by Monica Burns
“No, you don’t understand.” Her voice softened and echoed with either guilt or embarrassment. He couldn’t tell which. “I liked it—very much. I wanted…”
Her admission took his breath away as he saw the pink color rising in her cheeks. It gave her the appearance of a young debutante before she turned her head toward him. The desire flaring in her eyes was a punch to his gut. Instantly his body cried out for her, but he knew bedding her was the worst thing he could do to her. Even if she didn’t care that he lacked an arm or eye, no woman should ever be saddle with a man who was less than whole.
“Louisa, I’m—”
“Oh, please don’t. You must think me a wanton hussy for acting as I did.”
“No.” He came to an abrupt halt and stopped her as well. “I don’t think that. What I think is that it’s been a long time since you’ve been kissed.”
An odd expression crossed her face as she met his gaze steadily. She appeared to be struggling with a dilemma of some sort. Whatever it was, she shook her head as if she had chosen not to pursue it. Not too far away, the boys were shouting jubilantly, and she glanced in the direction of the noise before looking at him again.
“It sounds as if they’ve found our Christmas tree.” A small smile curved her mouth as she lightly touched his arm. “Shall we?”
The moment her lips curved upward, he realized he would find it impossible to resist her smile if she were to use it to her advantage.
§ § §
Ewan leaned forward with a grunt and pressed his weight against the tall fir tree they’d brought back from the forest. The tree was much larger than Louisa had suggested, but he and the boys had overridden her when she’d pointed out a much smaller tree. At this precise moment he was regretting the fact.
The soft wool cloth protecting his skin against the leather cup of his artificial limb had shifted and become useless. Retrieving Louisa’s hat had been the first offense to the stump of his arm. The workout he’d performed in transporting and raising the tree in the keep had only exacerbated his discomfort.
Vanity was another part of the problem. Unwilling to let Louisa see any sign of weakness on his part, he’d stubbornly refused to seek out a quiet place to adjust the damn piece of cloth. Despite the painful burning of leather against raw flesh, it was easy to dismiss the pain when he saw the excitement in the boys.
Ross in particular was showing an exhilaration he’d never seen in the boy before. Earlier when he’d shown the boys how to cut down the tree using the two-handed saw, Ross had worked opposite him with great concentration. When the tree had fallen, the boy’s smile had served to emphasize Ewan’s decision to take a greater interest in the child had been the right one. He should have remembered his own miserable childhood much sooner and how much a kind word meant.
“Would you like help, Father.” The quiet words made Ewan look down to see Ross staring up at him with a hopeful expression on his solemn features. With a nod, he shuffled his feet back slightly to form a small arch and jerked his head in a downward motion
“Slide in here, and reach through the branches until you reach the trunk so you can hold it steady.” The boy did as he instructed, while Louisa’s children carried in two buckets of rocks Finn had gathered earlier.
On the floor beneath him, McCallum kept his head under the tree, blindly stretching his arm out to accept the buckets. The noisy clatter of stone against stone sailed upward as the Scotsman poured the rock into the small barrel they were using as a stand for the tree.
“I think this is the last one we’ll need, laddie,” McCallum said as Charlie’s pail of rocks disappeared beneath the branches.
Another noisy clatter echoed up through the tree branches, and Ewan heard McCallum release a satisfied sound. A moment later the Scotsman carefully rolled out from under the tree.
“It should be sturdy now, my lord.” At the family retainer’s words, Ewan nodded and looked down at the boy leaning into the tree.
“Ross, you can let go now.”
At his instructions, the boy carefully slid out from between Ewan and the tree. With the child out of the way, Ewan slowly eased his grip on the tree and stepped back to stare at their afternoon’s handiwork. It was the first time he’d ever seen a tree in the Keep, and he enjoyed the sight.
“That tree should never have been brought into this house.”
The harsh words spilled out into the air behind him. As always a familiar tension tightened his body whenever he heard his mother’s voice. In his youth, it had represented fear and painful rejection. As an adult, the dowager’s vitriol had evolved into nothing more than irritation. Ewan turned to face his mother who was glaring at him with disgust.
