Courting the Scot

by Jane Charles

  If he had never issued the challenge that she court him, he would not be in this predicament now, and why in the blazes had he told anyone? It wasn’t as if he thought the possibility might actually occur. It had been in jest, mostly, to make her realize he’d not wait forever. What the blazes was he supposed to do now since she clearly had no intention of courting him?

  Of course, there was the possibility that it wasn’t just pride that stood in her way, as he had assumed at first, but that she really didn’t wish for a courtship between them. That was what stung, and he had half a mind to return to London, finish out the Season and try to forget about her.

  Except, he wasn’t so certain he could forget. Davina’s touch, lips, skin and the weight of her breast were as clear in his mind as if she were with him at that very moment. And, even if he did succeed in banishing her from memory, he’d eventually need to return home and be reminded of her once again.

  The narrow path took him past trees and small bushes before he emerged onto what he believed was the fifth hole of their golf course. It was so quiet and peaceful out here that he wished he had clubs. Maybe swinging at a ball would help release some of his pent-up energy.

  As he neared the sixth hole, he paused. Who was golfing? When he caught her profile, Ian’s pulse picked up and his blood warmed at the sight. He should remain true to his resolve and not see or speak with her, but it was impossible to turn away, especially when he realized she was wearing breeches!

  Bloody hell!

  The linen shirt fell to her thighs but each time the wind picked up, the tail of her shirt blew up revealing her very fine bottom. Davina’s back was to him and he suspected she had no idea he was there, so he slid from his horse and approached quietly, biting back a groan when she wiggled her bum as she took her stance before the ball. With a tilt and slight pivot, she raised the club then swung, making contact with the ball and sending it flying down the green. While she watched the ball, Ian watched her.

  Damn and blast, he had imagined she had a fine form beneath her skirts, but Ian hadn’t realized just how fine. Desire filled his body and his cock swelled, not that anything could be done for what he suspected would become a painful condition.

  Davina dropped her club into a bag and then lifted it before walking to where her ball had landed. Ian followed, admiring the swing of her backside, wishing he could pull her to him and explore all of those delicious curves.

  Chapter 26

  Davina stopped before the ball and then checked the distance to the hole. Just as she took her stance, an arm slipped around her waist. Her heart skipped as her body tingled at the awareness of Ian.

  “Does yer Uncle Aiden ken ye are dressed like this, lass?”

  “Nay.” Her voice was breathier than she’d prefer.

  Ian pressed against her bottom and heat pooled in her nether regions, as it often did when Ian touched or kissed her. However, this was different as she’d never felt his rigid male part against her before. Her breasts swelled and became heavy as her nipples tightened beneath her linen shirt. His presence and touch created the strangest and most pleasant sensations.

  At the touch of his lips on her neck, Davina could no longer hold on to the club.

  His hands slipped under her shirt and his fingers grazed across her stomach before sliding further, burning her bare skin right above her breeches. As much as she tried to control her breathing, it became labored as his hands caressed her sides, slowly inching their way toward her aching breasts. He continued to find the most sensitive areas of her neck and Davina arched back against him, but his hands stopped just short of her breasts and he pulled away. “I missed ye, lass.”

  Davina didn’t even attempt to suppress the shiver his warm breath against her sensitive flesh produced.

  “Aye. I’ve missed ye.”

  At that, Ian’s hands fell away and he turned her toward him. “If ye missed me, why haven’t ye called on me?”

  Davina stiffened at his words and she took a step back. “I willna court ye, Ian.”

  He pulled her back to him, his hands going beneath her shirt again, his fingers now burning her back.

  He didn’t argue, but instead kissed her. Gently and lovingly, a passion simmering just below the surface. Then he pressed forward and she clung to him as tightly as he was holding her. Goodness, these breeches allowed her to feel parts of him that she’d not been able to when dressed in full skirts. As he pressed against the apex of her thighs, an aching need developed and she grew warm. She wanted to wrap her legs around his hips only to bring them closer.

