Taming the Scot by Eliza Knight

8

Providing escort for four of his sisters to a country dance was tantamount to torture. There were gobs of material everywhere. Lace, ribbons and muslin. He’d sat in the carriage in a sea of feminine dress and wasn’t certain he’d ever swim out of it.

Euan would have much preferred being at home with Esme and Raine, who’d balked for hours at not being of an age yet to come at sixteen and thirteen respectively. One of his ears was still ringing from the shriek of betrayal, which felt a mite too exaggerated for his taste.

It was only at Bronwen’s intervention and promise of their own dance party at Drum Castle that he’d been able to extricate himself from the female breakdown. A good swig of whisky did the trick of calming down his abused senses.

As his good friends Lorne, Alec and Malcolm were in Edinburgh, it was with some difficulty he managed a conversation with the older gentlemen present. And thankfully, given the advanced age of the majority of the crowd, the dance ended at a mostly reasonable hour, rather than the wee hours of the morning that he was used to with high society balls.

Maggie, Lillie and Skye had plenty of dances, but Amabel seemed content to fade into the wallpaper when she wasn’t chatting pleasantly with the more mature ladies present. She’d always had a rapport with the elder generation, which had helped him tremendously with their crofters and those in the village. But he would have to help her cross over the line of sister and wallflower into a potential bride at some point. After all, she was twenty-four. Once Maggie’s nuptials were handled, he’d help Amabel. One stubborn sister, content to hover over him for the rest of her days, was hard enough to deal with at a time.

Upon arriving home at Drum Castle, his eyes were drawn to an illuminated window on the west side. All the rest of the castle was dark, save for the outdoor torches by the main door and those at the gate.

Bronwen’s room.

He’d not expected to see any of the bedroom windows lit up, especially hers, with how tired she’d expressed herself to be earlier in the day, but perhaps the late hours she kept were the very reason. It might be a good idea for him to inquire if her mattress needed replacing, although they’d given her the nicest of their guest rooms.

Euan grasped Maggie’s arm as they climbed the front stairs, waving Amabel, Lillie and Skye toward the door.

“Oh, must we?” Lillie said, standing up on her tippytoes. “Sounds as if ye’re about to have a riveting conversation.”

“Inside,” Euan said. “I’m certain ye’ll hear all about it later.”

“Promise?” Lillie asked, then hurried in with Amabel and Skye.

“Mags, did ye happen to catch the return address on the letter that came for Miss Holmes today?”

Maggie raised a brow at him and shrugged out of his grasp. “If I did, it was no’ my business to see.”

He only stared at her, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for her to furnish him with the information he sought. This was no time for her to teach him a lesson. Or to evade his question out of some perceived loyalty to Bronwen, though he rather liked that she was trying to. Very endearing, actually.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Ye have a large ego enough, brother. Let it go.”

“Ye fully understand the reason I must know.”

Maggie’s shoulders sagged. “It was from her cousin, Emilia, if ye must know.”

Euan sighed in relief. He was worried that whoever she’d run from had figured out where she was and that they’d have imminent visitors.

“And ye ought to mind your own business,” Maggie said. “That should be a lesson ye learn.”

“Ye’ve taught me well no’ to mind my own business,” he said with a grin.

“Nay, that was Lillie’s department.” They both had a chuckle at their gossipy sister. Then Maggie asked, “Are ye going to tell me what’s going on? Everything? Beyond the being in trouble part.”

Euan nodded. “When I know, aye. But for now, keep this between us.”

Maggie agreed, and they went inside. As they parted ways at the top of the stairs heading toward their respective bedchambers, Euan paused, his attention riveted pointed toward the west wing, where Bronwen was still awake.

There’d been so many times in the evening that he’d wanted to turn to her and point out a mannerism that was out of place, or something funny he saw. And then at the beginning of every song, how he’d wanted to swing her into his arms so that he could feel her body against his again.

Those were the moments tonight where he’d started to realize he didn’t want some society lass who couldn’t care less about anything other than a title, coin, gowns. Bronwen didn’t seem to care about any of those things. Euan started to make his way to his chamber when his feet decided they had a mind of their own and turned him back around. The next thing he knew, he was knocking softly at her door and eyeing at the light underneath the threshold.

