The Scot is Hers: The Scots of Honor Series

by Knight, Eliza

  Giselle detected the most minor drops of irritation in her dear friend’s tone and hid her smile.

  Of course, Lady Mary’s mother looked horrified. It was the second time in the evening her daughter had crossed the bounds of proper behavior with her betters.

  It was hilarious, but Giselle kept her mouth shut, preferring to watch the scene unfold around her rather than being a direct part of it.

  “It truly has been a lovely night, but I find myself growing tired, and I’d rather no’ overdo it as I’d like to join the rest of ye tomorrow as well.” Giselle picked up her cane and stood, with Alec rushing to her side to steady her balance, though she didn’t need it.

  “If I may, my lady,” he said, quite properly, which almost made her laugh aloud considering the very improper way his tongue had been dancing across hers moments ago.

  “Thank ye, my lord,” she replied, equally appropriate.

  The countess flicked her gaze around the group, finding Jaime in conversation with her soon-to-be husband. The countess’s lips pursed in irritation. “Och, my lord, ye need no’ leave your own party. I’ll escort the lass upstairs.”

  Giselle bit her tongue against a rude sound she wished to make. She didn’t want the old dragon to escort her up. Having had her kiss with Alec interrupted for the second evening in a row, she dearly wanted to continue what they’d started uninterrupted. Of course, she knew this was incredibly uncouth, but alas, she found herself caring less and less about all of those society rules.

  “That’s no’ necessary, my lady,” Alec said to his mother. “With Lady Giselle so unsteady on her feet, I’d hate for both of ye to take a tumble when I can manage perfectly well.”

  “All right, well I shall accompany ye then and see that she’s settled in her room. Alone.”

  “Very gracious of ye,” Giselle said, wishing she could tell the older woman to remain behind, and settle the irritated kitten—Lady Mary—on the bench rather than breathing down their necks.

  But there did not appear to be any way to push the woman’s desires aside. She was already turning to head inside.

  Alec passed her an apologetic look, and Giselle bid goodnight to those in the crowd as they made their way back into the castle, up the stairs and down the corridor where their evening would come to a disappointing close. Lady Mary had to be out there on that bench, still gloating.

  Upon the threshold of her chamber door, they turned to look at one another, unable to say aloud the words tumbling through their minds.

  “Say goodnight, Lord Errol,” his mother said crisply.

  Giselle’s lip twitched as she gazed into his eyes. There was a little flicker of his eyebrow, but otherwise, not any reaction whatsoever. How had she been so lucky to meet a man that seemed able to read her thoughts?

  “Good night, my lady.” Alec took her gloved hand in his and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the knuckles, lingering longer than his mother would like.

  How she wished it were more, but she was willing to take whatever it was she could get. The countess, however, was having none of it, her impatience showing as she cleared her throat and stepped between them, forcing them to part. She barged into Giselle’s bedroom.

  “Good night, my lord.” Giselle leaned on the cane, entering her chamber and moving toward the chair before the hearth, prepared for whatever it was the dowager was about to say, for she was certain the older woman had not volunteered to escort her here without a plan in mind.

  “Thank ye so much for the escort,” Giselle said to the older woman as she took her seat, sweetly smiling as she picked at a piece of lint on her skirt that was not there.

  “Do no’ thank me. What are ye up to?” Lady Errol snapped her skirts against the cushion across from Giselle. “How exactly did ye come to find my son on the moors? Was it an act of trickery? Because I will no’ abide by such deceits.”

  Giselle had expected the woman to be unhappy, but she hadn’t expected her to make that sort of an accusation. The bitterness and untruth of it stung. “Lady Errol, I do apologize for having imposed on this house party that ye so kindly arranged for your son.” Goodness, but it was taking every ounce of willpower she had to keep herself cordial. To placate the woman. “But the truth of the matter is there were no machinations on my part. Merely fate. If it were no’ for your son, I’d have fallen over the cliffs and been gone from this world. I owe him a debt of gratitude for saving my life.” In more ways than one.

