An Unsuitable Lady for a Lord (Scottish Lords and Ladies)

by Cathleen Ross

  “It is the look of a woman wishing to be ravaged,” she corrected. She walked over to a mirror on the wall and tidied her hair and dress, hoping the pink in her cheeks would subside.

  A manservant wheeled in a trolley with a three-tiered tray of delicately cut triangular sandwiches, a silver pot of tea, and a bottle of wine.

  The servant served her tea and placed some sandwiches on a china plate. She took it, put her napkin on her lap, and cut the sandwiches into even smaller pieces with her knife and fork. Aaron poured himself a glass of wine and took a couple of sandwiches.

  “Aaron, can your servant take some refreshment out to Hilda? I’m sure she’ll be needing something,” Crystal said.

  His eyes gleamed, and she knew he was thinking they’d have more time alone if Hilda was eating.

  “Do as the lady bids, then you may leave. We have everything we need here,” Aaron said to the servant.

  “Yes, my lord.” The servant bowed and wheeled out the trolley.

  Crystal put her knife and fork down after a few bites. She was too agitated to eat. Plus, she had come for a purpose, and she was in danger of forgetting it.

  “Something unusual happened at the factory this morning,” she told him. “One of the girls who comes from Sky said the laird is kidnapping clanswomen of lower status and selling them into slavery.”

  Aaron scowled as he listened. He finished his sandwiches in a few bites, then picked up his glass of wine. “So, the MacLeod clan is up to its old tricks again.”

  “Again?” She nearly choked on her tea. “I could barely believe my ears when I heard about this outrage.”

  “Aye, it’s been done before and swept under the carpet by the government because the clan supported the Hanoverians over the Stuarts. We Scots like to be known as the victims of the English. The story of our own wickedness is kept well-hidden. Bring the lassie to me on Monday, and I’ll interview her. I know good men who’ll bring her justice.”

  “That MacLeod monster can’t be allowed to get away with this!” Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “I’m appalled. And to think I didn’t believe her when she first spoke of it. No wonder the common people hate us so.”

  “Dinnae cry, lassie. I cannae promise to right all the wrongs of the world for you, but I’ll do what I can.” He stood and pulled her from her chair into a hug, and she wrapped her arms around him.

  “When I’m with you, I feel safe.” She swallowed, overcome with emotion, and blinked several times to clear the tears that threatened. The world was such a horrid place, and apparently she was unforgivably naive.

  “You mustn’t be afeard. You’re the bravest lassie I know. When you speak, it’s as if you have an army behind you, and I admire you for it. You’re certainly not afeard to speak in front of gentlemen, even if you offend them by telling truths they dinnae wish to hear.”

  “I felt I had little to lose, so I spoke from my heart. But you make me see the world through your eyes. You know so much more about how things really stand. The longer I live in Edinburgh, the more I realize my father protected me from the world. I’m so glad I have you.” She barely understood her feelings. She’d come here to work, not to be dependent on a man for safety…or anything else.

  “Promise you’ll come to me tonight after your meeting. I cannae bear it when you say no. It makes my whole day seem as bleak as the sky outside.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him. He tasted of wine and Aaron, and for the first time she realized her tendre for him had grown in intensity.

  There was no preliminary tenderness; instead, his lips were upon hers and full of desire. She welcomed his tongue, tasting and teasing it as if it were a different part of him. He moaned quietly into her mouth, and it gave her confidence.

  Unconsciously, she arched her back and pressed her breasts into his chest, grasping his hair, praying her fingers would absorb his scent for later, when she would press her hand to her nose and lips and think of him.

  She was surrounded by the familiar smell and taste of him as he nibbled on her lower lip, teasing her. Her hands moved down his back and pressed his hips against hers so that she could feel his cockstand. How difficult it was to resist going further.

  Only the thought that Hilda was sitting in the next room held her back from unbuttoning his shirt and touching his rock-hard chest. The thrill of him being so ready to mount her made her shocked…and excited beyond all reason.

  The intensity of her desire left her gasping, wanting him with an ache so deep that she could feel her willpower crumbling precariously. How long could she hold out against him? It was fine to speak of knowing, really knowing, a gentleman before entering into a respectful partnership, but as his tongue slid across her lower lip and she wantonly kissed him and pressed herself into him, her walls were breaking down, dissolving with her desperation.

  “Tell me where your meeting is so I can send my carriage. You must stay with me tonight,” he demanded, his hot breath fanning her face. His skin was flushed, his intense blue eyes searching her face for an answer.

  Desire was deceiving, because the intensity of her emotions could be making her feel far more deeply for him. Whatever this was, it made her heart thump and set her on edge in a way that only he could fix.

  “The meeting is at seven o’clock at the Brewster’s Tavern. I dinnae wish to stay long, and I’ll have Hilda with me.”

  “So, you’ll come to me afterward, and you’ll stay the night so I can wake with you in my arms?”

  “The whole night,” she whispered.

  “Promise me,” he commanded.

  “I promise.”

  He smiled, his expression deliciously wicked, and she knew then that she was in terrible danger of losing her heart to him…even though she was still certain she didn’t wish to marry.

  She was walking uncharted territory for her class. Was she strong enough to maintain her stance and remain single?

  In her naïveté, she’d thought she would meet with Aaron on occasion and the rest of her time would be her own to carry on with her work. But it wasn’t quite like that. She thought of him constantly, as if he’d already claimed her mind.

