She’d fallen in love with him that day. It was no matter that he grumbled the whole way or admonished her for chasing after them, she hadn’t really paid attention to any of that. She’d just stared up into those silvery eyes of his and sighed.
Ellie started towards the loch, caught up in her memories of the past, watching the gentle sway of the water and listening to the chattering of more sandpipers in the distance. It was beautiful, the way the rocky slopes kissed the edge of the loch. There wasn’t anything in London that rivaled the natural beauty of Loch Ericht. Of course, she hadn’t thought of it as beautiful when she was younger, she couldn’t wait to get away to go to London and all the excitement that could be found in Town. Loch Ericht was not exciting by any stretch of the imagination, but it was peaceful. And right now, peace was exactly what she needed.
She glanced over her shoulder at Achmore and sighed. Her dowry. If only she’d known. If only Papa had told her the truth all those years ago, how different her life would have turned out. She’d have never begged or bribed her way to London. She’d have stayed at Castle Ericht and waited for Griffin’s return. She’d been so in love with him back in those days. Of course, she was in love with him now for all the good it did her. But if she’d known—
“Ellie?” Griff’s voice came from the left, nearly making her heart stop. Had she imagined it?
Her gaze shot in the direction of his voice and she gasped, not certain whether or not to believe her eyes. Good heavens, it was him! It truly was. Or she was dreaming. “Griff?”
He strode towards her, his brow creased in a frown. Heavens. She’d been so certain she’d lost him, afraid she’d never see him again. Her knees buckled beneath her.
Griff caught her about the waist before she could fall. “What are ye doing here?” he demanded.
Ellie threw her arms around his neck, silently vowing never to let him go.
Griff had to be dreaming. He had to be. There was no other explanation for Elspeth MacLaren being in his arms on the shores of Loch Ericht.
“Oh, Griff!” she said against his jacket. “I thought I’d lost ye.”
He was most definitely dreaming, a most wonderful dream, one he’d love to never wake from. Ellie’s hold tightened around his neck and Griff sighed into her hair. He never knew one could smell so vividly in dreams, but the familiar scent of gardenias tickled his nose and brought his nether regions to life.
“I should be furious with ye,” she said on a sob, “but I’m just so glad to see ye.”
Why should she be furious with him? Griff pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes. “I beg yer pardon?”
Ellie shook her head. “How dare ye leave London without telling me! Ye didn’t even say goodbye. And—”
“I said good-bye,” Griff replied. And he had. He’d made a point of doing so before he’d gone to Ian’s study that last day in London. “Ye told me ye’d had all of me ye could stand for a lifetime, and I said good-bye to ye.”
Her blue eyes sparked to life, all fire and indignation, and that’s when Griff first suspected he wasn’t really dreaming. “I didn’t mean forever! Ye were just being so…Well, ye were being ye! And—”
“What are ye doing here, Ellie?” Though if he wasn’t dreaming, he had a fairly good idea why she was there. His heart twisted a bit.
She gulped as though working up her courage to say something to him. “Ye should have told me,” she began.
“Told ye what exactly?” He took a slight step away from her. Distance might keep his mind on point.
“Someone should have told me. Papa, Ian, ye. It wasn’t fair to keep me in the dark.”
Just as Griff suspected. So much for the value of Ian MacLaren’s word. Damn the man straight to hell. “I had no idea ye didn’t know. Not until I arrived in London and—”
“And ye let me go on and on about Lord Peasemore and—”
“And all the others,” he agreed. “But it doesn’t matter, Ellie. I’m not holding ye to that betrothal. Ye certainly didn’t need to travel all the way to Loch Ericht to—”
“Are ye trying to ruin me, Griffin Reid?” She frowned up at him, her lips pursed together in annoyance.
“Ruin ye?” Had she lost her mind? Other than that kiss, he hadn’t done one thing that could possibly be construed as him even attempting ruination.
