Taming the Scot by Eliza Knight

10

Last night’s game of charades had been fun to observe, even if Bronwen felt as though she’d been sitting on pins and needles with her on one end of the settee and Euan on the other. The tension between the two of them was so thick she could have climbed it.

She wished she’d been able to feign a headache and go to her room, but she didn’t want to disappoint his sisters as she’d come to think of each of them as friends, if not secret sisters of her own.

Every minute she thought about scooting closer to Euan. About looking at him even, but she’d kept her focus straight ahead on those acting out the various charades and even threw in her guesses as to what they were doing. Her favorite was when Raine, Esme and Skye had acted out a mother goose trying to gather her goslings.

Euan’s laughter had been contagious, and his sisters had been in stitches playing together. When she’d said at dinner she didn’t like charades, it wasn’t because she found it unenjoyable, but rather that she’d never played. Oh, but it seemed like so much fun now that she was watching.

But no matter how much fun she had or how she tried not to look at Euan, she was all too keenly aware of his presence. Every one of his laughs, claps, slaps on his knee or guesses drew a reaction, both visceral and emotional. Her entire body felt as though it were vibrating, sitting there.

The two hours of charades were the most intense moments for her since her arrival, even more so than the kisses because wanting Euan and not being able to have him was so strong. She’d had to curl her fingers into her skirt, into the wooden arm of the settee, to keep herself in place.

How was she ever going to move on from this—from him? With every second that passed, Bronwen was certain she never would. Every day for the rest of her life, and lonely night after lonely night, she would be thinking of Euan. Of what he asked of her. Would wonder if being his lover was such a bad idea, and maybe even kick herself for denying them both the pleasure—even of a single night.

For now, she had to try to make it through the days until he decided he no longer needed lessons—or rather, his sisters decided since it was Amabel who’d begged her to stay. She couldn’t deny them the happier brother they’d longed to see from whomever he’d been before her arrival. And who exactly was that? Every once in a while, she caught flashes of a man wounded, a man who was tormented by something. But knowing his past, how he’d spent the remainder of his childhood summoning the courage to care for his sisters and take over his father’s duties, he was admirable. She’d also learned he’d been through hell and back when on the battlefield during the Peninsular War.

Knowing these things about him gave Euan more depth in her mind. He was not simply another spoiled man of noble blood.

As much as she admired him for all of those things, that didn’t change her situation. She hoped this altered state he was in now would stick enough on its own that she could be set free and away from the torment of knowing he could never be hers.

The agony of knowing she’d lied to them all, and exposed them to danger. How could they ever forgive her if they knew she was associated with The Trojan gambling hell and its nefarious owner? The criminal thought himself so untouchable that he called himself Prince and made people grovel at his feet.

That was what had caused her to keep her distance this morning. To take her breakfast in her room. What little of her eggs and toast she’d been able to consume. Because she wanted to tell them all so badly the truth. The guilt of keeping secrets from people she’d grown to greatly care for was eating away at her. But she was scared of what their reactions would be when they found out she’d duped them. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel if she found out someone had lied to her about who and what they were.

As she’d whiled away the morning in her chamber, going over the etiquette guidebook for the hundredth time, Maggie had stopped by to ask her about today’s ballroom etiquette lesson and dancing, and Bronwen was obliged to come out of her room.

She stood outside of the ballroom now, where Euan had caught her dancing days earlier. Her gown was simple, the gray one she’d worn already, and her hair was in a neat knot at the base of her neck with a matching gray ribbon tying it in place.

Owen sat beside her, waiting and staring at the door as she did. She patted his head, hoping his presence would calm her, but as sweet and even-tempered as he was, the hound was not going to solve this issue for her.

With a deep inhale, Bronwen pushed open the ballroom doors to find Esme at the piano playing a tune while Maggie instructed the other sisters on several dance moves. Euan was by the window, leaning against the wall. He had a booted ankle crossed over the other, and his arms folded nonchalantly at his chest, watching with a half-smile. Even dressed in a kilt and frockcoat, he made his impeccable attire look casual and comfortable. As soon as he saw her, though, his gaze darkened with emotion that she tried to ignore because it pulled at her heart.

