by Eliza Knight
“Nay.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Well, that wasn’t what she expected. “Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest too, as standoffish as he was.
“Are ye going to tell me anyway?” he asked.
The nerve. “I suppose it is no’ going to hurt me anymore than I already have been to enlighten ye. I am escaping Sir Joshua Keith, your neighbor to the north.”
There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Perhaps the Beast of Errol didn’t know who Keith was. That was possible, she supposed, though unlikely given their proximity to each other and the fact that he’d said he knew all of his surrounding neighbors. So why was the earl so quiet? The silence was thick and charged. Made her a little bit nervous.
“Och, that bastard,” Alec growled at last, as the true Beast of Errol she knew him to be.
“Ah, so I take it the two of ye are acquainted.” She shifted slightly, her arse becoming numb from sitting on the stone floor, and then winced at the pain in her ankle the movement caused.
“Indeed.” Alec’s hands fell to his side, fisted. She could practically feel him seething; as if his breathing controlled the pulsing air. How intriguing. There appeared to be a history between the two men. “I loathe Sir Joshua Keith. What’s he done that has ye escaping him and coming to me?”
“If ye must know, I am being forced to marry him.” Even saying the words aloud made her nauseous.
“That is truly awful.” Alec’s voice softened as he spoke, erasing some of the broodiness she’d come to recognize in him. Perhaps he was more than his grumpy self, after all.
Giselle pressed her lips together, recalling the brief exchange she’d had with her nasty betrothed, and then said quietly, “Ye have no idea.”
“I’m failing to see why ye would leave him and seek me out? How did ye suppose I would be able to help ye? What did he say about me?”
“What? He’s no’ mentioned ye. I saw your castle on the way…” Giselle shook her head, flicks of water stinging her cheeks. “I’m no’ certain, only that I hoped—” She bit her lip. “I have no idea what I hoped. To tell the truth, I left rather impulsively, and ye were the only one in the vicinity that I knew. And...I can see now that it was a mistake. I’m sorry to have involved ye.”
“Ye say we’ve met before. And yet, I do no’ know ye.” He took a few steps forward, leaning down, and she wondered if he could recognize who she was.
In the dim light, she made out the shape of his eyes as he studied her. Despite the rain, she swore she could smell a spicy scent on him. Something like cinnamon. He took his time perusing her face, but there did not appear to be any sort of recognition on his part.
No doubt being soaked, and her face streaked with mud, was quite the disguise. She’d probably not recognize herself if she happened to peer into a looking glass.
“We’ve no’ been formally introduced no,” Giselle mused. “But as I said, we have met before.”
6
Alec stared at the sopping wet, mud-covered, bedraggled lass where he’d placed her on the floor against the wall. Her cloak had fallen away from her head, revealing drenched hair, and in the light, he couldn’t decipher the color. Her cheeks were pale, her teeth chattered a little, and he realized the flimsy cloak she wore did little to keep her warm, not when the rest of her was drenched.
He also recalled all too well what the rush of nearly dying did to a body, sending chills to wrack the limbs. If only he had some whisky that he could give her. Alas, he’d not left his castle thinking he’d be on a rescue mission.
Alec removed his jacket and held it out to her. “Take off that wet cloak and put on my jacket.”
“But ye’ll be cold.”
Alec scoffed. He’d been colder before, in battle when temperatures dipped below freezing or sitting for hours exposed to the elements. “No’ as cold as ye, lass.”
She unbuttoned the hooks near her throat and wriggled free of the cloak, dropping the sodden cloth in a mound beside her. Then, she accepted his jacket with a grateful look and slipped it around her slim shoulders. The woman was tiny; he’d felt it when he held her in his arms. At least a foot shorter than himself, he’d guess.
Alec picked up her drenched cloak and wrung it out as best he could before spreading it out on the ground, well away from the rain, to dry.
“What are ye doing out here?” she asked. “I told ye my reason, but ye never did give me yours. My guess is ye do no’ lie in wait in the abbey ruins for damsels falling off their horses.”