There was a rustling on the other side, the thump of footsteps. A second later, the door creaked open to reveal Bronwen in her nightgown and wrapper. The sight of her with her long, dark locks pulled over one shoulder, revealing a slight wave, and the way the wrapper clung to her subtle curves—goodness, but he was…stricken. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever beheld. Took his breath away.

“Captain, what are ye doing here?” She glanced out into the hallway to see if there was anyone else present.

Euan swallowed, trying to find his voice and feeling very much like he was fourteen all over again, having stumbled across a few young women bathing in the nearby loch. “I wanted to make certain ye were well. I saw the light from your window when we returned.”

Her arms were at her sides, and without the restriction of a gown, or stays, or whatever it was that she might wear underneath her clothes, her pert breasts beckoned his gaze. And he found it hard as hell not to look, especially when he was certain her nipples had hardened from the chill.

“It’s the middle of the night,” she said, drawing his attention back.

Euan ran his hand through his hair, feeling silly for having come at all and yet grateful he had because the thoughts he’d had while missing her were flooding his brain now. He was in a real quandary. “Are ye well?”

She rubbed at her arms and cocked her head at him, eyeing him curiously. “I’m perfectly fine. I was…reading. Are ye well?” The concern in her voice made him smile.

“Ah, well, I did no’ mean to interrupt.” He started to retreat, massaging the back of his neck. “I was just…checking on ye.”

“Were ye worried about me?” Her hip popped out a little, leaning against the doorframe as she watched him.

Euan started to shake his head but then thought better of it. “Aye.”

“Why?”

This was an easy answer to divulge. “I worry about everyone.”

A soft smile played on her lips. “Ye take on too much. I promise ye that I do no’ need ye to add me to your list of burdens.”

He shrugged. “Someone has to. Why no’ me?” There, he’d opened up the line of communication.

“Ye’re a good brother,” she said, changing the subject. “Your sisters missed ye tonight. It is evident how much they admire ye. I do hope the rest of ye had a wonderful time.”

But Euan wanted her admiration. Which he thought he might have, given her words and the fact that she’d not shooed him away five minutes ago.

“They mean everything to me,” he said, having the sudden urge to confess to her about the new stipulation in the will, his cousin, all of it. But something held him back.

Bronwen smiled up at him wistfully, an arm casually slung across her body, clutching her other elbow. “I’m but an observer, Captain, but I think it is safe to say the feeling is mutual.” There was a fleeting look of sadness that passed over her face before it disappeared. “Tomorrow is walking in gardens and carriage rides through the park. Ye mentioned Charlotte Square before. We’ll pretend we’re in Edinburgh.”

Euan perked up at that. He was very much looking forward to continuing the flirtation in the morning. “And will ye be the lady I’m perusing?”

“I’m no’ lady, but I can pretend to be one.” She gave him a half-smile.

He grinned back, not wanting to press. “Then I bid ye goodnight, and I eagerly await tomorrow’s lessons.”

“Good night.” She ducked her head as she turned around and closed the door. But at the last second, before it closed, she looked out at him, her eyes catching his, and Euan’s heart stuttered to a stop.

Bronwen collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Already, she’d barely been able to sleep. She’d read Emilia’s letter over and over again. Under cover of darkness, her cousin had sent several men to her flat to clear out anything of personal value. The place had been ransacked since she’d left, but Emilia had been able to direct the men to the loose floorboard where Bronwen had hidden a few keepsakes, which Prince’s henchmen had not yet found. Thank the saints!

At least those things were safe, the few memories she had left. Emilia also mentioned sending her the copy of Lady Edinburgh’s Guide for Gentleman. What a relief to know that it was her who’d sent it and not someone within the house.

Her secret was still safe.

At some point in the night, she managed to fall asleep, and the dawn came too early, the sun shining through her window. She’d hoped to wake and find it raining and the lesson for today needing to be postponed, but alas, she had no such luck.

Having brought only a few items of clothing with her, she re-wore the gown she’d donned on her arrival and made her way downstairs. The breakfast room was empty, and the array of eggs was on the sideboard. Today, she decided to have Euan’s childhood favorite, along with some of the mushrooms. As she ate, she thought about his late-night visit. If anyone were to have found out about that, it would have been considered a scandal, according to the guidebook.

