The Scot is Hers: The Scots of Honor Series

by Knight, Eliza

  But the look he passed her said quite the opposite from him. He was anything but relieved. He was furious. And another thing—he wasn’t going to put this to rest. She might have delayed it, but in Alec’s mind, this duel was inevitable. God, she prayed she was wrong in her reading of him.

  “Errol. A word,” Joshua ground out, utter anger and disdain in each syllable.

  Alec grunted a reply and nodded, his eyes on Giselle as he responded.

  “I’m Lady Giselle,” she murmured to the doctor. “And my ankle is reasonably well now, I think.” She’d not even needed the use of the cane to get around her room, though she did still prefer it for long walks.

  The two men sauntered off toward the abbey ruins, their seconds in tow, and she feared they’d go ahead with their duel out of the prying eyes and ears of the luncheon guests. Every nerve in her prickled, her hairs on her skin rising. This was not good. They could not be allowed to remain alone together.

  “Why do we no’ go with them?” Her voice was tight as she spoke to the doctor, and she felt certain she was going to toss up all she’d consumed in the last half hour.

  “Aye, my lady,” the doctor said, clasping her elbow as they walked.

  A glance behind her showed a lot of concern from those from the table. Whether or not they’d deduced what was happening was not evident quite yet, but she wouldn’t be surprised at all.

  Inside the darkened ruins, light filtered sparingly through the open spaces.

  “We will reschedule this,” Sir Joshua was saying. “I do no’ know what kind of trick ye thought to be pulling with this ridiculous luncheon in the middle of a field. Of all the cowardly—”

  “Do no’ ever deign to name me a coward when both of us know whose character that description belongs to,” Alec said menacingly. “And if it was no’ obvious that this was no’ my doing, ye’re even more of a stupid arsehole than I thought ye were.”

  Sir Joshua scoffed. “I ought to call ye out right now for saying so.”

  “And what, come back from the dead for me to shoot ye a second time?”

  Sir Joshua growled and started to leap forward, but Euan, who was not a small man himself, leapt between the two of them. “No’ in the presence of a lady.”

  “Mind your manners, good sirs,” the doctor added.

  They managed to step back a pace, both of them still visibly seething, but Giselle allowed herself to draw in a shaky breath. She gripped her skirts to try and quell her trembling fingers.

  “Tomorrow at dawn,” Alec said, his finger stabbing toward the ground.

  Sir Joshua bristled, his gaze flicking toward the man who’d be his second, a man Giselle did not recognize. “I can no’. I’ve an appointment with my horseman.”

  “How could ye have made that appointment when ye might have been dead?”

  Sir Joshua shrugged as if this was no big deal, and they were planning out a time to go for a ride. “I did no’ expect to be dead, nor do I now.”

  “Noon, then.”

  “Fine.”

  Then, Alec twitched. “Actually, that will no’ work for me. Dawn the following morning.”

  Joshua bristled. “Ye’re putting it off.”

  “I offered tomorrow at dawn. Tell your horseman ye’re no’ available.”

  “I’ve been waiting for that horse forever. I will no’.” He flicked his gaze at the stranger again, and Giselle started to wonder if the man was, in fact, the horseman in question.

  “Ye’ll be waiting forever in hell.”

  Giselle’s hands flew to her hips, irritation rising within her. This was bloody ridiculous. “For the love of all things, will ye just settle on a time so that Alec can pencil me in for a wedding?”

  That got her two growls and a shocked look from the doctor and the other men present.

  “Day after tomorrow at dawn,” Joshua snarled and stabbed a finger in both of their directions. “Be there, or I will shoot ye in your parlor.”

  “That’s a threat of murder, sir,” the doctor reminded him. “I’ve been paid well to keep the duel a secret, but I’ll no’ be silenced over an intentional slaying.”

  “Do no’ threaten me, Doctor,” Joshua said. “Ye’re paid to keep your mouth shut, and ye’ll do it or suffer the consequences.”

