Edie froze in his arms. Alec went still as well, suddenly all too aware that he was preparing to make love to a virginal spinster—in a corridor, against a wall, in broad daylight.
Jesus.
Then she came to life in his arms, and not in a good way. She jerked her head away and a funny little growl issued from her lips.
“Get off of me,” she hissed, trying to struggle her way out of his embrace. “Are you deliberately trying to destroy my reputation?”
Alec mentally sighed. He almost wished someone would catch them, since it would make things a damn sight easier for both of them, although she had yet to realize it. But now that a small portion of his blood was finally heading back to his brain, he realized what an idiot he was. If he had any hope of winning Edie over, this certainly wasn’t the way to go about it.
She was worse than a nest full of French spies when it came to playing havoc with his plans. It was time to get the situation—and her—under control.
“Do I have to kick you in the shins to make you let me go?” Her cheeks were pink and her eyes shot daggers at him. But her full mouth was rosy and damp from his kisses, and her breasts heaved against her trim bodice. She looked so damn tempting that it took every ounce of his discipline not to carry her off to the nearest empty bedroom and have his way with her.
That was the most enticing image to come into his brain in a very, very long time.
No, ever.
“Stop wriggling about like a worm on the end of a hook,” he growled.
“I cannot believe you just called me a worm,” she snapped, wriggling harder as she tried to escape.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and picked her straight up off her feet. She squeaked out a startled protest, but he simply plopped her back on the padded window bench and braced himself in front of her to prevent her from bolting.
Her eyes flashed from behind her spectacles, promising all sorts of retribution, but her lenses had gone partly foggy.
“Can you even see?” he asked.
“Confound it.” She whipped off her spectacles and rubbed them on her sleeve before jamming them back on her nose.
Her gaze said quite clearly that she would like to rend him, limb from limb.
“You needn’t look at me like I’m some sort of ogre,” Alec said, “or like I’m going to ravish you right here in the hallway. I promise you, I’m not.”
She stared at him a moment longer, then looked down pointedly at the fall of his breeches. “Really? You could have fooled me,” she said.
Alec had to bite back a disbelieving laugh. Only Edie would have the nerve to comment on the state of a man’s equipment at a time like this.
“I sincerely hope you’re not in the habit of making that sort of comment to other men of your acquaintance,” he said. “It’s not exactly the most appropriate thing one could say under the circumstances.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Of course I’m not! But in your case, one could hardly fail to miss it . . . that.”
Her words, coupled with her reluctantly fascinated gaze, had the predictable effect. Repressing a sigh, he turned his back to her and adjusted himself.
He heard a slight, choking sound from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he lifted an ironic eyebrow. “Is something wrong, Miss Whitney?”
Even though her cheeks were now bright red, she still managed to meet his gaze with a defiant one of her own. He had to give her credit—Edie never backed down from anything.
“Nothing at all,” she responded sarcastically. “Except for the fact that you’re the rudest man I’ve ever met.”
“I doubt that,” he said drily, turning around.
She eyed him for several seconds, still fuming, before letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re right, which I suppose doesn’t say much for the company I keep. Or, should I say, the company I used to keep.”
He propped a shoulder against the wall of the alcove, settling back in. “I wouldn’t disagree with that assessment. I’ve always wondered why you hung about with that pack of idiots who call themselves your suitors.”
“They might be idiots, but at least they’re not lummoxes.” Her insult held little heat. She sighed again, and this one held more than a measure of melancholy. “Not that I actually have anymore suitors.”
He hated the brooding expression that had come over her face. Melancholy did not sit well on Eden Whitney, especially when only moments ago she’d gone up like fire in his arms. Her sudden shift in mood made Alec want to throttle every man who’d treated her like anything other than the splendid girl she was. Edie was wasted on the ton, and every second he passed in her company convinced him that she was exactly what he was looking for. What he needed.
“You’re well rid of them,” he said. “Especially when you have a great lummox like me sniffing around your pretty ankles. I’m much more fun than that feeble-minded lot. You should stick to me from now on.”
She peered up at him in disbelief. “Have you forgotten something?”
“I don’t think so.”
“How about Donella Haddon? She’s your betrothed.”
“Not for long, I hope.”
“You are such a dreadful rake,” she said. “I don’t know how you can bear to live with yourself.”
“If by rake you mean I like women, you’re correct. But I’ve never seduced an innocent . . .” He paused for a moment when she gaped at him but then forged ahead. “I’ve never seduced an innocent or an unwilling woman, or manipulated one for ulterior motives.”
“I cannot believe you have the nerve to say that to me,” she exclaimed.
“Until now,” he amended. “You’re my first.”
“You, sir, are shameless. May I remind you that you manipulated people for a living? You and Wolf ruthlessly did that to Evie and me just a few months ago, or had you forgotten? As far as I’m concerned, manipulation is your middle name.”
