Courting the Scot

by Jane Charles

  “Someone you care about?” Mr. Trent asked quietly.

  Davina startled because she hadn’t realized she’d been so obvious.

  “Nay. At least not anymore.” With determination she lifted her chin. “Shall we find yer cousins?” she offered a little too brightly.

  “Please.” He nodded slightly, even though there was empathy in his blue eyes.

  Davina led him down the steps, determined to put forth an appearance that nothing was bothering her and that her heart was not shattered into a million little pieces. “Where are ye from, Mr. Trent?”

  “Cornwall.”

  “My, you did travel quite a distance in yer, um, quest.” She couldn’t very well announce rescuing a kidnapped lady when so many people could hear her.

  “I came from London, where I last saw my cousins.”

  Surprised, she looked up at him. “Ye left the Season to come here?”

  “As you have said, I was on a quest. Besides, I am not one who enjoys a Season in London and was glad to be gone from it.”

  “It canna be so bad, can it?” she asked.

  “Perhaps I would have enjoyed it more if my sister wasn’t so intent on matchmaking,” he grumbled. “None of us were safe, save my oldest brother, and only because he’d done his duty.”

  “None? How many are there in your family?” Davina asked, trying to make conversation as she glanced back at the gardens in hope of seeing Ian return, but he hadn’t done so.

  “My oldest brother, the Earl of Hopkins, is a widower with two small children, then there is my sister, Sophia, the matchmaker, Maxwell, who is my twin, Harrison, Jamie and Olivia, who will be enjoying her first Season next year.”

  “And ye left Maxwell, Harrison and Jamie behind.”

  He chuckled. “Maxwell is not in the country at this time and Harrison will be successful in avoiding any traps she may set, as for Jamie, well, he is Jamie and young and I’m not so worried about him, nor is she, I suspect.”

  “So, she was concentrating on ye which is why ye escaped.” Davina laughed.

  “Exactly, Miss MacGregor.” With that, he smiled down at her. “And it might have been the best decision I have made because Scotland certainly has its attractions.”

  Goodness, he certainly wasn’t flirting with her, was he?

  “Though I suspect your heart belongs to another.”

  With that, tears nearly sprang to her eyes. “For all the good it has done me,” she admitted.

  Mr. Trent leaned in. “More the fool he is.”

  “Thank ye.” It was a shame her shattered heart belonged to Ian Grant because Mr. Gideon Trent was a handsome and pleasant gentleman, but not even his kind blue eyes could repair everything broken inside.

  “Davina, would you care to introduce me to our new guest?” Arabella said as she drew near.

  “Arabella, this is Mr. Gideon Trent, he is searching for Mr. John Trent.” She turned to their new guest. “My cousin, Arabella MacGregor.”

  Arabella dipped a quick curtsey at Mr. Gideon’s slight bow.

  “Would ye be a dear and help Mr. Gideon find John? I need to speak with the cook.” It was a lie, but she needed to be away from here and away from the guests. Ian still hadn’t reappeared and she was certain that he and Alana were doing things they shouldn’t. Things he’d done with her, which meant that Ian Grant had returned to his rakish ways.

  With a quick curtsey, Davina turned and hurried back into the manor, barely keeping her tears in check. What if Ian hadn’t returned to his rakish ways, but had decided to court Alana instead? Were the two going to begin to court and eventually marry? How could she go on, remaining at Annagburn, seeing her uncle happy while no longer being mistress of Annagburn? That had been her sole purpose since her Aunt Meg passed, and one of the reasons she’d been reluctant to leave her home. Was she now to be left with nothing? Would she grow as bitter as Donovan after he lost Mary?

  Davina made her way to the library, which she knew was off limits to the guests, so that she might be alone to think.

  How could she remain here and watch as Ian courted, and possibly eventually married Alana? If she thought her heart was shattered now, it would never ever recover once the two wed, and it wasn’t as if she’d be able to avoid them. The Grants were close to the MacGregors, so they’d be guests at Annagburn.