Feeling flustered, she remained rooted in place, uncertain what to do with her hands, her feet.

Euan pushed off the wall, strolled forward and bowed low. He had such command of his body…and she liked to watch him move. Despite what had happened between them, he was still acting the gentleman, and it broke her heart a little more. Bronwen dipped into a curtsy, feeling more unsteady on her feet now than she had when she’d first attempted a curtsy days before. She kept her head down, unable to look him in the eye for fear she’d burst.

“A pleasure to see ye,” he said, and the way the word “pleasure” rolled off his tongue had her insides melting and her mind tunneling back to the darkened alcove where the hard planes of his figure had aligned with the softer curves of her own.

Nay, nay, nay. She had to stop thinking about that.

“Likewise, Captain.” Bronwen was impressed by how even she was able to keep her voice.

“Would ye care to dance?” he asked, nodded at Esme, who positioned her hands on the piano, ready to play.

“Me? Perhaps one of your sisters would be a better choice.” Bronwen searched out Maggie, who nodded encouragingly.

“Nay, ye’re the governess,” Maggie said. “It should be ye.”

This was going to be a disaster. Bronwen didn’t know the steps to any of the dances Maggie might choose. Only those from the taverns and the types of dancing done there was not likely anything at all that she should be instructing a man seeking a wife in ballrooms.

“I…” She swallowed, trying to think of a good excuse and finding none.

Euan took her hand and leaned in close, whispering, “Follow my lead, lass. For I am confident in this of all lessons.”

Oh, he smelled so good, freshly clean and spicy. Why did he have to tempt her in the most mundane ways?

She licked her lips, drawing in a breath to protest, but then the music started, and Euan pulled her into his arms, and she could do nothing to stop him as her limbs seemed to have a mind of their own. He placed a warm hand on her lower back. The other hand held his pinky finger aloft, ever so slightly falling between her pinky and ring fingers. On the next note, he twirled her about, the skirt of her gown swaying around her legs with every step.

Euan’s blue gaze locked on hers, and the smile that reached from his lips to those soulful eyes contained a sensuous flame she’d never be able to douse. It only seemed to light the fire within her, making it hard to catch her breath.

Every line of his hard body pressed to hers. One thigh and then the other. A calf, brushing hers before stepping away. Her breasts pushed to his chest, her abdomen to his. Their hips… It was delicious and wicked, and yet there they were, pressed together in such an intimate embrace—as they had been in the alcove—only this time, they were whirling about the ballroom floor for everyone to see.

For Bronwen, dancing had never been so sensual. Every inch of her skin was alight with prickles, and she wanted the music to go on forever. Being in Euan’s arms again had her forgetting all the promises she’d made to herself the night before about that embrace being the last.

“What is this dance called?” she managed to ask, her throat tight, her gaze on his chin.

“The waltz,” he murmured low in his throat.

Even the name of it sounded exotic and carnal. The waltz…

“Do ye like it?” he asked.

Bronwen nodded, looking up into his gaze this time and wishing she hadn’t. Saints, but his eyes were so incredibly blue and mesmerizing. “I do.” Too much.

“What do ye like best?” His voice was low, seductive. A slight curl of his lips told her how much he enjoyed this—whether it was the obvious reaction she had to him or just being with her, she couldn’t know.

Bronwen swallowed, unable to form the words, her mind a jumble. If she opened her mouth, she was liable to blurt out just about anything, and she didn’t want his sisters to hear her true thoughts, even a garbled version of them.

“Tell me.” Euan whirled them to the far end of the ballroom, perhaps sensing her hesitation in being near his sisters.

“The touching.” Oh heavens, had she said that aloud?

At her honesty, his full mouth widened into a grin that could melt butter, and indeed her insides were threatening to do just that. Parts of her were tingling that had no business doing so. The parts that had pulsed with want when he kissed her.

“I like that part too,” he said with a slow wink that made her heart skip a beat. “Especially with ye. Dancing lets us do what we wanted to in the alcove, but out in the open.”

“No’ everything,” she countered, attempting a little seductive teasing of her own.

