The Scot is Hers by Eliza Knight
11
Giselle had wished for a moment like this.
A chance to be alone with Alec in a fairy tale setting, living out her fantasy. And here she was, melting under his kiss beneath the light of the moon. She curled her fingers around the lapels of his jacket. Just as he hadn’t touched her the first time they kissed, Alec kept his hands hidden.
But Giselle wanted to touch him, wanted him to touch her. She’d been thrilled when he’d given her hand a gentle squeeze in the parlor as their engagement was announced. She knew that he hesitated because of what she’d told him about Joshua Keith taking liberties without asking.
Alec would wait for her permission—and she was going to give it to him by showing him. Giselle slid her hands down his arm, threading her fingers with his. She moved his hands to the small of her back, firmly planting them there. The pressure of his touch sent frissons of heat through her. Alec abruptly ended their kiss, staring into her eyes with a question.
“Are ye certain ye’re all right with me touching ye?” he asked.
Giselle smiled up at him. “Aye. I want ye to.”
He grinned, stroking gently up her spine as he watched her reaction. “Still certain?”
Giselle let out a throaty laugh that she barely recognized. “Aye.” Then she placed her hands on his shoulders and tugged him in for another kiss.
The feel of his hands on her back—caressing softly up and down, tugging her a little closer with each ensuing swipe—combined with the heady kiss and her own exploration of his strong shoulders had Giselle’s heart pounding. It was as she’d imagined the most perfect kiss between a man and a woman should be. She could barely catch her breath. Was this how it would always be?
She prayed it was, even if a little part of her tapped negatively against the fantasy, trying to burst her bubble of passion and bliss. They had agreed to marry for convenience, after all. But the logical part of her said that perhaps convenience could also be pleasurable.
At least that was what it seemed like right here and now. Pure enjoyment and happiness.
But all that would come to a close soon when the truth came out to her parents. When the guests here realized she’d lied about Sir Joshua to save face at the dining table. Of course, it hadn’t been a complete lie. She hadn’t truly agreed to marry Joshua Keith. Only under duress and at the insistence of her parents had she minorly acquiesced, and that didn’t count, did it? That wasn’t a true agreement; at least, she tended to think not.
The last thing she wanted to be thinking about right now was her former betrothed. She wanted to think only of Alec and the way he was nibbling at her lips. The way her nipples tingled at the feel of him touching her back, stroking her tongue with his own.
Voices carried across the lawn from the house, growing closer, louder, until it finally got through their heads that the rest of the crowd was headed their way.
They broke their kiss, both of them startled as Alec leapt off the bench and several feet away, giving the impression of propriety when a moment ago they had been anything but.
Giselle’s lips still burned, her blood still humming with the pleasure of his kiss as the party from inside turned a corner in the garden and came into view. Though it was dusk, their shapes glowed in the moonlight, along with the torches several footmen carried to light the path.
Och! But Jaime and Lorne!
However, she needn’t have worried, as Jaime appeared miraculously at her side and said, “It looks like we have company,” sliding onto the bench beside her.
Lorne and Alec looked deep in conversation, though no words left their mouths, and they turned in unison to greet the countess, who appeared irritated to be outside. Lady Mary, however, looked quite smug, as if she’d either caught them doing something they shouldn’t or was proud that she’d interrupted what was meant to be a private moment without a crowd.
Giselle would have bet a month’s pin money that it was Lady Mary’s idea to come out into the garden. She wasn’t an idiot even if she acted like one, and no doubt she suspected they’d come to the garden for a moment of privacy, to share a kiss. But alas, because of the loudness of the guests’ approach, what she’d stumbled upon was simply four people in conversation. All fit to be proper and looking startled at the approach of the others who’d not been invited to join them.
How fortuitous for Giselle. She whispered through her smile to Jaime, “Thank ye.”
“Of course. We did no’ want to ruin the rest of the week by getting ye stuck with his mother as a chaperone,” Jaime replied conspiratorially with a tinkling laugh and a wink.
