her aunt tilted her head and smiled. “I just pray I do not regret saying yes.”

  “Why would you?”

  “We are not one of them, Rose. You know that.”

  “One of whom? I have never been given the chance to find out.”

  “The people attending will be noble. Some titled. All with far more riches and graces than us. I hope you enjoy it, I really do, but…”

  “You fear how people will treat me.”

  “Of course. You are only young, Rose. You have never seen the cruelty of the world.”

  Rose eyed her aunt, searching her grey eyes for answers. “And you have?”

  “Too many times,” her aunt said mystically. Her slightly sad smile stretched. “I am sure you will have a pleasant time regardless. Hamish is not the sort of man to let his guests go neglected.”

  “No, I am sure he is not, and he does not seem to have any false graces.”

  “Indeed. In fact, he is quite the gentleman.”

  “Aunt May, would I be correct in thinking that you like that man?”

  Her aunt pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”

  “And that you maybe thought him too rough before?”

  “Something like that.” She tilted her head. “But even an old woman can be wrong once in a while, can she not?”

  Rose laughed and embraced her. “Of course you can, Aunt May. Of course you can.”

  Chapter Eight

  Hamish rubbed a hand across his freshly shaven chin. He felt about as vulnerable as a newborn bairn without the stubble. He took a tour around the dining room and admired the fresh flowers and the elegant table
settings. Who could believe that a year ago, when he was sleeping in a tent to the sound of cannon fire, that he would end up here, dining with the good folk of Baleith.

  And Rose.

  He smiled. Helping her aunt had been a stroke of luck. Not for Mrs. Merriweather perhaps but for himself. It had made it impossible for her to refuse his invitation, meaning he could have more time with Rose. If he could prove himself tonight, perhaps she would give him permission to court her.

  That was his intention, to be certain. Rose was clever, sweet, and funny. He wanted—nay, needed—to get to know her better.

  A few more kisses would not hurt either.

  Not tonight, though. Tonight he was intent on proving he was far more than a highland barbarian. The other families could hang, he couldn’t care less what they thought of him, but he grudgingly admitted the show would not hurt his cause of settling into the area. He had discovered much of his cousin’s business dealings had been with local families of wealth, so he would have to continue to nurture those relationships as best as he could.

  He glanced down at his formal attire. He would not be abandoning his kilt, however, regardless of how others saw him. There was only so much a highlander would do for approval.

  “How do I look?”

  He pivoted to see Marianne in the doorway. By some miracle, he’d avoided her the past few days, though there had been the recent incident where she had conjured up some nightmare as an excuse to slip into his room in her nightgown. Needless to say, she had been swiftly escorted out.

  In dark green silk and capped sleeves, she did look beautiful. However, her beauty could hardly mask the scheming glint in her eyes. He took a step forward, his jaw tight.

  “Did I no’ say ye wouldnae be attending tonight?”

  The pulse fluttered in her neck. “I dinnae recall.”

  “How do ye think it would look for me to have ye attend?”

  “Are ye ashamed of me?”

  “Aye, ashamed my cousin ever took ye for a mistress.”

  Eyes wide, she staggered back slightly as though about to fall into a faint. He ignored the movement. He had been patient for long enough. Now she intended to invade the dinner party that was to secure his chance with Rose and introduce him to the rest of the local families? He would not stand for it. As soon as he had made his intentions toward Rose clear, he would be marching down to Edinburgh and speaking with his lawyers. As much as he wanted to respect his cousin’s wishes—if he even had any toward Marianne—he could not abide her under his roof any longer.

  “I have housed and fed ye for some time now, Marianne. It is past time for ye to leave.”

  “But Malcolm—”

  “Is dead. And he didnae make his wishes clear. I have offered ye a generous amount in my cousin’s name but still ye willnae leave.”

  “Hamish, please…I could keep ye company. I could make ye happy.” She slunk forward, the silk gown swishing. “I made Malcolm happy. I know I can make ye happy too.” A sultry pout pursed her lips. “I am very experienced. I could pleasure ye for hours, Hamish. Hours and hours.”

  She reached out to put a hand to his chest, and he grabbed her wrist. “I have no interest in ye, Marianne. If ye know what’s good for ye, ye shall stay out of sight tonight. Ye’ll have a week to leave and I shall ensure ye are paid, for Malcolm’s sake, but ye’ll get nothing more from me.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. She eyed his hand curled around her wrist.

  In a sudden, unexpected movement, she brought her other hand across his face. The sharp sting merely made his breaths hotter. He took her hand when she lifted it again.

  “Yer lucky I’m a gentleman.”

  “Yer no gentleman,” she hissed. “Ye never will be. Yer just a highland soldier. Ye will never fit in here, never be worthy of the title of laird.” She tried to tug her wrists from his grip, but he held her tight.

  “I dinnae wish to see ye again tonight, Marianne,” he told her, his voice low. “And if ye know what’s good for ye, ye’ll stay out of sight for the next week too, until I return from Edinburgh. Then ye’ll have yer payment and ye’ll be gone. Do ye understand?”