  “What kind of lady rides out alone in a storm?” The way Lady Errol was looking down her nose at Giselle, it was clear what type of lady she thought her to be.

  “I was in trouble.” Giselle felt the heat rising to her face. She didn’t know what else to say—nothing that wouldn’t sound as bad as her situation was. And besides, she couldn’t be certain that Lady Errol wouldn’t be of the same opinion of her mother. In fact, it was very likely she would be.

  “Trouble? What kind of trouble?” There was a flicker of worry in the woman’s face.

  “I prefer no’ to say.” There, Giselle had been honest, by confessing she’d rather not say, than actually saying it, and that counted, she was certain.

  “What?” Lady Errol sputtered. “I’m afraid ye’ll have to be more clear, else I’ve a mind to demand your family make haste in their coming to Slains to retrieve ye. I’ll no’ have my son be duped.”

  Make haste. Nay, that wouldn’t do at all. “I do believe Lord Errol has sent a missive to my parents to let them know of my whereabouts.” At least that was the untruth they planned to tell everyone to give her a few days’ rest before she had to face off with them. She didn’t like lying to Lady Errol, but it was in everyone’s best interest if Alec’s mother didn’t pop off to inform her parents and, more importantly Sir Joshua, where she was precisely.

  Lady Errol sniffed, her chin rising all the more. If she craned her neck back any farther, it would snap. Of course, the lady’s disdain made Giselle feel a particular self-consciousness that she didn’t normally experience. Suddenly, she was aware of the flaws in her face, the way her nose might be considered a little too pointy. That her chin had a slight dimple in it. That the gown she wore wasn’t her own and that she wore her hair plainer than her mother might have allowed her to.

  If the dowager countess decided to up that timeline, which it sounded like she wanted to do, Giselle didn’t know what she would do. She wasn’t ready. Well, if she were honest with herself, that was a situation she’d never be ready for. At least with Alec by her side, she’d be able to stand up to her family with an ally. But if his mother were against the union, she could make a lot of trouble for Giselle. Even perhaps convince her son not to go through with the wedding.

  Was it possible Giselle could be honest with this woman? Maybe just a little more honest. If she knew they’d met before, perhaps that would help her understand it wasn’t by some elaborate hoax Giselle had set up.

  “My lady, I met Lord Errol for the first time when ye hosted a ball for him in Edinburgh several years ago.” Giselle smiled.

  “Oh?” Lady Errol’s nose came down a notch. That was a good sign.

  “Aye. I found him charming then, as I do now.”

  The dowager countess sat forward, genuine curiosity in her gaze, and if Giselle wasn’t mistaken, she was looking at her a little different too. “Do go on, Lady Giselle.”

  “I think ye’ll find me different than some of the other ladies who may have shown an interest in your son to date in that I have an interest in him.”

  “Then why did ye wait until now to move forward in this interest?” The curiosity she’d exhibited a moment before evaporated into suspicion. “Why did ye agree to marry another?”

  “For one thing, at the time, I was no’ prepared to make a commitment.” She chose to ignore the latter question for now.

  The lady scowled.

  “I know that is no’ a ladylike perspective, per se, and believe me, my parents did frown upon it. But I knew at the time if I
were forced to make a match, I’d be a terrible wife, and that would have been unfair to any man. Especially a man as good as your son.”

  The countess did not look convinced.

  “In any case,” Giselle continued, “My parents began making enquiries and trying to form attachments for me.”

  “As they should. And as a dutiful daughter, ye should have agreed.”

  “If their choice of a husband had been a decent man, I would have.”

  “Ye speak of Sir Joshua Keith.”

  Giselle nodded, searching the woman’s face for any sort of recognition that Keith was the man who’d been the one to bring her son into the state he was in. His enemy. There was none. Had Alec not told her? Most likely, the woman was very good at hiding her reactions. Something that Giselle needed to work on.

  “Suffice it to say, Sir Joshua Keith has no’ been a gentleman where I am concerned. And as a lady yourself, I’m sure ye can understand how that would no’ sit well.”

