My Enemy, My Earl

by Tammy Andresen

  Fiona flashed through her mind and a wave of guilt nearly knocked her over. She had committed the same sin against Fiona that Michael Davenport had done to her.

  Selfish fool, she hissed covering her eyes with her arm. She changed her mind, Ewan was the worst rake she knew. He’d seduced her with sinfully delicious touches that made her forget who he was and what was important to her. At least Davenport had been caught with a scullery maid. What she’d done with Ewan might ruin her relationship with her family.

  Dressing quickly, she hurried out of her bedroom, intent on finding Fiona. Somehow she had to explain, make this right.

  As for Ewan, she’d never speak to him again. It made her heart ache, she’d never allowed a man such liberties and she might never again. But clearly, it couldn’t be special for him. He’d touched her while engaged to another so she pushed her heartache aside. No dewy feelings for rakish lords.

  Fiona sat in the breakfast room. She quickly took a seat next to her cousin, Uncle Haggis at his usual spot at the head of the table. “I need to speak with you,” she whispered frantically.

  “What’s wrong?” Fiona asked, leaning her head toward her cousin.

  She leaned closer too. Uncle Haggis would interrupt any minute and she needed to say this as concisely as possible. “Don’t marry Lord Dumfries.”

  Fiona tipped her head back, sitting up straight, mischief dancing in her gaze. “You want him for yourself. I don’t blame ye. He’s handsome enough. A little serious for my taste, but he’d suit you well. And with the title, yer father might even approve.” Then she leaned in. “You should tell him about yer dowry. His lands are near ruined after he’d been gone so long. His brother was too young to care for them.”

  Clarissa blinked, trying to understand. Fiona and Ewan were getting married, she couldn’t pursue him. “He’s already engaged to—”

  “Not so loud, now. “ Fiona hissed. “Da is not privy to all these details.”

  Clarissa nodded her understanding. Parents were best left out ‘til it was absolutely necessary. But she wondered what was going on between Ewan and Fiona. Because it didn’t sound like they were to marry. Which was good. Not because she wanted him, even though Fiona seemed to think that she did, but because he couldn’t be trusted. He still kissed her passionately when they weren’t even courting. Never mind that she’d kissed him back. Never mind they’d done far more. “Well, you’ve time then. Pick someone else—or no one else. Lord Dumfries is a rake. You don’t want a man like that.”

  Now it was Fiona’s turn to look shocked. “He’s many things, but a rake isna one of them.”

  Clarissa stamped her slipper. Agnes kept saying that too. Why didn’t they believe her? Only a rake would have done the things they did last night with one woman while being engaged to another. Even if he wasn’t really engaged. But how did she tell her cousin that? Should she just tell her the truth?

  “He is. I know he is.”

  “You’re letting your past experience color your judgment. Ewan is noble and kind.” Part of her felt the truth in that statement. He’d rescued her. Aided them on the side of the road. But part of her just couldn’t trust any man, especially not one who swept her into his arms in dark halls and kissed her ‘til she couldn’t think.

  He’d caught her by surprise, but she wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

  This was it, she had to tell her. Fiona could hate her forever, but she wouldn’t allow her cousin to be humiliated the way she’d been. “Fiona, last night, he kissed me and he—”

  Surprise colored Fiona’s gaze but then it filled with excitement. “No,” she squirmed in her seat. “How was it? Did ye like it? Do you want him to do it again? My cousin Elspeth swears there is nothing better in the world than kissing a handsome man.”

  Clarissa knew her jaw was hanging open, but try as she might, it refused to close. Then she attempted to speak but no words came out. She’d known she would have to tell Fiona. It wouldn’t be right to keep it a secret. She had played this conversation out a dozen ways on her way down to the breakfast room and not one of them had ended like this.

  Fiona had gone mad. And truly there must be nothing between them because if Fiona cared for him at all, she wouldn’t be reacting so.

  Before she could answer, the rake himself walked into the breakfast room. Fiona giggled and winked at Ewan.