Giselle giggled and turned to face the crowd, her eyes settling on Lady Mary. “’Tis a beautiful night. I’m so glad ye all joined us.” She offered a winning smile that had the men nodding, and the mothers too, despite their disappointment that their daughters would no longer be able to gain a proposal from Alec. Unless they hoped to intervene somehow as she suspected Lady Mary might.
That lass was up to something. She glowered in their direction as though she’d eaten an entire lemon. All pinched and puckered. It was exceedingly unattractive. But rather than worry over it, Giselle decided the best thing to do would be to ignore it. If she were to pay attention to such childish and behavior, she’d only be letting the lass win.
“How was the game of cards?” Alec asked. “Any winners?”
“We were only halfway through when Lady Mary felt ill,” Malcolm said with a raised brow, pointedly saying without the direct words that their being here was Mary’s idea entirely.
Ah, so it had been her idea. How obvious she was. Only one lass was missing, Miss Maggie, Euan’s sister. Giselle had the impression that she was quite a lot nicer than the rest of the lasses here. She also had not come to gain a husband.
“I do hope ye’re feeling better now that ye’ve had some air,” Giselle said.
“Much,” Lady Mary said, her tone clipped. “Though I would dearly like to sit if Your Grace does no’ mind?” Her gaze was pointed at Jaime.
Jaime stood immediately, gracious as always. “Of course no’, please do sit.”
Giselle detected the most minor drops of irritation in her dear friend’s tone and hid her smile.
Of course, Lady Mary’s mother looked horrified. It was the second time in the evening her daughter had crossed the bounds of proper behavior with her betters.
It was hilarious, but Giselle kept her mouth shut, preferring to watch the scene unfold around her rather than being a direct part of it.
“It truly has been a lovely night, but I find myself growing tired, and I’d rather no’ overdo it as I’d like to join the rest of ye tomorrow as well.” Giselle picked up her cane and stood, with Alec rushing to her side to steady her balance, though she didn’t need it.
“If I may, my lady,” he said, quite properly, which almost made her laugh aloud considering the very improper way his tongue had been dancing across hers moments ago.
“Thank ye, my lord,” she replied, equally appropriate.
The countess flicked her gaze around the group, finding Jaime in conversation with her soon-to-be husband. The countess’s lips pursed in irritation. “Och, my lord, ye need no’ leave your own party. I’ll escort the lass upstairs.”
Giselle bit her tongue against a rude sound she wished to make. She didn’t want the old dragon to escort her up. Having had her kiss with Alec interrupted for the second evening in a row, she dearly wanted to continue what they’d started uninterrupted. Of course, she knew this was incredibly uncouth, but alas, she found herself caring less and less about all of those society rules.
“That’s no’ necessary, my lady,” Alec said to his mother. “With Lady Giselle so unsteady on her feet, I’d hate for both of ye to take a tumble when I can manage perfectly well.”
“All right, well I shall accompany ye then and see that she’s settled in her room. Alone.”
“Very gracious of ye,” Giselle said, wishing she could tell the older woman to remain behind, and settle the irritated kitten—Lady Mary—on the bench rather than breathing down their necks.
But there did not appear to be any way to push the woman’s desires aside. She was already turning to head inside.
Alec passed her an apologetic look, and Giselle bid goodnight to those in the crowd as they made their way back into the castle, up the stairs and down the corridor where their evening would come to a disappointing close. Lady Mary had to be out there on that bench, still gloating.
Upon the threshold of her chamber door, they turned to look at one another, unable to say aloud the words tumbling through their minds.
“Say goodnight, Lord Errol,” his mother said crisply.
Giselle’s lip twitched as she gazed into his eyes. There was a little flicker of his eyebrow, but otherwise, not any reaction whatsoever. How had she been so lucky to meet a man that seemed able to read her thoughts?
