An Unsuitable Lady for a Lord (Scottish Lords and Ladies)

by Cathleen Ross

  She raised one eyebrow and shot him a smile, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. “My lord?”

  “Aaron,” he corrected. “Call me by my first name.”

  She paused to regard him. They both knew it was a highly improper request.

  “Very well. Aaron,” she repeated with a slight roll of the R, as if caressing his name with her tongue.

  “I know of no other way to say this. I want you.”

  Desperately. In his bed.

  It wasn’t love. Couldn’t be—he barely knew her. Yes, he had regard for her, but this was pure, raw lust. If he didn’t secure his interest in this wonderful lady quickly, he was quite certain another lord would. He drained his teacup, realizing his throat had gone dry.

  She didn’t flinch at his bluntness as he’d expected. She leaned over, picked up the teapot, and topped his cup up for him. “I’m well aware of that. You’ve made it very clear.”

  “Will you be mine?” He couldn’t leave it alone. His head was buzzing with the urgency of his desire, and his cock had an ungentlemanly mind of its own.

  “I’ll admit, I thought about you last night, too. I would like you to call on me.”

  What did she mean by that? Damn, how he wanted her! He wanted to press her against him, to feel how her body melded into his. Damn it, his lust for her was driving him mad.

  “That would give me immense pleasure, my lady.”

  “Please. Call me Crystal in private,” she said. She settled to eating her breakfast.

  He still hadn’t touched his. How on earth could he get her where he wanted her? He wanted to bed her without the pressure of marriage…and yet, damn it, his sense of honor troubled him. He wasn’t his father’s son for nothing. And she had saved his father’s life, as well, for which Aaron would be forever in her debt. What if she fell in love with him and changed her mind, as women were wont to do, and suddenly wished to wed?

  Women always wanted marriage, a husband, and children.

  She was far too willful to make a suitable wife…and yet it was that very characteristic which attracted him to her. If he could persuade her to become his mistress, his life would be complete.

  He sucked in a deep breath, needing to calm his chaotic thoughts and his growing need, forcing himself to maintain a gentlemanly facade while his body raged.

  “I can’t help but wonder,” he said, “how you came up with your unusual ideas, given so many Highland men are away at war, so there’s nothing to tempt a woman except hairy cows.”

  She rolled her eyes at his description of the Highlands. “Trust a man to think my ideas must be inspired by a man. I’m not the first woman to believe we should be educated the same as men. My mother was very unhappy in her marriage and wanted her freedom. But she had no other means of support. I saw her suffering, and I knew what my life path would be from that moment on. Not marriage, as my father had planned, but to work for the greater good of women.”

  “I’m sorry to hear of your mother. That is indeed sad.”

  She reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you. But alas, not an unusual circumstance. Which is why it all has to change.”

  He took a steadying breath. “I need to ask another question, for it is tormenting me. Do you have experience of the desire you speak of?”

  He was unable to let the subject pass, despite her lofty ideals and unfavorable views on marriage.

  A bright pink flush stained her face.

  Answer enough, he reckoned.

  He grinned. “Are you sitting too close to the fire?”

  She pulled her hand back, poured herself a glass of water, and smiled back. “It is rather hot, but then, I have a dislike of the cold.”

  She never retreated. A ripple of pleasure passed through him. How he enjoyed that about her.

  She stabbed a piece of salmon and put it to her lips, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s true I did speak of desire. However, as spontaneous as my nature is, I will never speak of it in public again—not if I hope to gain entrance into society and persuade other women to help me teach the poor.”

  “Indeed, but you are more than welcome to talk about it with me. I’m a very interested listener.” He pulled at his collar, experiencing the same heat.

  “My male kin were always speaking of the pleasures of love when they thought I was out of earshot. It made me curious. Too curious. I want the experience for myself…but not to be tied up in an unhappy marriage. It is a conundrum. I can’t be sure I will enjoy what appears to be a delicious experience for a man.”

  He leaned forward and kept his voice low. “I’m sure you will delight in those pleasures.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I would be happy to introduce you to them, and with me you won’t have to worry about being shackled. If you’re serious about never marrying, there is no other way to find out whether you are a woman who delights in bed sport or not, other than trying it with a man you are attracted to.”

  “I’m well aware the situation would suit you. Don’t try to make the situation about me.”

  Except it was all about her—all about wanting her before he was forced in to a marriage he didn’t want. This was his last fling, his last chance of happiness. He settled back in his chair, putting on his best disappointed face. “We could spend time getting to know each other and see where it leads. I wish to accompany you on your talks, when time allows, because I feel you need protection. When in public, we can sup and enjoy each other’s company, properly chaperoned, of course.”

  “I dinnae want you by my side too often. People will notice if you take too much of an interest in me, other than being my patron for the education of women.”

  “Then that is what we will say, for it is the truth.”

  “My good reputation is important. I can’t do my work if the gentry won’t receive me into their salons. And I dinnae want you close by when I’m speaking to the working class. Unlike you lords, they seem able to behave themselves,” she said. “I need no one but my maid to accompany me.”