  Clarissa melted into her seat with embarrassment; the situation grew worse by the second.

  Uncle Haggis gave a loud chuckle. “Nice to see you two getting along so well.” He stood and crossed over to Ewan, slapping the other man on the back. “My Fiona is quite the catch.”

  Clarissa sat bolt upright again and Fiona snapped to attention as well. “Da, stop it. That isn’t what is happening at all.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” Uncle Haggis replied but he winked back at them both.

  Ewan crossed his arms over his chest. “Haggis,” he started.

  But Uncle Haggis waved him off. “Not now, me boy.”

  Clarissa wondered what Ewan might have said and why her uncle didn’t want to hear it. She looked back at Fiona. Yesterday, she’d declared her engagement to Ewan and today she was excited that Clarissa had kissed that very man? If only Fiona knew what they’d actually done.

  Everyone was full of surprises today, not least of all herself. Why had she let him do it? She hated rakes, she disliked him. But when he’d touched her, he’d set her to blaze.

  Her body heated just remembering their touches. She’d acted like a wanton trollop. No better than that maid or Davenport himself.

  Ewan watched her across the table. She’d yet to take a single sip of tea or bite of food. Her head hung low, while her shoulders hunched.

  He shouldn’t have feckin’ kissed her. She looked absolutely miserable. He’d speak with her the first chance he got, to see if he could make it right.

  Fiona winked at him again and held up her hand, pointing at Clarissa. Bullocks, she’d told Fiona.

  Of course she had. She loved her cousin and as far as she was concerned, she’d participated in an infidelity.

  If he weren’t at breakfast, he’d slap himself silly. His head momentarily came down into his hands.

  He really was spiraling out of control.

  When he lifted it, she was gone.

  He tried to catch her for the next three days but Haggis hadn’t been kidding. When she decided to run, she was mighty good at it.

  Fortunately, he had a plan. He knew she loved to read and so he decided to camp out in the library. The rest of the party had gone out for a picnic on a rare day of sun. He guessed that she’d think him gone and finally come out of her room.

  Sure enough, not twenty minutes after Keiran bravely escorted four women outside, and declaring the task of escorting four ladies on a picnic more difficult than battle, his little pixie flitted into the library.

  He’d tucked himself into a corner, a subversive tactic to be sure. But he wanted her well into the room before she knew he was there. Eliminate her ability to run.

  She peeked into the room and he smiled at the tentative way she looked around, missing him in the corner.

  She tiptoed in and headed to the far shelf.

  Silently, he got up and walked behind her. She was humming to herself as her fingers trailed along the spine of several books. “Hello.” He spoke just behind her, grinning as she near jumped out of her skin.

  “You frightened me,” she chastised as she made to move around him.

  His hand came to her waist, “We need to talk.”

  She stopped moving but didn’t look at him. “I disagree.”

  “You promised your uncle that you’d stop running away,” he responded in a soft voice close to her ear.

  “I did stop running from what happened in London. And I’m not running now, but I am ensuring nothing else happens between us,” she whispered.

  That made him stand straighter. “I am sorry about that. I should never have—”

&nbs
p; “No, you shouldn’t have.” Her face tightened in pain. “I love Fiona like a sister.” Her breath caught on the last word.

  His tongue ached to tell her that there was nothing between him and Fiona. Colin had been silent for days and Emilia had been making daily trips to town to listen for gossip. If nothing else came of it, they’d likely tell Haggis in another week a match hadn’t been made and he’d return home. To an empty house, with only his brother for company and the few soldiers who’d had nowhere else to go. “You told Fiona what happened, did you not?”

  “Not all of it, but some.”

  “And what was her reaction?” He was leaning closer again, her scent drawing him in.

  She looked at him then, her confusion evident. He sucked in his breath. Even more beautiful this close, he ached to kiss her again. “She seemed excited.”

  “Listen to your cousin, then. And understand that we didn’t do anything to hurt her.” He couldn’t help it, his lips brushed her ear.