He flicked that away with a casual hand. “That’s different. I was protecting king and country. One uses the tools at one’s disposal when forced to save the day.”
She looked awestruck, and not in a flattering way. “Alasdair Gilbride, you are the most—”
He cut her off by crouching down before her and taking her hands. “I know. I’m arrogant and immensely irritating, and you have every reason to be thoroughly annoyed with me. But despite my nefarious and underhanded dealings—”
“And clumsy,” she interrupted. “You forgot clumsy.”
When he smiled at her, she bit her lower lip, suddenly looking rather shy. On her, it was absolutely adorable.
“That, too,” he said. “But despite my many faults, there is something that you should know.”
“What?” she whispered, gazing at him as if he were a cypher she needed to crack. Right now, she didn’t look like the sophisticated miss who’d spent years leading the men of the ton in a merry dance. She looked like an earnest girl stumbling headlong into her first romance.
He leaned in to brush a quick kiss across her lips. “That I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you, Eden Whitney. And I intend to have you.”
She blinked with surprise. Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What, exactly, do you mean by that?”
“I’m not offering you a carte blanche, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
She jerked upright, almost toppling backward into the window frame. “Are you asking me to marry you?” she asked.
“I thought I’d try courting you first,” he said.
After all, despite the enthusiasm of their recent kiss, Alec had no real idea how Edie felt about him. He knew she was very fond of her life in London, and there was every indication she intended to flee back south as quickly as his carriage—and the restoration of her reputation—would allow. Spending a good part of her life in the Highlands would not be how she envisioned her future.
She stared at him a few moments longer, looking utterly perplexed. Then she gave
a funny little shake, as if she were a spaniel coming in from the rain. Her head tilted back and the mocking gleam in her eye signaled the return of the self-confident girl who’d swaggered through London’s ballrooms.
“As much as I enjoy having a big, strong man worshiping at my feet,” she said, “you’d better stand up before you get a crick in your back. You’re much too big for me to lug all the way back to your room if you hurt yourself.”
“I’d much rather carry you back to your bedroom,” he said as he came to his feet.
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Aside from the fact that your comments are entirely inappropriate, must I continually remind you that you are engaged to be married?”
“Believe me, I haven’t forgotten for one moment.”
She flung her arms out, almost hitting the sides of the window alcove. “Then why do you keep flirting with me?”
He winced. “No need to yell, lass.”
“There is every need, since it’s apparently the only way to penetrate your thick skull,” she said. “Now, before we were sidetracked by . . . by . . .”
“The kissing?” He was a brute to tease her, but it was so much fun. Edie challenged him in a way no other woman ever had. She would make even the most staid, rule-bound life worth living.
“Yes, before that you were about to explain your deranged plan to trick Miss Haddon into breaking your betrothal. I’d like to continue that discussion without any such further distraction.”
He adopted an appropriately contrite look. “I promise to behave. Now, what would you like to know?”
“For one thing, why don’t you want to marry Miss Haddon? She seems like a perfectly lovely young woman to me—beautiful, gracious, and well mannered, and with all the usual accomplishments one expects. Just the sort of wife the average, thickheaded aristocrat should want by his side, I would think.”
Conventional, in other words, which was one of the reasons why Alec didn’t want to marry Donella. Fortunately, from the tone of her voice and the sour look on her face, he suspected Edie didn’t want him to marry Donella either. “I won’t deny that she’s a bonny lass,” he said in a musing tone.
She reached out and whacked him on the arm. “Stop teasing me and just answer the question.”
He grinned. “No need to pummel me, sweetheart. Aside from the fact that we don’t love each other, we’re entirely unsuited. I have no doubt we would bore each other to death, if we didn’t murder each other first.”
The tense set to her shoulders seemed to ease as she digested his comment. “I see. But you grew up with her, so I assumed you were close.”
Alec frowned. “I’m fond of her in the way one is generally fond of one’s relations, but we’ve never been close. Fergus and I were the best of friends when we were lads, but Donella was never particularly interested in us or what we did. She was always reading or doing whatever else girls did at home all day. When she wasn’t off at the kirk, that is, taking lessons or helping the minister’s wife tend to the poor.”
Edie’s eyebrows rose. “Is she very religious?”
“Pious as a nun, at least she was back then.”
“Did you never write to her when you were away to find out what she thought about everything?”
He grimaced. “God, no. That would have only compounded the problem.”
“How so?”
Alec shifted, trying to get comfortable against the cool stone at his back. Clearly, Edie wanted a full explanation, and he supposed it was time to give it to her. Well, most of it, anyway. There were a few facts he couldn’t yet share with her—not until he was more certain that she felt about him the way he now realized he felt about her.
“I’m sure you’ve deduced that I ran away mainly because of Donella and that bloody engagement. I’d known since I was a lad that my grandfather and her father had planned for us to marry, but I’d never taken it seriously.” He gave her a rueful smile. “What boy of thirteen even thinks of that sort of thing?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Girls have to start thinking about making a good marriage at a ridiculously early age. If we don’t snag a husband by the time we’re twenty, we’re practically on the shelf.”
