“My God, you are a bonny lass,” he breathed as he reached out and pulled her over for a quick, but extraordinary, kiss before easing back.
Expecting a harsh rebuke, he was surprised when Eve merely returned her attention to her mount and cantered a bit ahead of him, leading the way through the rocky harbor area and back onto the sandy beaches on the eastern side.
Eve gave herself a mental shake. One kiss, and a quick one at that, and she was defenseless. She should have at least reprimanded him, if only with a look. Instead, she was so dumbfounded that it was all she could do to continue on. There must be something wrong with her. Morally, Eve knew she should be disgusted with herself. If it were only sexual, she might have been, but it was more than simple lust.
His touch both settled and invigorated her.
The most simple contact – his hand in hers, his hand on the small of her back – gave her a sense of completion. She felt that as long as he was in contact with her, the world was good. It was as Plato had written. All beings were a circle in the beginning, separated and scattered across the universe, letting destiny bring the two halves back together. If Plato were right – assuming Francis was her other half – then in finding each other, they were a whole.
Complete.
She had never believed in destiny before, despite her Catholic upbringing. She had always liked to believe she had some control over what happened, but maybe destiny was alright, she thought. If she didn’t fight this thing with Francis, who knew where it might take them?
Excuses! Her more logical half argued. Justification! It wasn’t right and she must not give into it!
If only they were wed, she thought, before she gasped in distaste at the very idea. Having experienced a marriage that was much more convenient for her husband than it had been for her, Eve knew she didn’t want to give control of her life to a man’s care ever again. It wouldn’t be worth the risk or reward. But Francis was a free man and she an available widow, perhaps she might, maybe indulge in an affaire de coeur. Widows did it every day, Francis had said. Why not her? The idea shocked Eve, but warmth followed quickly on its heels.
If only there were a way to conduct such an affair with the guarantee that no one else would ever know. As ensconced within the boundaries of propriety as she was, the notion of carrying on an open affair and being subjected to the scorn of her peers was almost enough to put her into a faint. But if it might be done discreetly…. An affair with Francis would be most satisfying, she was sure. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Most satisfying.
She was mad even to consider it.
They rode in silence another mile or so until they reached a short stretch of stone walls and turrets built into the hillside along the beach. Coming to a halt, Eve released her knee and started to drop to the ground but wasn’t surprised that Francis was there to catch her. He lowered her slowly down his body until her toes touched the ground.
His lips met hers lightly but deepened almost immediately into a devouring kiss. Eve melted into him for a moment, reveling in the passion of his embrace, before turning her head to the side. “Francis, you must stop,” she whispered. He nuzzled her neck and she tilted to give him better access, in denial of her own words. What he makes me feel! she thought. It wasn’t fair that she could want something so much as she wanted him.
Eve squirmed out of his arms and stepped back, panting a bit. “Francis, we cannot!”
Francis ran both hands through his hair, tugging on it in frustration. “Och, Eden! You take me to the edge of insanity! I know I shouldn’t be pursuing you. I know it!” Hadn’t he been telling himself just that the entire night? She was a respectable widow. In spite of how much he might want her, she was definitely not typical mistress material and what else might he offer her? There was so much he could take from her and so little to give in return. He wanted so much from her. He wanted time to be with her, he most certainly wanted her sexually, but he knew it was more than that alone. Francis grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest. “But feel my heart race, lass. You bring me to my knees like a schoolboy quivering with wanting!”
“What do you want me to do, Francis?” She held her hands out, pleading. “If you continue to seduce me - oh, I know you say you will not do so, but you are! – you will succeed.” Her admission sent a flare of heat through him. “Is that want you want?”
He wanted her love, her heart. He knew in that moment that he wanted more than a night with her, but on the other hand, he definitely wanted that night with her.
But at the risk of her reputation? When it meant so much to her?
They rode back to the castle in silence, each alone with their thoughts.
Chapter 20
“Fiona has a certain unreined exuberance about her,” Eve commented lightly as she and Francis sat across the chess board from each other that afternoon. Her plan for the afternoon had been rowing on the firth, but since a light rain had taken hold of the day, the afternoon would be spent with games of chance in the parlor. Francis, however, had lured Eve into a friendly chess match. Determined to put the events of the morning behind her, she had accepted, and resolved to keep their conversation polite and neutral if at all possible. So far he had complied with her wishes and kept their banter light and sociable.
“She’s a terrible brat,” he responded, paying more attention to the board than to her, “but I thank you for your kind understatement.”
Eve grinned and played her knight in a move which baffled Francis for a moment. “She and Connor also have a strange relationship, to my thinking. They continually bait each other but it isn’t malicious. In fact, they seem to quite enjoy it. Is that typical of large families?”
Francis glanced over at his siblings who were at present squabbling good-naturedly over a game of faro they had set up. “Aye, I suppose most of them are like that, especially the younger ones.”