  “Very well. We could meet at my house in the New Town and spend time together. I will dismiss the servants out of discretion, but dinnae fear, we will spend the time as you please. It is the only place I can think of where we wouldn’t be in the public eye.”

  His whole body tensed as he waited for her answer. It was such a delicate situation.

  She held his gaze for an interminably long moment, then finally dipped her head. “I’m willing to try your experiment.” She held up her teacup. “Here’s to our growing admiration…and to our success.”

  He raised his cup and clinked it to hers. “Aye. To the education of women.”

  And to teaching her all about desire.

  Chapter Eleven

  Thursday

  Several days later, in Edinburgh, Crystal and Aaron entered the weaving mill belonging to Mr. Robert Macintosh, the associate he had spoken of to her. Hilda walked behind them carrying small slates and chalk. Crystal looked around the cramped classroom. It was as cold as the grave, and many of the girls didn’t have enough warm clothing on.

  “Thank you for allowing Lady Crystal to use this modest schoolroom to teach your weavers, Mr. Macintosh. As her benefactor, I thought I would accompany her this time,” Aaron said. “To observe her teaching methods firsthand.”

  Mr. Macintosh bowed. “My lord, you and Lady Crystal are most welcome. I have spoken to the parents of the girls, and providing they are compensated with a shilling a day for their wages, they are prepared to give their daughters permission to come here and learn their letters. There are always others, like the cotters who have been forced off their land, who are grateful to have a day’s work weaving in the mill.”

  Crystal thanked Mr. Macintosh before looking into the dirty, hopeful faces of the ten girls in front of her, ranging from five to thirteen
years old. She hadn’t had a lot of teaching experience, but she had helped her sister, Lacey, give lessons to the village children back home.

  She smiled and introduced herself, Aaron, and Hilda, then said, “Now, everyone tell me your first name and let me know if you have had lessons in reading before.”

  One by one, the girls introduced themselves.

  “I’m Ailish, and no, miss, I’ve had no learning,” one older girl said softly. “We work from sunrise to sundown six days a week.”

  Crystal glanced at Aaron, so grateful for his interest. She could make a big difference in this town with his backing.

  “I’m Sally. And I’m so glad for the learning,” said a girl of about ten years whose long, thin wrists poked out from the too-short sleeves of her dress.

  One little girl with dirt-blond hair poorly tucked under a bonnet who was wearing a dress that was too big for her shook her head.

  “That’s Janine,” Ailish said. “She doesn’t talk. She’s eight years old and from the workhouse. They start the little ones here as soon as they are able. The youngest girls have nimble fingers.”

  “I see.” Crystal blinked back tears, confronted by the painful reality. “That’s…” She didn’t know if it was a terrible abuse or a blessing because it provided the destitute child with a bit of coin to buy bread.

  Aaron came and stood close to her as if he shared her anguish. She could feel his body heat, and it was incredibly comforting. Underneath his dashing exterior was a good soul.

  “One step at a time, my lady,” he said quietly. “Together, we can and will change things.”

  “Yes, we will. Thank you,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “You dinnae ken how much your support means to me. It warms my heart in a way I never thought possible.”

  She committed their names and stories to memory while trying to press down the sickening roll of concern in her stomach. It was one thing to know poverty existed and quite another to be confronted by the sheer hopelessness of these girls’ lives. Here in the city, there was none of the clan helpfulness and care for one another that existed back home.

  It wasn’t a case of the parish schools teaching them at a lower standard; these girls were taught nothing at all except their craft…and some would say they were lucky to have that. Things were so much worse among the poor than she had ever thought. With their bleak eyes and hollowed-out cheeks, the children were all thin and exhausted. One little girl of about five, called Annabel, sat on the floor, leaning against another girl, her eyelids drooping. Her skin had the gray color of someone who had rarely seen the sun.

  “Oh, Aaron, will you look at that little one? I cannae believe they start them so young,” Crystal said in anguish.

  He blinked after looking at Annabel, then brushed the back of Crystal’s hand so lightly it could have been an accident. “Draw on that famous Highland strength. You will need every ounce of it if this is the path you wish to pursue.”

  She nodded and swallowed down her distress, then turned back to the girls, putting on a bright smile. “Well, we’re going to make a fun start today. I want you all to go outside and wash your faces and hands in the trough. Hilda is going to give out some bread and butter when you return. Then we will start learning.”

  The girls leaped to their feet, squealing with joy, and piled out after Ailish. Little Annabel awoke, rubbed her eyes, and wandered after them.

  “I’m so glad I thought to bring bread and butter,” Crystal said to Aaron when the girls were outside.

  Aaron frowned. “Next time we’ll bring in a jug of milk as well. These girls are far too thin.”

  She looked up at him with real warmth blooming in her heart. “I knew you were a good man from the moment I saw you.”

  “Well, that’s a nice surprise. Usually I just annoy you,” he said with a grin.

  His comment made her laugh aloud, and she quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. Was she a fool to think this sort of relationship between a respectable woman and man could work without marriage?