So many rules that the upper crust had to follow, and so many Bronwen could do without. How did they go about each day, worrying so much about this or that?

Since the elder sisters and Euan had returned late into the night from the assembly—though Esme and Raine had predicted they wouldn’t be back until morning, so she supposed it was earlier than usual—and the youngest sisters had stayed up until nearly midnight from the impromptu party Bronwen orchestrated for them, the house was quiet.

After finishing her breakfast, she wandered into the ballroom. The drapes were still closed, so she spun in a circle on her tiptoes, the swish of her skirts circulating air over her claves. With her eyes closed, she envisioned music, the notes tinkling on the edge of her memory. She practiced a few of the dance steps she’d seen in the book, drawn in black outlines of figures. The moves were not much different than the dances she’d done in the taverns in Edinburgh during the few times she’d been invited out before losing her parents. Though they seemed slower perhaps—wider, maybe? She couldn’t tell; she was no dancing expert by any means.

Though she guessed the aristocrats would think their steps were much more refined, and perhaps they were. But they were also stiff. There didn’t seem to anything fun about what they did.

Hearing the public house music in her head, she smiled and tapped her way about the floor, bringing to life in her imagination perceived happier times. She swung her body around and around, laughing softly at her antics until she collided with strong, male muscle.

Her fingers curled into that muscle. “Oh,” she burst out, eyes popping open to find Euan smiling down at her, her hands clutching his chest.

“Ye’re a good dancer, though I’ve no’ seen this one before. Looks fun.” The genuine pleasure in his voice, written on his face, sent her face to flames.

“Ye’re no’ asleep,” she blurted out, feeling awkward and more than a little embarrassed at having been caught.

“Nay. We’ve lessons, and I’ve still got an estate to run.”

“Even after a late night?”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead. At least that was what my da used to say.”

Bronwen smiled and realized she was still gripping him—even more dire, his hands were resting on the small of her back. She practically leapt back, away from the heat of his body and the temptation to explore the wall of taut sinew that had collided with her.

She folded her hands behind her back as if that were going to help her. “If ye have work to do, I’ll no’ stand in your way.”

Euan grinned at her as if he knew her thoughts and took a step closer. Oh, but he smelled delicious. How was it fair that he should smell so good? Spicy, woodsy—temptation itself.

“I could use some fresh air first. How about the garden lesson?”

Goodness, but she needed fresh air too if she was going to survive. Air, the crisp breeze of morning. Something to cool down the flames in her cheeks and the rampant burbling of the blood heating in her veins. “All right.” Och, but her tongue felt thick.

This time when he offered her his arm, she didn’t hesitate in taking it as she had the previous times. It was only after she laid her palm on his forearm that she realized what she’d done and cursed herself. It would seem she had lost all semblance of control.

“Did ye sleep well, Miss Holmes?” He turned them toward a wall of glass doors that led out onto a patio overlooking the garden.

“Aye.” This wasn’t exactly a lie. When she finally had fallen asleep, she’d been dead to the world. It was getting there that had taken a while.

“Good.” He opened the door leading them out into the sunshine toward the garden.

A gentle breeze blew at her, and for a moment, she thought to turn back to get a shawl but decided against it. The side he was on was mighty warm already.

“And ye?” she managed to ask.

“Quite well. I only need a few decent hours of sleep a night to function.”

“’Tis the same for me.” Although, the indulgence of sleeping late was never an option for her. It would seem with all the burdens on Euan’s shoulders, neither had he.

Their shoes crunched on the gravel pathway as they traversed the garden. She almost forgot they were supposed to be having a lesson, so aware was she of his strong body beside hers.

“A garden walk is a good time to get to know your potential bride better,” she said, deciding to drag herself away from the yearning thoughts that kept trying to batter their way into her head like an enemy force, and return to the reason she was here to begin with.

“How right ye are.” His grin was devastatingly handsome. “So, tell me, Miss Holmes, what was your biggest dream as a wee lass?”

That was an extremely deep question, which she’d not been expecting. “My biggest dream? I do no’ think anyone has ever asked me that. And to be quite honest, I do no’ think I had one. We are all born into our worlds and things expected of us. I suppose I never had time to think of anything different.” Nor the luxury, but she kept that part to herself.

