by Dawn Brower
In addition, she’d announced she was engaged to Ewan. She couldn’t tell them she’d made it up, he hadn’t actually proposed. Maybe she wouldn’t have to. She and Ewan were most certainly moving toward a future. Would her father demand she break her ties with Ewan? Force her to comply? Nerves fluttered in her chest.
“Did my letter arrive?” her mother searched her face as she asked.
“Yes, as did the additional guest.” Her face pinched.
Her father stepped closer. “Has he spoken to you? Apologized?”
“He’s tried,” she answered evasively.
“Clarissa,” her father’s voice held a note of warning. “You should at least listen. There isn’t a better match for you in all of England. He’s a marquess—”
“And a rake,” she never interrupted her father but her voice cut through his like a hot knife through butter. “Mama, would you put up with such behavior?”
“No, never,” her mother answered.
“Papa, it was at our engagement ball. That is a man with no scruples. You will have to drag me to the alter. Even with a knife to my throat, I wouldn’t say the vows.” Her back straightened with every word. Uncle Haggis was right. No more running, it was time to make a stand.
Besides, she knew what it felt like to truly care. And now that she had experienced that, she couldn’t go back to what he would have with a man like Davenport. She couldn’t settle for anything less than love. Love? Did she love Ewan?
“I agree, lass,” Ewan’s brogue was soft as he spoke from just behind her.
She turned and gave him a glowing smile. Then turning back to her parents, she said. “Mama, Papa, may I introduce you to the Earl of Dumfries?”
Her mother gave him a warm smile as she curtsied in greeting. Her father’s head cocked to one side as though sizing up the other man. “You were in London last season.”
“Aye, I was.” Ewan seemed to stand even straighter.
“Awarded a title for bravery and battlefield prowess.” Her father’s look only intensified.
Ewan gave a nod.
“I recall your company was quite sought after,” her father said and Clarissa blushed at the implication. Ewan was titled, single, and verra handsome, as Fiona would have said. Of course he had been popular.
“I suppose,” Ewan answered.
“But you’ve yet to marry?” her father asked.
It was Ewan’s turn to give an appraising stare. “I’ve someone in mind but I need to speak with her father, first.”
Ewan turned to her so that her parents could only see half his face and then winked. While she wanted to make the final decision, Ewan was wise to seek her father’s approval. And something in her was shifting. She didn’t feel as resistant to marriage.
Davenport was the problem, not the institution itself. It would be easier to open up to someone like Ewan. Someone who would return her affection and not give it to every passing maid.
“I wish you luck with that,” her father murmured, turning away. She tried to read his expression but it was carefully concealed. When he turned back to her, he had a warm smile in place. “Let’s finish this discussion after breakfast.”
With a nod, Clarissa linked arms with her mother and they started down the stairs and to the breakfast room. Clarissa would make sure to eat a hearty breakfast, she’d need the fortification for the discussion that was about to ensue.
As they entered the room, her eyes met her uncle’s. She deliberately walked around his side of the table and softly whispered, “No more running.”
“That’s a good lass,” he softly responded.
Thankfully Davenport hadn’t joined them and Clarissa tried to decide which might be worse. Finishing the meal and having to speak with her father, or dragging her feet eating and risk having to see Davenport.
Ewan sat across the table from her, and she felt his boot brush her slipper. A smile touched her lips and she relaxed slightly. It would all work out.
His feet played with hers for most of the meal. As she neared the end of her eggs, his boot began to slide higher up her calf and onto her thigh. His eyes locked with hers across the table.
“Lord Dumfries,” Haggis called out. Ewan’s foot dropped. “We’re havin’ a meetin’ in a few weeks to discuss what best to do with the land. Lots of lairds are bringin’ in livestock rather than farmin’. Ye’re welcome to join us, if ye’d like.”
“It’s an interesting topic to be sure. But I’m not sure how much longer I can stay away from me own land. Can I think on it a day?”
“Of course,” Haggis answered.
“What brought you to Ravenscraig in the first place?” her father asked.
Clarissa tried not to wince. It wasn’t a favorable story that he’d been courting her cousin.
“He’s family, distantly speakin’,” Haggis answered.
Clarissa hurried through the rest of her meal. She needed to speak with her father about Ewan, but it was a conversation best had with a bit more privacy. “I’ll meet you in an hour, Father,” she murmured.
“No need, I have had enough. We’ll speak now.” Then he rose too, and with a nod, headed for the door.
Taking a breath, she glaced toward Ewan. She could do this.
But it grew infinitely more complicated as she stepped out of the breakfast room because Davenport had been about to enter and the letch was furiously whispering in her father’s ear.
Some small part of her wanted to turn and go back to the safety of the dining room or retreat to her room. But the strength in her was growing so instead, she stepped up to the two men. “A secret I should know about?”
Davenport eyed her with a coldness that shouldn’t have surprised her. Of course he had no feeling for her, but he had, after all, wanted to marry her and so she started at his frozen face. “No secret. I was telling him about your recent engagement.”
