“What in the bloody hell.” He grimaced and pulled out of her.
She sighed with relief as the pain subsided. “Is it always like that?” she asked.
Ewan stood up and grabbed his kilt yanking it on. The lines of his back taut with anger. “I thought you already knew the answer to that.” His clipped tone rigid with anger as he stomped to the window.
All at once, she realized he had thought she’d actually been compromised. “Ewan,” she gasped. “I was ruined. Just like Fiona would have been. But we never actually… mean I didn’t want to…but of course if we’d married we would have… That is to say, he never inspired the passion that you do. I never imagined in my life to feel the way I do when I am with you.”
She saw him soften. “I would have done it differently if I had known, and most likely not ‘til we were married.”
Marriage was a conversation for tomorrow, now she just wanted to touch him, be touched. “We have now. Show me how it can be.” She propped her herself up on one elbow and beckoned for him to return to the bed. Even in the moonlight, she swore his eyes darkened with desire.
He moved slowly back toward her until he was standing above her, the moonlight at his back. It highlighted how large a man he was. Her body ached again, but with anticipation rather than pain. “Show me,” she repeated.
His kilt dropped to the floor and now she could see why it hurt so much. He was amazingly large even down there in a way that frightened and excited her. She licked her lips and she heard his soft groan. “I can’t take much more, lass.”
Then he was on top of her. His hands were everywhere, stroking, rubbing, building her passion. And then his finger slipped inside her and it didn’t hurt at all. In fact, it was delicious and her hips began a slow rotation to wring every ounce of pleasure from the digit.
When he removed the finger, she made to protest but he silenced her with a kiss and then the tip of him was slowly, carefully pushing her open. As he inched inside, she stretched, and while there was a small amount of pain, it was tolerable, and to her surprise it mixed with a rather pleasurable pressure that only increased the further he slid inside of her.
“Are ye all right?” his strained whisper rasped in her ear.
“Yes, oh yes,” she breathed.
That was all the encouragement he seemed to need to slide out and then back in. To her immense surprise it was so satisfying that she longed for him to do it again. Which he did, over and over till they were climbing to impossible heights. She held his neck, her nails digging in ‘til she couldn’t stand it and in another second they were raking down his skin as she fell over the edge.
Even as she shuddered and moaned, his climax roared through him and his spasms melded with her own.
Ewan looked down at the woman in his arms. Stunning. How could she have been so passionate and never been with a man? It didn’t matter, he supposed. She’d been with him now and in his mind that meant they were marrying.
He’d promised Clarissa time to heal and to sort out her feelings and he would try to be patient. It had taken war, and a deep yearning for home, to make him want a family.
He could see all the signs. She’d been overprotected. Her parents making every decision and now she wanted independence. A chance to make her own choices. Somehow he’d have to figure out a way to make marriage her idea.
But for now, he was going to secret her away into his bed every chance he got. He’d have to be more careful to keep her from getting pregnant. She needed time, and he’d give her that. Provided he could get rid of Davenport. That man was a plague upon them all.
How could the man not see what a jewel he might have had if he’d been a little more careful? And he wasn’t talking about her dowry. Now that he’d had her, he didn’t care about the money at all though he’d set out to marry a woman of means. But he’d found something far more valuable. A woman who eased the ache and made him feel alive again. He’d figure out the rest as it came. The important part was he loved her.
“Clarissa,” he rasped as he moved to the side and pulled her body close to his. She was already falling asleep. “How long do we have ‘til you’ll be missed in your room?”
“Mmmm,” she roused herself giving him a sleepy smile. “Not for hours.” Then she snuggled closer to him. “Can I stay for a little while?” she asked even as she began drifting to sleep.
“You can stay forever,” he whispered back. Then he closed his eyes and pressed her closer. He made a vow to himself, he’d do everything in his power to see that she did.
Chapter 15
Just before dawn, Clarissa became aware of a rocking motion. She wondered briefly if she was on a ship but then realized Ewan was carrying her down the hall, yet again.
Somehow, she was in her night rail and robe. He gave her a soft smile as her eyes fluttered open. “Good mornin’, my sleepy little pixie.”
“Pixie?” she grinned.
“I guess I only thought it to myself but ye’re magical and always flitting away from me.” His grin spread.
She had done a fair bit of pushing away. “Were you a hunter before the war?” she whispered.
“Aye, lass.” His eyebrows raised in question.
“Then you weren’t put off by having to chase me a little?” She bit her lip to keep the grin from spreading too wide.
He gave a soft chuckle. “I rather enjoyed it. But now, I find I’d rather have you caught firmly in my bed.”
Her body heated at the thought of being in his bed again. “Oh, I like that idea.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to kiss the skin just below his ear. She felt him shiver at the touch. “Do you like it enough to come back to Castle Dumfries with me, lass? I can’t be gone for too much longer. My people need me.”
“How would I do that?” she asked tilting her head back to look at him.
He gave her a knowing grin. “Let’s see if we can come up with a plan, shall we?”