  “If ye’d court me, we could enjoy these encounters more often.”

  Davina let his words sink in. Oh, she always knew he was a rake, or at least he used to be, and he had quickly reverted to his old ways.

  “Oh, ye are wicked,” she said with a huff as she pushed away. “Ye will no’ seduce me into courtin’ ye.”

  It wasn’t that she didn’t wish to be courted, kissed, and aye, even seduced if they were married, but she would not lower herself to chase him, and no amount of caresses could change her mind.

  Ian’s eyes darkened and there was a subtle shift in his smile.

  “Would ye like to ken how wicked I can be?”

  Goodness, what did he mean by that and did she really wish to know? “Uncle Aiden gave ye leave to court me and this is the first I’ve seen ye.” She fisted her hands on her hips, determined not to let him sway her with words or touch.

  “Aye, but he also willna give me permission for more until I prove that I can manage ye.”

  Irritation spiked and Davina narrowed her eyes on Ian. “I doona need to be managed.”

  He remained unfazed. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”

  Davina’s mouth popped open. How dare he?

  “Regardless, I issued a challenge to ye to court me and if I back down now, which I willna, yer uncle will never believe that I can control ye.”

  “Control?” Davina took a step forward, her index finger poking at his chest. “I’ll have ye ken, Ian Grant, no man will control or manage me.”

  This was not going well, but Ian was determined to stand his ground. He reached out and pulled her close once again. Words would never work with Davina, and seduction had served him well in the past. “If ye but give in, we can enjoy so much more.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. “What if I doona want more.”

  Oh, she wanted more, of that Ian was certain. He’d just begun giving her a hint of what was to come. “I want ye, lass.”

  “For what?”

  “As my wife, my mate.” Ian gently caressed her cheek. Davina was much like a filly being brought to saddle and reins for the first time. With the right words and touch, eventually she’d allow him to ride her.

  Ian nearly groaned at his own analogy, but it was accurate and soon, hopefully, they would ride.

  “Ye are beautiful and desirable, Davina. My heart beats for ye, and I’ve a longin’ for ye like I’ve never experienced before.”

  “I willna let yer honeyed words, sweet touch and tempting lips sway me, Ian Grant. Ye are a rake and yer talents and charm willna change my mind.”

  Talents? He could not help but smile at her description. “Aye, many talents, lass. Ones I long to share with ye once ye’re mine.”

  “Then court me properly and I may let ye share yer talents.”

  “Nay.” He slid his hands down her back and cupped her perfect bum and pulled her against him. If he got any harder, his breeches might tear, but Davina needed to feel what he wanted, needed, and what they could share together. It wasn’t just intimacy that he wished to share with her, but everything that he was and who she was, and to settle into a life together. But to get there, he would use everything he had to get to her concede. “I must stand my ground to win yer uncle’s approval.”

  In a blink, her eyes narrowed and her hands came against his chest, pushing him away with a force unexpected by someone so slight.

  “Then go court
my uncle.”

  “As he is taken, it is unlikely he would accept my suit.” Ian grinned at her.

  “Then find someone else who will court ye because I willna.”

  Her words stopped him and a chill ran through him. Did she really wish he were courting, or being courted, by someone else? “Have ye been toyin’ with my affections, after all, Davina?”

  She looked down and kicked her toe in the dirt. “Nay.”

  Relief replaced the fear he had momentarily experienced.

  “Then ye must prove to me that ye arena.”

  She frowned and looked up at him. “If I doona court ye, ye will not think my heart is true?”

  “Aye.”

  “Do ye think I’d let ye kiss me if I dinna care?” she demanded. “Do ye think I go around, actin’ like a rake, kissin’ and caressin’, and moving on?”

  “Nay.” He took a step back. How the blazes did she turn this on him?

  “I am not ye, Ian Grant. When I make up my mind that I want someone, I stand my ground. I doona go sniffin’ around skirts in London for years like ye.” She stepped forward and started poking him in the chest again. “Ye ken I want ye, but I willna court ye.”