  He stormed from the ruins then, and the doctor said under his breath, “We’ll see what happens if ye get shot first. Might forget my medical bag.” And then he too was ambling from the rotting structure.

  Euan, Lorne and Malcolm stood there awkwardly staring at them, and then finally, Lorne said, “I, uh, suppose we’ll see ye at the luncheon tables in a few minutes.”

  “Verra good,” Alec said, his mouth twisted in anger.

  When they were alone, Giselle turned to Alec, hating seeing him so bitter, especially when it was aimed at her. “Please do no’ do this.”

  “Are ye going to set up a before dawn brunch to stop it?” he snapped.

  “I might,” she quipped right back. Then she hedged a smile, even though there was no humor in his expression at all. She could practically feel his anger come off him in a waved charge. “I canna marry ye if ye’re dead. I beg ye. Is there no’ some other way to settle the score?”

  “This is no’ about settling the score.” He marched toward the stones, pressing both fists to it and hanging his head, much as he had the first day she’d met him in that garden in Edinburgh.

  “Aye, Alec, it is. The amount of ego just experienced on both your parts was enough to fill the Water of Leith.” The winding river that for those in Edinburgh was similar to the Thames in London. “If no’ to settle the score, then what?”

  * * *

  Alec felt her hand on his back, the blood rushing in his head drowning out the noise of her approach. Her touch was soft, subtle, and if he weren’t so frustrated, so overcome with raw emotion, he’d have enjoyed the comfort of it.

  “Say ye will no’ go through with this.”

  “Why are ye trying to save him?” he growled, glancing at her briefly, immediately feeling bad for his ill-temper.

  Giselle’s demeanor did not change. She stared at him with true concern. “I’m no’ trying to save him. I only want to save ye.”

  He jerked his gaze fully to the side, staring at the wide-eyed expression worrying her features. “Then trust me to do what is right. ’Tis no’ just my honor at stake, but yours too. I’m doing this for us both. Do ye know how hard it was for me no’ to murder him where he stood today? Good God, Giselle, I want to rip him to shreds for what he did to ye.”

  Tears formed, made her eyes glassy, sending conflicting messages from what he’d gathered from her over the last day. What he’d just admitted made him sweat. He’d never opened his heart like that.

  Giselle touched her fingers to her lips. “Well, then perhaps he will fall over a cliff on his way home, and I’ll no’ have to worry about losing ye. Or ye getting hurt. Or tossed in jail. I…” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I knew ye would no’ understand, but Alec.” Her voice caught, cutting her off. “I…”

  “Ye actually want to marry me,” Alec said, the shock of the realization enough to jolt him into standing straight.

  Giselle nodded, her gaze toward the ground. “Aye.”

  Without thought for those who sat idly having luncheon on the other side of the stone walls, or the fact that there was no door here to keep those idlers out, Alec reached for her. With his hands on her waist, he drew her to him, and then he claimed her mouth. Kissed her with all the passion and turmoil within him. He pressed her back to the stones where his fists had been.

  At first, he worried his kiss might be too much. Too much passion. Too much of his tongue demanding hers. Too much of everything.

  But Giselle kissed him back with as much passion. Her fingers snaked into the hair on the back of his head and her leg…God, her leg. It lifted and tucked around his hip, bringing the heat of her sex closer to the rigid pulse of his cock. How he wanted to strip them both bare and sin
k into her warm, velvet depths. All it would take would be flipping her skirt and his kilt. The subtle shift of fabrics, and then he could drive deep within her heat. He ran his hand along that offered leg until he reached her arse, bringing her closer. A groan of pleasure escaped him, matched by a silken purr from her.

  Giselle tasted of champagne and everything he’d ever wanted. She was the prize he’d been searching for, one that had always felt just out of reach, and here she was begging him to remain with her. Worried for his life, and not just for her own. How could he have thought otherwise?

  Alec drew his mouth away to stare into her eyes. There was a pounding in his chest, a need to burst out with emotion he wasn’t sure how to put into words. “I’m sorry to have kissed ye so...forcefully.”

