The Scot is Hers by Eliza Knight

12

Giselle stood from the chair, ignoring the ache in her ankle as she gripped the walking stick and hobbled toward her chamber door. The hallway was clear, and the sounds of music and voices filtered up from below. Her heart pounded within her chest, threatening to burst out and plop onto the ornately woven corridor carpet. She half expected Lady Errol to leap out of one of the chamber doors and shout, “Ah-ha! I got ye.”

It appeared the coast was clear. She slipped out of her room and shut the door quietly behind her. There were several places Alec probably was. The parlor with everyone else, in which case she couldn’t approach him. The men’s smoking room, in which case she also couldn’t approach him. And she had no idea where his bedroom was—which she also shouldn’t go to.

But there was one place she could look, and if he weren’t there and she was intercepted, she could always say she was searching for a book—the library.

Giselle peeked down the stairs, grateful they were empty, as was the grand foyer. But all it would take was one person exiting the parlor for her to be caught out of her room. Not that it was illegal for her to be out of it anyway; the rest of the women were in the parlor playing music. But she had said she was going to bed. And Lady Errol was clearly suspicious of her.

Well, no matter, she was already descending, and she’d just have to deal with it if she were caught out of her room. Using the handrail with one hand and the walking stick with the other, she made her slow descent, agonizing more about anyone seeing her than the twinge in her ankle.

At last, she made it to the base, sweat on her spine, but no one the wiser. She skirted the parlor and another closed-off room where men’s voices filtered out. Past the dining room, and then came to another shut door with light filtering under it. She pressed her ear to the paneling and didn’t hear anything from within.

Chancing it, Giselle pushed open the door, her eyes widening at the sight before her. Books upon books. Three levels worth, lit by several candelabras. There was a narrow spiral stair at the far-left end, leading to the first balcony that spanned the room’s perimeter and continued up to the third level. Behind the hearth on the second level was a doorway, but she couldn’t be certain where it led.

The room was immaculately clean and smelled faintly of woodsmoke and paper. It must take Alec’s servants a day to clean the room to keep it free of dust.

“So ye found my library.”

Giselle whirled at the sound of Alec’s voice. But scanning the room, she didn’t spot him unless he was in the large leather wingback chair that faced the window. He stood a second later, turning to face her with a faint smile on his face. Lord, he was handsome, especially when he smiled.

“How did ye know it was me?”

“Ye’re the only one in the house with three footsteps, on account of the cane.” He chuckled.

Giselle glanced down at the curved wooden stick. “That makes sense.”

“No witty quip?”

She smiled, feeling exhausted all of a sudden from having to keep up appearances so often, even if it was within her nature. “I was looking for ye.”

“Why?”

Giselle wasn’t certain how to phrase it. Nerves made her feel jittery. But it was always best to be honest, especially with the man she intended to marry. So she sucked in a breath and blurted out, “The dowager countess has asked me to leave. To break off the engagement. And I suspect by morning, my parents and possibly Joshua Keith will have arrived.”

He frowned, and she glanced toward her feet. “I should no’ have accepted your proposal. I’ve put ye in a grave position, and I do apologize for allowing my selfishness to dictate your future.”

Alec marched forward, his hands on her arms, squeezing gently. “Giselle.”

She wasn’t certain she’d ever heard him use her name so intimately. Ignoring the prickle of tears in her eyes, she looked up at him, her breath quickening along with her heart. “Alec.”

“I’m no’ abandoning ye. I asked ye to marry me knowing full well the consequences of such a request. We made a pact, did we no’? I’m a grown man and can take care of myself—and ye.”

“I would no’ wish to come between ye and your mother. Ye’ll have to defy her wishes.”

“I’ve been defying her wishes since the day I could string together words, and probably before then too with a shake of my head, a stomp of my foot. But in truth, I am no’ defying her. She wants me to wed, and that’s what I’m doing. I’m marrying ye, Giselle Hepburn if ye’ll still have me.”

A flood of relief and something akin to hope rushed through her, made her feel weak in the knees. “Aye, I want to marry ye.”

“Good.” He pulled her into his embrace then, and she dropped the cane, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and bearing the weight on her one good ankle.

She kissed him with as much promise as he showed her. His mouth broke away from hers to trail kisses down the side of her neck.

“Ye smell like heaven,” he murmured against her skin.

Giselle trembled at the sensations his mouth on her neck brought, and she wondered if it would feel the same for him. She curved her face against his neck, placing her lips on a spot where his pulse leapt.

Alec let out a shuddering breath, his hands encasing her ribs. One slowly slid back to her spine while the other crept forward, hovering close to her breast, but he stilled as if waiting for permission.