“Exactly what troubles you about the tree, Mother?”
“You know full well, celebration of the holiday was outlawed years ago.”
“I also know the ban was done away with not too long ago.” Ewan arched his eyebrows in scorn at her protest. “Pray tell, to what exactly do we owe the honor of your presence?”
“I came to inform you that Bryce is coming for dinner.” The startling announcement made Ewan stare at the dowager countess in amazement. It had been a long time since he’d seen his mother's nephew, and while he liked Bryce, he had no desire to entertain anyone, now or in the future.
“When?”
“Tonight.” The dowager smiled with pernicious glee the moment he jerked in surprise. “I saw him in the village today. He said you’ve been a hermit, and I agreed with him. Naturally, I’d be remiss in my duty as your mother not to remedy the situation.”
“If only you’d conducted yourself so diligently over the years,” he bit out between clenched teeth. “And I’d hardly call myself a hermit, I’ve been busy with estate business for the past year."
"And here I was thinking McCallum was the one attending to your affairs. You never were very good at running the estate.”
The cold, disparaging remark made Ewan wonder why he’d ever come home in the first place. When he’d returned from the Sudan, he’d chosen to avoid the dowager’s company as much as possible. As a child his mother’s antipathy for him had been painfully obvious.
Although his aunt had attempted to shield him whenever she could, she’d failed on almost every occasion. For whatever reason, Wallis had never been capable of defying her sister. He’d never understood his aunt’s submissive behavior or why his mother disliked him so vehemently. Now he no longer cared.
“Since you were the one who decided to invite Bryce for dinner, you will have the honor of hosting him alone this evening. I’ll not be present.”
“As you wish, but I’ll not be alone in welcoming Bryce,” she murmured as a smug smile tilted her lips. “I saw Mrs. Morehouse in the hallway a moment ago, and although startled by my invitation, she graciously agreed to join us for dinner.”
“Whatever game you’re playing, Mother, I’m warning you not to use Lou—Mrs. Morehouse as one of your pawns,” he said with suppressed fury.
“You’re now on a first name basis with the woman?” The dowager arched her eyebrows at him in mock surprise.
At that moment, Louisa walked into the main hall, her arms overflowing with a basket filled with paper, ribbon, and an assortment of nuts and berries. The moment she came into view, the dowager glanced at Louisa then back to him.
“You’re blind to what’s happening in this household, Ewan. Mrs. Morehouse has done nothing but cause upheaval in Argaty Keep since she arrived.” She narrowed her gaze at him and lowered her voice. “You know how difficult Gilbert can be when there’s too much commotion in the house, and her children have a terrible habit of nosing about where they shouldn’t.”
“My brother is always difficult, my lady.”
Ewan kept his voice low as he glanced in Louisa’s direction, hoping she couldn’t hear their conversation. When he focused his gaze on his mother, the dowager countess narrowed her eyes at him, and a venomous smile curved her mouth.
“You think
I don’t see the way you look at her?” She raised her voice slightly, and Ewan stiffened. “You’re a fool, boy. There’s a reason you had all the mirrors in the house removed or covered. You know what everyone thinks when they look at you.”
“I don’t care what others think.”
“Others perhaps, but you care what she thinks.” His mother directed a condescending nod toward Louisa, and he clenched his jaw with anger.
“I see Gilbert isn’t the only one in the household whose faculties are failing, my lady,” he snarled.
“I agree. Your delusion as to Mrs. Morehouse seeing you as anything other than a beast would be laughable it if it weren’t so pitiful.”
“Your taste for trying to draw blood with that sharp tongue of yours hasn’t softened with age, mother.” Ewan eyed her with contempt as her words drew more blood than he was willing to admit. “I can only imagine what a hellish existence my father led being married to you.”
“Don’t you ever mention your father to me again,” she snapped as a mask of hatred and loathing settled on her features. “Ever.”