  Giselle’s lips quirked in that familiar teasing way she had. “I kissed ye back the same. We need each other, Alec.”

  “I do need ye.” He captured her mouth for another lengthy, passionate kiss, wishing that they didn’t have the rest of the house party sitting on the other side of the abbey walls, waiting for them, maybe even listening in. “I need your guests to leave the garden party.”

  Giselle laughed. “I need your guests to leave your castle.”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “Perhaps we should ask my mother to see that they disappear.”

  “Well, perhaps no’ all of them. There are a few friends who would no’ be so bad staying around.” Then she turned serious. “We need time to explore each other, to talk. I feel as if there is so much that we still have yet to say.”

  As though they had been summoned, the resonances of voices grew closer—noticeably Jaime and Lorne, who seemed to be speaking louder than everyone else. A friendly warning of their approach. Giselle stepped out of his grasp, straightening her skirts, and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to settle what she had displaced, glad that the sound of the others had instantly quelled the desire pulsing beneath his kilt.

  “Is all well?” Jaime called out in a singsong voice.

  “Aye,” Giselle said as Jaime came as slowly as possible through the opening, her eyes squeezed shut until Giselle added, “We were just talking.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Jaime muttered with a wink. “At least ye look as though that’s the truth.”

  Lorne came through the doorway then, and Euan and Malcolm too.

  “I see the party has joined us,” Alec said.

  “Giselle, the ladies are worried ye were absconded with. Come, let’s settle their minds.” Jaime held out her hand, wiggling her fingers.

  Giselle gave him one last look before going with her friend. He watched her disappear, wishing he could pull her back to him. Keep her there with him forever.

  As soon as she was gone, his three friends raised their brows in his direction.

  “I’m no’ an idiot,” Lorne said. “Ye were no’ just talking.”

  Alec gritted his teeth, recalling a similar conversation he’d had with Lorne when he found him in such a predicament with Jaime a year ago.

  “I know what ye’re going to say,” Alec said, running his hands through his hair.

  “Do ye?”

  “Aye. ’Tis what I said to ye.”

  Lorne nodded with a chuckle. “She’s no’ the type of woman ye simply desire and make your move on,” repeating what Alec had said to him all those months before.

  “I am engaged to be married to the lass,” Alec said seriously. “’Tis no’ the same.”

  “And yet, ye would throw your life away before ye exchange vows.”

  Exasperated, he threw out his hands. “I’m no’ going to lose. Thanks for the vote of confidence. Why does everyone think I’m going to lose?”

  “Come on, man,” Euan groaned. “That bastard does no’ deserve another second of your time. Ye’ve already suffered enough at his hands, why continue?”

  “That’s the point. I’m putting an end to it.”

  “I understand an eye for an eye,” Malcolm hedged. “But what about the lass? She thinks ye aim to abandon her.”

  “How do ye know what she thinks?” Alec snapped.

  Malcolm shrugged the same way he did whenever anyone asked him how he knew the things he knew. He just knew. Blast it.

  “While Jaime might have been fatherless, Giselle’s da is outside this pile of rocks,” Lorne said. “What do ye think he would have done if he’d seen ye in here with his daughter?”

  Alec imagined Lord Bothwell marching inside the abbey ruins, catching his daughter’s leg wrapped around Alec’s hip, and then challenging him to the second duel he’d have to fight.

  “It was foolish of me,” he admitted.

  “Which part?” Lorne said with a snort.

  “The kissing part.”

  “So ye admit it?” Euan asked with wiggling brows.

  Alec rolled his eyes and punched Euan’s shoulder softly. “Get your mind out of the gutter, my friend.”

  They all shared a chuckle for a moment before Lorne reined them back to the present. “Are ye still going to go through with the fight with Keith?”

  “Aye. Pistols at dawn, the day after tomorrow.”

  “At least that gives us some time to change your mind.” Lorne stared at him without flinching.

  Alec returned his regard. “I will no’ be changing my mind.”

  “I pray that’s no’ the case.” Lorne let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Let me ask ye a question.”

  “I can no’ stop ye.”

