Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  “Worry not, dear,” Kitty tried to reassure her. “We shall keep looking. I am engaged for the next set with Sir Melton, but as soon as we’re done we can take another turn about the room. If you had let anyone fill in your dance card, you would have had something to do other than worry over this,” she chided.

  “I wanted to be able to dance with him in case he asked.” Eve sighed.

  “And instead, you have stood to the side for most of the evening and there are only two sets remaining before supper,” Kitty chastised.

  “Leave me, Kat, and go enjoy your dance.” Eve continued her perusal of the room. “I know Sir Melton is very handsome and dashing.”

  “True, but I don’t feel that I have to know his kiss,” her sister teased, bringing a blush to Eve’s cheeks.

  “Very amusing, dear sister, but one day…” Kitty turned as her sister froze and clenched her arm. “Kat, it’s him!”

  “Where?” she demanded, scanning the room in the direction Eve was staring.

  “He’s making his bow to Lady Hyde and walking toward the… oh, no!” Eve clenched her sister’s arm again even as her heart raced. “Kitty, he’s leaving! Oh, he can’t leave!”

  Kitty tried to pry her arm from the death grip Eve had on her. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going after him! That’s what I’m doing!” She grabbed up her skirts and started toward the door before swinging nervously back to her beloved sister, petting down her heavy skirts. “Kat? How do I look?”

  Eve was in one of her many Worth gowns that had been made up for the Season. This one a heavy pale yellow silk with a center panel of floral embroidery. Her shoulders were bared by the wide neckline. She wore no jewelry, only small flowers tucked into her curls. She knew that the color flattered her and had been offered a multitude of compliments this evening but none were from him. Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter beyond what he thought. “You are beautiful, of course!” With a laugh, Kitty waved Eve away. “Go, dear! Run! I will divert Mother!”

  “Oh, thank you!” Eve dashed into the crowd and wound her way through the dense crush avoiding eyes and calls for her attention. As quickly as she could, she made for the door but as she stumbled to the bottom of the front steps to the townhouse, she knew that it had just taken too long to work her way out. “Oh damn, damn, damn!” she muttered in frustration.

  A warm hand slid around her bare arm just above her glove causing her to jump in surprise. With a squeal she tried to pull away.

  But Francis simply took her hand and tucked it in the corner of his elbow. Turning, he led her around the corner of the townhouse and toward the rear gardens. “Smart-mouthed and saucy. How very intriguing,” he commented, as if their previous meeting had never been interrupted. “What has you so vexed, lass?”

  “It’s you!”

  “And it is you, as well. I must admit I was hoping to see you again,” he confessed to his own surprise, unaware that his low warm brogue was sending shivers of heat down her spine. It was an understatement to say the least. He had been torn the previous afternoon and part of this morning with presenting himself at the residence four doors down from his grandmother, but how to introduce himself if she wasn’t evident in the front hall? Ask for the daughter of the house? What if she had been merely visiting? A possibility to be sure. When she had ridden away in that carriage, he had feared that he might not see her again and yet dreaded that he might. So taken aback by this bizarre attraction was he. Using his better judgment, he had waited, taking a chance that his grandmother would invite her neighbors this evening. Of course, she had. Lady Hyde was nothing if not courteous to her neighbors. She had been there! But when he had spotted his mystery lass earlier this evening, she had looked at him blankly as if she did not recognize him. He had been disappointed, but his logical side said that perhaps that was for the best considering the circumstances.

  “You were?” she sighed breathlessly, then mentally kicked herself for sounding like such a school girl. “I didn’t imagine I would see you here this evening,” Eve lied casually.

  “Lady Hyde is my grandmother, so I really had no choice.” Francis savored the feel of her hand on his arm. The attraction he had felt the previous day had not faded in the slightest. Indeed, he would have to say that it had grown. “When I spotted you earlier this evening, you did not seem to recognize me. I thought perhaps I had made little impression on you despite the one you made on me.”

  Eve frowned in return. “I’ve been looking for you all– I mean, I did not see you earlier…” Her eyes widened and she flashed him a grin. The smile, the first he had seen from her, sent a bolt of awareness through him. “That must have been Kitty you saw earlier,” she explained. “She is my sister. Most cannot tell us apart at all, we look so much alike.”

  “Ahh,” Francis nodded and gave her a sweeping look from top to bottom, “of course, now I see that the gown and hair were different. I must say my own twin brothers do not resemble each other as much as you two.”

  “We’re not twins at all, but many have said that it is uncanny, our resemblance.”

  “It is indeed.” He turned into a side gate that led back to the gardens behind his grandmother’s house. “So, here we are strolling now, much as we would have done if your father had not interrupted us before. It was your father, aye?”

  At her nod, he continued, pushing aside the feeling of relief, “Was he the source of your ire?”

  “My ire? Oh, well yes, I… ummm, suppose. Da and I are always at loggerheads with one another. It’s the Irish in us,” Eve tried to think of something intelligent to speak of as they entered the garden. She wanted to seem more sophisticated but could think of nothing. “It’s a lovely garden, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, lovely,” he repeated staring down at her with a feeling akin to wonder, and then shook his head to recall himself to her observation. “A passion of my grandmother’s.”

