Once Upon a Highland Summer

by Lecia Cornwall

  “Please excuse me, I must check on the girls before we go downstairs,” she said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “Let me see,” Caroline said. Alanna spun in place, showing off her pink and white muslin gown, trimmed with lace at the sleeves and hem.

  Megan was still primping at the mirror, fussing with her hair.

  “You look so pretty!” Sorcha chirped, watching her sisters, and pretending she didn’t care that she was too young to be allowed down to dinner in such esteemed company. “Sophie says you’re an earl’s daughter the same as we are, Miss Forrester. Should we curtsy when we see you?”

  “Mama said we’re to call you Lady Caroline instead of Miss Forrester,” Alanna said.

  “I’m still the same person,” Caroline said. She crossed to Megan, and took the comb to add a curl or two to her hair.

  Megan’s reflection looked up at hers. “Mama has invited Brodie to supper. I think she might be able to see at last how very much I—” She swallowed, blushing. “Oh, I wish I had something truly stylish to wear, like Sophie and Lady Lottie.”

  Caroline unfastened the necklace Sophie had insisted she wear. She put it around Megan’s neck instead. “There. That looks lovely”

  Sorcha leaned in to examine the jeweled violet, and pouted. “I still think it’s quite unfair that I’m not allowed to come down to dinner. I dine with the family every other night.”

  “Mama says we must strictly observe English rules tonight,” Alanna said. “And in England you’d be a child, still dining in the nursery.”

  Sorcha stuck her tongue out at her sister. “I’ll still be there, watching from the gallery above the hall.”

  “I’ll tell Muira to fetch you down and send you to bed,” Alanna retorted, her hands on her hips.

  “Muira’s probably more likely to be up there beside her, watching too, muttering about ‘bloody Sassenachs,’ ” Megan said, then raised her hand to her lips and looked apologetically at Caroline. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss—Lady—um . . .”

  “It’s time to go downstairs, or we’ll risk being late,” Caroline said primly, and herded her charges toward the door. She took a deep breath, and wished for a moment that she could stay with Sorcha. Alanna slipped her hand into Caroline’s as they descended the stairs, and Caroline was glad of the comfort, though she supposed Alanna thought Caroline was comforting her. She steeled herself to face her half brother’s anger and the sting of Charlotte’s scorn.

  The gentlemen rose as the ladies entered the room. “There you are, Lady Caroline. We were just speaking of mounting a search since the rain has stopped at last, but you would know that since you are quite dry,” Viscount Speed said.

  “How well you look, Caro,” William said, coming to clasp her hand and kiss her cheek. He was almost a stranger, though they’d grown up together, had been friends once. She’d dreamed of being his wife, though she couldn’t imagine marrying him now. Or anyone. She avoided looking at Alec, and gave William a brilliant smile.

  Her brother stood waiting for her to come to him, his hands clenched into fists, his color high. She curtsied, feeling his blistering gaze boring into her. “Well, well, here you are at last, and looking very well indeed.” He said it as if the fact of her good health annoyed him. “We have a great deal to discuss, and even if your foolish little adventure has lowered your value as a wife, I have other plans for your future. We will speak immediately after dinner is finished.” He made it a command. Caroline felt a wave of anger. Did he truly expect things would simply go back their last conversation, as if nothing had happened?

  She raised her chin. “I’m afraid I will be putting Lady Sorcha to bed after dinner. Perhaps tomorrow, after the girls lessons conclude at eleven o’clock.”

  She watched Somerson’s face change from red to purple with rage. His fist clenched, and for a moment she feared he intended to strike her. She felt Lottie’s eyes on her, and Alec’s, but she kept her eyes fixed on her half brother. He lowered his hand.

  “Of all the nerve—” Charlotte began, but Lottie put a hand on her mother’s arm.

  “Perhaps we should take our places at the table,” Lottie said. “Perhaps it’s the Highland air, but I for one am quite famished.”

  “Lottie!” Charlotte turned her ire—and the vast bulk of her person—upon her daughter. “A lady never describes herself as famished!”