  He grabbed her hand and flattened it against his chest. She was stubborn, but so was he. The grander prize was winning her, which he would never do if Aiden didn’t believe he could manage her. “Then, as ye stated when I first kissed ye, we are at an impasse.” He took a step back and bowed. “I will wait fer ye, but not for long, Davina. It is up to ye to court me, or we willna court at all.”

  She gasped. “Ye are serious?”

  “Aye.” With that he turned and strode back to his horse and grabbed the reins. He would mount it and ride off, making his point clear, but given his physical condition--which he often suffered from when Davina was near--it was impossible to ride his horse with any comfort. Instead, he led it to the trail through the woods. And, as much as he wished to look back to see if she watched or was coming after him, Ian did not. He must stand his ground.

  Blast, he was headed back to Annagburn Manor, not home. Well, his leaving would lose all the impact he intended if he turned around now. Besides, Aiden was probably in the distillery and a glass of whisky, or two, or three, was exactly what he needed right now.

  Chapter 27

  Davina grabbed her golf club off the ground and blew out a frustrated breath as she glanced out over the MacGregor lands and into the valley.

  An impasse once again, but this time it was harder to remain true to her resolve. Last time Ian had to prove himself, and while that was difficult to do with her body heated from his kiss, it was nothing compared to the aching need from deep inside, the warmth and tingles at the memory of his lips on her neck and fingers against the sensitive skin beneath her shirt. Oh, and the way he pressed against her and sent an onslaught of unfamiliar and delicious sensations through her body. While her mind insisted that she stand her ground, her body wanted to be free of its clothing and was anxious to learn all about Ian’s wicked ways and surrender completely. Had he caressed and kissed her even a moment longer, she might have given in and agreed to court the rake.

  Blast! Why was he being so difficult?

  “It just isna righ’ that a lass chase after a lad.” Not that Ian was a lad. Nay, he was a man, fully grown, handsome, strong and so very desirable. And, she most certainly wanted to know what he meant by being wicked. She knew he meant more than kissing and the caressing, but she wasn’t sure if anything more was involved than the mating. Not that she had experience, of course, but she thought she understood what was involved. And yet, Ian’s speaking of wickedness made her wonder if there wasn’t much more than she realized.

  Goodness, it was warm today. The temperatures had been quite pleasant until Ian arrived.

  Maybe she should give in and court him just so they could move forward. She did wish to know what wickedness was, and if it was anything like what she’d already experienced in his arms, then she’d certainly enjoy losing.

  With that, she gasped.

  “Oh, Ian Grant, ye are a rake. A rogue of the first order.” It’s no wonder he left broken hearts in his wake from London to home. Any lass, less aware than Davina, would fall for his honeyed words, heated caresses and would do what he asked, but she would not be one of them. Yet, she understood completely how they’d all succumbed to desire.

  Movement in the distance caught her attention and Davina rose on her toes and shielded her eyes from the sun by bringing up her hand. Two men were on the road to Annagburn. Who were they? Hadn’t Lachlan and the Trent brothers arrived? She’d assumed they had come with Ian.

  The moment she noted the dark blue coat she stiffened. “Hamish Acheson, that rat gauger.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Davina turned and ran toward the distillery. Uncle Aiden was showing the Trents the stills and needed to be warned.

  “Ian!” she cried as he saw him on the path ahead.

  He stopped and turned, a smile slowly forming, as if he thought she was coming for him.

  “The exciseman!”

  His smile slipped.

  “Acheson’s on his way to Annagburn with someone else. Ye got to warn Uncle Aiden.”

  “Why can’t ye?” he countered.

  Davina stepped back and gestured to her clothing. “Nobody can see me like this.”

  He studied her and then nodded. “I’ll warn them, but ye get some decent clothes on. I want no other man seein’ ye this way.”

