Taming the Scot by Eliza Knight

4

Euan expected the first of his lessons to begin well past dawn, closer to noon. His sisters slept late into the morning, and it was typically the time when the castle was the quietest, and he could get some work done. Or just reflect.

But after his morning walk outside with Owen and completing his breakfast at seven o’clock, he was informed that Miss Holmes awaited him in the parlor. That meant she’d woken before him and had already eaten breakfast. That only added to the mystery of his new governess, and he found himself quickening his step to get to her.

“Good morning,” he said as he entered the parlor.

Miss Holmes was staring out the window. With her back to him, he could see how very slim and fragile she appeared. As if before coming here, she’d been half-starved. The energy he felt from her, which he’d chalked up to nerves, perhaps it was also hunger and determination. There were so many pieces of her he didn’t quite understand, and his curiosity seemed to grow each day.

There’d been a whimsical look on her face when she turned toward him, the last vestiges of her morning ruminating, which she quickly arranged into something more severe upon meeting his gaze. What was Miss Holmes hiding?

“Good morning, Captain,” she said, her tone clipped. She marched away from the window in a way that made him think she had to concentrate on each step.

Today her day gown was a light gray, with the slightest shimmer that made it almost silver and made her eyes appear bluer than the gray they had the day before. She was beautiful but in a way that was different than most of the aristocratic women he met.

“Are ye ready to begin your lessons?” No small talk. The lass wanted to get right into it.

He straightened, offering her a smile, hoping to soften her brittle edges a little. “I am, Miss Holmes.”

She didn’t crack a hint of a grin in return. She was so very uptight. “All right. I have entreated the help of your sister, Maggie.”

Euan glanced about the room for his sister, surprised that he’d missed her, but Maggie was not present.

Miss Holmes waved her hand toward the door. “She’ll be there when we arrive.”

Arrive? “Are we no’ already here?”

Her eyes were pinched as if she had to explain this to wee bairn. “Nay, we are no’.”

How odd. “And where are we going?” Euan crossed his arms over his chest. If the lass was going to be so evasive, then he was going to demand answers.

“Outside,” she said matter-of-factly. “Have ye any visiting cards?”

“They are at my house in Edinburgh. I do no’ do much visiting here in the Highlands.” That wasn’t exactly true. He visited his crofters often, but they did not require that he arrive with a calling card.

She frowned, the plushness of her pink lips turning down. How had he not noticed how full they were before? A stark contrast to the sharpness of her cheeks. “But how are we to pay a call without one, Captain? Ye are quite remiss in leaving them behind.”

Euan was thoroughly confused. But he walked over to the writing desk, opened the letterbox on top and rifled through the contents. “Aha,” he said, plucking out the invitation he’d saved to Alec and Giselle’s wedding. “Will this suffice as a stand-in?”

Bronwen stared at the invitation, her frown still in place. She reached for it, grasping the corner with her thumb on top and the fingers underneath brushing against his own. He was surprised at the naked touch—ladies always wore gloves. More so, he was stunned to find her fingers rougher than those of most ladies. Her nails looked to be bitten down to the quick. She had hands that worked. Fingers that showed signs of fretting. Each added to the puzzle that made up his governess.

When Miss Holmes saw him gaping at her hand, their gazes connected, and her eyes widened as if she’d only now noticed they were bare. A myriad of thoughts passed over her face, and he wanted to soothe whatever worry she seemed to harbor.

She yanked away, turning toward the settee. She lifted her gloves from where she’d deposited them and tugged them on in a jerky, unpracticed fashion.

“Aye, this will work, for now. Apologies for no’ having my gloves on. I was…hot. Let’s go.” She snatched the invitation and stomped toward the door and then yanked it open, heading for the front door, opening that one too.

She was so fast that he had to rush to keep up.

They stepped out into the sun, and Miss Holmes shut the door behind them. Dew made the grass surrounding the castle glisten in the sunlight. She gazed up at the sky, closing her eyes briefly as the sunshine touched her smooth skin. Euan watched her, slightly fascinated by this acerbic creature who seemed to have a dreamy side that she attempted to keep hidden. Except it was the second time this morning he’d caught her in a moment like this. When she opened her eyes, seeing him staring, she immediately frowned—and he tried hard not to laugh.

Miss Holmes cleared her throat, her hands folded in front of her. “Now, we must face the door,” she said. “Like this.”

She stood stoically, chin lifted, spine straight. Euan had the insane urge to tickle her to see if he could get that veneer to crack.

“Are we arriving together?” he asked.

“Aye.” She peeked at him from the side.

“Then I shall offer ye my arm.” Euan bent his elbow, and she stared at his offered appendage as if he’d swung a snake in her direction. But she took it all the same, and he smiled.

“Right ye are, Captain. Oh, I almost forgot.” She pushed the invitation back into his hand then slid her arm around his, her palm resting on his forearm.