“I can relate to that.” His expression grew serious. “I always knew that one day I’d be Laird of Drum as my da was, and perhaps even Chief of the Irvine clan, inheriting the barony, which until recently was held by my grandfather.”

“I’m sorry for the loss of your grandfather. Who holds it now?”

“There is some question as to whether it will be my cousin or me.” He shrugged as if it weren’t a big deal, so she didn’t pry.

Bronwen could understand holding some things inside. “Did ye ever dream of being a soldier?”

“Aye. Every Highlander dreams of the honor of fighting for their country.” Owen took that moment to bounce toward him with his stiff gait that longed to be spryer. Euan picked up a stick and tossed it to him.

“I think what I longed for most was the feeling of joy without the worry of that bubble inexplicably being popped.” The words slipped out unbidden in the morning breeze. Despite having revealed something considerably intimate about herself, Bronwen managed to keep her features deceptively composed.

Euan glanced down at her, and when she met his gaze, she didn’t feel judgment or pity there, rather an understanding. She was keenly aware of how he studied her.

“I see we both had that same thought,” he finally said, pausing his steps to face her fully.

She offered him a small, shy smile. “I’m still searching.”

There was a glimmer of some indefinable emotion in his gaze, and Bronwen wished desperately to know just what it meant.

“I think I am too on most days,” he pondered. “Though I must say since your arrival, the searching has been more and more fleeting.”

She masked her inner turmoil at his confession but pounced on the one thing that would ease the palpable emotional tension between them. “Ah-ha! Ye snuck in the flattery lesson. Well done.”

“I was being truthful.”

Owen returned with the slobbery stick, offering it to his master for another throw.

Bronwen laughed, pretending he was not being serious. “Ye’re quite the tease, Captain.”

He reached out then, touching her elbow gently, and then his fingers slid down her arm to her wrist before reaching her hand, where he grasped her tenderly. Bronwen’s heart skittered to a stop, as did her breath.

“I’m verra serious.” His gaze on her was intense, and as staid as they came, his tone thick and unwavering. A shiver of awareness skipped down her spine. “I want to thank ye for that gift, Miss Holmes. For having a few moments where the weight of my world did no’ feel as if it was pushing me into the ground.”

My goodness. But her tongue felt twisted, and she was at a loss for any words that might be remotely coherent. At last, she managed to remember the essence of language. “Well, then I suppose I ought to thank ye too for the verra same thing. Being here,” she glanced back at the castle, “with ye and your family has been a reprieve, believe it or no’.” She laughed, a little nervous at how much she’d revealed and how much she’d learned. What did it all mean? “Ye might find your sisters troublesome, but I find them to be a delight.”

“Give it another week,” he teased, breaking the tension for a moment.

If only she could give it a lifetime.

Her skin flushed at that thought. She stared toward the ground to hide her face, her emotion. There was no way she could allow herself to continue these sorts of ridiculous, fanciful contemplations. This was not a life she’d ever have, and the people here were only a fleeting, passing moment in the span of her existence.

Euan pressed a finger to her chin, gradually guiding her face back up, revealing the blush she was certain still stained her cheeks. Blue eyes probed hers. And suddenly, she was back in the drawing room when his sister had caught them about to kiss. The softest brush of his lips had been about to be hers…and then nothing. But right now, gazing deeply within his soul, she wanted to melt into him.

“This is the part where I beg ye to let me kiss ye,” he murmured, eyes growing hooded, his voice sensual and alluring.

“What?” The question barely escaped her mouth. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it too, but there still seemed to be some thread within her that was not a lunatic and wanted to question what he was thinking and what she was contemplating in return.

“I know it’s against the rules,” he said, his fingers trailing over her jawline, “and that I’ll get failing marks for asking, but dammit, Bronwen Holmes, I’ve been wanting to kiss ye for days.”

This was the man she’d been warned about, even by his own tongue. The charmer. The seducer. The man who had many lovers and took pride in the sport of his conquests. But that was not all she knew him to be. Oh, nay, she knew so much more. Perhaps more than most. Especially what he’d confessed to her here and now.

