The Scholar and the Scot

by Lee, Caroline

  She planted her palms against his shoulders, he grasped her hips, and then it was all she could do to hold on, as he’d commanded. Phineas thrust up into her, again and again, her breasts waving freely between them and desperate little sounds escaping both of their lips.

  “Oh!” She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was so close to the edge, but not certain she wanted to fall over it yet. “Oh!”

  “Aye, lass! Come for me,” he growled. “Come for me now.”

  “I— I don’t— Oh!”

  She felt her inner muscles tighten around him, and that was apparently all the encouragement he needed. With a roar, he tensed, and she felt a rush of warmth fill her.

  That sensation—that knowledge—almost as much as the touches and kisses, sent her over the edge. She stiffened, squeezing his sides with her knees and his manhood with her core, as her orgasm swept over her.

  Her body was a statue, her entire being—thoughts, breath, heartbeat—focused on the sensations ripping through her soul. It wasn’t until she became aware of the light caress of his fingertips up and down her hips that she realized she’d run out of oxygen and sucked in a great lungful.

  That was all the catalyst her body needed because she collapsed, boneless, atop his chest, his member still tucked perfectly inside her.

  It seemed as if a lifetime of bliss had passed before he stirred, reaching around her to place his palms against her rear end.

  “Olive, ye…”

  His whisper brushed the hair at her temples, and she waited for him to finish his thought. When he didn’t, she hummed slightly and brushed a kiss against his sweaty skin.

  The steady drumming of the rain above them matched her heartbeat, but in time, both slowed. She realized she was quite warm and content, but they couldn’t doze the way she was desperate to.

  So with a sigh, she pushed herself upright, causing his hands to fall to her hips. In the light from the lamp, she saw his wry smile…and something in his eyes.

  She sucked in a breath and jabbed at his chest with one finger. “You don’t regret this, do you?”

  “What?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Nay! Olive, ye…”

  He pushed himself up on his elbows, then as she scooted backward, he sat upright. It was only then she realized he was still wearing his boots, with his trousers and smalls tangled around his knees. Before she could snicker about that, he was reaching for her, pulling her against him and tucking her head protectively beneath his chin.

  “I will never regret this, Olive.” He blew out a breath. “I just wish the timing had been better.”

  Outside, the rain was stopping; the thunder a distant rumble to the west. Olive knew soon she’d have to untangle herself from him and find her clothing once more and face the world.

  But she didn’t want to.

  This had been an adventure. Not the combat archaeology adventure she’d always dreamed of sharing with Aberdeen Jones, but something better. An adventure she’d shared with Phineas Prince, and she never wanted it to end.

  But it would have to, wouldn’t it?

  Damn.

  “I think the timing was fairly perfect, myself,” she managed in a prim voice, which didn’t betray the way her heart was already aching at the thought of going back to reality.

  He gave a weak laugh, then lifted her up and away from him, beginning the process of returning to Fangfoss Manor and their rightful roles.

  It was as if they both understood this had been a one-time interlude, something which couldn’t be repeated. Now that they’d determined the excavation was a bust, they wouldn’t have the excuse to be alone together again.

  But surely there’d be other times, other opportunities? They had the rest of the summer after all.

  No. This was our grand adventure. I know it.

  The sphaera was lost to history, but she’d experienced ecstasy with the man she loved. That had to be worth something.

  When they were dressed once more—her blouse and skirts now merely “wet” instead of “uncomfortably soaked” and her stockings and drawers damp from the rain, not from anything more exciting—Phineas escorted her from the small shed.

  Without speaking, he draped his jacket around her shoulders, and now that she was dressed—and wet—once more, she was pleased for the relative warmth. She shoved her hands in the pockets and felt something crinkle but didn’t think anything of it.

  No, she was too busy watching the way his lips quirked when he offered his arm.

  As they turned toward Fangfoss Manor, leaving their failure of an excavation behind them, Olive couldn’t help mourning what she’d lost.

  Because there was something telling her she’d never experience any of this again.

