by Meara Platt
“I won’t be going.” She nibbled her lip. “I’ll send word to Eloise right now.”
“Don’t. Come with us. Please.” Ewan wondered if she had a proper gown to wear, but he didn’t have the heart to ask. The mere question would have utterly destroyed her. In any event, she’d been fashionably dressed in their prior encounters. Clothes weren’t the problem. Their grandfather and his cruel manipulations were. “Don’t let Grandfather win, Evie. Meggie and I will come round at seven to pick you up.”
Desmond glanced at his sister, his jaw in a spasm as he sought to contain himself, but his love for Evie was obvious. He didn’t wish to deprive her of anything, and they both knew Evie wanted to go to the party. “Go with him, Evie. I don’t give a damn. I’ll be here for you when you come home in tears.”
***
The ride to Eloise’s was an unexpected torture for Ewan. He’d done the right thing in bringing his cousin along, but hadn’t expected the flood of tears from Meggie and Evangeline the moment the two of them were settled in his carriage. Both girls were shy and sensitive, and though Meggie had overcome her fears recently, this unexpectedly poignant family reunion—if one could call it that—had set off her waterworks. Then Evangeline had started crying.
The only saving grace was that they were crying for... he wasn’t exactly sure what they were crying about, but they seemed pleased to be together and neither one was angry or tossing daggers at him. Progress.
He’d hired his own conveyance for the remainder of their stay in London, preferring to move about London independent of the duke. The old bastard could come and go as he pleased in his own glossy black carriage with the imposing Lotheil crest emblazoned on it. Ewan was not going to beg the old man for its use. He had no doubt the old man would have denied it to him once he learned Evangeline was to join them. That’s how the bastard operated. Control and separate. Dominate and scare.
They turned onto Chipping Way and slowed behind the row of carriages stacked up to let their guests off in front of the Dayne townhouse. Lily and her family lived next door. He looked forward to seeing her. She’d be a great help to him in calming the girls. Not that Lily was much more than a girl herself, but she had that adorably logical way of dealing with matters. He stifled a grin at the thought of her. It wouldn’t do for Meggie and Evie to realize just how badly he ached for Lily.
The thought of Lily also gave rise to unpleasant thoughts of Callie. Damn. Callie didn’t like competition, and Lily—whether the little bluestocking realized it or not—was competition in her eyes. Callie didn’t have Lily’s warmth or kindness. She’d bare her claws and scratch at Lily’s confidence until only shreds were left.
Ewan ran a hand through his hair, uncertain what to do. He couldn’t handle one girl. How was he to handle all four? No, if Callie was there, he’d have to stay close to her to keep her from causing mischief. Afterward, first thing tomorrow, he’d pay a call on Lily and apologize for any rudeness on his part or Callie’s. She’d understand once he explained.
“Evie, please stop crying,” Meggie said—she of the torrent of tears flowing down her own cheeks. “Lady Dayne is the loveliest person. You know that, of course. So are the Farthingales. They won’t hold the earlier unpleasantness against you or your brother. Not after Ewan explains the misunderstanding to them. You’ll adore Lily. We both do.”
Evie blew into the handkerchief Ewan had offered her earlier. “Why would she be nice to me? She has every reason to hate me.”
“She isn’t like that,” Ewan found himself saying. “She believes in close family ties and will be pleased we’ve taken steps toward reconciliation.” That’s what made Lily so different from Callie. Though beautiful on the outside, Callie wouldn’t hesitate to destroy anyone who got in her way. She was much like his grandfather. Why hadn’t he noticed the similarity before? More troubling, he’d actually considered offering for her. Had his father not taken ill and died, he might very well be married to her now.
Ewan shuddered.
The thought made his skin crawl. No. Callie was a momentary lapse in his good judgment, a lapse he’d quickly correct, perhaps this evening if the opportunity presented itself. Having met Lily, he now understood the qualities to look for in a wife. He wanted a Highlands girl with all of Lily’s good qualities.