Alec turned around to face her, finding it difficult not to smile at her teasing. She’d tucked her knees up around her chest, and his jacket was wrapped around her legs.
“Ye should elevate your ankle the way I had it,” he said. “It helps alleviate the swelling.”
She didn’t argue but put her foot back on the stone where he’d placed it before, revealing the now-brown stocking of her shapely calf. The lass tried to adjust her skirts to cover what she exposed, but the fabric of her skirt was not cooperating. Finally, she gave up and leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closed as if she were gathering strength. Alec racked his brain for a way to impart comfort, but then her eyes popped open, and she flashed him a saucy smile.
“Any other orders, my lord?” The level of sarcasm in her tone was unnerving.
Alec cleared his throat, deciding to ignore her bait. “Ye mentioned we’d met before. Where?”
The chit bit her lip, nodded and looked away. Definitive signs of withholding information and a reluctance to share. The glee she’d expressed a moment ago evaporated. He was starting to get whiplash from her emotions. Teasing and bold one minute, then closed off and tentative the next. Was it deliberate? He had to guess, given his experience with females, that it was. After all, his mother was classic for changing her moods to fit the environment or get something she wanted—or get rid of something she didn’t want.
Well, Alec wasn’t going to play any more games. He didn’t have the patience for it. He wanted to know exactly who she was and how deep into the rabbit hole he’d be, knowing she’d been engaged to Joshua Keith, that bastard. Was Keith going to storm Slains in the dead of night? Oh, aye, please do...Alec would relish the moment he had good cause to hold his blade to the man’s throat.
“Are ye going to tell me, lass, or am I going to turn to dust waiting?”
She pressed her hands around her ankle. “Since it’s only sprained and no’ broken, as soon as the rain clears, I’ll be on my way. Ye’ll no’ have to deal with me anymore.”
That was a quick and unexpected amendment. Also, she was changing the subject. Alec narrowed his gaze.
“No’ so fast, lass. Tell me who ye are.” Coming within only two feet of her, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her the way he used to stare down at the wayward recruits in his regiment.
“Giselle Hepburn.”
Worked every time. Alec grinned with satisfaction. Guess he hadn’t lost his touch.
He cocked his head to the side, considering her name. Giselle, Giselle...but there was no recognition in the recesses of his mind. The truth was, he wasn’t very good with names, or the list of those within the peerage either. “Does no’ ring a bell, lass.”
She huffed a breath, clearly annoyed with him. “My da is the Earl of Bothwell.”
Well, he knew that name and the man. They weren’t close, but they had come into contact plenty of times in the House of Lords. There was nothing particularly memorable about the man. Good, bad, Alec was indifferent. So how the hell had he come across this chit before that she remembered him? He might have been bad with names, but he thought he’d remember a lass like her. In her company for less than an hour, he’d already picked up on her personality traits.
“Ah, well, I am acquainted with your father. But I can no’ recall meeting ye.”
“Ye’ve made that clear. Why no’ say it again in case the crows did no’ pick up on it?”
<
br /> Ooh, so the lass had a little bite in with her wit. Had he been shouting? He didn’t think so. Seemed as if one of those responses meant to deflect attention. Alec grinned all the more. The lass was quite revealing in her moods and thoughts, even if she didn’t mean to be.
She huffed in annoyance—and resignation. “We met a couple of years ago at the ball your mother threw in your honor after your return from the Peninsular War.”
So she was one to the rotten lassies who’d made his night awful, he supposed. Which one had she been? The one who blanched so white she could have disappeared into a cloud if it came to earth? Or maybe she was the lass who’d gagged when he kissed her hand, her revulsion so palpable even he’d shuddered. The reactions from the lassies always surprised him. For certes, his scar was heinous, but it didn’t make him a leper, for bloody’s sake. And he’d done his best to grow a beard that covered nearly half the grotesqueness.