  Chapter 9

  It was likely grossly inappropriate to be whistling as he strolled down the hall, his hands shoved in his pockets, but Phineas was doing exactly that.

  He’d just dropped Olive off at her room, after garnering a few surprised looks at their damp state, and told her he’d get his jacket later. At the door, however, he’d lingered for a gentle kiss, and had loved the way her eyes had widened behind her spectacles. She hadn’t expected that, which just meant his sweet, innocent little scholar had no idea what he was planning.

  Innocent? No’ anymore.

  But he couldn’t feel guilty about that. He’d just had the best sexual encounter of his life, and with the woman he wanted to spend his future with. Best of all, she’d been the one to initiate everything, so he knew she’d wanted it as much as he had.

  Just the thought of the bold way she’d removed her clothes, or the way she’d caressed him, or the way she’d taken hold of his cock and slid her tight warmth around him…

  Well, it was damned inconvenient getting hard in the middle of the corridor, but likely worth it.

  “Phin! What has ye looking like a cat who’s found the milk saucer?”

  His sister’s teasing call had him pausing, and he glanced into one of the parlors to see her with a book held in front of her. It took a moment to notice wee Ewan sitting beside her. It was a picture of domestic tranquility, assuming one didn’t actually know the lad in question.

  Once again, Phin recalled he hadn’t retrieved Olive’s spectacles.

  Ye’ve been busy.

  “What are ye doing here?” he asked mildly as he stepped into the parlor. “Reading to that scamp, as if the ruffian doesnae have crimes to answer for?”

  Ewan must’ve realized his threatening mien was all bluster, because he jumped to his feet with a cheeky grin and swiped the book from Raina’s hand. Before she could object, he’d planted one foot on the armrest of the settee and launched himself over it onto the floor. She’d opened her mouth to call his name when he turned back and swiped the pillow—almost as large as he was!—from behind her on the settee.

  As the lad ran for the door, Phin made a desperate grab for him, but the lad ducked, first right, then left, as he swerved around him, Phin was left clutching empty air.

  Raina, of course, thought this was hilarious.

  “Och, let the lad go! It isnae as if ye dinnae ken where he sleeps!” She chuckled.

  Phin crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “He has too much freedom as it is.”

  But Raina just clucked her tongue and lounged against the back of the settee. “Och, a bit of freedom never did a lad any harm. He’s no’ bothering anyone.”

  Phin considered reminding her about the thefts but figured it didn’t much matter. It’s not as if his sister could stop the lad, and he was in too good a mood to really care at the moment.

  Seeming to understand, Raina smiled slyly and stretched one arm across the back of the settee. “Besides, the scamp kenned ye werenae threatening. The whole manor likely heard yer satisfied whistling. I assume ye’ve found a bit of skirt, eh?”

  It wasn’t something a man liked to discuss with his sister, but Raina was different from most women in their social circles.
Different from most sisters, definitely. So he shrugged.

  “A bit, perhaps.”

  Humming, Raina pushed herself to her feet and focused on straightening her skirts. “If ye’ve been spending time with one of the housemaids, ye best no’ let Olive ken it. That lass loves ye.”

  A grin split Phin’s face. “Really?”

  Surprised, Raina glanced at him. When she saw his expression, her own softened. “Aye, of course,” she said gently. “She’s been half in love with Aberdeen Jones for as long as ye’ve been publishing those ridiculous stories, and since meeting ye…” She shook her head and sashayed across the parlor toward him. “I’ve never seen her so happy.”

  Thrilled beyond expectation at his sister’s simple assurances, Phin dropped his hands to his pockets once more. “We’ve been excavating the ruins,” he blurted, then realized he was trying to defend his time with Olive. “I’ve been looking for the matching golden sphaera, and she’s brilliant. She figured out what might’ve happened to it, so we’ve spent the last few days up at the dig site.”

  Raina stopped in front of him and tilted her head back, a curious expression on her face. “And did ye find it?”

