The earth shifted beneath Ian’s feet with her passionate response. He tilted his head and savored the taste and texture of her mouth, pulling her hips tight against his own. But he could not get close enough to her.
His erection felt hard against her soft, welcoming heat, and he felt a driving urge to raise her skirts and bury himself inside her. He sensed her arousal as deeply as his own, and knew she would fit him perfectly.
Desire was hard and hot as he slid his hands up her sides, drawing his thumbs to the lower curves of her plump breasts, breasts that had filled his hands so beautifully the night before.
She tightened her fingers in his hair as he pressed his lips to her jaw and then her neck. Quaking with pleasure at her touch, he wanted more. He wanted her naked, lying beneath him. He savored her essence, moving his mouth toward the edge of her bodice, shifting her until she sat down upon an old straw mattress.
Coming down beside her, he laid her back, slipping her bodice and chemise down past her breasts. He took one erect nipple into his mouth and shuddered at the sound of her pleasured groan. He slid one hand beneath her skirt and traced it up beyond the garters that held her stockings in place.
Her skin above the stockings was like warm silk, and further still was heaven.
Lucy’s head dropped back and her legs relaxed as he touched her most private spot and found the sensitive nub between her feminine folds. Ian’s heart thundered in his chest as she moved to give him greater access. She was warm and moist, and when he slid his finger inside, she tightened around him. Ian looked into her eyes before taking her mouth again, and her gaze was as intimate as his touch. Their bond was soul deep.
His pulse pounded in his ears when she moaned and clenched around him, reaching the peak of her pleasure. He began to unfasten his trews—
Bloody hades. Lucy Stillwater was not a woman to be seduced and sent on her way. Besides, it was the middle of the afternoon and they were lying on an old mattress in a filthy cottage. Anyone could happen upon them. He needed to regain some control.
Ian pulled away, looking into her eyes that seemed glazed with desire. He needed to break the mood. He straightened her skirts and helped her up. “Now I understand why chaperones are so vigilant.”
She swallowed. Color infused her cheeks.
“Perhaps it would be best if you returned to the castle, Sassenach,” he said. “I will come along in awhile.”
* * *
Mortified was too weak a word for what Lucy felt. The man had seduced her and dismissed her. She had behaved in a perfectly unacceptable manner – like a wanton. Her sisters had whispered about such women, loose with no morals whatsoever.
Was that what she’d become?
She wanted to curl up into a ball somewhere and hide. Instead, she ran. She took the path at a gallop and did not stop until she reached the gatehouse and went through to the castle grounds. She was breathing hard and knew her face was red, but not from running.
Oh, dear heaven, Arden must be able to leave on the morrow. Lucy could not face Lord Broxburn again, not after what she’d allowed…Oh lord, had he touched her there? Had he actually sucked her breast into his mouth? She could not believe she’d fallen so completely under his spell, nor did she understand her body’s reaction to his touch.
The sensations had culminated in a maelstrom of pleasure that had been nothing short of incredible.
Her cheeks burned again at the thought of what she had done with Broxburn. What would she say to him when she saw him next? How ought she to act?
Approaching the castle keep, she saw a carriage parked in front of the main entrance. Two footmen in castle livery were at work unloading luggage from it and carrying it inside.
The last thing she wanted was to have to interact with them or anyone else. There was an elaborate seal on the side of the carriage, not unlike the one on her uncle’s carriage. Clearly, it was a visitor of some rank. Someone with a lot of luggage who planned to stay.
Lucy hurried around the side of the keep and its more recent additions to find another entrance. She felt far too unsettled to meet with any other guests, no matter who they might be.
There were several doors along the way, but Lucy continued on until she reached a garden area where she discovered a set of multi-paned doors that led inside. She made her way toward them, passing a pair of chairs set on a small, but beautifully patterned brick terrace. The moment she entered the room, she knew it was Lord Broxburn’s private study. It was a wholly masculine room that reminded her of his tower room, with comfortable furniture and artifacts from antiquity situated on the tables and shelves.