“That explains a lot,” he said, turning away from her. He went to examine the rain, which was not relenting. The sky had turned an ominous dark gray, nearly black in spots. If she’d been one of those lasses, then he didn’t want anything to do with her, no matter how intrigued he was by her now. But being the gentleman he was, Alec couldn’t leave her here and send word back to her father at Keith’s house to come and get her.
“What do ye mean by that?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He certainly didn’t want to get into it with her about how rude the lasses had been since he’d come back to Scotland with the scar, and he didn’t blame them. Alec touched the mark on his cheek, running down the length. Though it wasn’t as bad as they made it out to be, now that he had his beard, he supposed it did make him look a little terrifying. Or more so, it reminded them of the brutality of war. How cushy their own lives were.
Spoiled rotten, the lot of them.
Lady Giselle tried to stand, scooting her spine up the stone wall with her hands planted on the surface, but she winced and sat back down heavily, a sigh of disappointment on her lips. Seemed she was more eager to escape him than he first thought. Didn’t that figure?
“Just rest,” he grumbled. “When the rain stops, I’ll see that ye get back to where ye came from.” He couldn’t even force himself to say the bastard’s name, and he let out a low prayer that the rain ended bloody well soon.
Alec stared out over the landscape through the sheets of rain and darkened sky. It hit him all of the sudden that if his mother had not decided to throw her ridiculous secret party at his castle, that the woman sitting behind him would have fallen over the cliff. In a twisted way, his meddling mother was to thank for the wee nuisance being alive, albeit slightly injured. And how ironic that she was one of the chits to torment him years ago, and here he’d become her rescuer. Well, if that wasn’t Fate kicking him in the ballocks.
“I was at that ball, sir,” Lady Giselle said, cutting into his thoughts, her tone shaper than before. “But we did no’ meet on the dance floor.”
“Ye’re a wallflower?” With that mouth, he wasn’t surprised.
Even covered in mud, he thought she was probably decent-looking enough that she’d not be completely ignored. Hard to tell when she looked as if she’d rolled around with a bunch of pigs. Had to be her attitude that kept her away from the other lads.
She laughed, the sound as bitter as some he’d pushed out in the last couple of years. “Some might say so. However, it’s my own choice. But nay, no’ that night. We met in the garden.”
Alec narrowed his eyes and turned more fully to face her. It couldn’t be...studying the hair matted to the top of her head, the still pale, mud-streaked cheeks, and the earnest eyes that glared up at him with a challenge in their depths, he realized that there was something indeed familiar about her. Alec flashed back to the garden, dawning understanding and recognition hitting him in the gut.
Her words returned to him, how she hadn’t thought of him since that night. How very opposite their reactions had been, for he’d not stopped thinking about her since then. It had been so refreshing to spar with a woman who couldn’t care less about the scar on his face. He’d attempted to find out who she was but never was successful. He’d half convinced himself that she’d not been real.
“Ah, aye, I do remember ye.” It was an effort to keep his voice measured. She’d been the one lass who hadn’t been intimidated by him. And she didn’t appear to be now either. Alec’s heartbeat sped up, and a thrumming hummed in his veins. “Ye refused to give me your name then, Lady Giselle. I appreciate ye telling me now.”
A crack of lightning lit up the abbey ruins, and he caught sight of the quirk of her lips, a smile so fleeting it disappeared with the bright light. He thought she was bonnie, mud and all.
“Perhaps I should have kept the mystery going a little longer,” she said. “Though I daresay neither of us wants to meet under such circumstances again. We keep finding each other at our worst. Ye punching garden walls and me falling off of cliffs. A friendship between us seems doomed to fail. Best we keep going our separate ways.”
Friendship. So she didn’t find him worthy of even that. At least she respected him enough—to be honest, that was refreshing. Almost as revitalizing as her not finding him to be utterly hideous.
“If ye help me up,” she wiggled her hand toward him, “I can try to mount my horse and be on my way. Out of your hair, and then ye can return to stalking this pile of rocks to your heart’s content.”