In truth, he wanted Lily.
But marriage to the little bluestocking wouldn’t work, though for entirely different reasons. They’d suit in bed. Lily was passionate about everything. She’d respond exquisitely to his guiding touch. However, as much as her passion would work for them in bed—Lord, he ached to get her naked under him—it would work against them in every other aspect of their marriage. She couldn’t be happy in Scotland, so far away from her beloved family. So far away from her beloved halls of science.
Seeing Lily sad—knowing he was the cause of it—would destroy him.
Yet, not to see her. Not to hold her in his arms. That felt wrong, too.
Ewan helped his sister and Evangeline down from the carriage and escorted them into Eloise’s home, relieved as they were quickly announced and now free to mingle. Eloise’s townhouse was filled with well-dressed lords and ladies. Music wafted through the crowded salons, and butlers eased through the sea of bodies, silver trays laden with glasses of champagne held out in front of them. Ewan grabbed a glass for each girl. He didn’t bother taking one for himself. He had other things on his mind.
His first thought was to find Lily. Where was she? He’d escorted Meggie and Evie from room to room—Farthingales everywhere—but no Lily. He finally spied Lily’s twin standing beside the French doors leading out onto Eloise’s terrace. He frowned. She was wearing spectacles, which meant she was trying to cover up Lily’s absence.
Since his sister and Evie were engaged in conversation with other guests who seemed quite friendly, Ewan left their side and made his way toward Dillie. “Where is she?” he asked, more annoyed with himself for the disappointment he felt at Lily’s absence.
“Home. She didn’t wish to see you.”
He arched an eyebrow in surprise. It was one thing for him to decide not to see Lily, which was not at all what he’d decided. He’d merely decided not to marry her. Quite another thing for her to decide not to see him. “Why not?”
Dillie frowned at him. “I’m not at liberty to tell you. However, if you gave it a moment’s thought, you might figure it out on your own.”
Bollix. He would never understand women. “Have I done something to offend her?” He glanced at Evangeline, wondering whether bringing his cousin to Eloise’s gathering had displeased her. Not that he would blame Lily for resenting Evangeline. She and her brother hadn’t been nice to her.
“It isn’t about Evangeline,” Dillie said, following his gaze and understanding the path of his thoughts. “She’ll be pleased when I tell her that you escorted her to the party. She was hoping you’d reconcile. How is it going?”
“It’s a first step.” If that wasn’t the cause of Lily’s disappointment, then what was? “Will you give me a clue?”
“No. I’m sworn to twin secrecy.”
“Then I’ll have to get it out of her, won’t I?”
She shot him a grin. “I was hoping you would. Do you plan to confront her now?”
He nodded. “It’s as good a time as any.”
“I suggest you make your way through the garden to avoid the crowd. Hop over the brick wall. That’s what we often do. Lily’s likely to be in the parlor playing marbles with Charles and Harry. Our butler, Pruitt, will let you in. He likes you.”
Ewan arched an eyebrow in surprise. “He doesn’t know me that well.”
“You’ve come to our home once or twice. Anyway, Lily’s told him all about you. Though I’m still sworn to secrecy, I can say that Pruitt likes what he’s heard about you.”
Great, just what he needed. A snooping butler.
He slipped out of the salon, into the garden, and over the wall with ease. He landed in the Farthingale�
��s side garden and immediately realized their parlor overlooked it. Conveniently, there were two large windows dominating the room. It would have been easy to creep to one of those windows and peer in, but he didn’t wish to frighten the children if they were still playing in there.
Instead, he avoided the windows and went around to the front. He didn’t have long to wait before Pruitt opened the door to let him in.
The thin, gray-haired man with kindly eyes cracked the tiniest smile, so small one might not have noticed it unless carefully watching. “You’ve caused quite a stir, m’lord. Miss Lily’s in the parlor. Tread carefully,” he said, and Ewan wasn’t certain if the warning was for the marbles likely littering the floor, or for Lily’s heart.
Probably both.