“Good night, my lady.” Alec took her gloved hand in his and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the knuckles, lingering longer than his mother would like.
How she wished it were more, but she was willing to take whatever it was she could get. The countess, however, was having none of it, her impatience showing as she cleared her throat and stepped between them, forcing them to part. She barged into Giselle’s bedroom.
“Good night, my lord.” Giselle leaned on the cane, entering her chamber and moving toward the chair before the hearth, prepared for whatever it was the dowager was about to say, for she was certain the older woman had not volunteered to escort her here without a plan in mind.
“Thank ye so much for the escort,” Giselle said to the older woman as she took her seat, sweetly smiling as she picked at a piece of lint on her skirt that was not there.
“Do no’ thank me. What are ye up to?” Lady Errol snapped her skirts against the cushion across from Giselle. “How exactly did ye come to find my son on the moors? Was it an act of trickery? Because I will no’ abide by such deceits.”
Giselle had expected the woman to be unhappy, but she hadn’t expected her to make that sort of an accusation. The bitterness and untruth of it stung. “Lady Errol, I do apologize for having imposed on this house party that ye so kindly arranged for your son.” Goodness, but it was taking every ounce of willpower she had to keep herself cordial. To placate the woman. “But the truth of the matter is there were no machinations on my part. Merely fate. If it were no’ for your son, I’d have fallen over the cliffs and been gone from this world. I owe him a debt of gratitude for saving my life.” In more ways than one.
“What kind of lady rides out alone in a storm?” The way Lady Errol was looking down her nose at Giselle, it was clear what type of lady she thought her to be.
“I was in trouble.” Giselle felt the heat rising to her face. She didn’t know what else to say—nothing that wouldn’t sound as bad as her situation was. And besides, she couldn’t be certain that Lady Errol wouldn’t be of the same opinion of her mother. In fact, it was very likely she would be.
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” There was a flicker of worry in the woman’s face.
“I prefer no’ to say.” There, Giselle had been honest, by confessing she’d rather not say, than actually saying it, and that counted, she was certain.
“What?” Lady Errol sputtered. “I’m afraid ye’ll have to be more clear, else I’ve a mind to demand your family make haste in their coming to Slains to retrieve ye. I’ll no’ have my son be duped.”
Make haste. Nay, that wouldn’t do at all. “I do believe Lord Errol has sent a missive to my parents to let them know of my whereabouts.” At least that was the untruth they planned to tell everyone to give her a few days’ rest before she had to face off with them. She didn’t like lying to Lady Errol, but it was in everyone’s best interest if Alec’s mother didn’t pop off to inform her parents and, more importantly Sir Joshua, where she was precisely.
Lady Errol sniffed, her chin rising all the more. If she craned her neck back any farther, it would snap. Of course, the lady’s disdain made Giselle feel a particular self-consciousness that she didn’t normally experience. Suddenly, she was aware of the flaws in her face, the way her nose might be considered a little too pointy. That her chin had a slight dimple in it. That the gown she wore wasn’t her own and that she wore her hair plainer than her mother might have allowed her to.
If the dowager countess decided to up that timeline, which it sounded like she wanted to do, Giselle didn’t know what she would do. She wasn’t ready. Well, if she were honest with herself, that was a situation she’d never be ready for. At least with Alec by her side, she’d be able to stand up to her family with an ally. But if his mother were against the union, she could make a lot of trouble for Giselle. Even perhaps convince her son not to go through with the wedding.
Was it possible Giselle could be honest with this woman? Maybe just a little more honest. If she knew they’d met before, perhaps that would help her understand it wasn’t by some elaborate hoax Giselle had set up.
“My lady, I met Lord Errol for the first time when ye hosted a ball for him in Edinburgh several years ago.” Giselle smiled.
“Oh?” Lady Errol’s nose came down a notch. That was a good sign.
“Aye. I found him charming then, as I do now.”