She sat down and buried her face in her hands. What a disaster. From the accident on the road to her ruinous meetings with Lord Broxburn, their journey could not have turned out worse.
Her eyes burned, and tears flowed. He’d been so flippant about their encounter in the ghillie’s cottage, she wished she had not been so affected by it. Oh, if only she never had to see him again!
Her aunt had been better this morning, awake and aware of her surroundings. Lucy prayed the physician would give Archie leave to take her home tomorrow. In that case, Lucy might not even have to see Broxburn when – if – they left the following morning.
She wiped away her tears, stood up and walked to the door, somehow managing to compose herself. She opened the door an inch and peeked out, and when she saw no one about, sneaked out of the room and down a dim corridor. She wasn’t quite sure where it would lead, but she was hoping to find the servants’ staircase, which she knew existed, because she’d seen it not far from her aunt’s bedchamber.
She followed the corridor around curves and corners, and suddenly found herself in a large, formal sitting room. The guests were there with Lord Kindale, Lord Broxburn, and Mr. Munro, among them.
“Ah, Miss Stillwater,” Broxburn said, as though naught had happened between them only half an hour earlier. “May I introduce our—”
“Oh, Miss Stillwater!” The beautiful young redhead jumped from her seat and came to Lucy, taking her hands. “How lovely to see you again!”
“A-and you, Lady Kathryn.”
Lord Auchengrey, Lady Kathryn’s father, stood when Kathryn pulled Lucy into the room. It was the last place she wanted to be, but she greeted the earl and his wife, and could see no alternative but to allow herself to be drawn into their little circle.
“Mr. Munro told us of your carriage accident,” Lady Auchengrey said. She was still a beauty at her age, with deep red hair and flashing blue eyes, and Kathryn was a mirror of her mother. “I do hope your aunt recovers quickly.”
“Thank you, my lady. We hope to be able to leave for Edinburgh quite soon.”
“Oh, but we just got here,” Kathryn said in a lamenting tone. Lucy guessed her to be about twenty – at least two or three years younger than Lucy. More than ready to wed.
To wed Broxburn, Lucy realized with an unwelcome pang in the pit of her stomach. After what had just transpired—
“We were uninvited, Kate,” her father said quietly. “We will not stay long, Broxburn. But ’twas getting late, and we have a long way to go before we reach Edinburgh.”
“Of course you are welcome,” Broxburn said. “I only regret that my parents are not well enough to greet you.”
“Aye, ’tis a shame they are laid low,” Auchengrey said. “But again, we will not stay long.”
“No, no,” Broxburn said. “Please stay as long as you like.”
Lucy could not tell if he was just being hospitable, or if he really meant it. She knew his father’s condition, and it was possible he would make yet another drunken appearance for Broxburn to deal with.
She found herself hoping he would not be put into that position. Not because of any special affection for him, but…no one should be embarrassed in such a way by one’s own father. At least, that is what she told herself.
“Perhaps my uncle will be well enough to greet you on the morrow,” Mr. Munro said, effectively pul
ling Lady Kathryn’s attention from Broxburn.
Lady Auchengrey was not pleased with Duncan’s distraction. She pointedly turned her attention to Broxburn. “Lord Broxburn, we have never before had the opportunity to visit Craigmuir Castle. ’Tis magnificent.”
“It is an ancient structure. These lands and this castle have been our family seat for centuries – even before it became a dukedom,” Broxburn said. “And my ancestors have been making interesting additions to it during all that time.”
Lady Auchengrey continued to engage Broxburn in conversation, but failed to draw her daughter in. Kathryn seemed far more interested in Lucy than in the most eligible bachelor in the room.
The young woman spoke to Lucy. “Miss Stillwater, I was so pleased to meet you at Glencory Castle, and sorry that your aunt and uncle decided to leave so quickly.”
“Yes, we were anxious to reach Edinburgh.”
“It is unfortunate you were caught in such a horrific storm,” she said. “We even felt it at Glencory.”