  “Nay.” He blew out a breath. “Today we admitted defeat.”

  But the memory of the victory which had come soon after that admission had a slow smile creeping back across his face.

  “And that is what has ye so happy? Or is it the housemaid—”

  “Nay!” Phin shook his head emphatically. “There’s nae housemaid. There’s only Olive.”

  Slowly, Raina’s eyes widened. “Phineas Prince, do ye mean to say while the rest of us thought ye were digging in the dirt, ye and Olive were…”

  When she trailed off, Phin grinned proudly. “I took her—”

  His sister’s hand flashed out and her palm connecting sharply with his cheek. Phin was more surprised than hurt, and when he reared back, his head slammed against the doorframe. “Ow! What was that for?”

  “Ye and Olive—” she began, but he interrupted.

  “Ye said ye wanted us to be together! I didnae think ye’d object this strongly,” he finished in irritation, his hand coming up to probe at his stinging cheek.

  His sister’s expression softened. “I dinnae object to the two of ye finding pleasure together. I object to yer phrasing.” Her brows dipped in. “If she’s nae longer a virgin, thanks to ye, it wasnae that ye ‘took her maidenhead,’ Phineas. She gave herself to ye.”

  “And there’s a difference.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Raina nodded sadly. “Aye, there’s a difference. It’s about choice, and Olive chose ye. She’s the smartest woman I ken, so if she chose ye, I believe it was the right choice.” Her long finger stabbed at Phin’s chest. “Dinnae make me doubt her brain.”

  He had to grin at the strange endorsement, even though his cheek ached. He wrapped a hand around her poking finger and tugged her closer. “I love her,” he admitted proudly. “I’ve already had a long talk with her brother, and he agrees we’ll do well together.”

  “Married?” Raina asked, so suspiciously, he had to chuckle.

  “Aye, ye idiot. Married. I’m going to ask her.”

  “Why did ye no’ ask her when ye were—” She hesitated.

  “Mid-coitus? Post-coitus? Blissfully holding her atop me? The bit where my great manhood was inside—”

  The noise his sister made was half-gasp half-laugh as she smacked her free hand over Phin’s lips. “Shush! But…aye. Why no’ ask her then?”

  Since her hand was still over his mouth, he made a point of mumbling incoherent syllables until she removed it with a grin.

  “Well, Phin? I’m waiting to see what kind of excuse ye have.”

  Suddenly uncertain, he shrugged. “Um…well, frankly, I didnae ask her, because I wasnae certain of her response.”

  Raina suddenly stuck her head out the door and looked up and down the hall. When she straightened again, she lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “She gave herself to ye, and ye werenae sure if she wanted to marry ye?”

  He shrugged again. “I wasnae sure—still am no’ certain—she loves me.”

  His sister’s eyes narrowed further. “Is she certain ye love her?”

  From the way she said it, it was obvious Raina didn’t expect the answer to be aye. So Phin lifted his chin and told her the truth. “I told her so quite a few times, and each time, she ignored my words.”

  Frowning, Raina pulled away. “Nay, that’s no’ like her. She wouldnae just…just…use ye like that. Olive loves ye, I’m certain of it. She wouldnae have given herself to ye for any other reason.”

  Feeling vulnerable, Phin shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets again. “Well… I dinnae ken. I love her and I told her so, and each time, she brushed me off as if I’d said naught.”

  “She’s hard of seeing, no’ hard of hearing,” his sister mumbled. “Perhaps she didnae understand…?”

  There was nothing to say that hadn’t been said, so Phin just shrugged for a second time. Suddenly, Raina turned and stepped up in front of him again, her finger jabbing at his chest once more.

  “Phineas Prince, that lass loves ye, and ye’d be foolish to let a lifetime of happiness slip through yer fingers because of a misunderstanding. March yerself up to her and tell her ye love her, loud and clear. Then propose marriage, aye?”

  A slow grin crept across his face. “Aye, sister dear.”