The dowager countess sat forward, genuine curiosity in her gaze, and if Giselle wasn’t mistaken, she was looking at her a little different too. “Do go on, Lady Giselle.”
“I think ye’ll find me different than some of the other ladies who may have shown an interest in your son to date in that I have an interest in him.”
“Then why did ye wait until now to move forward in this interest?” The curiosity she’d exhibited a moment before evaporated into suspicion. “Why did ye agree to marry another?”
“For one thing, at the time, I was no’ prepared to make a commitment.” She chose to ignore the latter question for now.
The lady scowled.
“I know that is no’ a ladylike perspective, per se, and believe me, my parents did frown upon it. But I knew at the time if I were forced to make a match, I’d be a terrible wife, and that would have been unfair to any man. Especially a man as good as your son.”
The countess did not look convinced.
“In any case,” Giselle continued, “My parents began making enquiries and trying to form attachments for me.”
“As they should. And as a dutiful daughter, ye should have agreed.”
“If their choice of a husband had been a decent man, I would have.”
“Ye speak of Sir Joshua Keith.”
Giselle nodded, searching the woman’s face for any sort of recognition that Keith was the man who’d been the one to bring her son into the state he was in. His enemy. There was none. Had Alec not told her? Most likely, the woman was very good at hiding her reactions. Something that Giselle needed to work on.
“Suffice it to say, Sir Joshua Keith has no’ been a gentleman where I am concerned. And as a lady yourself, I’m sure ye can understand how that would no’ sit well.”
Now, that seemed to gather the countess’s interest. “How so?”
“He has attempted on numerous occasions to take liberties with my person—against my wishes.”
Lady Errol’s face became rigid, and she didn’t speak for several beats as she collected her hidden thoughts into a simple question. “Was he successful?”
Giselle kept her eyes steady on the older woman as she answered, “No’ in my ruination, nay.”
“But in other ways.” There was no censure in her words or expression, simply a fact stated, though she did search Giselle as if trying to pick truth from fiction.
Giselle looked away this time, finding it hard to stare into the unrelenting eyes of Alec’s mother, fearing the judgment she might find there. “Aye.”
“And that is how ye found yourself riding near death when my son found ye.”
Giselle glanced back at Lady Errol, surprised at the kind note in her tone. “Aye, that’s correct.”
“And he saved ye.”
Giselle nodded. “In more ways than one.”
“So, ye would say ye owed him a debt of gratitude.” The sudden spring in Lady Errol’s tone and expression had Giselle worried.
“Aye,” she drawled out slowly.
At last, the woman let her mask fall, or perhaps it was a mask she drew into place. Whatever the case may be, it was cold and unmoving. “Leave,” she demanded.
“What?” Giselle’s spine straightened at that. She could not have heard correctly.
“Leave this castle. Right now or at first light.” That nose ratcheted back up as if looking down at Giselle would strengthen her resolve.
But the dowager countess didn’t know Giselle. She was strong, despite how her parents walked all over her. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I do no’ want ye to marry my son. Ye will bring about his downfall. Ye know it, and I know it.”
“How on earth would I do that?”
“Because Keith is his enemy, and surely, ye know that as well as I do. The man will retaliate for this latest insult. Leave my son in peace. Ye owe him that much. After all, he saved your life.”
Giselle stiffened her spine. “It is your son who asked me to marry him, no’ I. If he wishes me to leave, then I will, but that is the only reason.”
“We shall see about that.”
The countess stood, glowering down her nose at Giselle, and she regretted sharing what she did. She’d hoped to appeal to the woman, to flatter her with the chivalry her son had shown, and to show her that she’d not been a stranger but knew her son before. That she liked him, not his title or money.
But none of that seemed to matter to Lady Errol.
As she swept from the room and slammed the door closed, Giselle felt for the first time since her arrival, true fear.
Somehow, she had to get word to Alec about this conversation and warn him that his mother was very likely sending a missive of her own to Boddam Castle.
