Every Rogue's Heart

by Dawn Brower

Ewan sat silently under Haggis’ accusing gaze. He wouldn’t cower but he’d not provoke the other man.

  Finally Haggis spoke. “Fiona, in a few weeks I am to attend a meeting of lairds. We are to discuss the use of land and other issues facing our region. You will be in attendance with me and you will leave with a name or names of men you are interested in pursuing.”

  “What?” Fiona’s voice trembled.

  “You heard me, lass. Ye’re near twenty years old. It’s time. I tried to be reasonable but ye’ve given me no choice. If ye don’t pick, I’ll choose for ye and it will be done.” He waved toward the door, dismissing Fiona.

  Ewan’s stomach gave a little jolt. Haggis was not a man to trifle with under normal circumstances. But if he were that harsh with Fiona…

  “Have you noticed we both still call ourselves McDougal?” Haggis’ eyes swung to him. “In England, I’m Ravenscraig and you are Dumfries. But here we’re McDougal because that should mean something. I trusted ye in my home because your kin is my kin, your clan tied to mine.”

  “Haggis,” he started out but Haggis cut him off.

  “Fiona is a fine woman, unruly, but a true Scot. She’d have made you an excellent bride. I don’t know why—”

  “I fell in love.” Ewan looked him in the eye, because the truth meant something. And in this moment he realized the depth of feeling he had for Clarissa. “I didn’t want to. I blamed the English for dragging me off to a war I didn’t care about. The last thing I wanted was an English bride but…” He took a deep breath. “I love Clarissa.”

  Glaring at him across the desk, the old laird gritted out, “You were here to court Fiona.”

  “I know. But Fiona isn’t interested in me any more than I am in her.” He shrugged, hoping that Haggis would understand. “She’s a fine woman and she’ll make some man a fine—”

  “I don’t want your platitudes,” Haggis practically spit. “I’m not getting any younger. I’ve been having these pains, ye ken? And my daughters, they need to be married because I dinna have an heir.”

  Ewan’s hands raked through his hair. He couldn’t blame Haggis one bit. He wanted to make sure his daughters were properly settled. “Who inherits?”

  “My nephew, Ulrich. He’s a good enough boy, but he’d use a hacksaw to do a needle’s job, ye ken? I don’t trust him to provide for the girls’ future.”

  “I can help, if ye’d like. With the girls. I know it isn’t the help you wanted but…”

  Haggis eyed him over the desk. “If I die before they’re married, will ye see the job done? I’ll take care of Fiona, she’s the hardest. Emilia is no trouble at all. Ainsley, she’s spirited, but men already delight in her company. She’s got this way about her.”

  Ewan tried not to grimace. He didn’t want to help the girls find husbands. But then again, being with this family was bringing him back to life. And Haggis was likely fine. “You’d trust me with yer daughters? Are ye sure?”

  The other man nodded. “Ye did a good turn for Fiona, keeping her reputation untarnished. And you’ll be good for Clarissa. She needs ye, even if she’s not ready to admit it.”

  “That means a great deal—” but a cry echoed through the old stony castle and it had him on his feet in a second. He didn’t know how he knew, but it was Clarissa who’d made the mournful sound. He was sure of it.

  “Go son, I’ll catch up,” Haggis bellowed and Ewan didn’t even stop to look before he raced out the door.

  The note she’d been holding slipped from Clarissa’s hand as the cry rent her lips. She hadn’t meant to make that sound out loud.

  It was just so absolutely awful that she didn’t know what else to do. The butler stared at her as though she’d lost her mind.

  Her eyes cast down at the paper as if it might bite her if she took her eyes from it.

  A hand gently touched her back. “What is it, lass?” Ewan’s gentle voice washed over her and relaxed her muscles enough for her to point toward the note on the floor. She wanted to curl into him and seek shelter in his strength and heat.

  He picked it up and scanned the contents, his serious face growing darker with each passing word. “Like bloody hell,” he growled as he finished reading the letter.

  “What am I going to do?” she shuddered. Just today she’d thought she was done grieving and was now healing. A future was emerging from the mist of grief and with a few words on paper, a new beginning disappeared again.