Euan’s lips twitched, as he appraised her. “Ah, does that mean ye wish to kiss me again?”

“Ye’re incorrigible.” But he was right, and hadn’t she tempted him into saying it anyway?

“Maybe.” His smile was wicked and tantalizing. The expression should have made her run, but she held on instead because she apparently enjoyed self-torture.

As the music came to a close, and so too did their dance, unfortunately. As they returned to the other side of the ballroom where his sisters waited in a circle, Bronwen was surprised to see the stunned looks on their faces. They were quick to recover themselves, clapping instead by the time they reached them.

“The two of ye were magic.” Raine’s hands fluttered to her chest, and she gave a long sigh that seemed to speak to what the rest of the Irvine sisters were thinking.

A flurry of, “Oh, aye,” came from the line of them.

Heat filled Bronwen’s face, and she smiled, mumbling her thanks and unsure of what to do next. She glanced toward the polished wood floor and wrung her hands.

“I think ye’re ready to claim your bride,” Maggie said, drawing Bronwen’s attention back up. “Do ye agree?” she asked Bronwen.

“Ready?” Bronwen tilted her head to the side, not sure what Maggie was asking. Perhaps if they were ready for another dance, which she must most heartily deny.

“Aye,” Maggie said, beaming back at her brother. “I’m thinking perhaps it is time to head to Edinburgh. We’ll have a week’s head start on the rest of society arriving, and he can be introduced to any ladies who’ve come in early. Unless ye can think of a reason for him to remain behind?”

“Ah, aye,” Bronwen said around the lump forming in her throat as she forced a smile of encouragement. “I think he is ready.” But she wasn’t. So soon, this interlude of heaven was coming to an end. The very idea of thinking about him twirling about the dance floor with another woman was physically painful and sent a little tremor to her lip, which she bit to keep anyone from noticing.

“I think that Miss Holmes should join us,” Amabel said, her tone very serious.

Every head swiveled in her direction, including Bronwen’s. Amabel was studying her with those thoughtful eyes. Her tone and stance were not so much emotional as it was factual. Just as when she’d approached Bronwen about staying at Drum. Before Bronwen could protest, each of the Irvine sisters broke out in a chorus of agreement.

Euan touched Bronwen’s elbow, and she peeked up at him.

“What do ye say, Miss Holmes? Do ye wish to travel to Edinburgh with us? It would be nice if I had ye there for some decorum refreshers between society ambushes.”

Skye snorted and rolled her eyes. “Ye’re going to need a lot more than Miss Holmes to help ye with that.”

Maggie shushed her younger sister, and Skye stuck out her tongue.

Bronwen’s body, her mind and especially her words were frozen in place. Travel to Edinburgh with them? That was the very last place she could go. The very last place she should even consider. It would be too dangerous for her. Edinburgh, for her, equaled death. No matter how much she enjoyed the Irvine family’s company, nor how grateful she was to have been given a place here, going back to the city was an absolute negative for her.

Bronwen straightened her shoulders and shored up her spine. In this, she would not cave. “Nay,” she said. “I could no’. As ye said, he is ready. And when your brother needs help, he’ll have all of ye there to guide him.”

There, she’d said it, even as excruciating as it was to admit to herself that this was finally the end. She’d laid her cards out on the table, and now she could walk away. Self-preservation had to come first, didn’t it? If she went back to Edinburgh, she might as well take out her own advert with the address for the brutes to come and find her. But Amabel looked stricken at her words, and she remembered her promise to the lass. Euan was not going to change overnight though; there had to be some give here.

She couldn’t.

There was this world here where she could lie and be safe, and then there was the city she’d run from where death and torment awaited.

Nay. Nay. Nay.

Euan had to think quickly on his feet. He’d asked her to go, his sisters had practically begged, and Bronwen still said no. Adamantly. There was no chance he could postpone the trip. His sisters counted on him finding a bride, winning the will’s contest and securing all of their futures. That was non-negotiable.

But he’d hoped that if he could convince Bronwen to come along, he’d have a chance to…what? Woo her? Convince her that there could be something between them?