The sconces were brightly lit, allowing him to easily make out the contents of the elegant room. Blue silk fabric covered the chairs and settees that stood upon a carpet of Oriental design. Blue silk drapes were drawn back to frame the windows. The soft blue matched the color of Lily’s eyes.
At first he saw no one, but then noticed Lily’s dark curls bobbing just above the back support of the settee that faced the large fireplace. He heard her sweet voice as she read a story to her young cousins, just finishing it as he entered. “Lily,” he said quietly, not wishing to disturb her or the boys who were nestled beside her and appeared to have fallen asleep on her lap.
She gasped, and then gently shifted the boys so she could rise to face him. “What are you doing here? You startled me.” She wore a casual, tea rose gown and her hair was loosely drawn back with a matching ribbon of tea rose velvet. Her dark hair fell below her waist and the ends curled becomingly about her slender hips. She wasn’t wearing her spectacles since her twin had them.
His breath caught at the sparkling beauty of her blue eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”
She glanced toward the windows. “Was that you I saw watching me from the garden earlier? Why didn’t you come in sooner? You startled me,” she repeated, as though she had been quite spooked by a face in the window. Except he hadn’t gone close to the window. His shadow must have swept across it.
“Sorry, lass. Truly, it wasn’t my intent to frighten you. Your sister suggested I hop over the wall, so I did.”
She frowned. “What else did she say?”
“Nothing. You’ve sworn her to that sacred, double secret oath that applies between twins, though I don’t know what secret is so important that it must be kept from me. Have I offended you in any way?”
“No. You’ve been wonderful.” She forced a smile, and his heart tightened at the pain so obviously reflected in her eyes. “You look wonderful, too. Quite fashionable in your very proper evening clothes.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Every bit the London dandy.”
“Not at all.” She moved a little closer. “The black jacket emphasizes your broad shoulders, and the cut of it perfectly tapers at your waist. You’ve cut your hair and shaved off your beard, but you still have the bold look of a Highlander. Stubborn. Defiant. Proud.”
“Stubborn to a fault,” he admitted.
She glanced at the angelic, sleeping boys before turning back to him. “We all have a little bit of that in my family. Stubborn, impulsive, and a host of other faults, but none so terrible as to cause any serious rift among our loved ones. I had better take the boys upstairs to bed. Well, thank you for stopping by. I’m sure you’ll be missed at the party. Simply everyone is bound to be there.”
“I won’t be dismissed quite that easily, lass. Besides, you can’t carry them up on your own. Where are their nannies?”
“Two quit this morning. It happens fairly often in this upside-down household. Only one remains, though we’ll hire more tomorrow. In the meantime, the lone surviving nanny is exhausted and roundly snoring in her bed. I don’t have the heart to wake her.”
He made up the remaining distance between them. “I’ll take the boys.” He lifted the oldest child into his arms first, settled him over one shoulder, and then scooped up little Harry in his free arm and rested his pink-cheeked face on his other shoulder. They were so small and trusting, not even stirring as he picked them up. Harry’s pudgy fingers curled on the lapel of his evening jacket, and though he merely tugged at the lapel, Ewan also felt a sweet tug at his heart.
This is how it could be with his own children. Someday. “Where to?”
She cast him the softest smile, but the pain reflected in her eyes seemed to intensify. “Three flights up. Can you manage?”
“They weigh no more than feathers. Show me the way.”
Lily walked ahead of him, her hips lightly swaying as she climbed the stairs. He liked the view, but her tense silence bothered him. She wasn’t angry, but he sensed that she was deeply hurt and determined to hide it. What had he done to cause her this anguish?
He deposited the boys in their beds, his gaze lingering on Lily as she tucked them in and kissed each on the forehead. “Love you,” she whispered.
The girl had so much love inside her. She’d make a wonderful mother someday, tender and protective of her children. He wanted her to whisper those words to him—love you—but he knew it would raise a host of other problems. He’d be leaving England in two months. Why start something that could only end badly? She’d be miserable in the Highlands, so far away from her family.