  The lists of gentlemen she, Arabella and Sheena made were on Uncle Aiden’s desk. Davina had no idea how he came into possession of them, and she no longer cared, as she picked up her list. At the very top of the list was Ian Grant. A tear trickled down her cheek at the thought of him no longer being hers.

  No, she could not continue to live at Annagburn and watch on at the happiness of Ian with his new love. She needed to be far, far away. But where could she possibly go?

  She wandered to the grand window and looked out at the guests mingling on the grounds. Arabella was leading the newest Mr. Trent away from the gardens and in the general direction of the distillery.

  That was it. He may not make her as happy as Ian—nobody would—but he was pleasant enough to look upon and he’d already read the situation for what it was and still flirted with her. But the most attractive part of him was that he lived in Cornwall. Davina would never have to look upon Ian and Alana ever again if she was living at the opposite end of England.

  With that, she crossed back to Uncle Aiden’s desk, took up the quill, scratched a line through Ian’s name and wrote Gideon Trent, and as she did so, a sob burst from her lips.

  “Davina? What is the matter this time?” Alistair asked as he came in the room.

  Why was her brother always about when she didn’t wish him to be? Instead of answering, she shook her head.

  “What is this about?” He asked gently. “Ian?”

  With that name, the tears fell more freely. “I’ve lost him,” she finally admitted.

  “I find that hard to believe,” he dismissed her.

  “Do not condescend to me, Alistair,” she snapped. “Ian’s not talked to me once today. He’s danced twice with Alana Lennox, Elspeth Thomason and Rhona Murray and just a little bit ago, he disappeared into the gardens with Alana.”

  “Aye, I ken.”

  Oh, why couldn’t he have said that she was mistaken instead of agreeing with her?

  “So, what are ye goin’ to do about it?”

  “What can I do?” She threw up her hands.

  “Fight for him!”

  “How?” Davina cried.

  “Ye could court him.”

  Davina could only stare at her brother. “Nay, it isna right.”

  “Then ye have only yerself to blame if ye lose him.”

  With that she frowned.

  “Davina, Uncle Aiden put Ian in an impossible position.”

  Ian? What about her?

  “On one hand, Ian must earn the approval and respect of Uncle Aiden before he will ever consider anything beyond a courtship. In doin’ so, Ian canna afford to appear weak in the eyes of Uncle Aiden or any of us, and I suspect he is regrettin’ tellin’ us that he said he wanted ye to court him,” Alistair explained as he came forward. “And, ye being too stubborn to court him, to prove that ye want him as much as he wants ye, has made it impossible for him to gain that respect and have ye too.”

  Davina frowned. Ian had said as much to her, but had she really listened? “If I court him, willna he lose respect for me and think he can manage me?”

  Alistair smiled. “There isna a man alive, at least of my acquaintance, who believes they can manage a lass, nor do they wish to do so. Uncle Aiden was just frustrated in that he dinna ken what to do with ye, Arabella and Sheena. Lasses are far more difficult to raise than lads.”

  “Only because he wanted us to be somethin’ we werena.”

  “He blamed it on not having a woman to influence ye.”

  That would not have made a difference as she’d enjoyed archery long before Aunt Meg passed, but her uncle would never understand nor did she believe her brothe
r would.

  “Have ye considered that perhaps Ian may not believe ye truly want him?”

  With that she blinked up at her brother. “He kens better,” she argued. “I’ve told him and shown him.” Surely, allowing his kisses and caresses were a clear indication that she wished for more.

  “Aye, I saw ye when ye were golfin’.” He frowned at her. “If I dinna ken what Ian was about, I would have beaten him again.”

  She frowned. “I thought ye said ye were with Uncle Aiden.”

  “I lied because I dinna want ye to ken what I’d seen.

  Her face heated as she gasped. “What was he about?” she asked slowly. Perhaps she hadn’t understood.