And to what end? She wouldn’t want to be his mistress. That was what she’d told him last night. Besides that, Bronwen deserved more than to be a man’s plaything. And if he were too busy wooing her into being his lover, that would do nothing for succeeding in his grandfather’s quest. He’d spoken last night about her possibly being his wife, but either she didn’t want to, or she’d not understood his meaning.

For the love of all things, he was acting like an imbecile.

Whatever was going on between them was muddying his thoughts, his powers of deduction. Bloody hell, he’d been fourteen when he’d inherited the lairdship from his father, and he’d managed to not only prosper in that position but built their clan up until they were thriving. How was it that he was struggling so much with a woman?

And why was she so adamant about not joining them? Given their conversation during the dance, he’d had such high hopes that she would agree, and he could have a little more time with her to sort out his thoughts. And yet, she had denied them. Insisted they part ways and his sisters take over her lessons from here.

Did this mean that everything she said and did—the kisses, the telling him she liked touching him, the looks that bespoke of more than physical acts—an act, along with why she was here? The reason of which was still a mystery to him.

Euan had been trying for days to get her to open up, to understand his desire for her. But she kept slamming the door closed.

What more could he do?

Well, he supposed there was plenty more he could do. But perhaps the most important thing was to let her know she’d be safe with them. If she’d had to leave the city out of fear, maybe it wasn’t anything to do with him that was causing her to deny them the request but true fear about returning. If there were one thing he’d learned living with six sisters, it was that more often than not, their reasons for making decisions had nothing to do with him.

“Please, do reconsider,” Maggie said. “We’d love to have ye join us. Edinburgh will no’ be the same without ye.”

Bronwen smiled softly at them all. “Ye will all have a magical time.”

When his sisters started to talk all at once, Euan dismissed them to their studies so he might speak with Bronwen alone. He even shooed out Owen, who’d lumbered over to see what they were all making so much noise about and decided to add in his own opinion with a series of barks.

Now that they were alone in the ballroom, he walked over to the paned glass doors leading to the gardens. The sun was shining, and a gentle breeze blew against the flowers, plants and grasses.

“Bronwen,” he said, glancing behind him to see that she remained rooted in the center of the ballroom, hands folded, head down. He hated seeing her like that. She looked lost, defeated.

This was not the fiery lass he knew. The one who’d felt confident enough to demand he carry her valise to her room after taking a position that hadn’t been offered to her and then promptly forced everyone to fall in love with her.

Dear God. He was in love with her.

Euan suddenly found it hard to breathe, to swallow. His fingers started to tingle, and a firestorm was racing up his arms and into his shoulders, centering in his chest. Love. He loved her. And admitting it to himself now was as if he’d taken a bullet to his heart. The thing he’d thought impossible—himself in love—was happening right now before his very eyes.

Bronwen was staring at him, studying him, a little tilt to her head. Could she tell what he was thinking? Feeling?

Euan cleared his throat, trying to ignore the emotions that had revealed themselves. “I can no’ presume to know what has ye afraid of returning to the city. And I can no’ demand that ye tell me. What I can convey to ye is that ye’ll be safe with me, with my family. We’d never let anything happen to ye.”

There was a whoosh of air that gushed from her—a sigh that was both surprise and defeat. When he looked back this time, she was staring at him, her mouth agape and blinking rapidly. She looked ready to panic.

“I’ll leave at once. Ye must be terribly disappointed,” she finally said.

Euan turned all the way around then, studying her with her spine so stiff, her fingers pinching and unpinching her skirt. Her face had paled, and she worried her lower lip. What did she mean, disappointed? What about his words had given her that impression? He wanted to walk over to her, gather her in his arms and soothe away whatever was going through her mind, but he was afraid if he did that, she would bolt.

“What could I possibly have to be disappointed about other than ye will no’ join me?” he asked.

Bronwen took a large breath, her face growing even paler than it had a moment before. “I’ve come here under false pretenses, Captain. I’m so sorry it took me so long to tell ye this. All I can do is beg your forgiveness and leave your family in peace.”