  Now, that seemed to gather the countess’s interest. “How so?”

  “He has attempted on numerous occasions to take liberties with my person—against my wishes.”

  Lady Errol’s face became rigid, and she didn’t speak for several beats as she collected her hidden thoughts into a simple question. “Was he successful?”

  Giselle kept her eyes steady on the older woman as she answered, “No’ in my ruination, nay.”

  “But in other ways.” There was no censure in her words or expression, simply a fact stated, though she did search Giselle as if trying to pick truth from fiction.

  Giselle looked away this time, finding it hard to stare into the unrelenting eyes of Alec’s mother, fearing the judgment she might find there. “Aye.”

  “And that is how ye found yourself riding near death when my son found ye.”

  Giselle glanced back at Lady Errol, surprised at the kind note in her tone. “Aye, that’s correct.”

  “And he saved ye.”

  Giselle nodded. “In more ways than one.”

  “So, ye would say ye owed him a debt of gratitude.” The sudden spring in Lady Errol’s tone and expression had Giselle worried.

  “Aye,” she drawled out slowly.

  At last, the woman let her mask fall, or perhaps it was a mask she drew into place. Whatever the case may be, it was cold and unmoving. “Leave,” she demanded.

  “What?” Giselle’s spine straightened at that. She could not have heard correctly.

  “Leave this castle. Right now or at first light.” That nose ratcheted back up as if looking down at Giselle would strengthen her resolve.

  But the dowager countess didn’t know Giselle. She was strong, despite how her parents walked all over her. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I do no’ want ye to marry my son. Ye will bring about his downfall. Ye know it, and I know it.”

  “How on earth would I do that?”

  “Because Keith is his enemy, and surely, ye know that as well as I do. The man will retaliate for this latest insult. Leave my son in peace. Ye owe him that much. After all, he saved your life.”

  Giselle stiffened her spine. “It is your son who asked me to marry him, no’ I. If he wishes me to leave, then I will, but that is the only reason.”

  “We shall see about that.”

  The countess stood, glowering down her nose at Giselle, and she regretted sharing what she did. She’d hoped to appeal to the woman, to flatter her with the chivalry her son had shown, and to show her that she’d not been a stranger but knew her son before. That she liked him, not his title or money.

  But none of that seemed to matter to Lady Errol.

  As she swept from the room and slammed the door closed, Giselle felt for the first time since her arrival, true fear.

  Somehow, she had to get word to Alec about this conversation and warn him that his mother was very likely sending a missive of her own to Boddam Castle.

  12

  Giselle stood from the chair, ignoring the ache in her ankle as she gripped the walking stick and hobbled toward her chamber door. The hallway was clear, and the sounds of music and voices filtered up from below. Her heart pounded within her chest, threatening to burst out and plop onto the ornately woven corridor carpet. She half expected Lady Errol to leap out of one of the chamber doors and shout, “Ah-ha! I got ye.”

  It appeared the coast was clear. She slipped out of her room and shut the door quietly behind her. There were several places Alec probably was. The parlor with everyone else, in which case she couldn’t approach him. The men’s smoking room, in which case she also couldn’t approach him. And she had no idea where his bedroom was—which she also shouldn’t go to.

  But there was one place she could look, and if he weren’t there and she was intercepted, she could always say she was searching for a book—the library.

  Giselle peeked down the stairs, grateful they were empty, as was the grand foyer. But all it would take was one person exiting the parlor for her to be caught out of her room. Not that it was illegal for her to be out of it anyway; the rest of the women were in the parlor playing music. But she had said she was going to bed. And Lady Errol was clearly suspicious of her.

  Well, no matter, she was already descending, and she’d just have to deal with it if she were caught out of her room. Using the handrail with one hand and the walking stick with the other, she made her slow descent, agonizing more about anyone seeing her than the twinge in her ankle.

