by Eliza Knight
“What if I do no’ like cucumbers?” he asked, pinching the sandwich between his fingers as she had.
“Who does no’ like cucumbers?” She frowned at him.
“The Duke of Sutherland loathes them.” Euan grinned.
“Really?” She stared at him with true interest, then down at her sandwich, inspecting it as if it were something strange. “That is not something I’ve ever heard before.”
Euan shrugged and chuckled. “Do no’ fash. I like them quite well.”
“I’m no’ certain that I do,” she said softly. Then she took a little nibble, biting around the sandwich in a ring.
When she caught him staring, she indicated that he too should eat his sandwich. He popped the whole thing in his mouth.
Bronwen swallowed her bite and gaped at him. “Och, nay, Captain. That is something ye might do on your own, but in the presence of ladies, ye must eat with delicate intention.”
“Delicate intention?” He grinned with amusement. “Just as ye have?”
“Aye.” She nodded and nibbled again.
Euan picked up another sandwich triangle and nibbled off the edges. “Am I doing it right?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, tilted her head. Her hands fell to her lap, where Owen quickly started to lick her fingers. “Are ye mocking me, sir?”
“I would never.” But he couldn’t help the teasing glint that surely showed in his eyes.
Bronwen glanced at his sisters who were eating their sandwiches the same way. However, their expressions were completely devoid of humor. Amabel even went so far as to look down her nose at Euan and say, “Brother, it is rude to tease your governess. She is here to help ye find a bride, and ye should be grateful for her lessons.”
Thoroughly chastised, he continued to eat his sandwich in a ring around the edge until there was only a tiny circle left, which he then popped into his mouth.
“Am I passing this lesson?” he asked.
“Much better than any others,” Bronwen said with a shrug.
“Good.” He lifted his tea, sure to keep his pinky up, and sipped. “And how do ye find the cucumbers?”
“To be quite honest, they seem to be devoid of most flavor, but I do enjoy the crispness of them.”
“A good assessment,” Maggie agreed.
“Now a rather indelicate question, Miss Holmes.” Euan set down his teacup, sitting back in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee.
Her eyes widened as she stared at him.
“What if I need to…” He cleared his throat and held down his laughter by some miracle. “Belch.”
His sisters gasped in horror. Lillie’s teacup clattered on her saucer.
“Euan,” Maggie hissed.
Bronwen, however, seemed to take his question in stride. She carefully placed her teacup and saucer on the table, pursing her lips as she thought over his question. “Belching is the body’s natural response to eating and drinking. And we all do it, aye? So, I suppose if ye need to, a wee one would be all right. But no’ too loud. Ye would no’ want to offend the ladies.”
“Good to know.” He nodded seriously.
“Do ye need to belch now?” she asked, looking at him curiously.
“No’ yet.”
She nodded as if that were important information he’d just clarified. “Well, I think we can all be comfortable, knowing ye will no’ blow us out of the room with it.”
Lillie giggled behind her teacup, and Amabel elbowed her in the ribs to make her stop. That only caused Lillie to start to choke, and Amabel pounded on her back until Lillie’s eyes watered and laughter spilled out of her lungs.
Bronwen gave them both a quizzical look, but he didn’t want her to draw anything from his giggling gossip of a sister who’d nearly choked on her laughter. He didn’t want to tease her anymore, either, afraid she’d pick up on it and flee before he could find out exactly what was going on with her. So Euan decided to distract his governess.
“The older Irvine sisters have been invited to a country dance this evening a few miles away. Would ye care to join them?” he asked, adding, “I’ll be their escort.”
“Oh.” Bronwen jerked her gaze back to his, one that looked more as if he’d just invited her to a duel in which she’d be sans weapon than a dance. She vehemently shook her head. “I could no’. But ye must go and attempt to use some of our lessons on the lasses in attendance. Maggie, if ye would report back to me, I’d be delighted to hear how the captain does.”
Maggie nodded, her gaze flicking between Euan and Bronwen. “Of course.”
Euan couldn’t help the disappointment he felt at Bronwen’s declining the invitation, even if it confused him. He had a job to do after all—get a bride to fall in love with him and bear his children—and his sisters were counting on him. Thinking about what would happen if he failed was almost too much to bear.
Nay, he needed to stop being distracted by Bronwen. He had to stay on course.
A bride must be procured and one he could love and be loved by in return. As much fun as he was having with Miss Holmes, he truly needed to get on with his planning as he was certain that his cousin Hector must be. The man was likely coming up with some illegitimate scheme to force a marriage. The bastard. His cousin never did anything the lawful way, as if his brain had been outfitted since birth with only nefarious ideals.
So why did the idea of pursuing someone other than Bronwen sit so heavily in his gut?
Euan was quiet for the rest of the tea, politely entering conversation when asked but mostly introspective. His sisters soon begged to be excused to prepare for the dance, leaving him and Bronwen alone together. In the quiet, their gazes met, and neither of them spoke. He wanted to ask her what had happened before she’d arrived at Drum, but the question continued to stall on his tongue.
Then she stood abruptly, and he sat forward, anticipating her next move, only for her to say, “More tea?” as she lifted the pot.
He didn’t want any more tea, but seeing she was nervous and had not yet left, he nodded. She leaned forward to pour, the faintest scent of her soap wafting toward him. The lass started to pour at the same time that a loud knock rattled the main door of the castle. Owen leapt to his feet and unfortunately, just happened to be right under Bronwen, which meant she stumbled. Hot tea flew everywhere—hitting Euan in the face, on his chest, his lap. While the tea went in all different directions, the lass at least maintained a grip on the pot.
“Oh, my! I—I’m so so—sorry,” she stammered, setting the pot down. Gripping a napkin, she began to wipe at his face frantically.
To get closer to him, she skirted the table, but Owen chose that moment to dart for the door. Bronwen tripped right over the animal, tumbling into Euan’s lap. The roundness of her bottom—quite a bit fuller than he would have expected, given her waifish appearance—landed squarely on his groin. He caught her, arms encircling her waist and back, her left breast crushed to his chest. God, it felt good to have her in his arms, even if it had been by accident. Their eyes locked, and the look of horror that filled her face was too much for him to bear.
Euan started to laugh, holding onto her to prevent further calamity as Owen hurried to the parlor door. “My God, that’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” he teased.
Bronwen sat up and shoved the linen napkin into his laughing mouth, glowering at him. “A gentleman does no’ laugh at a lady. Especially one who is trying to help him.”
That only made him laugh harder, and she glowered deeper. And then, without thinking, he yanked the napkin from his mouth and leaned closer to her, needing more than anything to feel his lips pressed on hers. The lass’s eyes widened but she didn’t pull away.
But just as his lips were about to brush hers, the door to the parlor burst open. They yanked apart, both their heads swiveling to see Maggie standing on the threshold, her eyes wide, mouth agape.
“Pardon me, brother, but is that any way to treat Miss Holmes? Quite indecent.”
Br
onwen leapt from his lap, taking the warmth and happiness he’d felt a moment ago with her. “I agree. Ye should apologize, Captain.”
He grinned like a fool. “Why did ye interrupt, Mags?”
“A letter came for your governess.”
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.