  “He wanted ye to ken that he was tired of the game and that he wants ye, but ye still dinna go after him. If I was in Ian’s shoes, I’d be wonderin’ about ye too.” With that he took a step forward. “Why is it so difficult for ye to take the risk when men must do so all of the time?”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “It is the man who approaches the lass. It is the man who asks to court her. It is the man who proposes. Not once does a lass have to risk her self-respect and heart, but it is the man who sets himself up for rejection.”

  She hadn’t thought of it in that way.

  “Ian has done everything to assure ye that he will accept yer suit, yet you have not even met him halfway. If ye doona act soon, Davina, ye will end up as miserable as Donovan.”

  With that she sucked in her breath. Donovan had been in love with Ian’s sister, Mary, but she had not returned his affection. He’d hoped that once Mary had a Season in London she’d return, happy to welcome his suit. Instead, she’d married an army officer.

  Shattered though it was, her heart surged with panic. If she did not act, she would lose Ian for certain, and she needed to do something now, before it was too late.

  “Ye would not think less of me and tease me about this in the future?” she asked with sincerity, though her pride was of little use if she were to remain a spinster.

  “Nay, Davina,” Alistair answered in seriousness. “It takes more to risk oneself to go after what ye want. However, if you continue to remain stubborn in this, I willna ever let ye forget it.”

  “Thank ye.” With a sniff, she lifted her chin as an idea began to formulate in her mind. “Before the day is at an end, Ian will ken how I feel, and Uncle Aiden will believe Ian has earned me. All I need are bluebells.”

  Although Alana tried to lead him to the most private corner of the gardens, Ian turned their direction to the fountain that others had gathered around. As it was, he was trying to determine how he could break away from her without being rude, while keeping their conversation as general as possible. Alana was a lovely lass, but she was not for him. There was only one lass in Scotland, nay, the world, who was for him.

  Well, enough was enough. He had tired of this game, or Davina’s stubbornness, and the need to prove to Aiden that he was deserving of Davina. They’d wasted too much time bowing to the dictates of others when all he wanted to do was marry her.

  Ian scanned the crowd when he and Alana stepped from the gardens. He did not see Davina right away, but he did spot Alana’s mother. “Ah, yer mother is lookin’ for ye.” He nodded toward the older woman, who seemed to visibly relax once she spotted her daughter. Where had the woman thought they’d gone? Did everyone here still believe him to be a rake?

  “Thank ye for the walk, Alana,” he said after escorting her to Mrs. Lennox.

  “Thank ye, Ian, and I hope to do so again soon.”

  He simply smiled then took his leave without offering encouragement. Instead, he intended to find Davina, though, she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  “Where might Davina be,” he finally asked Sheena, who was the first MacGregor he located, sitting on a bench in the shade with Lady Bentley’s niece Leigh.

  She blinked at him. “And why might ye be askin’ since you’ve only had eyes for the other lasses at the celebration?”

  Even if Davina hadn’t noticed, her sister had. However, he was not going to explain himself to a pair of sixteen-year-old girls. “Have ye seen her?”

  For a moment Sheena studied him. “She and Mr. Gideon Trent stepped inside.”

  Inside? Why would they do so? His stomach tightened.

  “Perhaps she’s in the library.” Sheena slowly smiled. “She keeps her lists in there. Ye ken, for her plannin’ and such.”

  Surely, Davina didn’t hold herself out as Mistress of Annagburn any longer. Aiden was now married. Except, perhaps she was still in charge for today so that Aiden and his new bride could enjoy their day. “Thank ye.”

  With that he headed into the manor, determined to separate Davina from this Gideon Trent if necessary. Except, there was no one inside save servants, who were too concerned with the comings and goings of guests and families. “Where the blazes had she gone?” Ian marched to the windows and looked out on the gathering, but he did not see her or Mr. Trent anywhere among the guests. Turning sharply, he started for the entrance when he spotted three parchments in the center of the desk. Lists… Moving forward, he picked them up and everything in him stilled as a rush of ice flooded his veins.