Crum. He father turned, looking livid, and motioned for her to follow.
She straightened her shoulders and walked by Davenport, head high despite the quaking of her legs.
Her father turned into the library and without a word, seated himself in the center of the room and then motioned for her to take the chair next to him.
It was as though she were a child again, about to get scolded.
She tried not to sigh, it wouldn’t help. While she dreaded this moment, she wouldn’t marry Davenport.
“A marquess is much better than an earl.” Her father’s plain-spoken words took her by surprise.
She blinked a few times to recover. “Even if you hate the marquess and he’d make you absolutely miserable?”
“There is that. But if you don’t marry him, who else might you marry in England? You’re not actually thinking of leaving the country permanently?” Her father’s pleading tone softened her response. This was a different conversation than she expected to have.
“I might. But if Queen Victoria can spend her holidays in Scotland, why can’t you?” She gave him a small smile.
“And Lord Dumfries. Are you considering his suit?” Her father didn’t look at her as he asked, which seemed odd.
“I am considering it,” she shrugged. She wasn’t lying.
“Then why is Lord Davenport under the impression you are already engaged?”
A blush stained her cheeks. “I am already ruined so what does it matter if I am ruined twice?” she asked.
His moment of confusion was quickly replaced with anger. He leaned forward, his voice rising. “You were lying to Davenport? Why would you tell him you were engaged when you weren’t?”
“I don’t care what he thinks just so long as he leaves.” Her own voice was rising.
Her father blinked back his shock. “You never speak to me like this.”
“I trusted you to do what was best for me,” she spit out. And suddenly she understood that even more than Davenport, perhaps even more than herself, she was angry at her father. “I’m actually glad he was caught tupping the maid. It saved m
e from a terrible life. But you’ve put your ambitions before my happiness in a way that would have destroyed any chance at happiness.” Her breathing was coming in short gasps. “Ewan would like to marry me. But how I can trust him with my happiness when I can’t even trust my own father?”
Then, without another word, she rose and left the room.
Chapter 16
Anger coursed through her as she stomped through the house. Climbing the stairs, she started toward her room but realized she couldn’t be confined to such a small space. She needed the outdoors. Passing her room, she continued down the hall to the back stairwell and out the kitchen door, taking the lane that led to the barn.
The clouds kept the sun at bay but no moisture fell from the sky. She had the sudden urge to ride. Not a big beast like Fiona had put her on, but a gentle mare. Feel the air and watch the scenery. She wasn’t even dressed for it but none of it mattered now.
“Clarissa,” Ewan called behind her. “Where are you going?”
She spun around, the sound of his voice somehow invoking the tears she hadn’t even been aware she was holding back. “I needed a few minutes alone.”
“I can leave if ye’d like, lass.” His eyes were gentle and understanding and she appreciated that he asked. That he worried what she might want.
And she found she didn’t want him to go at all. “Stay with me.” Her voice was breathier than she’d intended, a need filling it that she didn’t mean to express. But suddenly, she wanted to touch him again. Feel his hard strength. It would wash away her anger and her fears.
With a nod, he took her hand and started leading her toward the path to the beach. He was moving quickly and her skirts tangled. For a sickening second, she was falling but he planted both hands on her waist and lifted her to keep her upright and untangling her skirts in the same smooth motion.
She grabbed his wrists as he held her in the air and when he gently set her down, she kept holding on because his skin against her own both soothed and excited her senses.
His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her to his chest, nuzzling her neck. “I’ve missed ye, lass.”
She grinned. “I missed you too, though it seems ridiculous to say as it’s only been a few hours since we were in bed.”
At the word “bed,” he swung her into his arms and carried her down to the beach. She rested her head on his chest as he easily moved, despite her additional weight. “You don’t have to carry me,” she murmured.
“You’re light as a feather.” He kissed her forehead then nudged ‘til her lips were facing up to his to plant a gentle kiss. “It will give you a chance to tell me what has you so upset.”
She sighed. “I knew I was angry at Davenport and embarrassed to face society. I even understood that I was upset with myself for allowing it all to happen, but I didn’t understand how livid I am with my father. He’s supposed to be the one who protects me.” She stopped before she admitted that it made it difficult for her to trust anyone else.
He gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m not one to tell ye what to do but I can say, Fiona might be a wee bit angry with her da too. He tried to force a marriage on her she didna want.”
She huffed a breath. “He wanted to see her safe and in a good match.”
“Exactly,” he answered.
She looked up at him as she pondered the statement. Uncle Haggis had not taken his error to the ridiculous lengths her father had, trying to repair an engagement that had made a fool of her in front of all of London, but they did share some commonalities. Their fathers had wanted to see them matched without taking their feelings into account.
They’d forgotten their daughters were grown women and not little girls capable of understanding themselves. “But why does my father persist?”
They’d now reached the rock cliff where’d they sheltered from the storm. He ducked under the lip giving them some privacy and shelter from the wind. Sitting down, he pulled her into his lap. “It’s within your father’s right to insist on the match. It’s because he loves you that he’s listening at all. Try to be patient and explain it to him again.” Ewan kissed her lips as she realized the truth in his statement.