She gave a nod and reaching her door, he set her down. Kissing her softly on the lips, he whispered, “I’ll see you in a few hours.” And then he was gone.
Happiness had her practically floating into her room. She snuggled down into the bed, remembering every touch from the night before.
He was right. She had to find a way to be with him because she did not want this to end.
Still grinning, she went to breakfast already planning her escape to Ewan’s room that night. But she stopped, standing stone-still at the top of the stairs. Her parents stood in the entry.
It was as though she’d been dipped into the cold ocean. At once she realized it hadn’t just been London she’d run from but her father as well. She was angry at him for his part in this and afraid of what he still wanted from her.
Her father looked up to see her standing atop the stairs. “Clarissa,” he called smoothly.
Her mother turned and raced up the steps to greet her. “My lamb,” she shouted as she lifted her skirts to clear the steps.
“Mama,” she choked as she opened her arms to her mother. Her mother stepped into her embrace and wrapped her arms around her. It was at once comforting and disconcerting because her parents’ presence changed both her relationship with Ewan and her interactions with Davenport.
Her father followed her mother and wrapped his arms around them both. “We’ve missed you while you’ve been away.” The smoothness in his voice was gone, replaced with a rougher quality, almost as though he were near tears.
“I’ve missed you too,” she replied, then pulled out of the embrace. She loved her parents and she knew they wanted what was best for her. But they were not in agreement as to what that might be. She still ached from their part in her humiliation.
In addition, she’d announced she was engaged to Ewan. She couldn’t tell them she’d made it up, he hadn’t actually proposed. Maybe she wouldn’t have to. She and Ewan were most certainly moving toward a future. Would her father demand she break her ties with Ewan? Force her
to comply? Nerves fluttered in her chest.
“Did my letter arrive?” her mother searched her face as she asked.
“Yes, as did the additional guest.” Her face pinched.
Her father stepped closer. “Has he spoken to you? Apologized?”
“He’s tried,” she answered evasively.
“Clarissa,” her father’s voice held a note of warning. “You should at least listen. There isn’t a better match for you in all of England. He’s a marquess—”
“And a rake,” she never interrupted her father but her voice cut through his like a hot knife through butter. “Mama, would you put up with such behavior?”
“No, never,” her mother answered.
“Papa, it was at our engagement ball. That is a man with no scruples. You will have to drag me to the alter. Even with a knife to my throat, I wouldn’t say the vows.” Her back straightened with every word. Uncle Haggis was right. No more running, it was time to make a stand.
Besides, she knew what it felt like to truly care. And now that she had experienced that, she couldn’t go back to what he would have with a man like Davenport. She couldn’t settle for anything less than love. Love? Did she love Ewan?
“I agree, lass,” Ewan’s brogue was soft as he spoke from just behind her.
She turned and gave him a glowing smile. Then turning back to her parents, she said. “Mama, Papa, may I introduce you to the Earl of Dumfries?”
Her mother gave him a warm smile as she curtsied in greeting. Her father’s head cocked to one side as though sizing up the other man. “You were in London last season.”
“Aye, I was.” Ewan seemed to stand even straighter.
“Awarded a title for bravery and battlefield prowess.” Her father’s look only intensified.
Ewan gave a nod.
“I recall your company was quite sought after,” her father said and Clarissa blushed at the implication. Ewan was titled, single, and verra handsome, as Fiona would have said. Of course he had been popular.
“I suppose,” Ewan answered.
“But you’ve yet to marry?” her father asked.
It was Ewan’s turn to give an appraising stare. “I’ve someone in mind but I need to speak with her father, first.”
Ewan turned to her so that her parents could only see half his face and then winked. While she wanted to make the final decision, Ewan was wise to seek her father’s approval. And something in her was shifting. She didn’t feel as resistant to marriage.
Davenport was the problem, not the institution itself. It would be easier to open up to someone like Ewan. Someone who would return her affection and not give it to every passing maid.
“I wish you luck with that,” her father murmured, turning away. She tried to read his expression but it was carefully concealed. When he turned back to her, he had a warm smile in place. “Let’s finish this discussion after breakfast.”
With a nod, Clarissa linked arms with her mother and they started down the stairs and to the breakfast room. Clarissa would make sure to eat a hearty breakfast, she’d need the fortification for the discussion that was about to ensue.
As they entered the room, her eyes met her uncle’s. She deliberately walked around his side of the table and softly whispered, “No more running.”
“That’s a good lass,” he softly responded.
Thankfully Davenport hadn’t joined them and Clarissa tried to decide which might be worse. Finishing the meal and having to speak with her father, or dragging her feet eating and risk having to see Davenport.
Ewan sat across the table from her, and she felt his boot brush her slipper. A smile touched her lips and she relaxed slightly. It would all work out.
His feet played with hers for most of the meal. As she neared the end of her eggs, his boot began to slide higher up her calf and onto her thigh. His eyes locked with hers across the table.
“Lord Dumfries,” Haggis called out. Ewan’s foot dropped. “We’re havin’ a meetin’ in a few weeks to discuss what best to do with the land. Lots of lairds are bringin’ in livestock rather than farmin’. Ye’re welcome to join us, if ye’d like.”
