The Scot is Hers: The Scots of Honor Series

by Knight, Eliza

  “I’ll no’ force a woman to marry me,” he vowed with a study nod.

  Lady Giselle snorted and resumed plaiting her hair. “How very noble of ye, but I suspect when ye decide ye want something, ye’re no’ afraid to get it.”

  Alec grunted. “A lass is no’ a thing, and I’ll no’ take such an undertaking as finding a wife as something so trivial to get.”

  Giselle snorted. “Interesting. Ye mean to say ye know something of wooing? That ye’d want your wife actually to like ye, maybe love ye?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Ye dinna believe me? Of course, I know something of wooing. And obviously, I want her to like me. Love, however, I know is a fleeting emotion.”

  “I am no’ in a position to believe ye or no’. After all, I did no’ nickname ye the Beast of Errol for no reason.”

  Alec sputtered, “Beast of Errol. Of all the—”

  She interrupted him, continuing as if he’d said nothing. “All I can tell ye is my own experience, and it has no’ been positive. I’ve put off marrying as far as my parents seemed willing to let me, and now they’ve foisted Sir Joshua Keith on my head. And he has foisted himself on me, despite my protestations. There is no like, and certainly no love, in our forced connection.”

  Alec started from his irritation at being labeled a beast of anything, focusing on the words she’d just articulated. “He forced himself on ye?” He balled his hands into fists. He didn’t know the lass well, but that didn’t matter. He’d be irate on her behalf where Sir Joshua was concerned. That bastard deserved a sound beating. And he wouldn’t put it past him to ill-treat a woman either. How many times when they’d been overseas had he needed to intervene on a camp lightskirt’s behalf where Keith was concerned? The bastard was an arsehole.

  She waved her hand in the air as if batting away a fly. “No’ in the way ye’re thinking. But I imagine if I’d no’ made my feelings clear by running away, that was likely to come next.” The way she spoke so matter-of-factly as if this were nothing, an everyday occurrence, made his chest burn with anger.

  “Do your parents know he’s such a cad? I’d be happy to tell them for ye.” Oh, do please let me tell them. Better yet, he’d show them by punching Keith square in the jaw.

  Lady Giselle glanced over at him sharply. “Ye do no’ like Sir Joshua Keith.” It wasn’t a question but rather an astute acknowledgment of the truth.

  “Was I so obvious?” Alec didn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice.

  She nodded, and in a flash of lightning, he could see her smile. “I do no’ blame ye. I find him to be quite terrible.”

  “Something we have in common.” However, Alec would have used a much harsher word than terrible.

  “Then ye’ve changed your mind and promise to keep my secret.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll take maybe over nay. Your lips are sealed.”

  The truth was, right about now, Alec would be fine if they both never returned to their prospective purgatories. The ruined, dreary, soaked abbey felt a whole lot better anyway. He could hunt, provide food—that was until the winter months came and they needed more suitable shelter. But by then, his mother’s guests should have left, and they could take over his castle.

  Alec steadied his gaze on Lady Giselle. She grinned at him, a teasing glint in the set of her mouth and the twinkle in her eyes. It was the first real smile he’d seen from her since yanking her from certain death, and the very sight of it took his breath away, mud-splattered and all.

  Alec was amazed. The lass wasn’t shying away from him. She wasn’t cowering in shock. Or begging him to return her from where she’d run. It felt so odd to be treated like a man and not some mindless barbarian. Like a partner almost, in a crime they’d both fashioned.

  Alec had a sudden recollection of the first time they’d met in the garden in Edinburgh. She’d not cowered when she looked at him then either. If he remembered correctly, she was a feisty woman who’d given him a dressing down. Teased him then as she did now. The banter between the two of them then was as easy as it was now.

  “Ye did no’ say what your parents think of Keith. Have ye told them what he did?”

  Lady Giselle’s smile faltered, and he watched her fidget with the ends of her hair where she’d tied a ribbon that had come loose from her hair. She frowned off into the distance.