Euan shook his head, closing the distance by a few steps forward, but when she stiffened all the more, he stilled. “I’ve known for quite some time ye were here for reasons other than seeing my advert in the paper.”

Bronwen hung her head, her shoulders sagging. “I’m verra sorry to have deceived ye.”

Seeing her pain, her discomfort, caused him to feel a slice within his chest. “Bronwen, lass, I do no’ feel deceived. I want to help, but ye have to tell me what’s wrong if I’m to do it.”

She shook her head, glancing toward the exit. “There is nothing ye can help me with, and I fear I’ve imposed long enough.”

Euan tried to quell his exasperation. Why was she so insistent that she had to part from them? She might have lied about her reasons for coming, but he wasn’t mistaken in his impression of her feelings when she’d kissed him. That had been real; he was certain of it. “Why do ye no’ let me decide for myself whether ye’ve imposed. Are ye hearing what I’m saying, lass? I want to help ye. I do no’ want ye to go.”

Bronwen shook her head and side-stepped toward the door as if she hoped to slip out unnoticed. “I will only be in the way. If ye’re too busy worrying about me and what I’ve got up to, then ye’ll never be able to find a bride. I would never forgive myself if I ruined the chances ye seek.”

“I think ye give me less credit than I deserve,” he said. “What has ye so afraid?”

She shook her head, casting her gaze down at her feet. Euan closed the distance between them before she had a chance to disappear from the room as her body language suggested she would. With his finger pressed to her chin, he gingerly tilted her face up toward him and gazed into her gray eyes, which were quickly welling with tears.

He’d seen women cry a thousand times, he did have six sisters after all, but none had ever touched him as much as this. His heart felt as if it were seizing in his chest.

“I never meant for ye to find out. I only wanted…” But her voice trailed off as she looked up at the ceiling to control her feelings.

Euan stroked her cheek, brushing away a tear with the pad of his thumb. Her gaze gradually rolled back down to meet his. And he took her hand in his, squeezing gently. She didn’t let go, which he took as a good sign.

“How long have ye known?” she asked.

“As I said, I do no’ know the details, only that ye were seeking shelter.” He kept his voice soft, not a shred of judgment.

“Emilia?” she asked.

He shook his head. “My best mate Lorne is married to Jaime, Emilia’s employer.”

“Ah.” She nodded slowly.

“Likely, Emilia had to explain your use of the ship to Jaime, and Jaime confessed it to her husband. And when I wrote inquiring how to get into contact with Emilia to thank her for sending ye our way, he told me what had transpired, but none of them are aware of why lass. Emilia kept your secret safe. And now I hope ye will feel free to share your secret and know it will be safe with me.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I meant what I said. I want to help.”

She leaned into his touch and then away again, fighting with her emotions as much as he was, he guessed. God, it was hard not to tug her against his chest, to impart some of his strength on her, or at least quell the fear she so clearly felt.

“I did need help. And I thank ye ever so much for allowing me into your home. To be a part of your family.” She squeezed his hand back, then retreated. “Ye’ve already helped me more than ye could know.”

“I would do it again, lass.” His heart lurched at the idea of her leaving, of him never having met her. “I want to do it still. If ye would only confide in me.”

“My parents.” She pressed her hands to her face and shook her head. “They got into debt with some bad people. And those people decided to collect.”

“Is that…what happened to them?” he asked, imagining the horror she must have endured at finding out that her parents had been murdered and then the fear in thinking she might be next. Good God, she must have been terrified.

She nodded. “Aye.”

He hoped she hadn’t had to see it—that she’d been spared that at least. “And ye had to run?”

“For a time, they said I could pay them off, which I was. I was working verra hard to do so.” Every word she said came out quickly as if she needed to get it all off her chest. “But then they decided that was no’ enough, and so they were coming to take me. To…to…”

Euan’s stomach twisted with rage. If the men had been before him now, he would gut them from neck to navel. “Ye need no’ tell me the rest,” he said, trying to ease her discomfort. “I can well imagine what it was they planned. And so ye ran?”

“Aye. But I never wanted ye to know. I do no’ expect ye to help me. It is best if I leave now.” She implored him with her gaze. “Ye can understand why I can no’ go with ye to Edinburgh.”