“There are so many of you.” Evelyn took a deep breath, returning her focus to the game. “I cannot imagine giving birth to so many children!”
Francis pictured her holding their child in her arms and knew he wanted to make that happen…somehow. A child. Their child. His heart clenched with longing and hope. Then he remembered his mother dying as she gave Fiona life. “Mother died birthing Fiona.”
“I remember you mentioning that.” Evelyn caressed his hand absently in sympathy. “And your father, when did you say?”
“He died a few years later. Probably couldn’t take us all on so he gave in to go back to her,” Francis quipped, turning his hand to capture hers. “He was a good man, though. I was very proud to have him as my father. I wish the rest of my family could remember him so well.”
“I’m sure they see him in you every day.”
Francis planted a quick kiss on her hand before she curled her fingers into her palm and pulled it away. “Ye’re a sweet lass. All those manners! Ye really always know the right thing to say. Who taught ye that? Yer mother?”
Her mouth opened and closed and opened again as she floundered for a response.
“Stop that,” Francis commanded with some confusion. “Ye look like a bloody fish. What did I say wrong?”
Eve grimaced. Her mother may have tried to give her manners, but it was her husband who had achieved making her the perfect society matron. Ever polite, courteous. She’d never had a choice. Not wanting to go into that, she merely shrugged. “Oh, yes, mother. I was her worst student for many years, I know I have admitted as much to you before. She despaired that I would never fit in.”
Easily reading the half-truth of her statement, Francis prompted her for more. “You have been hiding something, what is it? Truth, my love,” he pressed.
Eve struggled within herself for a long moment. She wanted so badly to share her trials with Francis, yet knew it would be highly inappropriate given their short acquaintance. Still, if it helped him to understand her and the way she was now, wasn’t that better than leaving him in the dark? “When I danced the first dan
ce at my wedding to Shaftesbury, I remember hearing everyone whispering that it was like a fairytale, just like when Jenny Jerome had wed Randolph Churchill.” Francis remembered that story, of course, when the younger brother of the Duke of Marlborough had wed the American heiress. Most had put it about that it was a love match. But of course, many English lords looked to the daughters of wealthy American businessmen to increase their dwindling fortunes, while the daughters were eager to snare a title to accompany their wealth. It was an avenue that he might suggest to Jack Merrill now that it occurred to him. It was usually seen as an agreeable situation of give and take. Jack might sell his title for an American heiress.
He returned his attention to Eve. “So everyone thought yours to be a love match as well?”
“Indeed, they all assumed it was a great romance.” She shook her head with some disgust. Eve thoughtfully examined her plays available on the board before her. She considered a moment then made her move before she continued in a low voice, “But all I remember thinking was that he looked at me so oddly. I thought at first it was pride. You know? As if he were proud to have me as his wife. It wasn’t just that. It was possession. It’s hard to explain what it was like but it was terrifying.”
“Did it get better? Was your marriage a happy one?” he asked softly. He regretted asking. If she had been happy and in love, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know that another man had made her so, yet at the same time he only wanted her happiness.
But Eve shuddered and shook her head, avoiding an answer. “Was yours?”
Francis laughed harshly. “I divorced her, if you will recall. No, like yours, my marriage was arranged as well. When I was eighteen, my father had taken a fall from his horse and broke his hip and leg in several places. Rather than getting better, his health continued to decline rapidly. The doctors could do nothing for him and speculated that there was some internal injury that was causing the problems. Mother had died only a couple of years before and I feel that perhaps he did not truly want to get better. I think he wanted to join her again, but first he wanted to see the MacKintosh line secured and arranged for a quick marriage to Vanessa Fane. She is the only daughter of the Earl of Westmoreland. A very powerful man. She was eighteen as well, very beautiful. I initially thought I was lucky, in spite of it all.”
“So you were happy?” she wondered.
“I would say oblivious, at least in the beginning, would be a better description,” he corrected and explained. “You must remember, a lady at eighteen is far more mature than a man at the same age. To her, I was but a boy, a child, and she wanted a man. She had one, many, I don’t know. But she gave birth to a daughter not six months after we wed.” At her questioning look, he gave a curt nod. “She had allowed me in her bed but once. I assume that my boyish groping was not as satisfactory to her for she never allowed me in it again. But the child was fully developed. There was no doubt that her father had advanced the marriage to hide her disgrace and my father, in his weakened state, was taken advantage of in his desire to see us settled. He died at least before her ignominy became evident.”
“Oh, Francis,” Eve sighed, and reached over to stroke the back of his hand again. “I am so sorry. Did you love her very much?”
“I never loved her,” he denied vehemently. He turned his hand over to hold hers and looked seriously at her for a long moment. “There has only been one woman who as ever taken hold of my heart. Only one woman who has shown me a hint of paradise.”
“Oh, Francis,” Eve whispered, feeling her heart twist with painful regret over the love they had lost. “Those few moments with you were the best of my life.”