“Only a lady can cry off,” she returned petulantly. “If word got out ye refused to marry me—”
“Then don’t tell anyone,” Griff grumbled. What a pointless conversation. “I already told Ian—”
“I don’t care one wit what ye already told Ian. It’s my betrothal not his, even if I wasn’t consulted or informed of the matter. So whatever ye told my brother means absolutely nothing to me. It certainly doesn’t invalidate our contract.”
Was she serious? “Ye don’t want to marry me, Ellie. So I don’t know why we’re even discussing this.”
“I would like to have had a say, or the very least to have been informed, but—”
“Ye told me if ye found out yer family had arranged a marriage for ye that ye’d be furious. Ye said ye could never forgive that.” He’d never forget those words. They’d struck fear in his heart at the time.
“Ye should have told me then.”
“And faced yer wrath?” he scoffed. “I can’t believe Ian told ye now.” In fact, his old friend had promised never to reveal that secret to Ellie. Just like a MacLaren…
“Griffin.” She heaved a sigh. “Ye made a vow to marry me. Are ye going to honor it or are ye going to ruin me?”
Griff could only blink at her. Ellie had very clearly lost her mind. “I’m not some English lord, Ellie.”
“Nay, ye’re not,” she agreed. “But ye didn’t answer my question.”
“Ye have yer heart set on one of those—”
“I have my heart set on ye, Griffin Reid. Now are ye going to honor yer word or not?”
His mouth fell open and he was certain he resembled a mute simpleton.
She sighed again, her blue eyes twinkling a bit wickedly now that her indignation had died down. “Before ye answer that, I need to know something, Griff.”
“What?” he breathed out, but was glad he’d found his voice enough to mutter that one word.
“Do ye love me?”
More than he’d ever thought possible, though it was probably better to show her than tell her. Griff closed the small gap between them, cupped her face with his hands, and pressed his lips to hers.
Dear God, kissing her was like a heaven found nowhere else on Earth. Her soft lips molded to his and Griff slid one arm around her waist, anchoring her to him. When Ellie sighed, Griff swept his tongue inside the haven of her mouth, sending a jolt straight to his cock.
Her tongue tangled with his and she grasped the collar of his jacket as though she couldn’t get close enough to him. She tasted like honey, the sweetest summer berries, and Ellie. He’d never forget the taste of her as long as he lived Griff growled against her mouth, wanting more, wanting all of her for now and forever.
“I can’t stop loving ye,” he finally whispered.
She smiled up at him, unshed tears of joy threatened to spill down her cheeks. “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to hold ye to that agreement, Captain Reid. Ye see, I can’t stop loving ye either.”
“Then aren’t we a brilliant match.” Griff pressed his lips back to Ellie’s. Then he kissed his way across her jaw and down her slender neck as his fingers bit into her waist, holding her desperately.
But all of their earlier conversations rushed back to his mind. He rose back to his full height. “What about London? Ye said ye never wanted to leave London.”
She shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing about her shoulders. “And I’ll miss Town, but I love ye more than I love London, Griffin.”
“Yer balls and soirees and—”
Her hands yanked his jacket collar downwards and she lifted up on her toes, pressing her lips to his once more. All tho
ughts fled Griff’s mind…Well, all thoughts except those about Ellie, the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her breath, and how very soon he could marry her and make her his forever.
“Besides,” she began after he lifted his head for air, “I’m sure ye’ll take me to London from time to time, won’t ye?” She coyly batted her eyelashes at him.
“Whatever ye want, Ellie. Whatever will make ye happy.” Griff couldn’t help but laugh. He was lost to her, wrapped around her little finger like he’d always feared he might be one day. But now that that day was here, he couldn’t be happier.
The author of several Regency Noir Romances, Ava Stone first fell in love with Mr. Darcy, Jane Austen and Regency England at the age of twelve. And in the years since, that love has never diminished. If she isn't writing Regency Era romance, she can be found reading it.
Her bestselling Scandalous Series is filled with witty humor and centers around the friends and family of the Machiavellian-like Lady Staveley, exploring deep themes but with a light touch. A single mother, Ava lives outside Raleigh NC, but she travels extensively, always looking for inspiration for new stories and characters in the various locales she visits.