Despite his anger, her vicious reaction startled him. Only once or twice over the years had she mentioned his father to him. Those instances had illustrated her loathing for the previous Earl of Argaty. But it was the flash of humiliation Ewan saw on her face that confused him. It was the first time he could ever remember seeing such a look on his mother's face when his father was mentioned. Before he had a chance to respond, she pinned her cold gaze on him.
“Dinner will be at eight if you choose to join us. Although I’m certain Mrs. Morehouse’s presence will ease any disappointment Bryce might experience at your absence.”
Without waiting for a response, the dowager countess turned and crossed the floor to ascend the stairs. Ewan stared after her with intense bitterness. In the past, he’d always been able to cast his mother’s aspersions aside. Today was different. Today she’d dragged Louisa into their vitriolic relationship.
Ewan turned around to see Louisa and the children sitting on the floor in front of the fire where she was helping them create decorations for the tree. It made for a happy scene. Never in his life had he ever thought to see such a pleasant sight in the Keep’s main hall. As if aware he was watching them, Louisa looked up and smiled at him. If she’d overheard anything of his argument with his mother, there was nothing in her expression to reveal it. Ewan crossed the floor and went down on one knee beside her. As she met his gaze, he arched his eyebrow in amusement.
“I believe there’s a table in the dining hall,” he said with more than a touch of irony.
“Yes, but it wouldn’t be as much fun. Besides the tree smells so wonderful.”
Her laughter stirred an unexpected sensation inside Ewan as she leaned forward to help Wills who was struggling with a paper chain. Ross was busy threading a second strand of holly berries with a needle. The first strand the boy had threaded had been used to make a small circular ornament. Ross stopped what he was doing and grinned at him.
“Here Father, sit beside me. I have another needle you can use to thread these currants and gooseberries.”
The invitation made Ewan stiffen, but he forced himself to sink down onto the cold stone next to the boy then accept the needle and thread Ross offered him. As he reached for one of the currants, he glanced at Louisa. A smile of satisfaction curved her sweet mouth, and he instinctively knew she was pleased to see him taking an interest in the boy. Still looking at her, Ewan accidentally jabbed his thumb with the needle. His grunt of pain was quickly followed by an oath of disgust at his clumsiness. It earned him a glare of disapproval from Louisa, while the boys shouted with laughter. He grimaced and held up his injured thumb to her.
“The needle is sharp.”
“Then perhaps you should watch what you’re doing.” The laughter shining in Louisa's eyes reminded him of the bright sunlight spreading its way across the moor on a warm afternoon.
“Tis hard tae see a wee object when I’m blinded by the sun, lass.” Deliberately allowing his voice to soften to a thick brogue, he grinned as her cheeks darkened to a bright pink.
“What sun?” Puzzlement on his face, Louisa’s youngest shook his head as if Ewan were addlebrained then looking in his mother’s direction he tilted his head slightly. “Mama, your cheeks are red.”
“Wills is right, Mrs. Morehouse. Your cheeks are bright red.”
“Are they?” Louisa flushed even deeper as the paper she was holding slipped from her fingers, and her hands flew upward to cup her cheeks. “It must be the heat from the fire.”
“You used to look like that when Papa would compliment you,” Charles laughed.
As if the sun had suddenly been hidden by dark clouds, Louisa’s face took on a stricken expression. It aroused an acute protective instinct he’d not experienced since the day he’d thrown himself between Asadi and a Mahdist fighter at Omdurman. Without hesitating, he leaned over to block Charles’s view and picked up a large paper star the boy had made.
“This is a fine star, lad. Why don’t we begin adding all of these decorations to the tree.”
A chorus of enthusiastic cries of agreement met his suggestion. Needing no further prompting the boys scrambled to their feet and carefully carried their decorations to the tree. Ewan stood up and offered his good hand to Louisa. As he pulled her to her feet, the heat of her filled the small space between them. Her color had returned, but the pain of her grief had changed her hazel eyes to dark green.