  “I’ve tried to tell them, but they will no’ listen,” she mused, then flicked her gaze toward his. There seemed something else on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t continue, leaving him to try and guess what it was she’d been about to divulge.

  “Seems your parents are as stubborn as my mother, for I’ve tried to parley to her on numerous occasions that I wish for her to stop throwing me parties that I do no’ want to attend.” Alec kept to himself exactly the type of parties his mother threw, for it was an embarrassment to admit that on some level, his mother felt he needed her to find him a wife because he wasn’t capable of doing so himself. “Until today, she’d listened, and I’d been excused from the torment for the last few years.”

  “’Twould be an interesting fate if they were locked in a room to contend with one another.”

  “Och, but I’d no’ set Keith on my mother,” he said.

  “Fair enough, but I meant our mothers, wee beastie. But, saints, Sir Joshua Keith is a bastard.” Her hands came to her mouth after that. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. My mother might have me hanged for such vulgar language in front of a gentleman.”

  “Ye do no’ need to apologize to me, lass. Most would say I’m no gentleman. I’ve no’ got a care in the world if ye wish to use vulgar language.” He chuckled. “Hell, I’ll call him a bastard right along with ye. But honestly, wee beastie?”

  Giselle chuckled. “I could no’ help it. Ye’re anything but wee, and well, beastie fits just as humorously.”

  Alec groaned. “What shall I call ye?”

  “Lady Giselle, of course. Could ye no’ tell? I am so verra ladylike.”

  Now he laughed, and she let out a mock huff.

  “Will ye tell me why ye hate Sir Joshua so much?” She eyed him curiously.

  “’Tis a long story.”

  Giselle turned, craning her neck as she peered out into the storm-filled skies, then lobbed a challenging squint back at him. “I think we’ve got time, would ye no’ say?”

  Alec chuckled. “We do.”

  “I’m all ears.” The lass settled back against the wall, her arms around her one tucked-up knee, and she stared at him with interest. “Do please go on.”

  Again, Alec found himself almost speechless at her regard. There was not even a minuscule hint of wariness or scrutiny. Only curiosity. Being stared at by a woman without judgment was a rarity. Well, except for Lorne’s wife, Jaime, but they were friends and that didn’t count.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Lady Giselle was addled or missing a few brain cells. Whatever the case may be, she continued to surprise him.

  Alec perched on a stone not too far from her, picked up a smaller bit of rubble and rolled it around his hands. “I’m no’ sure where to begin, but I suppose I can start with how we met. ’Twas here, in fact, as lads. With our castles no’ too far apart, we’d often meet up on the road, or our two families would get together for celebrations both formal and casual. So it happens I’ve known the man most of my life. And I’ve disliked him as long.”

  Lady Giselle nodded. “So ye’re most definitely a good judge of his character.”

  “Aye.” He knew Sir Joshua Keith as well as he knew himself.

  “I’m relieved to hear it since I was starting to doubt my intuition.”

  “Never doubt it, lass.” Alec tossed the rock toward the back of the abbey, where it cracked against a far wall. “When your gut gives ye the measure of someone, there is some truth to it. Especially when it tells ye to run.”

  Giselle followed the path of the tossed stone. “Wise advice. I will endeavor to remember that. Do continue, please.”


  “Keith was always competitive, even as a lad. We often found ourselves in rows, whether in or out of doors, and so I grew to hate him with a passion from early on. He’d often start a fight, and when we were caught, he always blamed me. My father’s belt got worn over the years that man was in my life.” Alec’s mount took that moment to nuzzle his shoulder, in search of a prize for waiting so long in the storm. He stood, reaching into a saddlebag and passing his horse and hers both pieces of a carrot.

  “I’m guessing this rivalry continued into adulthood?”

  “Aye. Only it got worse. When our regiments were assigned for the Peninsular War, he was placed under my command. But the bastard kept undermining all of my orders.”

  “How?”

  “Either downright disregarding them, or by telling the men below him to do the opposite, saying that it was me who’d changed tactic. It caused a lot of chaos. And worse—

  it cost men their lives.”

  “As if war isn’t hard enough, to have to deal with a soldier who wants to create more turmoil.”