Her touch was delicate yet firm. Euan had to ignore the sizzle of heat at her touch. He chalked up that reaction to the fact that it had been a few months since he’d had a woman touch him—by choice. And none were so interesting as the unusual lass at his side. Perhaps it was the thrill of a challenge with Miss Holmes. Most decidedly, this was madness.

The seconds ticked by as he waited for her instruction. But she seemed to be waiting for him to act.

She glanced at him with a little huff. “Now ye may knock.”

This was all so very strange. He knew how to knock on doors and make calls. Anytime he sent a card to a lady for a visit, she agreed. That wasn’t a problem he had. It was the ladies he was sending them to, he supposed. Typically widowed or unhappily married, looking for an assignation. His confidence about a virginal bride accepting his invitation was another issue altogether. He supposed he ought to let Miss Holmes run through her lessons the way she saw fit. There was always something he could learn. After all, she was supposed to be the expert.

Euan knocked on the door, which his butler opened. Owen stood at his side, looking at the lot of them.

Euan glanced down at Miss Holmes, who gestured at him to proceed, so he handed his butler the invitation. Martin, discreet as ever, inclined his head as if all of this were perfectly normal.

Miss Holmes elbowed him in the ribs and said from the side of her mouth under her breath, “Announce us.”

Euan cleared his throat. “Captain Euan Irvine and Miss Holmes to see Miss Irvine.” Euan raised a brow at his governess to see what she thought of his request.

She nodded with a slight twitch to her lips. The very first evidence of a smile. Goodness, but his heart nearly punched through his chest.

“A moment,” his butler said, playing along as he went into the parlor, returning nearly immediately to say, “This way, please.”

Inside the drawing room, Maggie awaited them, perched on a chair. As soon as she spotted them, she stood, trying to temper her grin.

Euan waited for instructions, but Bronwen simply looked at him and waited. When he didn’t move right away, she said, “Well, greet her. She’s your host. Bow.”

Euan bowed to his sister, who appeared ready to burst into laughter at any second, and he felt his mirth bubbling up into his throat.

“My dear Captain, an honor it is to have ye call on me today,” Maggie said, overly exaggerated.

“The honor is all mine, given it is my residence.”

Bronwen made a tsking noise and raised her brows at him as if he were a wayward lad about to get into trouble.

“Please excuse him,” Bronwen said to Maggie as if he were three years old. “He is only now learning his manners. Will ye no’ share with the captain exactly what he should be saying in response, as I’m certain ye know?”

“Of course, Miss Holmes.” Maggie turned her gleeful gaze on his and straightened her shoulders as if she’d been practicing this all morning. “Captain, ye should simply say, ‘The honor is all mine.’”

“Correct,” Miss Holmes said with a perfunctory nod. “Now, introduce me to Miss Irvine, Captain, as part of our lesson today is greetings and introductions.”

He expected her to tell him the right way to go about it, but she didn’t. Instead, she waved him along. Perhaps her style of teaching was to see what the student knew and then correct them.

“Miss Irvine,” he drawled, eyes on Miss Holmes. “Might I have the pleasure of introducing ye to my companion, Miss Holmes?”

His governess’s eyes widened at his use of the word “companion,” and he waited for her to correct him, but she didn’t. For some reason, he rather liked the idea of calling her that. Made their connection more than a man who’d hired a governess to teach him some manners. Implied some intimacy. And…then his gaze slipped lower until he was staring at her mouth.

“A pleasure,” Maggie interrupted with an incline of her head.

“Indeed it is,” Miss Holmes said with the same incline of her head and a slight clap. “Good, good. Shall we do it again? Only this time ye can play the host, Captain.”

Maggie faltered. “But Euan will no’ be receiving female guests.”

“Of course no’,” Miss Holmes said with a flutter of her hand, then flashed them both a placating smile. “But in every situation, it is best to know both sides.”

She had a good point there.

“Verra true,” Maggie said. “I’d no’ thought about it that way.”

“Always best to be prepared for every situation,” Miss Holmes said with authority. “And knowing how others will likely react gives ye a leg up in said circumstances.”

There was something about her choice of words, that made him wonder how many situations she’d had to look at the other side and be prepared for. But she clapped her hands to gain his attention, and he nodded.

“Right ye are. Verra well.” And so, Euan stood in the parlor, waiting for the lasses to be brought in after they’d departed.

“Miss Holmes and Miss Irvine to see ye, Captain,” the butler said, with not even a twitch to indicate he thought them all ridiculous.

The two women entered the parlor. His sister was a good six inches taller than his governess. Maggie dipped into a slight curtsy with Miss Holmes half a beat behind her and a little off-balance. Miss Holmes recovered quickly and looked down at her heel as if something on her shoe had unbalanced her. With a shrug, she glanced back to him as if nothing were amiss, though a tinge of pink covered her cheeks.