“Lass, I will protect ye.” He took both her hands in his and pressed them to his chest. “I promise. Why do ye no’ let me?”

Bronwen sighed but didn’t pull away. “I know ye may want to. But ye have many sisters to protect, too. And I’ve made it this far on my own. I can keep going.”

“Aye, but this is a road ye need no’ travel alone.”

“Ye’ve already done enough for me. I can no’ ask ye to do another thing.”

“I want to. Do ye no’ understand that, my wee lass? I want to.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her how he felt, but he held back. They were talking about her right now, and the last thing she needed on top of her current worries was to be burdened with his declaration.

Her head fell back as she blinked up at the ceiling, and this time she did slip from his grasp, though there was reluctance in it, he could tell. “Ye must concentrate on your family,” she said. “Ye must concentrate on your duties.”

There it was again—the reminder of the many responsibilities that weighed on his shoulders and the fact that he didn’t want to wrestle with them alone anymore. He wanted to be wrestling them with Bronwen Holmes at his side. Neither of them needed to shoulder the burdens alone.

“I’ve been doing that well enough for over a decade, lass. Neither of us should have to be alone. Ye are a part of us now. Ye must know that,” he said. “We need ye in Edinburgh. Let us bear some of your burdens. If ye think it is a job we can no’ handle alone, I’ve friends in powerful places we can call on.”

Doubt sparked in her eyes. “I can no’, Captain. It is a matter of pride, of honor. I can no’ expect anyone else to bear the shameful burden my parents have left me with. They were…no’ the best of citizens.”

“Their actions do no’ reflect on ye, lest ye embrace them as your own. I can understand honor, pride. And it would be my honor to help the woman who has so graciously helped me. Ye might have been seeking refuge, lass, but ye provided me and my sisters with so much when ye came into my home. Let us repay the favor.”

Bronwen gazed into his eyes, searching, no doubt, for the answers only she could give herself.

“Please,” he added.

She let out a lengthy exhale. “All right. I will come to Edinburgh with ye, but ye must leave well enough alone. I’ll stay out of sight, and they should no’ be able to find me. And when ye’ve found yourself a worthy bride—” She paused to swallow as if even saying the words was as painful as it was for him to hear them. “When ye’ve made a match, ye’ll release me.”

God, why did this have to hurt so much? He wanted her to come with them. Wanted to show her that he loved her. But at the same time, if what she wanted was to leave, to disappear from their lives, then he had to let her go. Nearly choking on the words, he said, “Lass, I’ll release ye if that is what ye truly wish.”

Bronwen stared into his eyes, and he right back at her. There was so much more he wanted to say. Wanted to pull her into the circle of his arms. To kiss her again and pretend that neither of them had anything else to worry about other than what they sincerely wanted.

“That is what I wish,” she said at last, and he felt his heart shatter at that moment. “After ye find a bride.”

“Then I say it is done.” His words were as hollow as his chest.

A thump at the doors had them both turning around just in time to see the door open, and several of his sisters tumble into the ballroom, one on top of the other in a poof of muslin and ribbons.

“So sorry,” Skye said, with a grimace as she climbed out from beneath Lillie, trying to straighten her hair that had fallen lopsided on her head. “I happened to be walking by, and I tripped, and…fell.”

“Aye, she tripped over me,” Lillie confessed, standing up and lending a hand to Esme, who also had tumbled. “Our apologies. We are so clumsy.”

“Och, the lot of ye,” Maggie said, marching into the ballroom. “Euan knows verra well we were spying on him and Miss Holmes.” She turned her gaze back to them both, but it was Skye who spoke next as she slinked into the ballroom too.

“So ye’ll be coming with us to Edinburgh, then?” Skye said.

Bronwen nodded slowly, her gaze shifting around the small group and a genuine smile of happiness touching her cheeks, though the sadness remained in her eyes.

She was so incredibly beautiful, inside and out. If she truly got her wish and they parted ways, he was going to be the most unhappy man in Scotland. But he hoped that her agreeing to accompany them would give him a little more time to show her that she belonged with him.