by Dawn Brower
She reached for the cushioned seat to slide it back in place but his hand grazed hers. She made to pull back but he held it tight. Then she looked in his eyes. She was afraid he would ask questions or look at her with pity, but he did neither. Instead his eyes were kind, filled with understanding. “I was wrong about you, lass. You’re a Scot through and through.”
She returned the smile. That validation eased her ache. He didn’t ask her anything else as he helped her stand. Walking back around the pianoforte, he offered her his elbow. She took it, and somehow touching him made it easier to take her seat rather than run away.
Her family was still looking at her, but the gazes had changed. Instead of sadness or pity, they were watching her with…curiosity. Now, what was that all about?
Chapter 7
Ewan tried to get his emotions under control. War had made him exceptionally disciplined so the feeling of spinning wildly off course was shocking, nauseating, and just a touch exhilarating too. Fortunately, it was the middle of the night and he was alone in his room so no one would witness as he came undone.
He knew exactly what was causing the emotion. That little pixie, Clarissa. What confounded him was what to do about it.
Earlier that day, he’d travelled with Fiona, Kieran, and Emilia to the Campbell estates under the guise of going for another ride. He and Fiona had ridden in front.
“What will you say to him?” He’d asked.
“I know how to handle, Colin.” She bit back.
Irritation washed through him. “As well as you handled him earlier? This affects us both. I’ve a right to know what you’ll say.”
He heard her breath hiss out. “I’ll tell him the truth. I made up it up and you were too much a gentleman to call me out. Does that make you happy? I’ll be humiliated.”
“I don’t wish to see you humiliated.” He turned to look at her then. “If we were to actually marry, none of this would be necessary.”
Her face pinched but her answer was guarded. “Do ye want to marry me?”
He considered his answer, but decided to ask a question instead. “Are ye in love with Colin?” He needed to know. This was their future.
“Are ye in love with Clarissa?” She turned to him, eyes flashing.
He blinked a few times. He barely knew her. Of course he wasn’t in love. But there was this pull that he couldn’t deny.
For the moment, he couldn’t leave Castle Kounan. While Fiona sought out Colin and explained why she’d said what she did, there was no telling what might happen. If Colin announced her error to his clan, Fiona would need his help.
He’d allow her to publicly denounce him. Then she wouldn’t be humiliated. He didn’t live here, it was no trouble to him. But she’d never live it down.
But he couldn’t escape his attraction to Clarissa, though she’d given him almost no encouragement.
Her pain had been near palpable while she’d played the pianoforte and, like a bolt of lightning, he’d become aware of what had been hidden just below her surface. He didn’t know what she’d been through, but he knew her feelings mirrored his own. That desire to run and hide from the world that had been so cruel.
He masked it better, with angry barbs about the bloody English. But there was an understanding of shared pain.
One that was difficult to accept if ye hadn’t been through it. Their second riding party of the day had been a trip to Campbell lands. They’d decided it would be best if Fiona explained to Colin that she wasn’t exactly engaged. Fiona had blurted out on the ride there that Ewan was too serious for her to marry anyway.
The lass was angry and lashing out. But deeper than that, she likely found him too stoic. He couldna help it though, he’d seen too much to want to frolic without considering responsibility and he needed a woman who would understand what he’d been through.
So unless Colin outed Fiona, he’d likely not marry her. Much as he wanted to be settled, she wasna right for him.
And Clarissa. He ran his hands through his hair, sitting up in bed. It was no use lying down. He grabbed his kilt and pulled it on, stalking over to the window to watch the moonlight play along the ocean. Clarissa was all wrong for completely different reasons.
She was too wrapped in her own cloak of agony to open her heart. He gave his head a shake. Was that what he wanted? Her heart? His brain was going soft.
She didn’t like him and, what was more, she needed time to heal.
Even if that wasn’t true, he’d said he wanted a true Scottish lass. He ran his hands through his hair again. What did that even mean? No she didna have wild hair as she flew across the heather on her horse, but she was strong, full of emotion, passionate, and beautiful. She was glorious. Would he really pass that up because her father was English?
The swish of paper caught his attention. He watched as a folded note slipped under his door. In an instant he was sprinting across his room. He didn’t need to read it to know Clarissa had delivered it; the paper smelled of her.