“You didn’t seem in the slightest hurry.”
“I never had to worry about it until recently, but let’s not get into that now. Please continue.”
Alec had never met a woman less in danger of becoming an ape leader. He thought about disabusing her of any such notion but decided he’d best leave that for later when he could do it properly.
“As I said, Donella’s father and my grandfather had, as I subsequently found out, been planning our wedding almost from the day Donella was born. In that desire they were supported—and still are—by Angus Graham, who is branch chief and Aunt Glenna’s brother. The Grahams are also related to us through my maternal grandmother. Angus Graham’s father was my grandmother’s brother.”
She took a few seconds to work the relationships through in her head, then nodded. “Obviously both sides of the family feel strongly about this, which isn’t necessarily unusual. Parents are always trying to manage their children into advantageous matches. After all, they don’t call it the marriage mart for nothing.” She frowned. “But this is what I don’t understand. If you don’t want to go through with it, why would your family try to force you? It’s not a matter of money or land, is it?”
“True, it’s nothing like that. Donella’s dowry would be quite small. It’s all about the clan.”
“I’m not entirely sure what you mean. I understand the clan is important, but . . .” She trailed off, her skepticism evident.
“Clan and family mean everything to a Scotsman—and to Scotswomen. For centuries in the Highlands, we fought for land and power, and many times simply fought to survive. Sometimes those battles were with other clans, and sometimes with the English. Our strength depended on clan loyalty, both among the direct members and the sept families. Marriage was an important way to strengthen those loyalties and increase our power.”
“That I can understand, but we are living in the nineteenth century. There’s no need for that sort of thing anymore. Scotland is as much a part of England as, well, England is.”
It wasn’t really, but there was no easy way to make her see that. For Scotsmen, their identity and loyalty to the traditional ways was bred in the bone.
“Tell that to my grandfather,” he simply said.
She raised her eyebrows. “Have you told your grandfather that?”
“Of course I have. Do you think I’m a complete dimwit?” he asked, exasperated.
Edie flapped a hand. “All right, I apologize. I suppose I can understand it, given that he’s from an older and more traditional generation. And it certainly makes sense from Mrs. Haddon’s point of view, since you’re heir to a wealthy estate.”
“And the future laird. Aunt Glenna is very big on that sort of thing.”
“Well, I can’t blame her for that. Mothers always want their daughters to marry up,” she said. “Still, it’s not right for either your grandfather or Mrs. Haddon to pressure you to marry against your will. It’s positively medieval.”
He couldn’t hold back a cynical snort. “My grandfather defines the word medieval when it comes to telling his family how to live their lives, especially me.”
“Which, I’m sure, didn’t include working for the Foreign Office or becoming a spy for Wellington.”
“Grandfather didn’t even want me going away to university. A year a two at Edinburgh, perhaps, but certainly not Oxford or Cambridge.”
“Why ever not?”
“Let’s just say he didn’t want me coming under any more English influences than were necessary.” Not that he could entirely blame his grandfather—not after what had happened to Alec’s mother that one Season she’d spent in London with a husband who, by Walter’s own account, was a loving but inattentive mate. She’d fallen under the influence of one particular Englishman—a bloody prince, as it tur
ned out—and he had left her in an exceedingly compromised position.
That, however, was not something he wanted to share with Edie just yet.
She shook her head. “He is rather strident on the subject of Englishmen, as are Mrs. Haddon and Fergus.”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I wish he was less so.”
She waved an airy hand. “Please, the average society doyenne is much worse. And it’s not as if I have the most biddable temper in the world, either.” She flashed him an enchantingly self-deprecating grin. “After all, I have been known to be a tad rude to certain members of the opposite sex now and again.”
He assumed a shocked expression. “I cannot believe it.”
When she laughed, Alec had to resist the urge to haul her into his arms again. She had the most enticing laugh he’d ever heard—low, husky, and laced with a natural sensuality.
“Although I must say,” he added, “you managed my family quite well last night, all things considered. You put Fergus entirely off his feed.”
“That’s because I’m the real master manipulator,” she said cheerfully. “Now, please tell me the rest of this sordid tale. When did you decide to run away from the family hearth and home?”
He loved the fact that she didn’t pretend to be something she wasn’t.
“My grandfather and I had already been fighting over his refusal to let me leave Scotland for university. Walter did his best to persuade the old fellow to send me to Oxford but met with little success.”
Edie gave him a faint smile. “You certainly seemed in a hurry to escape the Highlands.”
“I loved the Highlands and I loved Blairgal. When I was a child, they were my entire world. But when I realized that my grandfather had no intention of letting me leave—at least not for very long—it started to feel like a prison. I began to think that if I didn’t escape, I would end up in a madhouse.”
How to Marry a Royal Highlander Page 18