He approached the two women, kissing first his sister’s hand and then his governess’s. Her fingers were long and slender, and there was a slight tremble to them as he took them in his grasp. Despite being gloved, he felt the chill from the tips of her fingers. As cold as they’d been the day before when she’d snatched her valise. The lass seemed to be in a perpetual state of chill. He brushed the air above her knuckles with his lips and, for a split second, thought about removing her gloves and kissing her skin in earnest, perhaps rubbing her frigid fingers between his own to warm them up.

But she yanked away as if she could read his thoughts. “That was entirely too long, Captain. If I were a mother and had witnessed that unhurried display, I might hit ye with my fan.”

Euan pulled away with a wicked grin and a need to tease. “I assure ye, if ye were a mother, ye’d be wishing I’d repeat the move on ye.”

Miss Holmes’s eyes widened, and the little shocked O of her lips turned into the frown he’d become accustomed to, only he was fairly certain he saw the tiniest hint of laughter in her gaze. “I beg your pardon, Captain. Ye will receive failing marks for this. I suggest ye rein in your innate need to…seduce.”

“Seduce…” He chuckled. “I jest, Miss Holmes. And I vow,” he pressed his hand over his heart, “No’ to attempt such again.”

“This is no jesting matter.” The lass’s cheeks were aflame. “Ye hired me on to be your governess and teach ye proper manners, and then ye act in such a lascivious way. I should leave if ye’re no’ going to be serious about our lessons.”

To be precise, he’d not exactly hired her—she’d more barged her way in. Maggie looked ready to burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, and he half expected to find his other sisters melting from the wallpaper to join in.

“Ye will see yourself shunned at this rate.” Miss Holmes sniffed. “I think that is enough for today.”

Before he even had a chance to respond, she turned on her heel and marched from the parlor, leaving Euan to stifle his chuckles.

“Ye’re incorrigible,” Maggie said, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot.

Euan huffed, wanting to leave the parlor in search of Miss Holmes. “This is ridiculous. I already know how to introduce myself. I’m no’ twelve.”

“But it was entertaining to play along.” Maggie wiggled her brows.

“Aye, it was. Though I daresay, she lacks a sense of humor.” And why? Who was Miss Holmes, and what exactly had brought her to his doorstep? Because he was fairly certain it wasn’t simply seeing an advert in Lady Edinburgh.

“Brother, until this moment, I thought ye lacked one, too.”

Euan grunted a response at that, unsure of what to think.

Bronwen only tripped once in her haste to escape, and fortunately, it was at the top of the stairs as she rounded the corner. That lesson had been a complete disaster. If there was ever any evidence that this had been a mistake and she had no idea what she was doing, this morning had been it.

She burst into her bedroom, sweaty palms fisted at her sides, breaths heaving. The chair she’d come to favor beckoned, but this was not the time to collapse into it. She whirled to stare at the door, waiting for the inevitable footsteps and the loud knock before the captain and his sister demanded that she pack her bags and be on her way. After this morning, there was no way they were going to let her stay.

But the seconds ticked by with no sound. She clenched and unclenched her hands, her entire body vibrating with tension.

When she thought she might have been standing there waiting for ten minutes, and still they didn’t approach her, she finally relaxed. Perhaps she was out of the woods. Maybe all of the teasing from her pupil—a grown man, for heaven’s sake—had got the better of her. No wonder he needed a governess. It would seem the man didn’t take things seriously.

At last, she allowed herself to relinquish her door-watching vigil and slump onto the bench on the window seat, making sure her skirts were smoothed first—a habit she wanted to get used to. This governess business was a lot harder than she’d thought. But not as bad as running through the Edinburgh streets, trying to escape men who wished to harm her. They’d only caught her the one time—she ran her tongue over her chipped tooth—after that, and knowing what they’d done to her parents—she’d vowed for them to never catch her again.

Still, there had to be a way to go into these lessons better prepared. It was a good thing she’d had Maggie with her today to show her the way, instead of having to do it all on her own—that would have been a complete disaster. And she was pretty certain she’d played off the need for his sister very well.

She gazed out at the landscape below, thinking about how different it was from the city. Born and raised in Edinburgh, she’d never actually been outside of it before. The voyage on the ship had been incredible, seeing the ocean reaching out forever beyond them. Then the rolling moors and steep craigs on the way to Drum, and now all this. It was worlds away from what she knew. Made her feel even more out of place; at the same time, it also calmed her. She liked the countryside. The Highlands.

Did Euan and his sisters know how lucky they were to have this view?

A memory of teasing blue eyes distracted her momentarily from the dove she’d been watching swoop in and out of a tree.