  Her chin quivered. “That is all I get, is it? A payment and I am cast out like old shoes. I gave the best years of my life to Malcolm. Gave him my body, my beauty. Now what do I have? Nothing. I am old and penniless. What hope is there for me?”

  He snorted. “Ye’ll be paid well enough. Find yerself some other desperate old man to take advantage of. I am sure there are many out there willing to overlook yer age.”

  “Bastard,” she hissed.

  Hamish released her and she staggered back.

  “Dinnae let me see ye again, Marianne. I might forget my generosity.”

  She glared at him for a moment before dashing away. Hamish took the chance to inhale several deep breaths and calm himself. He should not have let this go on so long. His duties be damned, he should have gone to Edinburgh as soon as he’d discovered her presence here and arranged with his lawyers to ensure she never returned. It was either that or bodily throw her out, but as much as she protested otherwise, he was a gentleman and he had no desire to see the scheming woman rot on the streets. If his cousin did indeed care for her at all, he had to at least ensure she was looked after—though perhaps not to the luxurious degree she wanted.

  By the time he had calmed himself, his first guests arrived. Several others joined them, being somewhat fashionably late. When Rose and her aunt finally turned up, they were more than fashionably late but he could not be at all put out by it. Not when he set eyes on Rose.

  The pale column of her gown brought out the golden highlights in her hair. She had it coiled high with several ringlets scattered around her face and neck. Tiny white blossoms were scattered amongst the curls along with a glimmering comb tucked in at the back that caught the lamp light.

  She smiled at him, and he could have sworn he nearly toppled over. As she approached, he had to press his hand to his side to keep it from trembling.

  “You are spectacular,” he whispered before the aunt joined them. Her shy smile in response made his heart trip over itself.

  “Mrs. Merriweather, I am so glad ye could join us.”

  “Well, goodness…” She waved her fan “…we nearly did not make it. One of the horses had not been shoed properly and there was quite a rush trying to ensure she was.”

  “Yer here now, and that’s all that matters.”

  His gaze connected with Rose’s. He had so many things he wanted to tell her but could not. How wonderful she looked. How he could not decide if he preferred her delicately styled hair or the wild look she usually sported. Or if he admired her clean, smooth cheeks more than the dirt-streaked ones.

  In truth, he adored both looks.

  “You look very handsome,” she managed to whisper while her aunt admired the grand hall.

  With high ceilings and a balcony running all the way around the edge of the second level, it was a taste of medieval that all guests admired. The wrought iron chandelier hung from the ceiling by a long rope, casting the room in flickering light.

  “This is wonderful, my laird,” Mrs. Merriweather exclaimed.

  He noted he was no longer Hamish. Hopefully that was merely to do with the company rather than a mark of her feelings toward him.

  “Have ye never been in the great hall, Mrs. Merriweather?”

  “No. I have been inside the castle but once and only the entranceway.”

  “I trust ye shall take the opportunity to explore the castle while ye are visiting. It was built in the thirteenth century and has changed little since, save for a few modern renovations.”

  “Oh, Rose adores history. We shall certainly take a look around. She has recently been reading about some of the great battles of Scotland, particularly those in the Highlands. I am sure you can tell her a thing or two.”

  Rose dropped her gaze to the floor. Lord, he adored the way she blushed so obviously. It could not be called a delic
ate blush as it swept over her from her cheeks to her forehead, but it was such a tell of her feelings. She could never connive or plot like Marianne. Everyone would know instantly she had lied.

  “Aye, ye said ye were reading about Scottish history. Cousin Malcolm kept quite a history of the castle in the library. If we have time, I shall have to show ye it all.”

  “We would be delighted,” her aunt said, gracefully.

  As much as he knew Rose could not be left alone, he wanted her alone. He needed just a brief moment. That was all.

  His attention was drawn reluctantly away by some of his other guests, and he spent much of the evening wishing he could be by Rose’s side but horribly aware he could not show her too much attention—not yet. If he was going to prove himself something other than a boorish highlander, he would do things right.

  Even over dinner, he managed to keep his distance. Her aunt was on one side of him and a Lady Gladstone was on the other. He devoted his attention to them equally but not without the occasional glance toward Rose. He noted several other gentlemen spared her a few glances. Most were married men, but the few who were not were certainly vying for her attention.

  He curled a hand around the stem of his wine glass and forced a smile. Hamish had to admit, being a boorish highlander had its advantages in the past. Had he encountered a similar situation, he might have stood up, warned the men off, and dragged Rose away.

  However, Rose deserved better than that, and he would not ruin what they had for anything.

  He hardly remembered a morsel he ate. The tang of the lemon cream lingered in his mouth, but he could barely recall swallowing it. Once dinner was finished, they moved back into the great hall and one of the ladies deigned it time to take to the piano. He had not really planned on dancing though he had attended enough officers’ balls to know most parties turned to dancing eventually, even if they had the most mediocre piano players amongst them.

  He offered his hand to Mrs. Merriweather who shied away and suggested he dance with her niece. Keeping the grin from his face proved difficult. He could not have planned it better.

  As they weaved through the moves to the minuet, Hamish relished each brush of their hands. “I have missed ye,” he murmured.