Ava can be found at www.avastoneauthor.com and at Lady Jane's Salon Raleigh-Durham, where she is one of the salon's directors. You can also find her at Facebook and on Twitter.
Ava Stone’s SCANDALOUS world continues in…
A Scandalous Wife
A Scandalous Charade
A Scandalous Secret
A Scandalous Pursuit
A Scandalous Past
My Favorite Major
The English Lieutenant’s Lady
To Catch a Captain
An Encounter With an Adventurer
In the Stars
And the Regency Seasons Novellas…
A Counterfeit Christmas Summons
By Any Other Name
My Lord Hercules
A Bit of Mistletoe
One Haunted Evening
Lord MacDermott’s Townhouse
Mayfair, London
May 8th, 1822
“Och nephew, I hope you’ve a hunger in your belly. I told Parsons to ha’ Cook send up wha’ever he has left fra’ dinner.” Lord MacDermott dropped onto the settee with a faint ‘oof.’ Sighing, he patted his rotund belly where his waistcoat stretched over it, and then propped his booted feet on a convenient stool near the crackling warm fire. “’Twas a grand goose he cooked for us las’ night. I’ve hopes there’s a mite of tha’ left.”
Angus Reeves, Viscount MacThune, didn’t bother to look up from his book. “I’ve half a mind to steal that cook of yours.”
MacDermott sent his nephew a fierce frown. “You’ve the money to do it, too, demme you.” It was true; his nephew was recently returned from India and rich as a nabob from his dealings in the tea trade. Of course, MacDermott couldn’t begrudge the lad (if one could call a thirty-eight year old a lad); Angus had worked hard for his funds, spending almost a score of years out of England in the process. He’d left a pale and thin youth and had returned an unfashionably browned, broad-shouldered man who could purchase anything he wished. “I suppose I’m fortunate you dinna try and steal my butler and housekeeper, too. Humph. And after I’ve shown you naught but hospitality and kindness.”
Lowering his book, Angus sent his uncle a flat look. “Considering how much I lost to you at whist, I’d consider it more a purchase than a theft.”
MacDermott grunted, absently wishing he had the athletic build of his nephew, but sadly, the gods had instead given him bowed legs and a stomach inclined to corpulence. He patted his stomach absently, thinking of his sister’s recent thinness.
Last year MacDermott’s oldest sister Sally had visited her in India despite Angus’s protests that it would be better if she waited for a cooler time of the year. MacDermott could have told Angus that warning his mother off was a bad idea; she never listened to warnings, especially from the men in her family.
Thus it was that, weakened by the torpid heat of a tropical clime, Angus’s mother had succumbed to the dreaded yellow fever. The illness had ravaged her, leaving her seriously weakened.
The only good that came of Sally’s trip was that her son returned to England with her. Worried over his mother’s declining health, he’d brought her to their family seat outside of Edinburgh, thinking the countryside would be good for her. But the damp air had only made Sally worse. A month ago, Angus had moved his mother to London where the best doctors could be found.
Though they’d made her more comfortable, the doctors held out little hope of Sally ever regaining her health. MacDermott found it suddenly hard to swallow. His sister seemed to visibly shrink before his eyes, each day becoming weaker and less herself.
As difficult as it was for MacDermott, he knew it had to be even harder on her son. MacDermott sent an inquiring glance at his nephew now, noting the deep lines and restless gaze. That could lead to mischief, which is why Sally is so determined to see her son settled before—
MacDermott thrust the unwelcome thought away, absently rubbing his chest where it ached. This will never do. I’ve things to accomplish and thinking of Sally is not helping. Pushing back an uncomfortable grimace, MacDermott reached into his waistcoat, withdrew his snuffbox and flipped it open. “Snuff?”
“I will join you by having a cheroot.” Angus closed his book and set it aside before he reached for a box on the table at his elbow, and removed a cheroot. He used the lantern flame to light it. Instantly the study was scented with a rich, smoky haze.