  “Do ye love her?”

  Alec stepped back from the question as if the heavy words had physically pushed him. His foot caught on a stone, and he wobbled briefly before righting himself. He was stable on his feet, but that word...it made him unbalanced.

  Love was not something he’d considered until his friend uttered the sentiment. Aye, before the war, he’d thought he’d wed, have a few heirs and spares and that he would like an agreeable wife. But after the war, when he’d returned with his face looking as though it had been seared off by the devil himself, he’d never considered that his wife would like him, let alone love him, and he certainly didn’t expect to have those feelings in his own heart.

  Love was so...strong. So unattainable. And yet, repeating the simple word over and over in his head had his heart pounding, his chest swelling. Was this love? This dizzy sensation that made him want to run and sit down all at once? The inability to stand straight or keep his balance…

  “I do no’ know,” he finally said in a tone that he didn’t recognize.

  “Well, I suggest ye figure it out before ye throw your life away,” Lorne said.

  “Why does everyone assume that Keith is going to get the better of me? None of ye seem to have any confidence in my ability to aim and shoot.”

  “’Tis no’ that. We fully expect ye to land the mark,” Euan said. “But Keith is also a good shot, friend, and so he’s liable to hit ye with a bullet, too. And if the news ever made it to the right ears, ye could be arrested. Charged with murder.”

  “We simply do no’ want to lose ye again to that bastard,” Malcolm said.

  “Lose me again? I’m standing right bloody here.” Alec spread his arms wide.

  Lorne pursed his lips. “Aye, but ye’re no’ the same man who left for the Peninsular War.”

  “War changes people,” Alec argued.

  “True. But so does betrayal.” Lorne nodded toward the open wall of the abbey, where the voices of the party guests filtered in.

  Alec picked apart the sounds, trying to hear Giselle.

  “So does love,” Lorne continued. “I’ve no’ seen ye as animated, as happy quite frankly, in years. And I think it is due to that lass who was waiting for ye with the ridiculous ruse of a garden party to save your arse.” Lorne chuckled, and they all joined in.

  “It is ridiculous, is it no’?” Alec laughed and shook his head, the vision of the white tables covered in flowers and all the accoutrements for tea. “She certainly did try and succeed in her mission. Ther
e was no duel today. But there will be a duel. No matter the consequences.”

  “Alas, it has only delayed what ye say is inevitable.”

  Alec nodded. Despite his feelings for Giselle, if he didn’t settle the score—for she was right, that was exactly what this was—with the bastard, then he was never going to be able to heal. Keith deserved to feel the pain he’d inflicted on Alec. To feel the sting of betrayal, or at the very least, the sting from Alec’s bullet cutting through his skin.

  He looked to his friends. “Can I still count on all of ye the day after tomorrow?”

  “Ye can count on us every day. We’re no’ going anywhere.”

  15

  Giselle stared at her mother over the breakfast room table, considering how much her patience had thinned, and how the peace she’d found within the walls of Slains had all but disappeared.

  Once more, her hair was done up with a thousand pins, the natural curls ironed out and then put back in with a hot iron the way her mother liked it. Hours had passed while the maid tugged and prodded. The only good thing about her parents’ arrival was that she was once more outfitted in her own clothes. Today’s day gown was a soft taupe with little embroidered flowers in the same shade.

  After the garden party the day before, Alec had not returned. Off he’d gone with his friends—Jaime said something about a hunt—but Giselle was pretty certain they’d gone to practice target shooting. Which meant he was planning to still go through with the duel.

  In a little less than twenty-four hours, her fate would be decided for her. She nibbled on the toast on her plate—the only thing she’d put there, unable to stand much more, not even butter or jam. The constant urge to wretch was never far away, and the idea of eating anything more than a few crumbs was out of the question. Even the tea seemed to leave her unsettled.

  And her mother...oh, the woman wouldn’t leave her side. It had been an effort the night before to have her mother sleep in a different room, when she’d wanted to stay and share the bed to keep an eye on her. In essence, Giselle felt as if she were suffocating at present.