His mouth started trailing down her neck. She wound her fingers up into his overlong hair pulling on the strands. “You’re right. I need to be patient and try to stop being so angry.”
He smiled against the skin of her collarbone. “Take it from me, anger will cripple you. Keep you from making good decisions for yourself.” His hands were undoing the buttons in the back of her dress and the fabric fell forward revealing more skin for him to kiss.
“What good decisions has anger kept you from?” she asked, her breathing growing more rapid as his lips kissed along the top of her breast.
“It almost kept me from pursuing you,” he whispered as he pushed the fabric of her chemise aside and lightly kissed the peak of her nipple.
Her head fell back as she arched toward him. “How do you know courting me is wise?” She could barely get the words past her lips, her head was swimming with desire. But she pushed through, needing to hear his answer. She was desperate to understand how to choose the right path. Because in this moment she wanted him to be the best choice.
“You ease the ache in my heart, lass. Ye’re making me feel whole again.”
He continued to kiss her chest, pulling the other side of chemise down. He told himself it didn’t matter if she didn’t respond but part of him was holding his breath. Because he couldn’t lose her now. The pieces of his mangled heart were just fitting back into place.
“You ease the ache in my heart too,” she whispered, her hands pulling his hair. “I couldn’t have made it through this without you.”
Relief and joy had him resting his forehead on her chest for a moment before his hand reached for the hem of her skirt. Then he was sliding it up under the layers of fabric, along with her pantaloons to the slit opening at the top. Pushing the fabric aside, his hand lightly brushed her folds and her body jerked in response, her hips bucking toward him. Her hands were pulling at his hair in an almost painful grip but he loved it all the more as he brushed against her again with a little more pressure.
The moan that escaped her lips made him pant with desire as he began to massage her sensitive bud.
Heat radiated off her as she writhed in his arms. His own desire straining to be released. She’d only left his bed a few hours before but that seemed to have stroked the flames between them rather than dousing them.
“Ewan.” She gasped his name and he nearly came undone.
“Mo chridhe,” he groaned. Her body was tensing and tightening underneath him and he had the sudden urge to taste her, know every part of her. Lowering her to the sand, he lowered his head until it was fitted between her legs.
It didn’t take more than a flick of his tongue before she was coming undone, gasping for air, crying his name into the wind.
Holding onto her hips, he kissed his way back up her body, nuzzling her neck. Even with all her skirts between them, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he brushed a tendril of hair back from her face. “You want choice, mo chridhe, and I want you to have that.”
“Thank you so much for understanding.” Her lips found his, her hips rubbing against him till he wanted to cry out in frustration and desire.
“Which is why I can’t be inside you again. The more times we do that the more likely I am to plant a seed in your belly, lass,” he whispered in her ear.
“A baby,” she nearly cooed and he smiled to himself. He was winning this war slowly but surely. He’d make her his.
“Not now, though, lass. It’s not the way we want it to happen.” He was pulling her dress back up onto her shoulders but she lightly pushed him away, a smile playing on her lips.
“If it did already, what will we do?” She didn’t look upset, only curious and so he answered honestly. “We’d have to marry, lass. I won’t have my bairn be a bastard.�
��
She gave another nod. “I agree.” Her eyes traveled down his body and stopped as they landed at the juncture of her legs. “Does that mean we have to stop this?” She pointed between them.
He gave a rueful grin. “There are other things we can do, I suppose. Like what I just did for you.” He wanted her to want to marry, but he didn’t want to push her away.
Smiling still, she bit her lip, her hand resting on his bare knee. “Do you wear anything under that kilt?” Her hand began travelling up his thigh.
“You know I don’t,” his voice rasped out as her hand reached his inner thigh. And then she was touching him, softly exploring his manhood in a way that was innocent and wicked all in the same breath.
“It’s so soft,” she murmured making his breath hiss out. Dimly he was aware that snow had begun to fall despite it being early May. A lambing snow, was what is was called, but soon bright colors behind his eyelids made him forget all about it as his body heaved to completion.
Gathering her closer, he peppered her face with kisses as she trailed her hand along the contours of his chest. “So strong,” she murmured, sounding terribly sleepy.
“Ye can’t fall asleep, love. We’ll be missed if we don’t go back.” He kissed her eyes, then her nose.
She gave him a sleepy smile. “Let’s stay here forever. Just the two of us.”
“I know the perfect place for just the two of us,” he whispered as her body relaxed further. He’d win her over. But he’d do it with kindness, love, and caring. And in the end, she’d be his because she wanted to be.
“I think I’d like that.” She nuzzled her face into his neck then.
“Are ye sayin’ what I think ye might be? You’ll return to Dumfries with me?” He used a finger to look in her eyes then.
“Yes,” she murmured, her body fitted to his.
“Will ye be my wife?” His lips pressed to her ear, softly imploring her to say yes.
“Yes,” she agreed.
He gathered her closer still and held her tight to his chest.