  “Aye, yer dear sister wants what’s best for ye,” Raina snapped. “Why do ye think I dragged yer sorry arse to York this summer, instead of letting ye gallivant off to foreign parts? I’ve kenned the two of ye would be perfect for years and just needed an excuse to get ye together.”

  Straightening from the doorframe, Phineas grinned down at his sister. “Well, perhaps there’s time for a bit of gallivanting after all. With Olive!”

  * * *

  The letter in her hands wasn’t even damp. But then again, why would it be? It had been safely stored inside the pocket of Phineas’s jacket—the one which had stayed dry in the shed when the rain had started, and which now rested around her shoulders—for a few days, judging by the posted date.

  Usual offer…Aberdeen Jones…Holy Land…leave immediately…send word of your arrival…looking forward to discussing details with you soon.

  It was signed by the Board of Directors for the Society of Archaeology.

  Olive’s hands shook as she folded the letter and returned it to the pocket of his jacket, tears threatening to spill.

  Phineas was leaving her.

  He was going to London to hear the particulars of this latest mission, and then he was going to the Holy Land to retrieve a Roman chalice from a city which shouldn’t even exist. He was leaving.

  And he’d known it for days.

  He’d known it when he’d suggested the archaeological dig with her.

  He’d known it when he’d kissed her.

  He’d known it when he’d allowed her to seduce him, to behave in the most wonderfully wanton manner. He’d known it when he’d made love to her beautifully enough to make her sob.

  He was leaving.

  With a sigh, Olive pulled her spectacles from her face and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to squeeze the tears back inside her head. She knew she couldn’t cry right now. She simply didn’t have the energy.

  She should march after Phineas, hand him the letter, and demand answers. But did she really want them?

  Leaving the storage shed, not even an hour ago, she’d been struck by a sense of loss. It had been a wonderful interlude—the excavation and the intercourse—but it clearly wasn’t something that could happen again.

  And now it wouldn’t, because Phineas Prince was leaving.

  Or rather, Aberdeen Jones was leaving.

  And she loved them both.

  If only they—him—either of them—loved her.

  But no, she’d thrown herself at a man she’d long admired, and he’d taken what sh
e’d offered, hadn’t he? Could she blame him?

  Could she blame herself?

  She sighed again and slipped her spectacles back on. She needed to find him, if only to return his jacket and his letter, and tell him she didn’t expect anything from him in the future, since he was leaving. He’d likely accept the assurance gratefully.

  The memory of him spilling his very essence inside her, and how she’d never felt closer to another human being in that moment, threatened to overwhelm her.

  No, no, she couldn’t think of that. Best to get changed, hold onto her resolve, and say what needed to be said. To his face.

  Should she bother sending for Mary? Olive stared down at her damp blouse and skirts, wondering if it was worth it.

  She’d managed to get out of these clothes on her own earlier—although she’d had a much more interesting motivation—and more-or-less back into them. Phineas had helped her, but she could manage to change on her own.

  Stalwartly, she pushed the memory of Phineas, and what they’d just shared, from her mind. She was unwilling to address that just now; her feelings were too raw.

  “Knock-knock. I’ve been looking for you!”

  Olive’s head snapped around to see Charity bustling into the room. Unfortunately, she took one look at Olive and froze, one foot mid-step. “Oh dear,” she whispered.

  Defensively, Olive wrapped her arms around her middle, pulling Phineas’s jacket tighter. “What? And did you just say knock-knock instead of knocking?”

  “It was easier,” murmured Charity, already turning to reach for the door. “And you left the door open.” She nudged it shut so the two of them were alone in the room. “Oh dear,” she repeated with a sigh as she turned to survey Olive once more.

  “What?” Olive snapped again, lifting her jaw. “Have I grown a second head? Sprouted a mustache? Dribbled soup down my front? Tried to explain why Herodotus’s accounts of the Greco-Persian wars were flawed? Mispronounced something?”

  Charity smiled faintly as she crossed the room. “The fact you consider the last to be as heinous as the first says a lot about you.”