For a second, he considered reading the words first but then she’d be gone, and so instead, he wrenched open the door and stepped into the hall.
Clarissa had only made it a few paces, but her back was to him. As she turned, surprise lit her features and she opened her mouth. Afraid she would scream, he stepped up to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, the other coming to cover her mouth.
The soft fabric of her nightdress rubbed against his bare chest as her body molded to his. His arm fit perfectly in the crook of her back as her breasts crushed against him. He’d meant to tell her that he’d do her no harm. That he grabbed her to keep them from being discovered. But at the contact of their bodies, all reason left his mind.
Instead he removed his hand and replaced it with his lips. Slanting open her mouth, his tongue plundered hers as the taste of honey made him groan with need.
As his tongue withdrew and then repeated the tasting, it was met by her own tongue tentatively returning the gesture.
He nearly came undone. Backing her against the wall, he deepened the kiss further, pressing their bodies together, his hands molding to her ripe buttocks to lift her higher, press them closer still.
His cock was near bursting, and as he lifted her higher, it settled between her legs, only their clothes separating them. But he knew he’d reached the spot where she needed contact because she bucked and moaned. “Yes,” her voice hissed.
Continuing to plunder her mouth, he lifted her further, rubbing her against him. Her legs locked around his waist and luscious hips started working to help him with the movement. All the while making the most delicious little noises.
He tried to recall the last time he held a woman like this or when a female had responded so instantly and completely to his touch.
But he couldna picture anything but her. Dimly, he was aware they were still in the hall and he picked her up, not stopping the rhythm, but he started carrying her into his room. They needed some privacy.
But as they stepped through the door, her body went rigid against his and she began pushing him away.
“What’s the matter, lass?” he asked, completely mystified by her sudden change of behavior.
“I…I…shouldn’t be in your room.” She stopped struggling, talking calming her. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He held her still, not moving but not letting her go. “I just thought you’d not want to be discovered in the hall.”
“Of course I don’t. But anything could happen in your chamber—”
He gave her a small, light kiss. “Nothing’s going to happen, lass. Nothing that you don’t want.” He kissed her again and she softened, just a little.
“No bed,” he crooned softly. “And all of our clothes stay on.” He kissed a trail along her cheek to her ear and then down her neck. “My kilt won’t move an inch. I thought just to finish ye with what we were doing. Rubbing and kissing…nothing more.”
“That’s it.” She arched her neck back to allow him ac
cess. “We won’t actually do…that?”
He felt her skin heat and he smiled as he continued kissing down her neck to her collarbone. “Nae, mo chridhe. I just want to bring you a little pleasure. Nothing more. I swear it.”
She flexed her hips to rub against him just a little and he groaned as a coo escaped her lips. Using his hands, he guided her up and down as she rubbed against his clothed shaft, her moans growing faster and louder.
He longed to lift the hem of her nightdress and sink a finger inside her, feel her wetness and her heat but he had promised, and so he resisted.
His lips had reached the neckline of her gown and flicking open the ties with one hand he drew the fabric to the side to take one luscious nipple in his mouth.
He could have done this for hours, but with a single flick of his tongue, she came undone. It was beautiful and so intoxicating that he wanted more.
His lips found hers and kissed her over and over as spasm after spasm wracked her body, his arms creating a cradle for her.
Then she melted into him. It seemed as though every inch of her skin touched his and a fresh wave of need overtook him. Her head cradled into the crook of his neck. “Oh that was…” Her voice drifted off not completing the thought.
He had to get her back to her room before he forgot all about the promise he’d just made.
With that in mind, he sprinted down the hall with her still in his arms, his body pulsing with need. It looked as though he wouldn’t be getting any sleep at all.
Chapter 8
Her first waking thought was that it had been the most delicious night of her life. Her second was that Ewan McDougal was undoubtedly the second worst rake she’d ever met. Granted, she’d only met two. And the first had destroyed her in front of all of society.
At least this time if she were ruined, she’d had fun. Delicious, wonderful, intoxicating fun. And she deserved to be a fallen woman now. Unlike before, where her only real crime was poor judgment. But a cancelled wedding was unforgivable.
Still, she had to stay far away from Ewan McDougal. She’d likely encouraged him with the letter she’d slipped under his door. She’d thanked him for saving her from the horse. Words she’d meant to say but hadn’t.
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 the 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 Kieran 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.”