“Of mine as well,” he returned sincerely. “I have never forgotten you these many years. I have often wondered where you were and what you were doing. Wishing that things could have been different.”
Eve stared down at their clasped hands but could say nothing more, as longing washed over her. For she had wished for that very thing for a very long time.
“You avoided the question I asked you earlier.”
“No, I didn’t,” Eve replied evasively. “I told you about my marriage.”
“But not how it related to what I was asking,” he clarified. “How had I offended you?”
“Let me put it this way, Francis,” she gave him a direct, honest gaze. A hard look to his mind. “I would rather have had a marriage with an unfaithful spouse who went his own way than to have suffered a miserable marriage where my spouse was there every day. You said before that I had changed, that it was as though I were inside myself but would not come out and you were right.” Eve took a deep shuddering breath uncertain whether she could continue, but Francis reached across and took her hand in quiet support.
“For six years, Shaftesbury controlled my every moment. For six years, he molded me into his version of a perfect socialite. I did what he wanted, when he wanted. I was hardly allowed to breathe unless he gave his say so. If I tried to stand up for myself, he would punish me as he saw fit. His punishments were appalling and sometimes painful, but the worst was when Laurie was a year old.” She paused and took another shaky breath, the bitterness that had built in her voice suddenly deflated. “He took my baby away from me for almost a month as punishment for saying something untoward to one of his cronies. I can’t even remember what it was that I said, but he knew how to hurt me, Francis. He knew exactly how to extinguish any fire I dared show. He demanded perfection, insisted on it and forced me to it.”
“My paradise, I had no idea.” He caressed her hand and kissed her palm. Inside, though, he was seething with anger at the man who had dared to abuse this woman. A woman of her fire and liveliness should have been treasured and nurtured! It was appalling that her husband had not done so!
“No one did.” She hesitated but pulled her hand back. “I was so humiliated by what was happening to me I did not dare to tell anyone, even my sister. I had only just gotten the courage to ask my father to help me secure a divorce when Shaftesbury was lost on the Utopia.”
“You had the courage to ask for a divorce? Did you not fear the consequences? The scandal?” Francis thought of the years of indecision that had preceded his own bid for divorce. How he had feared the scandal, not for himself but for his brothers and Fiona.
“I did.” Her mouth set in a determined line. “But I deserved freedom to make my own choices in life. I needed that freedom for myself.”
Glenrothes’ head spun suddenly with possibilities. This woman, who had convinced herself that she was unable to countermand Society, had been willing to face the greatest scandal of all in seeking a divorce from her husband? An earl of the British nobility, no less? She might think herself meek and proper but there was strength and rebellion in her, indeed, if she had been willing to take such a step. What an enigma! His own divorce had rocked the local society and brought down a scandal that had plagued his clan for years. Only recently had they been able to emerge from the cloud that had hung over them, though he was still watched and talked about. The whole experience had been a test of their love for one another as a family.
Eve would have been well aware of what such a scandal would mean but had been willing to face it. What that told Francis was that there was a part of her yet willing to take chances, even if she didn’t see it in such a light. To risk everything she cared for despite the outcome. Perhaps there was one other thing she might care enough about to take such a chance?
When Francis remained silent, Eve met his gaze. “You’ve got quite a gleam in your eye, Francis,” Eve commented lightly. “Whatever are you thinking?”
“I will share with you soon, my Eden,” he assured her. “Just let me think on it a while longer.” Though he had not admitted it to Eve or anyone else as yet, Francis was determined to have a future with Eve. He would not forsake her again. He refused to live the rest of his life without her.
“Very well. By the by, check mate.”
Chapter 21
After dinner that evening, when t
he ladies had departed the dining room, Jack lit a cigar and puffed on it for a few moments, while he watched his friend sipping from a glass of port with a contemplative look on his face. “What has you in such a quandary, MacKintosh? The ice queen not melting quickly enough for you?”
“I believe I have asked you repeatedly not to refer to the countess in such a manner, Merrill,” Francis responded in a low, dark tone, as he swirled the ruby liquid around his glass.
“I believe you haven’t answered my question,” Jack retorted blithely.
“And I do not intend to.” Francis’ voice was rough and distracted prompting Richard to take an interest in the subject.
Richard leaned forward curiously. “Something is on your mind, brother. What is it? Your look is much more serious than that of a man planning a seduction.” Richard leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Naturally, Abby and I still feel that you should not pursue the countess any further.”
“Naturally,” Jack drawled.
“You’re right. Naturally,” Francis concurred.
“He is?”
“I am?”
Francis snorted as he took another sip of his port, rolling the heavy liquid around appreciatively before swallowing. “You have told me time and again in these past days, quite adamantly, I might add, that the countess is a respectable woman and deserves more than to be cast in the role of a temporary lover. Is that not so?”
“It is,” his brother answered wondering where this was going.
“Well, you are right.”
“I am?” came the doubtful response.
“He is?” Jack chimed in, baffled.
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