“It’s an interesting topic to be sure. But I’m not sure how much longer I can stay away from me own land. Can I think on it a day?”
“Of course,” Haggis answered.
“What brought you to Ravenscraig in the first place?” her father asked.
Clarissa tried not to wince. It wasn’t a favorable story that he’d been courting her cousin.
“He’s family, distantly speakin’,” Haggis answered.
Clarissa hurried through the rest of her meal. She needed to speak with her father about Ewan, but it was a conversation best had with a bit more privacy. “I’ll meet you in an hour, Father,” she murmured.
“No need, I have had enough. We’ll speak now.” Then he rose too, and with a nod, headed for the door.
Taking a breath, she glaced toward Ewan. She could do this.
But it grew infinitely more complicated as she stepped out of the breakfast room because Davenport had been about to enter and the letch was furiously whispering in her father’s ear.
Some small part of her wanted to turn and go back to the safety of the dining room or retreat to her room. But the strength in her was growing so instead, she stepped up to the two men. “A secret I should know about?”
Davenport eyed her with a coldness that shouldn’t have surprised her. Of course he had no feeling for her, but he had, after all, wanted to marry her and so she started at his frozen face. “No secret. I was telling him about your recent engagement.”
Crum. He father turned, looking livid, and motioned for her to follow.
She straightened her shoulders and walked by Davenport, head high despite the quaking of her legs.
Her father turned into the library and without a word, seated himself in the center of the room and then motioned for her to take the chair next to him.
It was as though she were a child again, about to get scolded.
She tried not to sigh, it wouldn’t help. While she dreaded this moment, she wouldn’t marry Davenport.
“A marquess is much better than an earl.” Her father’s plain-spoken words took her by surprise.
She blinked a few times to recover. “Even if you hate the marquess and he’d make you absolutely miserable?”
“There is that. But if you don’t marry him, who else might you marry in England? You’re not actually thinking of leaving the country permanently?” Her father’s pleading tone softened her response. This was a different conversation than she expected to have.
“I might. But if Queen Victoria can spend her holidays in Scotland, why can’t you?” She gave him a small smile.
“And Lord Dumfries. Are you considering his suit?” Her father didn’t look at her as he asked, which seemed odd.
“I am considering it,” she shrugged. She wasn’t lying.
“Then why is Lord Davenport under the impression you are already engaged?”
A blush stained her cheeks. “I am already ruined so what does it matter if I am ruined twice?” she asked.
His moment of confusion was quickly replaced with anger. He leaned forward, his voice rising. “You were lying to Davenport? Why would you tell him you were engaged when you weren’t?”
“I don’t care what he thinks just so long as he leaves.” Her own voice was rising.
Her father blinked back his shock. “You never speak to me like this.”
“I trusted you to do what was best for me,” she spit out. And suddenly she understood that even more than Davenport, perhaps even more than herself, she was angry at her father. “I’m actually glad he was caught tupping the maid. It saved me from a terrible life. But you’ve put your ambitions before my happiness in a way that would have destroyed any chance at happiness.” Her breathing was coming in short gasps. “Ewan would like to marry me. But how I can trust him with my happiness when I can’t even trust my own father?”
>
Then, without another word, she rose and left the room.
Chapter 16
Anger coursed through her as she stomped through the house. Climbing the stairs, she started toward her room but realized she couldn’t be confined to such a small space. She needed the outdoors. Passing her room, she continued down the hall to the back stairwell and out the kitchen door, taking the lane that led to the barn.
The clouds kept the sun at bay but no moisture fell from the sky. She had the sudden urge to ride. Not a big beast like Fiona had put her on, but a gentle mare. Feel the air and watch the scenery. She wasn’t even dressed for it but none of it mattered now.
“Clarissa,” Ewan called behind her. “Where are you going?”
She spun around, the sound of his voice somehow invoking the tears she hadn’t even been aware she was holding back. “I needed a few minutes alone.”
“I can leave if ye’d like, lass.” His eyes were gentle and understanding and she appreciated that he asked. That he worried what she might want.
And she found she didn’t want him to go at all. “Stay with me.” Her voice was breathier than she’d intended, a need filling it that she didn’t mean to express. But suddenly, she wanted to touch him again. Feel his hard strength. It would wash away her anger and her fears.
With a nod, he took her hand and started leading her toward the path to the beach. He was moving quickly and her skirts tangled. For a sickening second, she was falling but he planted both hands on her waist and lifted her to keep her upright and untangling her skirts in the same smooth motion.
She grabbed his wrists as he held her in the air and when he gently set her down, she kept holding on because his skin against her own both soothed and excited her senses.
His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her to his chest, nuzzling her neck. “I’ve missed ye, lass.”
She grinned. “I missed you too, though it seems ridiculous to say as it’s only been a few hours since we were in bed.”
My Enemy, My Earl: Scottish Historical Romance (A Laird to Love Book 1) Page 10