  She jerked away as if burned. “Even if it doesn’t hurt Fiona, we still shouldn’t be touching like this. We are not courting and no gentleman would touch a lady he wasn’t married to like that.”

  She had him there.

  He normally prided himself on being a man who did the right thing. It had been a very long time since he’d done something so…irresponsible.

  Some small part of him liked it. Perhaps Fiona’s comment affected him, but there was something satisfying about kissing ladies when he knew he shouldn’t. “There’s little harm in a touch of fun.”

  Her eyes darkened and narrowed. “There is to me. I will not be laid low by another rake…I—” Her hand clapped over her mouth.

  Another rake? Was that why she had run from London? Had she been ruined by a man?

  A fury like he hadn’t felt in the longest time coursed through his veins. “Who?” he rasped.

  But she just shook her head, biting her lip. “It doesn’t matter now. I have to do as my aunt and uncle suggested and not dwell on the past. My aunt even thinks I could look for a husband here in Scotland, but I won’t be a victim again. Do you understand?” There it was again. That vulnerable look she’d worn in the rain the first day he’d met her.

  Words he’d never spoken in his life crowded in his mouth. He wanted to demand the man’s name and then cut him down with a swipe of his blade. He longed to tell her how beautiful she was and how it didn’t matter what she’d done. She was the most precious woman he’d ever met in his life.

  But now was not the time nor place to say these things. She didn’t even know he wouldn’t marry Fiona.

  Besides, he’d not wanted to marry an English woman even if she did make his head spin, and fill him with lust and the need to protect her.

  And she’d just said she’d look for a Scottish husband. It made his chest ache with longing.

  He gave himself a shake. She didn’t want to return to England now, but that wouldn’t always be true. And half her family was there. She’d have to visit from time to time. And he’d sworn never to return. He’d lost too much fighting England’s war with India, he wouldn’t give them the opportunity to take anything else.

  Keeping his feelings carefully hidden, he simply replied, “I understand.” He gave her a smile and, because he couldn’t help himself, he brushed a curl from her face. Her brown lock slid like silk through his fingers. “But stop hiding from your family to avoid me. Your cousins are just on the beach having a picnic. Why don’t we join them?”

  Taking a breath, she gave a tentative nod. “I’d like that.”

  “Grab your book. You can read on the beach.” Forcing himself to ease away from her, he watched as she plucked a book off the shelf.

  He held out his elbow and she took it, giving him a bright smile. “Such a beautiful day for a picnic.”

  “Aye. It is, lass.”

  But that didn’t last for very long. They hadn’t made it ten steps from the house when he noticed the black clouds on the horizon moving quickly in their direction. “Perhaps we should go back inside.” He pointed at the sky. “Those clouds are black as the Earl of Hell’s waistcoat.”

  She looked at the wall of dark clouds approaching them. “If the others are on the beach, the cliffs will block their view. They won’t see it coming.”

  “Ye’re right. Let’s run before we’re drooit.” He grabbed her hand and started pulling her along.

  She gathered up her skirts in one hand as they headed down the steep steps that lead them to the beach. “Which way?” she asked as they reached the bottom.

  “They headed south toward the old Dunnet Light House.” He pointed right and they started down the beach.

  But the clouds moved faster than he’d thought possible and the day grew dark as a clap of thunder rumbled nearby. He drew to a dead stop. He hated the sound of thunder.

  Clarissa looked back, confused as to why he had stopped. Part of her wondered if he was up to some rakish business. She’d gone off alone with him, which was actually very silly considering what had happened the last time they were unchaperoned. She’d given him a lovely speech about how much she loved her cousin and how she despised rakes so why did the thought of nefarious deeds on his part fill her with excited longing?

  But the expression on his face was all wrong. Rather than a heated gaze he appeared frozen in fear.

  “Ewan?”

  “I dunna like thunder.” He started moving again but a streak of lightning lit the sky immediately followed by another clap of thunder. He froze again, hunching down, like he might drop to the ground.