  “I would have thought you a Scot considering your accent. However, I don’t believe Lady Hyde is.” Admittedly, she was grasping at the straws of polite conversation, but she could think of nothing regarding the weather that seemed appropriate in this situation.

  “Aye, lassie, Scots I am,” he answered, letting all his brogue show through and charming a smile from her. “Probably a good thing too since I recently heard curses being rained down on the heads of ‘all idiot Englishmen’.”

  Eve had the good grace to blush. “You heard that, did you?”

  “Lass, I would imagine that the western portion of Mayfair heard you as well.” The left corner of his lip quirked up again in that tantalizing half-grin and Evelyn was reminded of how clearly enthralling those lips had been just a day ago. He stopped and turned to look down at her lovely face. “If you won’t tell me what had put you into such a bonny temper, perhaps you might at least give me your name?”

  Evelyn was nonplussed by the change of topic and parroted, “My name?”

  “Evelyn, was it not? Your Christian name?” His eyes never leaving hers, his warm rough hand slid down her arm. Pausing briefly at the top of her glove, he slipped his hand down into hers and their fingers entwined. “What do your friends call you?”

  Evelyn was again entranced by the intensity and heat of his gaze, but torn by the sensation of his fingers stroking the inside of her palm. “Eve,” she whispered.

  “Eve?” His rough, husky whisper was a sharp contrast to the tender squeeze of his hand. “Of the infamous Adam and… ?”

  Evelyn flushed red, recognizing even in her innocence the seductive tone of his voice. “I suppose so,” she whispered, her heart pounding.

  “The lass of Eden? Och, surely it must be so, since you are a slice of Paradise right before my eyes.” The wink he gave her was pure devil.

  Eve rolled her eyes at that sappy bit of flattery, prompting him to grin even more. “Of course, you could be the curse sent to destroy the future of all mankind.”

  She pressed her lips together to stifle the smile that thr
eatened to emerge. “So, you do have humor then? Given your marvelous display of ire, I wasn’t sure it was possible.”

  “Very funny, sir,” she glanced up at him. “Of course I have a sense of humor.”

  “Francis.”

  “I’m sorry. I cannot call you that. I’m not supposed to…” she tried to pull her hand away but he held tight.

  “Call me Francis. Say it.”

  “Francis.” Eve rolled his name on her lips and glanced at him again. He was probably not considerably older than her own nineteen years, maybe four or five and twenty years. His frame was tall, much taller than her five foot nine inches, since her forehead was level with his chin – she loved how she managed to feel petite by his side when she was anything but – yet Francis still had the lankiness of a young man as if his body had yet to fill out his height. His face was beyond handsome, long and lean with sharp cheekbones yet there was a softness in the curve of his cheek and jaw that hinted at youth. His hair was the darkest brown, nearly black, yet she remembered how the sunlight had glimmered on it drawing out facets of mahogany and red. His masculine beauty offered temptation that was hard to resist. Under thick brows, his eyes were a changeable olive green and brown that danced as if his life were full of joy and humor. And again his lips! His bottom lip had a tantalizing fullness to it.

  Eve stared at those lips for a long moment, imagining what it might be like to have them pressed against her own. To have them devour hers…or to devour them with her own! A picture came to her mind that was beyond her own experience, but startled her with the fissure of heat that raced through her.

  Blushing again, her gaze met his and she could see the answering heat in his eyes as awareness grew and tension built between them. He desired her, Eve realized, though she wasn’t entirely certain what such wanting encompassed but if that desire was anything like she was feeling… These new, enflamed feelings could get her into scandalous trouble, though she wouldn’t care at all if it meant holding him close to her. Shocked by her thoughts, Eve turned her head away and took in the scenery of willows and flowers.

  Clearing her throat, she desperately tried to change the subject. “Why have we not met before, Francis?”

  Easing out of the fog of desire that had hung so heavily between them, Francis followed her lead falling into the pleasantries. “I am only in town for the week. I don’t like Town much but my sister wanted to come here to visit my grandmother.”

  “You must be a fine brother to suffer the city so.”

  “I don’t suppose my other siblings would see it that way.”

  “Have you other sisters?”

  “Nay, I have just one sister, Fiona. But I have nine brothers as well.”

  Eve’s eyes widened, grateful for the distraction. She realized she had been staring but couldn’t seem to help it. “Nine brothers? Nine? My goodness, your poor mother.”

  “Aye, well, my mum died shortly after Fiona was born.” He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably at the subject.

  “Oh, Francis!” she cried, clutching his arm, mourning her words as if she’d known this man forever. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  He patted her hand then squeezed it, but did not release it. “It was a long time ago and, well, she had wanted a daughter very badly. Papa did not take it well, of course, but we’ve managed well enough. Some of the younger bairns will never remember her though.”

  “You loved her very much,” she stated with certainty.

  “Aye, I am the oldest and so was honored to spend the most time with her. She was a bonny lady.” He raised his eyebrows and quirked his half-grin at her. “English though.” He tsked and shook his head. “Or do English ladies not hold the same regard in your mind as English men?”