  “Och, there’s a laugh—I saw Her Ladyship at tea, devouring all the tea cakes,” Angus said to Georgiana from their perch in the gallery, right behind young Sorcha, who pressed her face eagerly through the railing. “I’ve known warriors who could not eat as much as she—but they weren’t as big, of course.” He laughed at his own joke.

  Georgiana was gazing at her granddaughter, pride clear in her eyes. “Caroline does look fetching tonight, doesn’t she? I don’t think Alec has even glanced at anyone else in the room since she arrived. And I rather liked the way she stood up to Somerson. That took courage.”

  Alec felt himself bristle when Somerson had threatened Caroline. He would not allow him to harm her, guardian or not. She had faced him down, and as with most bullies, his bluster had collapsed at her show of strength.

  He watched Caroline turn away, fix Mears with a doting look. She hadn’t even glanced at Alec.

  Muira announced the meal and Alec took Sophie’s arm and led his fiancée to a place on his left, but Devorguilla patted the seat beside herself, farther down the table. “Come and sit here, my dear girl, between myself and Brodie, so we can all get better acquainted.” He watched as Sophie took that seat instead, and offered Brodie a soft smile. Brodie giggled. Everyone in the room looked askance at the hulking young man, who was staring at Sophie and blushing like a lass.

  Megan eagerly moved to sit beside Brodie, but her mother shook her head. “You must sit further down the table. Next to Viscount Speed, perhaps? Alanna, you sit next to Lord Mandeville.” Angus noted that Megan looked devastated. Lord and Lady Somerson took their places, and the reverend Mr. Parfitt sat next to Viscount Mears and beckoned to Caroline, who took her place to the left of Alec’s seat at the head of the table. He could smell her perfume, see the agitated pulse in her throat, hear the rustle of the taffeta gown as her breath caught in her throat. Her color was high, and in the candlelight, she was lovelier than any other lady in the room. Mr. Parfitt cleared his throat and intoned the grace, and Caroline kept her eyes downcast, as if the pattern on her plate was intensely fascinating.

  Caroline refused to even look at Alec, since it was his fault that Somerson was here. When he moved his knee to nudge hers, she shifted her skirt out of reach, and ignored him. On her other side, William grinned as she bumped him. She moved her knees back toward Alec again.

  Alec turned as Viscount Speed leaned forward. “I think tomorrow would be a grand day for hunting, Glenlorne. Mears, Somerson, are you ‘game’ to come shooting?” He chortled at his own poor joke. Alec forced a smile. He tried to imagine Caroline married to Speed, and could not.

  “I have a taste for boar,” Charlotte enthused. “Do you have boar here?”

  “Alas, no, my lady. They’ve been extinct for several centuries, I believe,” Alec replied. “I can offer grouse, or venison, perhaps, if the shooting is good. The loch is filled with fish, and the river teems with salmon.”

  “I adore the way Muira makes grouse in whisky sauce,” Alanna chirped, and Mandeville sat up.

  “Whisky sauce? What an ingenious use of the spirit,” he said.

  “Indeed I think we simply must have that for dinner tomorrow, after the hunt,” Charlotte said eagerly.

  “I think I will join the hunt as well,” Sophie said. “For the fresh air.”

  “I’ll go too,” Brodie added at once, his eyes on Sophie.

  “What time are we leaving?” Megan asked, her eyes hard on her straying beau.

  “I will go if Caroline is going,” William said, giving her a soft smile, and Caroline smiled back. To Alec’s eyes, Mears looked near as besotted
as Brodie, and Caroline had eyes for no one else. He felt a hard nudge of jealousy.

  “If the girls are going,” she said. “And Lottie, of course.”

  “Oh. Of course,” Mears said, blinking at his fiancée as if he’d forgotten her entirely.

  Alec frowned. Was there something between William Mears and Caroline? The viscount began to chatter about his mother, and someone named Sinjon, and Caroline’s eyes sparkled as she hung on every word, ignoring Alec entirely. He nudged her knee again under the table, saw a tide of color flood her face, watched her fingers tighten on the stem of her wineglass. She was aware of him, then, even if she pretended not to be. It brought out the devil in him.

  As Muira cleared away the cock-a-leekie soup and served the second course, salmon, he took off his shoe. As Hamish came to refill the wineglasses, he found the hem of her skirt and worked his foot through the froth of her petticoats to touch her ankle. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise, but she kept her gaze fixed on William, laughing at his jokes, pretending Alec wasn’t there. He wouldn’t stand for that.