  That was when he saw the rain approaching. Not just mist or even a steady drip but a deluge of water moved toward them. “There’s an overhang in the cliff.” She pointed. “Let’s take shelter.” He still didn’t move and she began tugging him along.

  They reached it just in time as the driving water hit the beach. Because the storm came from the land, they were dry under the large overhang but another bolt of lightning lit the sky and Ewan dropped to the sand covering his ears with his hands.

  She fell to her knees next to him and reached out her hand to touch his hair. “Ewan?” she asked again.

  His response was to crawl the foot that separated them and place his head in her lap. His body shook and without another thought, she curled her torso over his face, trying to help block out the noise.

  Stroking his hair, she rocked him gently as he curled his body around hers and she sang a Scottish lullaby her mother had sang to her as a child.

  Dreams to sell, fine dreams to sell,

  Angus is here with dreams to sell.

  Hush now wee bairnie and sleep without fear,

  For Angus will bring you a dream, my dear.

  Can you no hush your weepin'?

  All the wee lambs are sleepin'.

  Birdies are nestlin', nestlin' taegether,

  Dream Angus is hurtlin' through the heather.

  Sweet the lavrock sings at morn,

  Heraldin' in a bright new dawn.

  Wee lambs, they coorie doon taegether

  Alang with their ewies in the heather.

  He likely couldn’t hear it as the storm raged but she sang it anyway, over and over as he buried deeper into her lap, his hands tightened around her waist as though she were a buoy in the storm. She wouldn’t have moved for the world, somehow comforting him seemed more important than anything she’d done in her entire life.

  The rain eased and then ceased, while the thunder grew quieter and the storm raged over the sea.

  But he didn’t let go. He stayed curled into her, and she didn’t move either, stroking his hair and singing softly. He’d plucked her from a moving horse, rescued her when stranded on the side of the road, saved her from uncomfortable conversation more than once. What had happened to this strong man to lay him so low?

  “Are ye all right?” she asked, adopting her mother’s lilt.

  He looked up at her then. His eyes still fearful but something else lit them. I
t was soft and yearning and it made her ache to hold him even closer. “Aye.”

  He sat up, still holding her around the waist, and kissed her. Softly but it lingered as his hand slid up her back and into her hair.

  He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “What happened?” One of her hands came up to stroke his cheek as his lips claimed hers again.

  Lifting his head, he looked out over the sea. “After the war, the blasts of guns and cannons, I don’t like the sound. If I’m prepared, I do all right, but when it takes me unawares…” He shuddered.

  Clarissa bent her head down, resting it on his collar, wrapping her hand around his massive chest. What a fool she’d been. Bemoaning her broken pride when this man had suffered real tragedy. “That is terrible.”

  “I don’t ken what I would have done without ye, lass.” His hands were in her hair, his lips moving across her temple. She titled her chin up so that he kissed her again.

  She had promised herself she wouldn’t but somehow the storm had bonded them. He needed her and sharing his fear had created an emotional connection that only increased her physical desire. When his lips touched hers, she forgot everything else in the world.

  Before she even blinked, he had her in his lap, their passion instant and frenzied. Delicious sensations tingled everywhere as his hands ran over her body.

  From somewhere in the distance she heard a voice and she ripped her lips from his, throwing herself back against the rock wall. Her hands came to her mouth. What had she just done?

  “Don’t get upset, now.” His voice was low and soothing. “I dinna mean to.”

  “I am upset…with myself.” And that was the truth about rakes. If a lady allowed herself to fall victim to one, she should learn her lesson. She was angry at Lord Davenport, but even more so, she was angry at herself for allowing him to deceive her.

  She played the fool for all of London to see and she was making the same mistake again. She stood, brushing off her skirts. She had to be strong.

  “Dunna be upset with anyone.” He stood too and reached for her hand, but she pulled it back. “We’re just doin what comes natural to two people who—”