MacDermott took an appreciative breath. “Those cheroots of yours almost tempt me fra’ my snuff, but I canno’ afford to pick up another vice, wha’ wi’ you stealin’ my staff fra’ beneath my nose. I shall ha’ to raise their wages, just to get them to stay put.”
“If I do hire away your staff, I’ll pay you a handsome finder’s fee.”
“Demmed cocky of you, though you can afford ‘em better than I, you and your nabob’s fortune.”
Angus’s smile faded a bit. “Nabob?”
“So your mither has been tellin’ the world.”
“Damn it! My circumstances are my business and no one else’s. Her loose tongue will send every unwed woman to my doorstep, which is exactly what I don’t want.”
“And is exactly wha’ your mither does want.” MacDermott noted the determined lines about Angus’s mouth. The years had hardened the lad. His jaw was more set and there was a new firmness to his expression that bespoke a strong, decisive man. India was the making of you, wasna’ she, lad? No wonder your mither’s in a quiver to get you wed. She dinna like tha’ you no longer listen to her and thinks a wife’ll settle tha’ hot blood of yours.
Women were like that. Just as a man was ready to kick over the traces and find a wee bit of fun, the women in his life developed the urge to tighten the harness.
Angus tilted back his head and blew a perfect smoke ring. “Thank you for allowing me to stay here this week. Aunt Beatrice is with Mother and while I appreciate she’s my aunt and has come to help, I cannot stand to hear them quarrel.”
MacDermott shook his head in commiseration. “They’ve always been like tha’, nattering away at one another, but try to say somethin’ poor aboot one to th’ other, and you’ll face a fury you’ve ne’er before seen.” MacDermott tucked the snuffbox back into his pocket and shot a side-glance at his nephew. “I dinna see you at Lady MacEllis’s soiree this evening.”
“I wasn’t there, as you well know.”
“To be honest, ‘twas a boring affair.” He nodded toward the discarded book at his nephew’s elbow. “It appears you dinna ha’ a rash-roarin’ time this evenin’.”
“I was out earlier, but when I returned, I discovered my books had arrived from India.”
“You always were a bookish one, even as a laddie. To my mind, ‘tis tha’ which allowed you to gather so much coin. I dinna mind tellin’ you, ‘tis nice to ha’ at least one relative not pun
tin’ the River Tick.”
“Our family has never been known for their financial acumen.” Angus blew another smoke ring, watching it rise over his head. “My father, especially.”
“He could never say ‘no’ to your mither, and if there’s one thing I ha’ to say about my own sister, it’s tha’ she could do wi’ a mon who’d tell her ‘no’ now and again. At least, tha’ was true before—” MacDermott’s throat tightened and he had to clear it before he could breathe.
Angus’s face softened. “Do not write her off yet. Mother’s tougher than you think.”
“But the doctors—”
“Have been wrong before.” Angus spoke with an assurance that calmed MacDermott’s fears somewhat. “They don’t know Mother’s iron will the way we do.”
“I hope you’re right, laddie. She is fond of telling us all tha’ she is indomitable.” MacDermott chuckled. “I’m rare fond of her, for all her bossy ways.”
“So am I.” Angus stared at the glowing end of his cheroot. “She’s not very good at resting the way the doctors wish her to.”
“If anyone can get your mither to stay in bed, ‘tis Beatrice. I daresay fighting wi’ her favorite sister will give your mither more energy.”
“Yes, but—” Angus grimaced. “Must they argue constantly?”
“‘Tis enou’ to make a grown man cry, ‘tis. I’ve been listenin’ to the two of them since I was a child of five, and I still dinna relish it.” MacDermott waved a hand. “Rest easy, lad; you’re free to stay as long as you wish. But dinna think I won’t rescind tha’ if you steal my cook.” With a mock fierce glare, MacDermott pushed his booted feet closer to the fire, groaning a bit as he crossed his boots at the ankle. “So . . . did you meet anyone interestin’ today whilst you were oot and aboot?”
An Encounter at Hyde Park Page 27