What kept repeating itself in her brain more so than her ill-executed curtsy, or her gaffe at suggesting a lady would visit the captain on her own, was the way he’d held her hand, the way his breath had fanned over her skin. First, when she’d forgotten her gloves, the zing that had shot up her arm was alarming. And then, even when she had her gloves on, the heat of his breath sank through the fabric. Even with his lips only hovering, she’d felt them on her skin. The perpetual cold that haunted her seemed to ebb with his touch.

Indeed, that was what bothered her the most about the situation. How intimate it had felt. The undeniable attraction she felt for him—which was completely inappropriate for so many reasons. First of all, she was his governess. Secondly, she wasn’t staying long. Thirdly, his station was levels above her own.

There could never be anything lasting between them. A few moments of panting breath and pleasure, nothing more.

Besides, he’d made it clear that was the type of man he was, hadn’t he?

She could tell by the winks and smiles and teases that Euan Irvine was used to getting what he wanted through pure charisma. And that even a brood of six sisters had not tamed him. Perhaps having them around had only exacerbated his desire to charm his way out of any situation, including lessons on becoming a gentleman—which she was completely unsuitable to be teaching.

Bronwen breathed hotly on the window, writing her name in the steam and watching the letters fade away slowly, a lot like how she felt about herself. She needed to fade into the background. To disappear from the view of the men who were after her and from the scrutiny of anyone who might call her out for being someone other than she’d said while she was here seeking refuge.

It had probably not been very smart of her to give the captain her real name. God forbid the maniacs in Edinburgh had somehow followed her to the docks and found out where she was. She prayed that her cousins would be safe. She had to believe that they were. Emilia knew what had happened and didn’t seem concerned for her safety, so that was a good sign. Her cousins were strong and resourceful lasses and had a whole host of bodyguards in the dockhands.

But Bronwen didn’t have that same luxury. A flash of unwanted memory assailed her. She’d never forget leaving her flat after midnight, having worried for hours about where her parents were. Sneaking down to the shop to find the door partially open, the lights extinguished. When she’d lit a candle, the scene had been bloody, and haunted her even to this day.

Bronwen shuddered, closed her eyes and drew in her breaths slowly, evenly, until the images went away.

In this life, she could only rely on herself.

And as for the captain? She couldn’t count on him—as much as the primal side of her wanted to.

If she didn’t shore herself up, she’d fall for his charms, and then what? She’d end up right back where she started, only this time likely with a bairn in her womb.

That was what had happened to her friend Alice. Duped by a charmer and left with a bairn on the way. She’d had to give the wee thing up and ended up in a workhouse herself. Bronwen wasn’t sure what had happened to the bairn after that. She hoped it was alive and healthy, but Alice… She’d not fared so well. The workhouse was a death sentence for most. Or at least those of Bronwen’s acquaintance.

Nay, she needed to remind herself that she was her only ally in this situation. The only one who would look out for her, put her best interest at heart.

She shivered, rubbing her arms, feeling colder than she already was. She couldn’t seem to get warm in this castle. Didn’t matter that it was the middle of summer. There was a constant draft; she was sure of it. Else it was her nerves and the worry for her undecided future. The outdoors looked so inviting. She pressed her palm to the cool glass. The sun indicated the warmth on the other side of it.

“One day at a time,” she told herself. “One day at a time.”

A sound outside of her bedroom door startled Bronwen away from where she’d been making calculations at random on the window. There was a shuffling sound, and then a whoosh as a thin package was slid beneath her door a few inches.

She stood and marched over, prepared to tug open the door and reveal her visitor when her eyes caught her name scrawled on the brown wrapping.

Bronwen knelt and picked it up. She carefully unwound the twine, unfolding the paper and gaping at the book in her hands, her heart thudding against her ribcage.

Lady Edinburgh’s Guide for Gentleman

With shaking hands, she opened the book to find a long-winded letter to the reader about the book’s purpose in guiding gentleman in society. What in the world?

This was exactly the resource she needed to be successful. But who had given it to her? Who knew that she was clueless when it came to the position she’d agreed to?

Still trembling, she yanked open the door and peered out into the corridor, expecting to see one of the sisters, or perhaps even her maid hiding a few feet away and waiting. But there was no one. Only the sound of her breath and the pounding of her heart.

Bronwen closed the door quietly, leaning against it, staring down at the book in her hands. Then without delay, she rushed back to the window seat and cracked it open. She had only the remainder of the day to become an expert in manners and gentlemanly behavior. Perhaps even less so if she was invited down to dinner again. Declining one night was fine but feigning a headache again would only bring suspicion.

Curled into the window seat, she opened the book once more and began to read.

My good gentleman, if you are in possession of this book, I hereby commend you for taking further actions on comportment and gentlemanly manners. No doubt before now you thought you’d been taught everything there is to know. But, dear reader, I am obliged to inform you, if you’re holding this book, that is simply not the case…