  Eve let out a low chuckle that warmed him, charmed him even more than he already was. My God, but she is the bonniest lass I have ever seen, he thought. Life and vitality simmered within her, radiating from her. Her physical beauty was stunning, but Francis knew with certainty that she was even lovelier on the inside. Her caring for the loss of his mother said much.

  He caressed the top of her hand with his thumb, drawing her gaze again to his and again she blushed and looked away. She needed a distraction! “So you are the eldest, then nine brothers and one sister.”

  “Aye.”

  Grasping at the idea, something to pull her back from the intensity of his gaze, Eve latched onto the topic. “You know, I’m not sure I believe one can have nine brothers,” she commented lightly. “What are their names?”

  “Testing me, lass?”

  “Merely verifying, sir.”

  “Very well, then. There’s myself, Vincent who is a year younger at four and twenty, Richard is three and twenty, Jamie is one and twenty, Colin is twenty, Sean eighteen, the twins Tam and Ian are sixteen and scamps to be sure, Connor is fourteen, Dorian twelve and lastly wee Fiona who is but ten years.” He grinned that alluring grin at her once again, making Eve catch her breath.

  “Long-winded but I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.” She squeezed his arm as she teased him. “It must be fascinating to be one of so many. I have only one sibling myself. My sister, Kitty.”

  “And, if I identify your speech correctly, you are American aren’t you?” he probed for more information.

  “Yes, my father is Irish though, as many Americans are. He came to America as a young man to make his fortune.” Eve smiled somewhat painfully as she thought about where that had gotten them. “He was lucky, too. He managed to establish himself long before the famine in Ireland drove so many more of his countrymen across the ocean. It’s shameful how hard-working Irishmen are treated sometimes, as if they are a disease on the face of the earth. Disgraceful. People call them Micks and even put up signs that say ‘No Irish’ when hiring. Thank goodness for my father since he hires so many…”

  She rambled along, but Francis was charmed and aroused even more, knowing that she did it not to inform but to distract him and herself from the spell that seemed to engulf them. It was gratifying to know that it wasn’t just him, that she felt the intensity of their attraction just as much as he.

  Chapter 5

  As silence descended over them, Eve became aware that the music inside had stopped. “Oh, Francis, I should really be getting back. I ran out of the ballroom and my sister is probably wondering where I am. I’m sure I’ll be missed.”

  “You followed me out?”

  “Of course not! I was merely…”

  “You followed me out.”

  “I - I followed you out,” she admitted with a blush. “I regretted not speaking to you more yesterday.”

  “I did as well. I even questioned my grandmother to ascertain that all of her neighbors had been invited this evening. I have thought of nothing but you all day, lass.” Francis stroked a thumb along the edge of her jaw.

  “Really?” Heat coursed through Eve as she pressed his hand to her cheek. “Francis, I…” Her voice caught. What was happening to her? It was insane! She had only known this man for less than an hour. Just because she was feeling giddy and warm did not dictate that he felt the same. He could be the veriest rogue out to take advantage of innocent girls.

  “My sweet Eve, my Eden,” he took her face in his hands. “I know, I know.”

  “You know?” she whispered.

  “I feel it as much as you,” he whispered resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes. “You awaken feelings in me that I had thought long gone.” He raised her hand, punctuating each of his reasons with a kiss to her fingertips as if enumerating them. “Excitement. Happiness. Anticipation. Joy. I feel like a different person. A happier person.” He turned her hand, placing a warm kiss to her palm that, even through her gloves, scorched her with its heat. Loosening the glove’s buttons, Francis snaked a finger into the glove and slid it down her palm, sending a shock of electricity up her arm.

  “You seem a most happy person to me.” Eve stuttered disjointedly as she stared
wide-eyed at him while he pressed those tempting lips to her bare wrist, her pulse pounding through her veins. Her head swam.

  “I haven’t been in a very long time.”

  As he made love to her hand, Eve stared helplessly into his warm eyes. If she made him happy, the feeling was ten-fold in her. The words he had used echoed her thoughts. It was as if being near him brought her… completion, she supposed. She had never felt more content to stay in a person’s company before yet that contentment was edged with excitement, as he said. As if there were much more to come. Surely, if he could reduce her to such a quivering mass with just a few kisses on her hand, then there was much more to feel.

  A lifetime in this man’s arms. Eve knew with a bone-deep certainty that she never wanted to be anywhere else. Yet it wasn’t to be. She was practically engaged to wed another man! The iniquities of life held her heart in a vise.

  Francis stared down at her face, taking in the smoothness of her skin, the ivory silken texture, the full lips that he realized were quivering. He looked into her eyes, surprised to find them glassy with tears unshed. “Eve, please do not be upset. I only wish… ” he paused, uncertain what he wished exactly, “to get acquainted with you.”

  “Sir, it is not seemly that I ‘get acquainted’ with a gentleman that I have not been formally introduced to.” The words were the automatic response from the smallest part of her mind that was firmly entrenched in the propriety of their society. “Please, let me go.”

  “I’m not sure if I can,” he whispered with a sigh of regret that was mirrored by his actions as his arms slid of their own will around her waist. “I would like to see you again.”