  “Exactly. I should have had him flogged, locked up, or sent back home, but I decided to give him one more chance. And I’ll never forgive myself for that.” Alec swiped a hand over his face, not certain he could go into more of what had happened between himself and Sir Joshua Keith. Besides those in the War Department and his commanding officer, Alec had never told another soul. Not even Lorne when he’d asked.

  Giselle seemed content to sit and wait until he was ready. She picked at the rubble beside her, making a neat and tiny stack of stones in a row.

  “He went against my orders when the French attacked us. As a result, we lost a good man to God, and another was abducted. And this…” He touched the scar on his face. “This was at his hand. But he’ll deny the truth, clutching it against his cold heart even to his grave.”

  Giselle’s gaze whipped up to his. “Dear God, nay.”

  “Aye. And to this day, he’s yet to apologize or take any responsibility. After I recovered, when the War Office questioned us on what happened that day, he blamed me.” Alec bristled at the memory. “Typical of the whoreson. Pardon my language.”

  “Did they believe him?”

  Alec shook his head. Thank God. “I set them straight on what had happened, and as there’d been many documented disputes with witnesses over the years, they believed me. Keith was levied a heavy fine for his insubordination, however.”

  Giselle frowned. “That does no’ seem a fitting punishment for his crimes. He is wealthy enough to afford it. How is that a penalty?”

  “He was wealthy. No’ so anymore.” Alec suspected that Keith had a gambling problem. There’d been several times he’d had to pull him out of gambling hells while they were overseas.

  “What do ye mean?”

  “He’s a lot of properties, but the Keith coffers have run dry. Likely why he’s so eager for ye to be his wife.”

  Giselle was quiet for a few moments. “What would ye know of my family’s wealth?”

  Alec grinned. “I make it my business to know the wealth of everyone.”

  Giselle shook her head, a slight smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “’Tis a shame that ye had to contend with Keith and that he was the cause of ye losing your men.” She bit her lip and looked poised to say something but held her tongue.

  “What is it?”

  “Was the man who was abducted the Duke of Sutherland, perchance?”

  Alec’s eyes widened. “Aye. And the one killed was Douglas. How did ye know about the duke?”

  Her grin broadened, and she leaned forward, eager to share. “I am quite good friends with his wife.”

  “Jaime?”

  “Aye. Since we were wee lasses.”

  That was a coincidence that was too good not to latch onto. “Well, isn’t that splendid. They are at my house as we speak.”

  “Are they, truly?” Lady Giselle was nearly squealing at that bit of news. “In that case, our meeting was Fate. Ye must take me to your castle.”

  It did indeed seem as if Fate had intervened in more ways than one. “Aye. It would no’ do for ye to ride back to Boddam alone or with me. There is only one choice. When the weather clears, I’d be happy to take ye to Slains to convalesce. Ye’ll no’ be able to go anywhere any time soon with that ankle.”

  Giselle’s excitement faded. “I wish to never return to Boddam Castle.”

  “I can understand that.” He only wanted to go there so he could wring Keith’s neck. So he supposed it was a good idea if he never did as well. Purgatory with his mother’s meddling seemed far better than the newly minted Calton Jail in Edinburgh.

  7

  Before Alec made it up the last stair on the stone front steps of Slains Castle, the door was swung wide by his butler. The faithful servant was then shoved aside by the fussing countess, who gaped at Alec as if he’d returned with a selkie he’d dragged slaughtered from the sea.

  “My God, Alec,” his mother said breathlessly, hand coming to her mouth.

  She looked more bedraggled than he’d ever seen her—and that meant just a few wisps of hair were loose from her styled coif. Alec continued up the steps and into the castle. Giselle trembled, frozen in his arms.

  The commotion of him entering the hall to gasps from the waiting servants, combined with his mother’s fretting, brought the guests spilling from the drawing room. Each of them also gasped in shock, which only seemed to draw more and more out until a dozen horrified faces stared back at him.