Lucy glanced up at Broxburn for the first time since she entered the room and found his gaze locked upon her lips. Her entire body sizzled with some odd internal flame. “Oh, uh…yes. It was terribly frightening. When we attempted to get ahead of it, our carriage overturned.”
Kathryn grabbed her hand. “How awful for you! I am very glad you were unharmed, Miss Stillwater!”
At Glencory, Kathryn had befriended Lucy and had mentioned that her parents expected her to secure a betrothal by year’s end. Hence the round of house parties she had attended all summer. And now she was here. It seemed she…
Lucy ventured a glance at Broxburn again. Did he know? Was he aware that Lady Kathryn and her parents had placed their hopes in him?
All at once, she imagined Kathryn and Broxburn together. Him kissing her. Touching her as he had touched Lucy.
“I am so sorry,” Kathryn said. “I did not mean to upset you by speaking of the accident.”
“Oh. No, I…I believe all will end well.” Except for poor MacLean. The only fortuitous thing about his death was that he hadn’t had a family to support. And her Uncle Archie had arranged to settle a generous compensation on his only relative, a married sister. But she doubted Kathryn or her parents wanted to hear about their driver’s demise. “I trust you enjoyed the rest of your stay at Glencory Castle?”
“We certainly did,” Kathryn said. “But we missed you.”
“And Lord Broxburn, of course,” Lady Auchengrey interjected.
Of course. He would inherit his father’s title one day and become a duke – one of the most powerful men in the country. They would be fools to miss the opportunity for Kathryn to marry so well.
Not to say that Lord Kindale wouldn’t be a good catch, too. He was charming and handsome with his deep auburn hair and lovely sense of humor. Lucy wished her sister, Meg, could meet him, but she doubted Meg would be any more interested in marrying a Scottish peer than she was.
Kathryn easily could have her pick of the two men. She was stunningly beautiful, and Arden had mentioned her excellent pedigree, being from a venerable Scottish family near Aberdeen. Broxburn should seriously consider courting her.
Even though the thought of it made her ill.
It was irrational and foolish, yet the day seemed to be full of irrationality and foolishness, starting with her ill-advised visit to the ghillie’s cottage. She would love to go back and explore some more, but there was too great a possibility of running into Lord Broxburn again. And if he kissed her once more—
No, he would not. Because here was Lady Kathryn in all her blazing, red-headed Scottish glory. He would be a fool to let her leave and miss the opportunity to court her. She was a catch by anyone’s definition.
Mr. Munro seemed to realize that, too, and injected himself into the conversation. “Lady Auchengrey, do you come down to Edinburgh much?”
“No,” she replied. “Hardly ever. Aberdeen is so much closer…”
Their voices faded into the background as Broxburn’s gaze washed over her. Lucy felt as though she were melting. Then she realized Lady Auchengrey was glaring at her.
“Please excuse me,” Lucy said. “I must go and check on my aunt.”
“We will see you at supper, then?” Kathryn asked.
Lucy hesitated to answer, but finally said, “Perhaps,” even though she meant no.
Kathryn bit her lip, her expression turning slightly sulky. Lucy bowed to Kathryn’s parents and started for the door, but could not leave without passing close to Broxburn. He did not move.
She went around him, her skirt touching his trews as she passed. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord.”
His scent filled her, and his eyes reminded her of the Wonderfully improper moments they’d shared. Of the liberties he’d taken only because he could.
* * *
Ian should have proposed marriage. That was what an honorable man did when he’d compromised a lady, wasn’t it? And he had definitely compromised her, even though no one knew except the two of them.
But what would she want with a destitute heir to a bankrupt title? Not to mention his lack of true pedigree. No doubt Joshua Parris possessed both of these things in abundance.
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
Ian watched Lucy leave the room. Every nerve in his body urged him to follow her, but Lord Auchengrey asked him something and he could not leave without seeming churlish.