Alec stared at her outstretched hand and considered it. Life would be much less complicated if he sent her on her way. But for the last few years, he’d been exceptionally bored, holed up in his castle. Perhaps what he needed was a bit of a complication.
“Och, nay. I’ll no’ be the one to let ye ride out in this storm. ’Tis too dangerous, and with your ankle like that, ye’ll find it painful to ride. We’ll have to stay here until it settles.” All of that was true. But what he didn’t say was he rather relished the idea of Keith coming to find her and having the chance to punish the man who was the downfall of everything. Sir Joshua Keith was his sworn enemy. Alec was itching for a reason to put their feud to rest. To see that bastard pay the way Alec and so many others had.
Giselle let out a sigh that didn’t sound half as disappointed as he thought she meant it to. “And so I find myself alone with ye once more.”
“Aye, although this time, I hardly think ye need to be worried about anyone stumbling upon us. No’ just yet anyway.”
“Right about now, my mother will discover I’m no’ in my room.” She scrubbed her hands over her face, washing away some of the mud that had started to dry. “She’ll tear through the castle looking for me. Probably scare most of the servants. Father will blame her for my disappearance. Threaten to send her away, most likely.”
Alec chuckled. “Does he threaten that often?”
Giselle shrugged. “They were meant for each other. What of ye? Who will be searching for ye when they discover ye are missing?”
“My mother. But she’ll figure I’m avoiding the disastrous tea she’s got planned with a dozen uninvited ladies. I do no’ think it would cross her mind I’d left the castle because she would no’ leave the castle. ’Tis hard for her to separate her actions and desires from others.”
“Huh. I know what that’s like. I’m also eluding a disastrous tea. And I daresay the single bachelor I’m avoiding marriage with outweighs any of the ninnies awaiting your company. When do ye think our mothers will notice we’ve left the castle grounds?”
The lass had a point. He’d rather deal with the nitwits at Slains than be bound for life to Sir Joshua Keith. “Perhaps another hour or so for ye, after they’ve scoured the castle and outbuildings looking for ye. I think I’ve got a little longer.” His mother would be discreet about it, not wanting her precious guests to catch wind of what she and most of society would deem as inappropriate behavior.
“Will the dowager countess send out a search party?” Lady Giselle asked.
A
lec shrugged. “She will try, but my friends will tell her no’ to do so yet.”
“Your friends? Ye’re evading them as well?”
He nodded solemnly, feeling a little bit guilty about that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them. Hell, if it had only been them, he would have stayed. But the simpering potential brides his mother had convinced to join them all were not worth the struggle it would take to make an appearance.
“An unfortunate side effect of the situation,” he said. “Now, tell me. Were ye and Sir Joshua intending to join the festivities at Slains?”
“Goodness, I do no’ think so. At least, an invitation was no’ mentioned to me.” She shook her head. “If anything, I feel as though I was about to be locked up and never heard from again.”
“Is that so?” Alec didn’t doubt it.
“Aye.” She ran her hands over her wet hair and started to fiddle with threading a long, messy plait at the back, winding the tendrils with deft fingers, before unwinding it again and running her hands through the locks.
Giselle didn’t expound on her words but seemed to drift off into her thoughts as she concentrated on ringing the water from her hair.
The lass was confounding. On the one hand, she had decided to betroth herself to one of the worst people Alec had ever met, and yet on the other, she’d escaped him in a dangerous storm. What was she really about? Other than being silly and apparently reckless.
“Why did ye agree to marry Keith?”
She stopped the movement of her hands and looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “Agree?” That bitter laugh escaped her again. “I think ye misunderstand me. I did no’ agree.”
“Ye were being forced?”
“I said as much before. Do pay attention. Besides, I’m a lady, and we do no’ really have a choice anyway, do we? Our das, older brothers, guardians, whoever it may be, decide our future based on what’s good for them. No’ so much what is good for us.”