  Giselle glanced up at Alec, catching his gaze and making a sheepish face, whispering, “Oops, I suppose we’ve made quite the entrance, aye?”

  Alec wanted to laugh, but he knew to do so would make his mother faint, and so he decided to state the facts simply.

  “I found Lady Giselle on the moors after having a wee accident with her horse.”

  “Giselle?” The Duchess of Sutherland squeezed herself through the gawking maidens. A smile of delight lit up Jaime’s features when she caught sight of them. “My goodness, it is ye.”

  Giselle smiled brightly. “I’m so glad to see ye, though I do wish I were dressed a little better.”

  “Of course! Come, I will help make ye up. I’ve plenty of dresses to spare.”

  Giselle started to wriggle in his arms, but Alec found it hard to put her down.

  “What is going on?” the countess demanded, her voice distressed. “Where on earth did this young lass come from?”

  “The Earl and Countess of Bothwell are staying with a friend nearby,” Alec said, wanting to make clear to Giselle he had no intention of giving their whereabouts, in case his mother decided to take it upon herself and see that she was returned to Keith’s residence. “I’ll send word to them that she’s here to convalesce from her sprained ankle.”

  “Aye, that makes sense,” his mother said, though she didn’t look convinced. To the housekeeper who’d appeared near the stairs, she said, “We’ll have her in the yellow room. Please send up a lady’s maid and have a hot bath prepared.”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  Alec headed for the stairs with Giselle still in his arms, calling over his shoulder to his guests, “Do enjoy some refreshments. I’ll be down very shortly to join ye.”

  Up the stairs he went, with a shivering Giselle in his arms and Jaime trotting along beside them.

  Giselle peeked over his shoulder at those in the grand foyer below, then murmured, “Look at ye saving maidens and still having so many to choose from. Who would have thought Slains was the castle in fairy tales?” She tapped her chin. “I think in this scenario, I am Beauty and ye are the Beast.”

  “Ye think ye’re so funny, lass,” he muttered under his breath. “Perhaps I ought to lock ye in my tower rather than seeing ye get a hot bath?”

  She grinned. “Now ye sound more like my ex-fiancé.”

  He groaned. “Never compare me to that blackguard.”

  “What are the two of ye whispering about? ’Tis
rude to be so quiet when others are trying to eavesdrop,” Jaime piped in.

  Giselle burst into laughter as he turned right at the top of the stairs and went down a long corridor, passing at least half a dozen doors before he finally opened one, barely shuffling her in his arms. The room was as yellow as the sun in every aspect, nearly blinding him. Why had his mother chosen this one for their guest? Perhaps because it was on the opposite side of the castle from his room.

  “Wow,” Giselle murmured. “It is...yellow.”

  Jaime tried to hide her laugh behind him, but he heard it all the same. And she was not wrong. The room was ridiculous as if each piece competed with the other for which could be more buttery.

  When he moved to place Giselle on her feet—well, her one good foot—she clung to him and shook her head.

  “I fear if ye put me down on the carpet, I’ll leave a brown stain, and that would mar the...magnificent golden ambiance.”

  Alec chuckled. “Lucky for ye, there’s a bathroom through the dressing room.”

  Jaime hurried to open that door, and he went through, depositing Giselle on the bright yellow tiles. She kept one arm on his elbow for balance as she took in yet more sunny décor. But Alec only had eyes for her.

  A vision of her peeling out of her wet, muddy clothes flashed in his mind, and he had to shake it away.

  “I’ll take it from here,” Jaime said, eyeing him in a strange way he’d not seen from her before. As if she knew something he didn’t.

  “Aye, right.” He bowed—of all the idiotic things—and backed out of the bathroom.

  What in blazes about the soggy, dirty lass made him feel like such an imbecile? He’d lost his mind. He was certain.

  And now he’d have to go back downstairs and be subjected to all of the questions from the larger-than-his-mother-promised crowd. At least he had his friends to chat with once he was amid the hungry females. But first, he needed a few moments alone to change his clothes. His mother would have his head if he showed up in the drawing room with his shirt wrinkled and smeared with Lady Giselle’s muck.