  Much to his physical discomfort, Ian mounted the horse and rode off to the distillery. There hadn’t been gaugers in the area in some time since they usually traveled the border or worked in the ports searching ships. He’d grown rather lax in hiding their illegal activities at Grant Manor and Ian assumed the MacGregors had as well. Last time he was in the distillery, the entrance to the secret tunnels had been left open, and if Aiden was showing the Trents around down there, it was unlikely he’d closed it behind him.

  Arabella was running to the distillery just as he rode up.

  “The excisemen are on their way,” she announced breathlessly.

  He hopped from his horse. “I ken. How did ye ken?”

  “I saw them from the nursery windows.”

  “Ye’d better warn Aiden.”

  “No time.” She rushed for the door. “He’s by the stables with the Trents. I want to make sure he shut everythin’ up.”

  Ian hurried after her and into the small distillery where the MacGregors made just enough whisky for family and to sell legally. Just as he feared, the entrance to the underground tunnel that led to the larger distillery had been left open.

  “Help me!” Arabella cried.

  The opening was barely the size of a man with a set of stairs that led to the tunnels beneath Annagburn, and when closed was unnoticeable, as shelves bordered the right side of the entrance and to the left were the stacks of small barrels, filled with whisky that had been aged over different amounts of time in an experiment to determine the perfect length of time for the best whisky. There were also a few barrels that Aiden used to fill the decanters in his home. Ian had similar barrels at Grant Manor, out in the open but as none of it was being sold, it was an acceptable amount to have, depending on the gauger.

  The door to the entrance was thick, however, so as to blend in better with the wall and not alert the authorities to the entrance if they happened to knock on it, which had been done in the past when the excisemen were determined to find any evidence of whisky production.

  Ian and Arabella pushed on the door until it was sealed, flush with the wall.

  “Wait!” she cried.

  “What?”

  “My skirt.” She tugged but it was stuck in crack of the door. Ian bent to reach around her to pull it out, but it wouldn’t budge.

  At the sound of horses, Ian glanced out the window to find Acheson dismounting.

  “Hurry!”

  “It willna come out.” He didn’t have enough time to open th
e door again. Not when Acheson could walk inside at any minute.

  “I canna be stuck here.”

  Ian shifted and reached around Arabella to try and yank the material free. It was highly improper for him to be so close to Arabella, practically pressed against her and his arms around her hips as he tried to dislodge the skirt, but it was better than Aiden getting arrested.

  You’d think the man would have better care for his neck after the recent risk he took.

  The skirt would not give.

  He gave it another rough tug, which caused the skirt to tear. “Sorry.”

  “I doona care about something I can mend. Rip if ye have to.”

  At her instruction, Ian pulled again, ripping the hem, freeing Arabella. When she stepped away, however, the material of her skirt was hanging from the entrance. Ian gave it a tug to dislodge it but the material would not come free. The wool being there was just as damning as the door being left open so Ian grabbed Arabella about the waist and set her back against the wall and prayed she’d not need to move away.

  “I heard rumor that it was Davina ye were wantin’,” Acheson chuckled as Ian straightened. “Or canna ye make up yer mind?”

  For a moment all Ian did was stare down into Arabella’s eyes before he slowly turned. “Aiden isna here.”

  Acheson chuckled. “Aye, I can see that.”

  “What do ye want?” Arabella demanded.

  “Just making the rounds to introduce my new colleague, Archie Coutts.”

  Blast, just what they needed, another gouger sniffing around.

  “I hear Aiden is going to be selling whisky again.”

  “Maybe,” Arabella answered. “He has some barrels.”

  Ten to be exact, and all were stacked on the back wall.

  Acheson tilted his head and studied her. “I’ve seen the barley field, Miss Arabella. Ye’ve far more grain than is needed for just ten barrels.”

  “We sell the grain for feed.” It’s what they all did. A good portion of the barley crops went for animal feed, some for personal whisky use and the rest was stored in caves for illegal whisky production. If they used all of their barley for the illegal whisky, then Acheson and his cronies would be even more suspicious, which none of them could afford.