  “What do you want to do?” His voice was quiet, soothing, and more importantly, it was the first time anyone had asked her that question. She relaxed further taking several deep, cleansing breaths. Her heart swelled at his kindness, his understanding that this was her life and her decision to make.

  “I never want to see him again,” she answered first.

  “That is going to be a wee bit difficult, but it can be arranged, if it’s what ye really want.” He hesitated searching her face. His mouth open and shut as though there were more he wanted to say but he didn’t. Instead he waited for her.

  Giving him a grin, she reached for his hand. She knew he wanted to tell her not to run but he didn’t. Her parents loved her but they never trusted her to decide for herself. Another reason she was angry. They’d chosen a husband and they’d chosen wrong. And she’d just let it all happen. “You’d really do that? You’d help me run away again?”

  Her heart swelled as she looked in his eyes, some of her fear at giving her heart melting away. Ewan was forever rushing in to rescue her as only a hero could.

  His eyes crinkled in a grin. “It wouldn’t be so much running away as it would be running to… you’d be running to me lass, and to our future.”

  Her eyebrows raised even as her lips parted in a smile. But her other hand came to his. “And if I don’t run away? If I stay and tell him that I’d rather die a ruined spinster than look at his face ever again in my life?”

  “Then I’ll stay with ye, lass. And I’ll help ye be strong. But you have to keep your promise to let me court ye after. Ye might decide to be a spinster still but I want that chance.”

  She nodded her agreement and, to her complete amazement, a light happiness she hadn’t felt in weeks spread through her body. She was happy even though her mother had written to tell her that Lord Davenport was on his way to Scotland this very moment.

  She was happy because Ewan was going to first help her stand up to him and then he was going to court her and she might even marry him or she might not. But for the first time in her life, the choice was hers.

  No wonder she’d been so angry with herself. It wasn’t just that Lord Davenport had humiliated her, it was that her parents had set it all up. It had felt like a betrayal. She’d allowed it to happen too. Swept up in the excitement of marrying a marquess. Ridiculous.

  Then she’d run away to Scotland. But Haggis had been right, it was time to stop. She squeezed Ewan’s hand and stared into those deep green eyes. Did people really gain their independence by beginning a relationship? She did. Thanks to Ewan. He asked her what she wanted and gave her room to make choices.

  She wanted to kiss him. But her uncle was coming down the stairs and the butler was still staring at them. But she had just realized the Ewan might just be the perfect man for her. He was bringing out the part of her she’d felt deep inside. The piece that was strong, independent, and fought for what she wanted.

  “What the devil is goin’ on?” Haggis bellowed as he came down the steps. He looked tired.

  The butler stepped forward, holding up his silver tray. For the first time, Clarissa noticed there was a second letter.

  Her uncle reached the bottom of the steps and plucked the letter off the tray. He ripped it open and began reading. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Your mother has been corrupted by your egit of a father.”

  She nodded. “In this case, I have to agree.”

  “Did you read your entire letter, lass?” Ewan flipped it over.

  “No, I only read the first paragraph.
” She released his hand to take the paper and then unfolded it.

  Dearest Clarissa,

  Your father has granted permission to Lord Davenport to visit you at your aunt and uncle’s house in Scotland. Your father fancies that this was all a misunderstanding and that if the match is given a chance, could still work. At the very least, Lord Davenport would like the opportunity to apologize and try to make amends.

  We will also be joining you as soon as we can. But until we get there, you must be strong. I’ve seen it in you, you’ve got real Scottish spirit. I know we’ve sheltered you beyond what we should have, and that you’re suffering from it now. I’m sorry I didn’t better prepare you for this moment but it’s time to stand up, my love.

  Your aunts, uncle, and cousins will help you. But you must decide what you want and then you must stand firm. If Davenport is your heart’s desire then so be it. But if not, then it’s your time to be strong.

  I will see you very soon.