  Unless she was very much mistaken, Alec’s stocking foot was caressing her ankle. What was he playing at? It tickled, and Caroline tried to move her foot away, but she bumped into William and his brows shot upward, and he gave her a wicked smile. He thought she was flirting with him? She moved her legs back again. Alec’s foot returned.

  “And your mother, is she well?” Caroline asked William, trying to ignore the fact that Alec’s foot was climbing her calf, rubbing, teasing.

  William’s knee pressed against hers on the other side, and she shifted, but that brought her closer to Alec. She shot him a sharp look, but he merely smiled at her and sipped his wine.

  “We’ve just established that she is very well indeed,” William said.

  Alec’s questing toes reached her knee, tickled. She swallowed a giggle, hiding it by taking a forkful of salmon.

  “And Sinjon and Evelyn?” she asked after William’s brother and his wife.

  “Healthy, as far as I am given to understand.” William leaned forward and smiled at her, just as Alec’s toes slipped behind her knee, moving against the sensitive flesh there. She gasped, and William grinned at her. “May I say you are looking particularly lovely tonight?” William said, his eyes scanning her face. Once she would have given anything to see that besotted look on his face. Now she was horrified.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. Alec’s foot was insistently working at her knees, trying to force them apart. She stubbornly kept them closed. What on earth was he doing?

  “And how is your father?” she asked William, only to recall they’d already discussed him too.

  Alec’s foot edged higher, his toes flexing insistently where her stocking ended, and her naked flesh began. She shot him a sharp look, and he raised one eyebrow, and wiggled his toes. Her garter snapped, and she jumped.

  “Are you quite all right, Caro?” William asked, patting her on the back, his touch warm between her shoulder blades, lingering just a little too long.

  “Isn’t the tower lovely in the moonlight?” Alec asked. “It’s been a trysting place for centuries, especially at Midsummer.” Everyone else glanced out at the picturesque scene beyond the window, and Caroline shot Alec a sharp look. He smiled at her, a slow, lopsided grin of pure seduction. Her heart did a slow somersault. He took advantage of her shock to slip his foot between her knees. She took a sip of wine to hide her gasp.

  “I believe I will remain safely indoors tomorrow,” Somerson was saying. “I dislike hunting at the best of times. The wet weather here does not agree with me.”

  “Sometimes it’s quite windy,” Sophie added.

  He was caressing the inside of her thigh. Caroline felt a shiver of desire pass through her.

  He was sitting beside her, calmly eating his dinner, presiding over the table filled with guests as if he’d had his shoes on, his feet on the floor where they belonged, and was not driving

  her wild. She tried to shift away, but other than unbelievable rudeness of shooting to her feet in the middle of the meal, she was trapped. Had he no mercy? She sent him a pleading look, but he merely raised one arched brow and grinned. His foot remained.

  “Shall we set out at dawn?” Speed asked eagerly.

  She reached down and dug her nails into Alec’s foot, and he shot her a wicked look that told her he did not intend to stop. She gasped as his foot slid farther still, coming to rest against a very sensitive spot indeed at the apex of her thighs. A soft cry of surprise escaped her lips. She couldn’t help it.

  “I quite agree with Caroline,” Sophie said. “I should say that ten o’clock is plenty early enough. Perhaps even eleven.”

  Alec’s toes wiggled, stirred, and Caroline shot him a look of pure anguish, begging him to stop. “More wine, Lady Caroline?” he asked politely. “You look flushed.”

  Flushed? She was on fire. He was the devil himself, she decided. She bit back a sob when he shifted his foot again, pressing gently.

  “Or we could plan to set out at noon, and take luncheon outdoors if the weather is fine.” Lottie suggested hopefully.

  “You could be back in time for tea.” Charlotte said.

  Caroline was melting. Sophie and Lottie were now talking about what they would wear, if riding habits or walking gowns would be more suitable. Alec’s toes were as persuasive as his fingers, teasing her, demanding a response. It was almost impossible to breathe. She licked her lips. Whenever she turned her attention to William, began a conversation, Alec would wiggle his toes. Who knew a man could do such a thing with his feet? She did her best to listen to what William was saying, to respond to the remarks others made to her, but she was in truth aware of no one but Alec, and what he was doing to her. It was the longest meal of her life.

