by Dawn Brower
“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—”
“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 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. It 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—”
“Who are what?” She turned away and saw Fiona coming toward them along with Kieran and the rest of her cousins. She lifted her skirts and started toward them.
“Why are ye lookin’ so prickly?” Fiona grinned at her.
“I do not look anything of the sort.” Clarissa stomped her foot, which was completely ineffectual in the sand.
Fiona stepped up to her and then pulled her away from the others. “He’s never going to court you unless you stop being angry all the time.”
“He’s not going to court me, he’s still considering you!” Clarissa nearly shouted.
Fiona gave her a perplexed look. “I told ye already we’re just not telling Da what—”
“Ye didn’t tell me anything. Not really.” Clarissa was near stomping again. This couldn’t be any more confusing. Because despite Fiona’s words at breakfast the other day, they appeared to be considering marriage.
“I lost me temper and told Colin Campbell I was marrying Ewan in two weeks’ time. I explained it to Colin after, but he seemed angry and I am worried that he’ll go and tell the entire village and then I’ll be ruined and embarrassed in front of everyone. Ewan’s only stayin’ around so that if it happens, I can publicly break it off with him and save face in front of everyone. Da will be furious, but it’s better than the alternative.”
“He’s saving you from public embarrassment?” Clarissa thought she might be ill. He hadn’t been untrue to Fiona at all. She hunched over, clutching her stomach. He saved her from runaway horses and broken wagon wheels. He was protecting Fiona from public humiliation.
Her arguments against him were melting and she couldn’t allow that to happen because if she did… she turned to look at him. His piercing stare pinned her to the spot. If she failed at a relationship a second time she was sure she’d never recover. She just couldn’t risk it. She had to build those walls back up.
A rake she could defend herself against. But a gentleman who had no interest in marrying an Englishwoman, what could she do about that? She’d sink under her feelings and still end up with a broken heart.
Chapter 9
Clarissa had his blood near to boil all the while she gave him nothing but cold stares and icy silence. He would catch her, when she thought he wasn’t looking, giving him intense looks of longing. It was sheer force of will that she kept up her chilly façade. That was her Scot blood. Stubborn till the end.
But now that he knew he and Fiona were not compatible, he had to find a suitable bride. He didn’t care about the dowry anymore either. It’d take work but he’d see it done. But Clarissa had underscored what he’d been feeling for a while. His life had been empty, cold, and barren. He needed someone to fill it with light. Make him dizzy with excitement.
The way Clarissa did. After she’d held him on the beach, he no longer cared that she was English. There’d be some issues to work out but they could do it.
He’d like to tell her all this if she’d ever stop throwing him icy glares. And she needed to melt soon because Haggis was growing impatient. He and Fiona had to tell him they weren’t courting because it wasn’t right to keep the truth from him. But a little voice deep down told him that if he kept up the lie a little longer, it was that much more time he got with Clarissa. Once the truth was out, he’d have to leave.
But he’d like to clear the air with Clarissa before he went. Hell, he’d like to take her with him. But he understood. He’d most certainly acted the part of rake with her, and he didn’t know how to explain that it was only her. He never normally acted so…wanton. That is to say, not for a verra long time. But he lost his senses around her.
Which was about the most fun thing that had happened to him since…well he couldn’t rightly remember, it had been so long.
Which meant he needed to speak with her again. He’d already ambushed her in the library. It was unlikely to work again.
Instead, he’d play her trick and slip a note under her door. Her’s was one of the sweetest prose he’d ever read. She’d thanked him for coming to her aid and told him how she would never forget him. It spoke of feelings she’d never expressed in person, unless kissing could be counted.
He waited till the house was quiet and hoped Clarissa was still awake. Then he slipped to her room. He jostled the door intentionally to alert her of his presence and then he slipped the note, catching the paper on the wood under the door. It made a number of scratching noises as it went and he grinned. It wasn’t so loud that it would wake the house but loud enough to let her know he was there.
A minute of silence followed and he worried she was still asleep but then the pad of her feet across the floor let him know his tactics had worked. He listened as she unfolded the paper and then nothing.
Holding his breath, he waited. Finally she spoke. “I won’t come out, Ewan.”
“Will ye talk with me at least?” He pressed closer to the door.
“About what?” she asked.
“Tomorrow, I tell Lord Ravenscraig I’ll not be marryin’ his daughter. I’d like to ask his permission to court you if you’d allow it. You don’t have to promise anything other than you’ll spend a little time getting to know me.”
Silence followed till it was near deafening. “Ewan, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I…I’m just not ready.”
His gut clenched. He’d been afraid of that. She was still too brokenhearted to see what was happening between them. “Lass, ye’re not committing to marriage. An
d if ye let me, I can help you heal, and perhaps you can help me too. Don’t answer now, just think about it.” He pressed a little closer. “Please.”
“I’ll think about it,” she answered finally.
He smiled, relief making his breath rush out. “That’s good, lass. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Clarissa was feeling anything but relieved. Why hadn’t she just said no? There was no future there. Maybe someday she could entertain the possibility of marriage but she didn’t see how. There was no way she’d trust like that again. Especially someone like Ewan who made her breathless and confused.
And so vulnerable.
So why had she agreed to think about it? But she already knew the answer. Because he lit her blood on fire. She was to marry Lord Davenport and he hadn’t inspired anything even close to that. And while she’d found men handsome or appealing, it was nothing compared to how wanton she became at his touch. Which made him all the more dangerous.
She sighed. She couldn’t risk it. He muddled her mind and she’d be too open to hurt. She’d tell him in the morning that she couldn’t accept his courtship.
With her convictions strong, she fell asleep ready to stand firm the next day.
The bright morning sun further bolstered her spirits as she sat at breakfast. Aunt Judith and Agnes decided to read in the garden to take advantage of the weather and she happily agreed to join them.
Ewan was giving her his penetrating stare, the one that made her shiver with desire, and sunshine seemed the best way to burn off the nighttime longings he inspired.
Ainsley and Emilia were plotting some adventure in the village. Clarissa now understood they were eavesdropping to make sure Colin hadn’t given Fiona away. While Fiona had yet to come down, which was odd.
Uncle Haggis was at his usual position with the paper. “I know you and Fiona wanted to speak with me.” He turned, grinning at Ewan. “It would seem she’s already acting the part of a married lady. Sleeping in her bed all morning. Perhaps we can talk later.”