She was still grieving for her husband. The realization was an invisible punch to his gut followed by the sharp sting of jealousy knowing she might never be willing to marry again. The instant the thought crashed through his head, Ewan dropped her hand as if it was a hot piece of metal. Surprise crossed her face as her gaze met his. Desperate to conceal any trace of his laughable wish, he cleared his throat.
“We should join the boys.” The warmth of her hand penetrated the sleeve of his jacket as she stopped him. It was a heat he ached to be engulfed by and hold forever. He crushed the thought with a vicious, mental blow.
“Thank you for shielding them. They were both so young when Devin died in a fire almost three years ago. Wills doesn’t like seeing me sad, but Charlie…” She peered around his shoulder to look at the children behind him before she met his gaze again. “It upsets Charlie deeply when he knows one of his innocent remarks has upset me. At least his guilt is short-lived unlike mine.”
“The lad’s guilt is understandable, but why should you feel guilty for your sorrow?”
“Because I said things to Devin—terrible things. But it’s—” A look of dismay darkened her features as she brought her explanation to an abrupt halt. Without thinking, he cupped her cheek.
“You’re quick to anger and stubborn as an ox, Louisa, but you wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s a kind and gentle heart. I find it difficult to believe anyone, even your husband, would be unwilling to forgive you for words spoken in anger.”
Louisa’s eyes closed as her hand covered his, and she turned her head slightly to press her face deeper into his palm. The gesture lodged a knot of emotion in his throat as he realized just how much he wanted to be the one she always turned to for comfort. The thought made him pull in a sharp breath as he struggled not to pull her into his arms. At the soft sound, she jerked away from him and flinched.
“I’m sorry, I should not have—”
“Don’t, mo leannan,” he rasped. “Whether it’s simply to comfort you or taste the heat of your mouth, my will power is being sorely tested where you’re concerned.”
“It would be…a lie…if I denied the way you…make me feel when you—”
“Mama, are you and Lord Argaty going to help?” Wills asked from across the room.
“Yes, my darling.”
Eyes wide in her face, Louisa took a slow step back from him. With her gaze locked with his, the air in his lungs disappeared. She'd just acknowledged for a second time today the attraction be
tween them. Just as she had earlier when she’d admitted enjoying his kiss, she appeared embarrassed by her boldness.
A look of chagrin briefly flitted across her sweet features, before she tipped her chin upward in a mutinous display of confidence. Head held high, she skirted him to join the boys at the tree. As she walked away, his gaze followed her. Something told him, Louisa Morehouse had just declared war on his senses. It was a war he’d easily lose if he didn’t find a way to keep the woman out of his bed, and most definitely out of his heart.
Chapter 11
“It’s true, every word.”
Bryce Cowan said with a mischievous smile. Seated on Louisa’s right, he leaned forward to look at his cousin seated on Louisa’s left at the head of the table. The scowl on Ewan’s features only served as incentive for Bryce to finish his story with a polished flair. It was impossible not to laugh at his description of McCallum holding Ewan upside down threatening to drop him into the burn for a prank.
“Although I’ve only known McCallum a short time, I have no doubt as to the veracity of your story, Mr. Cowan,” Louisa laughed as she turned her head to smile at Ewan.
“Your skill at story-telling has improved since we saw each other last, cousin,” Ewan growled irritably.
“And you’ve become quite ill-tempered.” Bryce reached for his wine glass and eyed his cousin with curiosity. “I imagine Ethan and Iain would agree with me.”
Louisa looked across the table at the Ethan MacLean and Iain Drummond who had arrived unexpectedly on the doorstep with Ewan’s cousin. For whatever reason, Lady Argaty had been blatantly gleeful when her son had walked into the salon before dinner. A dark scowl of displeasure had quickly replaced his surprise as he’d greeted the three men. The scornful delight on the Countess’s face had only darkened Ewan’s features that much more.
The open dislike between mother and son had either gone unnoticed by the dinner guests or they’d politely not acknowledged it. All three men had greeted Ewan with enthusiastic pleasure, but confusion had clouded their features at the abrupt welcome they’d received in return.