  In the gallery Angus watched as Devorguilla leaned forward to whisper to Brodie. She pressed something into his hand. He excused himself, and left the room. “What’s he up to?” Angus said. “Something’s not right.” He watched Devorguilla turn and give Alec a smug, slit-eyed look of pure hatred, but Alec was too busy watching Caroline to notice. The lass was uncommonly flushed, and Alec’s eyes were heavy-lidded. Angus turned to watch for Brodie’s return.

  Caroline could barely think, let alone carry on a conversation. Alec kept up the slow, gentle torment throughout the meal. Despite her dismay, sweet, hot desire flowed through her veins. She nipples hardened, rubbed against the linen of her shift. She twisted her napkin in her lap, strangling it tighter with every little movement of his toes against her sex. Her cheeks burned. Her whole body burned. She couldn’t look at him, didn’t dare, knowing that if she did, she’d explode. She twisted the linen napkin harder to keep from sobbing.

  Finally the last plates were removed, and she gave thanks that the meal—and surely the slow, sensual torment—was over. Surely they would now rise from the table and retire, and she would be out of his wicked reach at last. She was exhausted, her nerves frayed as taut as a bowstring.

  Hamish carried in a tray of glasses and a decanter of golden whisky and set it on the sideboard. Muira snuffed half the candles out.

  “What’s this?” Sophie asked.

  Devorguilla smiled. “A special treat. Wait and see.”

  Hamish and Leith opened the kitchen doors and took their places on either side of the portal, dressed in their plaids.

  “Do you like a man in Scottish dress, Caroline?” William asked her. “I can’t decide if I do or not. It’s very different from what English gentlemen wear. I cannot help but feel a little frightened by it. Living in the north of England, I grew up on terrible tales of the ’45 rebellion. My nurse used to tell me that if I didn’t go to sleep, Bonnie Prince Charlie himself would come down from the hills and drag me across the border and eat me. For the longest time, I imagined a nation of baby-eating men in skirts lurking right next door to Halliwell Hall.”

  Alec’s foot tensed indignantly, pausing at last. He would surely withdra
w it now the conversation had taken a serious turn, she thought, and she would be free.

  But he didn’t. Instead, his toes curled and flexed and played, and she swallowed a sob of misery.

  She heard the low moan of bagpipes as they drew breath to sing, rising to the heart-stopping skirl of bright sound that filled the room as the pipers came out of the kitchen.

  Megan, Lottie, and Alanna cried out in delight as the pipers appeared, and slowly marched down the length of the table, playing a merry tune. Sophie flinched at every note.

  Caroline drew a sharp breath—not because of the magnificence of the ancient music that filled the hall, but because Alec’s toes were on the move again. She could not bear it. Surely she would die of the torment. She let her eyes drift shut, and her breath came in short gasps she couldn’t control. She gripped the edge of the table. How dare he make her feel this, bring her to the edge, threaten to push her over. Heat rose from the tender, inflamed bud his toes teased, and she felt it rise over her belly and breasts, until she was sure she’d burst into flames.

  Behind the pipers came Muira, carrying a pudding on a huge platter, decorated with the clan symbols of heath, pine, and crowberry.

  And behind her, Brodie carried in the laird’s cup.

  Alec’s foot caught the rhythm of the music, throbbing, thrusting, toying, rubbing faster and faster, dancing a mad reel.

  Muira touched a lighted taper to the pudding and it burst into flames. Everyone at the table cried out, Caroline loudest of all, as the sensation carried her over the edge. Alec gripped her hand under the table, squeezed it.

  She stared at him in horror, mortified. Fortunately, all eyes were on the pudding, and not on her.

  He had the audacity to smile, giving her a grin of pure male pride.

  Caroline slipped her fork under the tablecloth and stabbed him in the leg, her smile rising as his faded. This time, it was his cry the skirl of the pipes hid.

  “Why would Brodie be carrying the cup?” Angus asked. “It goes against tradition.”