  Davina had crossed out his name and added that of a gentleman she just met. Or so Ian assumed they’d just met. Regardless, Ian had no intention of standing by while Trent moved in and claimed Ian’s future wife. With those thoughts, he stormed out of the manor intent on finding Davina before it was too late.

  Alistair was the first person he encountered. “Where are Davina and Gideon Trent?” he demanded.

  Alistair took a step back. “I doona ken.”

  “They are together?” Ian further demanded.

  Alistair frowned. “I doona ken.” Then he rubbed his chin as if in thought. “Davina did mention bluebells the last time I saw her, but I dinna give it much thought. Ye ken how she is. Maybe she wanted more flowers for the tables.”

  How could her brother be so unconcerned that Davina might be, at this very moment, in her favorite place at Annagburn being seduced by Gideon Trent among the very bluebells she loved! “Excuse me,” Ian bit out and marched away. Well, her brother may not be concerned, but Ian certainly was and he was going to put a stop to this madness once and for all.

  Gideon Trent? Over his dead body.

  Chapter 32

  If she picked too many, she’d look ridiculous in presenting the bouquet to him. If she picked too few, he’d only see it as half an effort. No, she had to determine the right number of bluebells that equaled her heart. Her pride she’d swallow as she presented them to Ian.

  This would be the most difficult thing she’d ever done, but when she did so, in front of all the guests, her uncle would believe that Ian could manage her. Just that word left a bitterness inside, but if she were to have Ian as her own, she must acquiesce to the wishes of he and Uncle Aiden. Davina only prayed that Ian wouldn’t see this as him having complete control over her because that would never occur. However, being managed by Ian was still better than not having him at all.

  Her hands shook with each perfect flower she picked. She’d not seen Ian when she returned outside and feared perhaps it was too late. What if he’d already spoken with Alana’s father and was granted permission to court her?

  The very idea made her ill. But, Alistair was right, if Davina did not act now, it might very well be too late and all she could pray was that the humiliation wasn’t so great when she presented the flowers to Ian.

  The only way it could be worse was if he rejected her because he’d found another. The very thought brought tears to her eyes. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. The verse from Proverbs continued to haunt her as she picked the flowers and did nothing to stem the tears.

  Such a fool she’d been, such a bloody, bloody fool. “Better it is to be of a humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud,” she repeated more of the verse. Yes, she would humble herself
, as there was no spoil to divide if she failed.

  She mustn’t fail. She couldn’t, for she’d never save face, nor could she remain at Annagburn if it was too late.

  “Oh, please doona let it be too late,” she quietly prayed as she took a white ribbon from her hair and tied it around the bouquet.

  Ian stormed through the fields, into the woods and fisted his hands as he came to the clearing and carpet of bluebells. If Gideon Trent had so much as touched one hair on Davina’s head, let alone kissed her, he’d receive a beating much like the one Alistair had once given to Ian.

  What he found, however, stopped him short, and he sucked in a breath. Davina was there, but very much alone and kneeling in the field of bluebells. Her hair cascaded down as she pulled a white ribbon from her curls and tied it about the bouquet of bluebells on her lap.

  “What are ye doin’, lass?”

  At his words, her head jerked up, and her brown eyes met his. Her beautiful face was damp with tears. If Gideon Trent had hurt her, the Englishman would not live to see tomorrow.

  “Makin’ a bouquet.” Her words were soft as she glanced back down and finished tying the ribbon.

  Perhaps he’d gotten it wrong and hope surged as he stepped forward cautiously. “Why?”

  “There’s a lad I wish to court, if he will have me.”

  A smile pulled at his lips as he sank down to his knees before her. “Aye, he will.”

  The corners of her mouth tipped. “He will?” She held up the bouquet to him.

  Ian took it from Davina and placed it close to his heart. “It is all he’s wanted. To ken her heart was as true as his.”

  “It always has been.” More tears flooded her eyes. “I love ye, Ian Grant.”

  No words were ever sweeter to his ears. “And I love ye, Davina MacGregor.”