As soon as the boys were settled, Lily hurried out of the room ahead of him. He stopped her halfway down the first flight of stairs. Obviously wary of him, she edged back against the wall. Her breaths were uneven and he noticed the slight heave of her perfect breasts with each intake of air. Her gaze remained on him, questioning his reason for being here. Questioning his reason for stopping her on the steps. Questioning the hunger in his eyes.
He placed his hands on each side of her shoulders, neatly trapping her against the wall. They needed to talk. Just talk. He wanted to ask so many things about her. First and foremost, why did she wish to avoid him?
“Oh, hell,” he said instead, lifting her into his arms and crushing his mouth to her generous lips. Passion and frustration had built within him for weeks, sensations he was unable to control when it came to Lily. He didn’t want to kiss her. More precisely, he desperately wanted to kiss her, but knew he shouldn’t. So what the hell was he doing with his tongue sliding across her teeth, possessively delving inside her velvet-warm mouth?
He tried to gentle the kiss.
She clutched his lapels and drew him closer, tilted her face upward to give him better access to her warm, lightly parted lips. She didn’t want gentle.
She wanted him. She wanted him hungry for her.
A good thing. He couldn’t manage gentle just now, not while he held her glorious body in his arms. Not while his own body ignited in flames at her mere touch. Hell, his body blazed hot at the mere thought of the girl. He was worse than Jasper.
She arched into him, drawing him over the edge as her breasts came in contact with his chest and her taut nipples teased against his body. He wasn’t just on fire. He was wild, out of control, walls-of-Jericho-toppling ablaze. All cannons firing ablaze. He wanted to strip her out of her confining clothes, touch her warm, silken skin, lick the molten core between her thighs and taste its flowing nectar. He wanted skin to skin contact. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to ignore his intense need for her, pretend she didn’t matter.
He wanted answers. He wanted her.
“Ewan, I can’t bear it,” she whispered against his deepening kiss. “You have to let me go. You’re with Callie.”
“Never.”
He felt a tear stream down her cheek. Her hands, no longer pinned by his, slipped upward to circle his neck. “What do you mean by ‘never’? That you’ll never let me go? That you’ll never be with Callie? Because it seems to me you’ve made your decision, told your grandfather and the entire world quite clearly that you’ll never take an English wife. Not that I even want you to want me. I don’t. We’re friends, nothing more.”
S
o that was it? She was jealous of Callie? “Lily—”
“No. I have work to do. Lots of research work.”
“You’ve finished your monograph on the structure of baboon colonies. Swampland baboons, to be precise. I’ve read it. Thought it was brilliant.”
“You have? I thought your grandfather burned it.”
“He didn’t.” Ewan kissed her again, loving the sweet eagerness with which she kissed him back.
She broke away with a slight moan. “I’m helping Ashton with his Madagascar lemurs. He’s desperate. He can’t finish it without me and doesn’t dare let your grandfather know. I promised to help him out. Go back to your party. Callie must be wondering where you are.”
“You’re doing this for Ashton?” He frowned. “Your family forbade you to work on the report. The Royal Society won’t publish it if they suspect you wrote it.”
“Are you through listing all the reasons why I hate my life at this moment?”
“Lily—”
“I was fine until you came along. I need you to go away. Forever.”
He’d been thinking the same, but hearing it from her was like a kick in the teeth. She was right. Neither one of them wanted the involvement. Why couldn’t he leave it at that and walk away? “Put on one of your pretty silk gowns. Come to Eloise’s party.”
“So your Scottish sweetheart can make fun of me in Gaelic?”
“She won’t make fun of you. I won’t allow it.”
“How thoughtful of you.” Her tone was laced with sarcasm. “I look forward to the announcement of your betrothal. You deserve each other. Your grandfather will be apoplectic. That should delight you.” She darted under his arms and hurried downstairs to the front door, where Pruitt was standing, trying to mind his own business and at the moment obviously wishing he were anyplace but by the door.