  At last, she made it to the base, sweat on her spine, but no one the wiser. She skirted the parlor and another closed-off room where men’s voices filtered out. Past the dining room, and then came to another shut door with light filtering under it. She pressed her ear to the paneling and didn’t hear anything from within.

  Chancing it, Giselle pushed open the door, her eyes widening at the sight before her. Books upon books. Three levels worth, lit by several candelabras. There was a narrow spiral stair at the far-left end, leading to the first balcony that spanned the room’s perimeter and continued up to the third level. Behind the hearth on the second level was a doorway, but she couldn’t be certain where it led.

  The room was immaculately clean and smelled faintly of woodsmoke and paper. It must take Alec’s servants a day to clean the room to keep it free of dust.

  “So ye found my library.”

  Giselle whirled at the sound of Alec’s voice. But scanning the room, she didn’t spot him unless he was in the large leather wingback chair that faced the window. He stood a second later, turning to face her with a faint smile on his face. Lord, he was handsome, especially when he smiled.

  “How did ye know it was me?”

  “Ye’re the only one in the house with three footsteps, on account of the cane.” He chuckled.

  Giselle glanced down at the curved wooden stick. “That makes sense.”

  “No witty quip?”

  She smiled, feeling exhausted all of a sudden from having to keep up appearances so often, even if it was within her nature. “I was looking for ye.”

  “Why?”

  Giselle wasn’t certain how to phrase it. Nerves made her feel jittery. But it was always best to be honest, especially with the man she intended to marry. So she sucked in a breath and blurted out, “The dowager countess has asked me to leave. To break off the engagement. And I suspect by morning, my parents and possibly Joshua Keith will have arrived.”

  He frowned, and she glanced toward her feet. “I should no’ have accepted your proposal. I’ve put ye in a grave position, and I do apologize for allowing my selfishness to dictate your future.”

  Alec marched forward, his hands on her arms, squeezing gently. “Giselle.”

  She wasn’t certain she’d ever heard him use her name so intimately. Ignoring the prickle of tears in her eyes, she looked up at him, her breath quickening along with her heart. “Alec.”

  “I’m no’ abandoning ye. I asked ye to marry me knowing full well the consequences of such a request. W
e made a pact, did we no’? I’m a grown man and can take care of myself—and ye.”

  “I would no’ wish to come between ye and your mother. Ye’ll have to defy her wishes.”

  “I’ve been defying her wishes since the day I could string together words, and probably before then too with a shake of my head, a stomp of my foot. But in truth, I am no’ defying her. She wants me to wed, and that’s what I’m doing. I’m marrying ye, Giselle Hepburn if ye’ll still have me.”

  A flood of relief and something akin to hope rushed through her, made her feel weak in the knees. “Aye, I want to marry ye.”

  “Good.” He pulled her into his embrace then, and she dropped the cane, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and bearing the weight on her one good ankle.

  She kissed him with as much promise as he showed her. His mouth broke away from hers to trail kisses down the side of her neck.

  “Ye smell like heaven,” he murmured against her skin.

  Giselle trembled at the sensations his mouth on her neck brought, and she wondered if it would feel the same for him. She curved her face against his neck, placing her lips on a spot where his pulse leapt.

  Alec let out a shuddering breath, his hands encasing her ribs. One slowly slid back to her spine while the other crept forward, hovering close to her breast, but he stilled as if waiting for permission.

  “Touch me,” she whispered as she pressed her lips back to his.

  “I should no’.” His words sounded strangled.

  “Aye, ye should.” As she’d moved his hands outside to wrap around her, she placed her palm over his and gently guided him to touch her breast where her nipple puckered.

  The heavy, warm weight of his caress sent a delicious spiral of wanting through her. A sensation she’d never experienced before. A thirst for more of his touch, his taste.

  Alec’s thumb brushed over her taut nipple, and a shiver trembled over her skin. Her back arched, thrusting her breasts forward, encouraging. Exploring sensuality with Alec in his glorious library was as a fantasy come to life.

  “Och, sweet lass,” he groaned against her mouth.