“Touch me,” she whispered as she pressed her lips back to his.

“I should no’.” His words sounded strangled.

“Aye, ye should.” As she’d moved his hands outside to wrap around her, she placed her palm over his and gently guided him to touch her breast where her nipple puckered.

The heavy, warm weight of his caress sent a delicious spiral of wanting through her. A sensation she’d never experienced before. A thirst for more of his touch, his taste.

Alec’s thumb brushed over her taut nipple, and a shiver trembled over her skin. Her back arched, thrusting her breasts forward, encouraging. Exploring sensuality with Alec in his glorious library was as a fantasy come to life.

“Och, sweet lass,” he groaned against her mouth.

Every inch of her skin tingled, itched, and she had the strongest urge to curl her leg around his hip, to bring the heated parts of herself in contact with his strong body. A need for it.

Alec’s hand slipped lower on her back until his fingers crested over the swell of her derriere and cupped the full flesh. That subtle, naughty grip tucked her closer still, and she felt the rigid hardness of his body against her abdomen—and lower, the place that had started to pulse with need.

Desire, passion, these were words and deeds she’d yet to explore copiously And Alec had opened the world up to her, as if flipping the pages of a forbidden book that she would never be able to close for fear of losing the exquisite euphoria that came from such sweet knowledge.

This man, who had turned her world on its ear for the better... Oh, how she admired him.

“Oh, my. I’m so sorry.”

Giselle nearly leapt out of her skin at the sound of the female voice behind them. She whipped her head around Alec’s wide body in time to see Lady Mary duck from the library. How had she come in without either of them hearing?

“Bloody hell,” Alec cursed as a similar string of words left Giselle. “That wench can no’ seem to keep out of my library.”

The blissful sensations that had made Giselle feel as if she were floating a moment ago evaporated and were replaced by something akin to embarrassment and worry. Lady Mary was the type of jealous hoyden ready to tell anyone who would listen what she’d just witnessed, including the dowager countess .

She could practically feel all the color draining from her face a moment before Alec pressed a finger to her chin, turning her face up toward his.

“Do no’ fash, lass.” His voice was soothing, calm, but it didn’t lessen the anxiety rushing through her. “We are to be married. The announcement was made. A nosy female is no’ going to change that fact. If she decides to share that she barged in on an intimate moment, then what shame is there in two people who plan to wed sharing a kiss?”

Giselle thought back to his hand gripping her arse, the other one stroking her breast. It was Alec’s back that had been to the door. There was a possibility that Mary had not even noticed where his hands were.

“Besides,” he murmured, pressing a small kiss to her lips. “If she decides to share, everyone will wonder what she was doing entering my library when the door was closed and when the guests were specifically asked no’ to come in here.”

Now that point made more sense. Lady Mary would be outing herself if she revealed what she’d seen. And the more Giselle thought about it, what did it matter if she’d seen them kiss? Alec was right; they had already agreed to get married. There was nothing shameful in two people who planned to spend their life together partaking of an intimate embrace. It wasn’t as if she’d found them writhing naked on the floor.

But oh, how that thought sent a shiver of wanting through her. Perhaps, when they had exchanged vows, and the castle was empty of all the guests, they could act out that fantasy right where she stood. Making love surrounded by books.

Giselle smiled up at Alec. “Ye are quite right.” She shook her head as if to dislodge all the worries she’d had a moment ago. “The woman is meddlesome, is she no’?”

“Ye have no idea. I’ve found her in here before snooping around, and no’ for books. I think she’d hoped to be caught alone with me.”

Giselle frowned. “I would no’ put it past her. She seemed awfully desperate for your attention and to put the rest of the lasses off your scent.” She couldn’t help wondering if Mary had found herself in a similar situation as Giselle. Had Alec possibly been the means to an unfortunate end for that woman? But the thought didn’t last long. While Giselle had agreed to marry Alec as a way of getting out from under Joshua Keith’s hammer, she’d also developed feelings for the Beast of Errol. Emotions swirled in and out of his presence that were confusing and wonderful all at once.

“My scent,” he chuckled. “Am I a stag?”

Giselle grinned, pushing away the jumble of tangled thoughts in her head. Instead, she allowed her teasing self to take over. “This week, aye. A mighty Scottish stag. But alas, I stumbled across ye in the wild before the rest of the hunting party knew where to look. The Scot is mine,” she called softly toward the door with a laugh.

Boldness flooded her veins at the heated look he passed her way at the tease. Giselle reached forward, her fingers curling around the back of his neck, and she pulled him in for another kiss, pushing Lady Mary and her intrusion far from her mind.