  Your loving Mother

  Clarissa read it twice through and then a third just for good measure. “She thinks I’m strong.” She hadn’t been acting that way for the past month. But it was time to face what had happened. She looked in Ewan’s eyes, her head tilting up. She wanted to throw herself in his arms, but she couldn’t now.

  “Not many lasses stand in the rain helping to fix a wheel.” His fingers brushed hers again. “Or sing a man through a thunderstorm.” He gave her a soft grin. “Or play the pianoforte ‘til everyone in the room is brought to tears.” Then, in front of her uncle, he leaned down and brushed his lips over her forehead. “I know ye’re strong and spirited. Ye can do this.”

  “Ye can,” Uncle Haggis added quietly, for him anyway. “I’m glad ye’re no’ runnin’ lass. Adressin’ your past will help ye embrace the future.”

  She smiled, a grin that spread from ear to ear. “I agree.” With her family around her, she would bravely face the man who had wronged her and then she could turn to the future.

  Chapter 12

  Three days later, in the midst of a steady drizzle that suited her mood perfectly, Clarissa watched as a gilded white carriage, one she’d recognize anywhere, travelled up the long drive toward her uncle’s castle.

  Her family was all gathered around her, as were Ewan and Keiran.

  Ewan gave a low whistle. “That’s some carriage,” Ewan’s tone was begrudgingly appreciative. “Rich and titled. No wonder your father wanted him to marry ye.”

  “Not rich,” Clarissa shook her head to emphasize her point. “He’s come to grovel, but not because he wants me.” Bitterness like bile filled her mouth. Ruined without even being touched. Now she was acutely aware of how a man who wanted her acted and she knew Davenport never had been interested in her. Only her dowry.

  “What do you mean?” Ewan’s voice had an edge that she didn’t understand.

  “He’s spent all his money on pretty carriages and lavish parties. Gambling and women too, if the rumors are correct.” She hadn’t looked at Ewan yet, her eyes focused on the carriage and six coming up the drive. But one hand reached for him, as her other hand rested against the glass. She leaned her forehead closer to its rain-spattered surface. She wanted to see him, before he saw her. It would help her face him. “He needs an infusion of coin or he’ll have to start selling all his pretty things.”

  “And he’ll get that money by marryin’ you?” Ewan had stepped closer and his hand had come to her waist. She relaxed at his touch, their bond growing stronger with each passing day, though they hadn’t discussed marriage again. They were developing a relationship.

  “Yes.” She pressed her cheek to the cool paned surface, watching as a footman jumped down from his seat to open the door.

  “I told her to tell ye she had a fat dowry, but she’s stubborn,” Fiona groused good-naturedly.

  Agnes leaned over to him, “They whisper among the ton that it’s the biggest in all—”

  “Agnes,” Clarissa chastised. Her eyes were glued to the man stepping out of the carriage. Her heart beating wildly, she squeezed Ewan’s hand tighter. It was firm and warm in her grasp.

  “Well, they do. Is it? The largest dowry in all of England?”

  Clarissa waved her hand dismissively then rested it back on the glass. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t gone around asking all the heiresses in London about their dowries. It just isn’t done.”

  “I wish you’d told me sooner, lass,” Ewan’s quiet voice was strained and tight.

  She turned then. “Why? Does is change the way you feel about me? Wanting to court me?” In her mind, she screamed, I can’t do this without you. Please don’t leave me to face this alone.

  “Of course not.” He pulled her into a rough hug in front of her entire family. “But it changes how we deal with him. I didna realize he’d be so desperate. Perhaps we should have run after all.”

  “Too late,” she whispered, her heart more full then she could have imagined possible. With Ewan by her side, she could do anything. Even face Davenport.

  The way she was smiling up at him, it made his breath catch like a feckin’ woman. But there was a light shining through her eyes he’d never seen before and it near made his head spin. He knew he was in love with her but when she looked at him like that, he could dare to hope that she loved him too.

  Yes, he wanted to help her overcome her past, but it was workin’ on ‘im too. His life had color that had been missin’ for a verra long time.

  If Davenport, that feckin’ egit, thought that he was taking Clarissa away from him, well…he was sorely mistaken.