He was stuck here with his cousin while Kindale excused himself to prepare to leave for Edinburgh. Ian could have used his moral support while Auchengrey and his wife and daughter remained. Malcolm was a far more entertaining fellow than Ian ever was. And he’d been right about Lady Kathryn. She was stalking him.
Somehow, Ian managed not to turn around and follow Lucy as she left the room. Everything about her called to him, but he gave his attention to Lady Kathryn and her mother, only half listening to their recounting of the activities at Lady Glencory’s house party.
“’Tis a shame you had to miss the ball.”
“The ball?”
“Yes, Lord and Lady Glencory held a ball on the last night,” Lady Auchengrey said. “It was lovely, wasn’t it, Kathryn?”
“Oh, yes, the orchestra was very fine,” her daughter remarked.
And all it brought to Ian’s mind was the idea of finding a chance to waltz with Lucy Stillwater. He would have to find out when Lady Muirhouse’s ball was to be held, and whether Lucy would be attending. Perhaps a trip to Edinburgh wasn’t out of the question.
“My lord.” Thankfully, Lockhart arrived to announce that rooms had been made ready for Auchengrey and his family. With this news, the earl and his wife and daughter followed the butler to the south wing. Ian encouraged them to feel at home, and to join him for supper.
He would have preferred a quiet, intimate meal with Lucy. But Ian did not have the luxury of such a leisurely pursuit, even if she would consent to it. Which he doubted, judging by her downcast eyes and the way she’d avoided him when meeting Auchengrey’s family. Besides, Duncan was still here, and he would not leave the earl’s family alone with him. He knew Ferguson had not yet returned from Craigmuir Way, but as soon as he was back, Ian needed to talk to him about the progress he’d made on the new kiln.
And then there was his father.
Ian steeled himself for another unpleasant confrontation and went up to the duke’s bedchamber. Luckily, his bedroom was far from the rooms where Lockhart had put Lord and Lady Auchengrey and their daughter – because he heard his father lambasting his valet as he approached.
“What do you want?” Craigmuir shouted when Ian came into the doorway.
“A word, Father.”
“You’ll have more than a word, by God. Where is all my whiskey?”
“You may go, Crenshaw,” he said to the valet.
“Yes, my lord.” The man left the room, obviously relieved to have a respite.
“You have some gall, Broxburn,” the duke said.
<
br /> Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh?”
“Who gave you authority to—?”
“You did,” Ian replied, “when you became a drunken sot.”
“Why, you—”
“Is Duncan my brother, Father?”
Craigmuir’s face flushed red and he stepped back as though he’d been slapped. “Do you dare—”
“Why did you change your will? Did you cuckold my uncle and produce another son?” He’d betrayed the duchess – whom he was supposed to have loved – so why wouldn’t he have done the same to his own brother?
The duke’s voice was low and dangerous, and his nostrils flared, but Ian was undaunted. He wanted the truth.
“No.”
“No, what?” Ian said. He knew he was being insolent. But looking at his father now, with his shaky hands and sickly golden hue, he knew it was now or never. “No, you did not produce another son? Or no, you will not say?”
The duke stepped up to his bed and lay down, though he did not close his eyes. He seemed to be looking at something – or someone – in the far corner of the room. Ian saw naught but a trick of the light, creating a filmy shadow near the ceiling.
“Go away,” his father said.
“No. Not until you answer my question. Is Duncan my brother or my cousin?”
“He is not your brother.”
Relief slid over him like a waterfall. “Then why did you change your will? You know he will destroy those estates before a year is out.”
“His father left him naught,” the duke said. “Alec was a wastrel and a fool who lost nearly everything he owned. It was only my intervention that saved the Brodie lands from ruin.”
“And we still manage those properties.”
“Aye. Of course. They are the duke’s lands, even though I gave my brother the incomes from them.”
“Father, we manage them because it is obvious even to you that Duncan is as incompetent as his father was,” Ian said in frustration. “Why would you bequeath those properties to him when he cannot even manage the one he has?”
Lucy and Her Scottish Laird Page 11