  Hilda looked up at her from her task of cutting and buttering bread, eyeing them with a frown.

  “Stop making me laugh. My maid is getting suspicious,” she murmured.

  His eyes gleamed with amusement. “I didn’t realize laughing was a crime.”

  The maid set the bread and butter on the small table Mr. Macintosh had provided, careful to place it on a clean cloth. “These children are thin and small for their ages because they dinnae see the light of day nor get enough nourishment,” Hilda said with an indignant huff.

  “Aye. I’d thought to let them eat when we finished the lesson, but these girls willnae learn on empty stomachs,” Crystal said, rubbing the sleeves of her gown from the cold.

  Aaron put a hand in his pocket and drew out some coins. “Hilda, I saw a vendor on the high street, not far from here. Will you go and buy some firewood? The lady is feeling chilled.”

  The maid looked at Crystal, and she nodded. “Do as Lord Lyle requests. I’m sure we’ll all feel more comfortable with a little heat.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” She left, and Crystal bit back a smile, feeling wicked at not having a chaperone. The girls hardly counted. The room seemed small with him standing so close, but she liked that he was nearby and being so helpful. She couldn’t imagine her father or any other man of his station being this supportive.

  After the girls ate, Crystal turned to the large slate Mr. Macintosh had mounted on the brick wall for her. Aaron passed out a small slate and a piece of chalk for each girl, and she cast him a grateful glance.

  He was a pleasure to look at with his handsome, earnest face. What concerned her was how easily he had found a way into her life. He would be an enormous distraction from her work. The man had charisma and an undeniable charm. She was going to need every bit of her Highland strength not to fall in love with the man.

  She shook her head to clear it and focused on her task. The girls gazed back at her with rapt attention.

  “Every woman should be able to write her own name. We’re going to study what the letters are called and the sounds they make, but don’t worry—I don’t expect you to learn them all at once. We’ll just do three letters a day. And before the lesson finishes, I’ll write out your name on your slate so you can see what it looks like. In time, you’ll be able to read and write it yourself. Before we start, you need to know how to hold the chalk.”

  When she was finished demonstrating, she watched the girls copy her motion—all except Janine, who simply gazed at her.

  “What do you think has happened to Janine?” she asked Aaron.

  He looked at the girl. “I dinnae ken. Do you think she is mute? I can ask Mr. Macintosh, if you wish.”

  “Always so helpful,” she said with a smile.

  “This is important work,” he said, his face serious and thoughtful.

  Just then, Hilda came back into the room and started a small fire in a grate at the back.

  “Good. I’m going to write the first letter of the alphabet.” She described the sounds A could make using simple words. “Hands up if anyone has that sound in her name.”

  Ailish and Sally put their hands up.

  “Good! Lord Lyle, whose first name is Aaron, has it, too.”

  He nodded supportively to her and the girls.

  She focused on Janine, who was seated in front of her. “What about you, Janine?” She sounded out the girl’s name slowly, enunciating the letters as her own governess had done for her when teaching her to read and write.

  A light came on in the girl’s eyes, and she nodded and smiled. Her happy response made the backs of Crystal’s eyes prick with tears. “There is so much work to do here, Aaron. It’s going to take an army of teachers to make a difference in these girls’ lives.”

  “All in time. But this is a damn good start,” he said, his voice fu
ll of reassurance.

  She wanted to kiss him, to wrap her arms around the back of his neck and never let go. “Thank you,” she said, taking a steadying breath.

  He was so kind that the day just seemed brighter with him in it.

  Several hours later, with breaks for more bread and butter and fresh air, each girl, with lots of help, had traced out the letters of her first name on her slate.

  Crystal intended to return the next day to teach them again. She packed up her basket, though it was not nearly as heavy as this morning. Each girl had been left with a slate and the assignment to copy out her name at least once a day.

  She left the room with Aaron, and they thanked Mr. Macintosh on their way out. Hilda stood at a discreet distance while she talked to Aaron in the mill courtyard.

  “Did you receive the invitation to speak again at Sir Walter’s tonight?” he asked. “He said he sent it two days ago.”

  “I did, but I replied I’d only go if he assured me the men who made lewd comments last time would not be invited.”

  His mouth thinned. “I promise to be there to protect you. I very much wish to hear more about your views.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter. “I have my own views about how I feel about you, so I wrote my thoughts down.”

  She took the letter and stuffed it into her pocket. She had a feeling his thoughts would be sinful. “You are incorrigible, sir.”

  “I do my best. I’ll leave you now, my lady. I wish to speak to Mr. Macintosh. Enjoy my letter.” He bowed and strode back across the courtyard to Mr. Macintosh’s office.

  Just then, Ailish approached her with a timid look on her face. “My lady?” the girl said.

  “How can I help you, Ailish?” Crystal asked kindly.

  “I have a good friend, Jenny, who would like to join us. She knows how to write her name, so she won’t be behind.”

  “I suppose I can fit one more in.” Crystal watched while Ailish shifted from foot to foot, appearing uncomfortable. “What is it?”