  The front door swung open, creaking as it went, and the family rose, knowing it was time to assemble in the entry.

  Haggis went first followed by the aunts and then Fiona and her sisters. Clarissa was next and Ewan fell in just behind her with Keiran at the very back. He turned to Kieran and gave him a long stare.

  Keiran gave a nod in return to show that he understood. This was war and he’d best be ready to do battle.

  The Marquess of Davenport did not have a clue what he was up against but this was Ewan’s home country and that dandy of a lord with his fancy carriage was about to face a soldier who’d just risen from the muck of war.

  Squaring his shoulders he fought the urge to grab Clarissa around the waist and carry her off to the nearest church for a weddin’. Only his promise to give her the choice held him back because that primal Scot that lived inside was clawing to take over and take his woman before this man could even look at her.

  But he held firm and kept his hands at his sides even as they twitched to wrap around Clarissa’s waist.

  Davenport walked through the door, shaking off his riding cloak and handing the wet garment to a valet.

  Ewan almost barked with laughter. Slender and fair, the man was almost womanish. Ewan thought he’d be meeting an opponent. One good Scottish wind should blow this horse’s arse back to England. He heard Clarissa swallow, and looking over at her saw that she had paled considerably, her eyes wide with fear. He murmured some inane words of comfort, inching closer so that his shoulder was just behind hers as they stood in line. Davenport’s eyes swung to him, giving him the once over. He stood straighter, looking down on the man who was surely a foot shorter than himself.

  Introductions began and Ewan forced himself to remain still as Davenport bent over Clarissa’s gloved hand. “My love,” he murmured, as he made to kiss the gloved skin. Ewan jolted at the endearment. Those were words for him alone to say to Clarissa.

  She took a half step back, as though to retreat, and bumped against him.

  One corner of his mouth drew up at the contact, a physical reminder of her preference. His hand came to the small of her back to further settle her.

  The three of them were mere inches apart and the room crackled with anticipation. Davenport still held her hand, while Ewan kept his fingers and palm on her back.

  “What brings you to Scotland?” she asked Davenport, clearing her throat.r />
  “You, of course.” He gave her a wide practiced smile. “I was miserable without you.”

  She sniffed. “I was miserable because of you.” Then she withdrew her hand from his. “You’ve come a long way for nothing.” Then her shoulders straightened. “I’m already engaged, to Lord Dumfries.”

  Ewan quirked one eyebrow, a happy grin sliding his lips apart. It was his second fake engagement in a fortnight.

  Chapter 13

  Uncle Haggis paced in front of her. “What possessed you to go and say that?” His voice boomed in its usual way.

  Clarissa shrugged. “It just fell from my lips. He looked so smug and I just wanted to wipe that smarmy expression off his face.” She turned to Fiona. “It was so satisfying.”

  Fiona winked in return. The family had retreated to the sitting room while Lord Davenport rested from his travels.

  Emilia looked less convinced. “But Fiona almost had to marry Ewan so as not to be ruined.”

  Clarissa waved her hand. “I’m already ruined. It makes no difference now.”

  “Or we could just get married,” Ewan rumbled from the corner.

  Excitement swelled in her chest but she pushed it back down and shook her head. “We’re only courting, remember? I won’t marry for my reputation.” She meant it. More and more, she could see that Ewan was her future but she wouldn’t rush the decision for the sake of society.

  “But you could be saved,” Agnes pointed out.

  Clarissa stood then and crossed back to the window. Her heart was hammering in her chest but it wasn’t fear this time. It was something different entirely. Excitement, power, love. “Saved from what?” She turned to them again. “I don’t care what they think and I’ll likely never go back anyway. And I’m not running anymore.”

  Ainsley shrugged. “Then why did you tell him you were engaged? You should have just told him to fe—“

  “Ainsley McDougal,” Haggis growled.

  Clarissa nodded. “Ainsley’s right. I will tell him that I just don’t want him to know that I’m not actually engaged.” In a way she was running again, but in her defense, she couldn’t get marriage to Ewan out of her mind. She thought his words, running to their future.