And she wanted to kiss him too. Wanted to feel the slide of his mouth on hers, the heat of his muscled body pressed to chest, her hips. If only she could say aye, if only she could—

But apparently, she’d not said “nay” soon enough, for his face was descending toward hers. His lids were shuttering over his startling blue eyes, the fan of his lashes touching his cheeks. No words escaped her. And her feet remained rooted in place. Her treacherous fingers curled into the lapel of his jacket as she leaned forward, her own eyes dipping closed. Wanting this kiss as much as she needed her next breath of air.

The blissful heat of his lips pressed to her mouth, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The thing she’d been longing for but denied herself even the sliver of a thought... Bronwen sighed against him as he slid his lips back and forth. Then the light, heated touch of his tongue slipped into her mouth to tangle with hers, and Bronwen thought she might float away or drop from no longer being able to hold herself upright. Either way, she was done for.

This was heaven, glorious euphoria. A delicious and intoxicating escape from everything and everyone. Just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, their passion igniting.

Owen let out a loud woof in warning beside them and then again until Bronwen was pushing against Euan’s chest, managing to find the willpower to end the liplock. Every part of her yearned to lean back in. To not heed the warning of the dog that someone might be coming.

Breathing hard, she met his gaze, read the intense desire there that matched her own. And she knew she needed to put a stop to it. All the reasons she’d told herself before were still valid. They were too different. She bore too many burdens to lay on his shoulders. And he needed a wife that would fit well into his life.

“I am your governess,” she reminded him breathlessly.

“And I am a man kissing a lass.”

“Aye, but ye’re also a man that needs a bride. And I am no’ she.” Bronwen shook her head, let her hands fall from his chest. “The lessons are over for today.”

“Wait, do no’ go, please,” he said as she turned away.

But Bronwen couldn’t make herself stay. Couldn’t let herself fall into the trap of becoming his mistress when she knew he would still need a wife. That was not the life she wanted for herself. Always being second, never being fully safe.

And so, she hurried back to the castle, up the stairs to her bedroom, and when she was there, she flung open the wardrobe and threw her gowns onto the bed. She tugged her valise from beneath the bed. She would pack, and she would slip away. The lasses of the house were going into the village today to do some volunteer work with the church. They wouldn’t notice her gone for some time, and likely Euan would give her space. At least, she hoped he would.

“What are ye doing?”

Bronwen turned to see Amabel standing in the doorway, her face serious as usual. Blast it, but she’d forgotten to close the door.

Bronwen drew in a heavy breath and had to look away from Euan’s sister. “I’m packing.”

Amabel approached the bed and put her hand on Bronwen’s, drawing her attention back.

“Why?” Amabel cocked her head to the side, studying her with those large blue eyes that seemed to see inside Bronwen’s soul.

“Because I do no’ think I can do more here than I already have.” That was an understatement.

“Really? Seems like ye’ve just begun.” There was no censure in her voice, only genuine surprise.

Bronwen ran her sweaty palms over the front of her gown. “The captain does no’ need a governess to help him find a wife. He just needs to meet the right lady.”

“Please stay.”

Drawn to the sadness in the lass’s voice, Bronwen stopped what she was doing to pay her more attention. “Why?”

“I’ve never seen my brother so…lively. We’ve all been enjoying this side of him so much. He’s had so much on his shoulders—if ye only knew.” She stopped abruptly. “I think that these lessons have given him a new outlook. And perhaps if ye continue, he will indeed find the right bride. But I’m afraid if ye leave, that will never happen. And then, we’ll all be lost as he was when, well, since forever. It almost feels as if we have our brother back.”

Lost. That was a feeling Bronwen could identify with. More often than not, she was lost, searching for herself, for where she belonged. Was it the same for Euan? But even as she contemplated that, she knew it for what it was. He’d essentially told her that in the garden.

Amabel glided toward the bed, picking up a frock and hanging it back in the wardrobe. “A few more days. Please.”

Bronwen sank onto the edge of the bed, unable to deny Amabel and the rest of Euan’s sisters the brother they’d longed to have back. And perhaps to give herself a few more days of that sense of belonging, of family, before she thrust herself back into the cold, hard world she knew all too well—as alone as she was the day she’d arrived.

“All right.” Bronwen nodded, scooping up her gowns to put them back. “I’ll stay a few more days.”