  What would happen if he claimed her body, too?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Aaron worked through to the evening when the light began to fade, and his eyes grew bleary as he looked through the reports gathered from all around Scotland. Many reports, long and labored, had led to naught, in his opinion. But his spies were everywhere, and his job was to keep abreast of any unrest or foment in his country.

  He considered meeting Crystal tonight to be his reward for completing this difficult work. Little by little, he was breaking through her natural reserve, and he was enjoying it immensely. Just thinking about her comeliness and the taste of her kisses gave him a cockstand. The way she’d kissed him this afternoon, he knew she would respond to the pleasure he could give her in his bed. The lassie had been almost mindless with desire.

  He forced himself to sift further through his papers, glad to get to the end of the box. It was his job to ensure troublemakers were watched. Spies first reported to the Scottish territorial lords trusted by the prince regent, then the lords reported their findings back to Aaron, who sent along any real issues to the prince. This current box had come from the Stuart lord who was most vigorous in his duty.

  The weavers of Glasgow and Paisley had threatened to go on strike for fair wages. This report Aaron read with interest because he had a large stake in Mr. Macintosh’s weaving business. The fact that Crystal now taught there made even the goings-on of commoners interesting. With her expressive green eyes and urgent manner, she could probably talk to him of anything and he would find it fascinating. It was her depth of passion about everything she did that had captured his admiration, and he appreciated her gratitude for his assistance. Her sorrows made his heart clench, and her happin
ess in small-won achievements made him soar as well. But most of all, her need of him, her wanton excitement, made his world seem brighter in a way he’d never imagined possible.

  He forced his attention back to the box to read more about the weavers, aware that it was time to order Jenson to collect him in his barouche and drive to Brewster’s Tavern. Damn it, his cockstand was annoying, but he wouldn’t give himself relief, not until after he introduced that pleasure to Crystal.

  He massaged his forehead instead. So far, the weavers’ wage complaints had been conducted in a legal manner. They had unsuccessfully petitioned parliament, but his spy reported that secret societies had formed. The leaders had taken oaths of brotherhood, and they were speaking about insurrection. The next comment got his notice: The delegates from each of the weaving districts were meeting at the Brewster’s Tavern tonight.

  His heart sank.

  Crystal must be attending that same meeting.

  And no doubt the pig of a Stuart, too.

  He leaped up on hearing the clock strike seven, and he pulled on his hat, coat, and leather gloves, determined to get Crystal as far away from the place as possible. She had made an enemy of the Stuart, and the laird was well-known to be cruel to women.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Crystal and Hilda walked into Brewster’s Tavern, an establishment visited by both lords and commoners, for it had a reputation for good food and drink.

  A sudden prickle of anxiety spiked her back, and she looked behind her as she passed the bar. Leaning against the counter was a large man, his tam o’ shanter bonnet pulled low over his domed forehead. His tartan mantel was wrapped over his shoulder, and he had on a matching kilt. He stared straight at her from under his bonnet, and her stomach turned. She knew those watery blue eyes. She had an almost preternatural sensation of trouble. Why was Laird Angus Stuart here?

  “My lady?” Ailish’s mother beckoned her with an urgent wave of her hand. “This way.”

  Crystal and Hilda were led to a back room, where three men were seated. They stood and introduced themselves as delegates. The leader, Mr. McDonald, gave her a stiff bow, as did Mr. Winters and Mr. Dowding.

  “Lady Crystal, I’m pleased to meet you. Would you like a seat and a drink?” Mr. McDonald asked politely.

  She sat, and Hilda stood scowling near the door, which was now closed.

  “I’m sorry, I can only stay for a short time, as I have another meeting soon. I dinnae have time for pleasantries, but if you wish to discuss your business, I’d be happy to hear it.”

  “As you wish. Ailish’s mother has told us you are teaching the lassies. I was wondering if you’d thought to expand your lessons. We have many who would benefit. Times are changing in weaving, wages falling. The workers all have need of more learning.”

  A wave of relief went through her. “Word travels fast. I’ve only just started, but I do hope to continue teaching in the mills where the owners will permit it. Lord Lyle is my benefactor, and I will need to ask him if he will fund more learning if I am to expand. He covers the shilling a day the lasses earn, for their parents willnae release them otherwise.”

  “Why is a marquis like Lyle helping the likes of us?” Mr. Dowding asked, his dark eyes glinting.

  “Lord Lyle and his father, the Duke of Lomond, support many causes. Mine is but a small part of their charity,” she said.

  “Lady Crystal, I attended the speech you gave earlier this week at the weavers guild, and you’re very inspiring,” Mr. Winters said.

  She smiled, and her heart warmed to these working men. “I hadn’t thought many would be interested in hearing my views on educating women, but there seems to be great interest. I hope that in the near future I will have enough teachers to expand my endeavor to other mills.” She rose to her feet. “I’m sorry I’m not able to talk longer, but I have to go now.”

  “Please let Ailish’s mother know when you are able to teach more lassies,” Mr. Winters said. The men stood and tipped their caps, thanking her.

  “You handled yerself right well in there, my lady.” Hilda’s expression was thankful when they left the private room and were greeted with the scent of woodsmoke, ale, and food.

  “Aye, but I’ll be more careful about who and what I agree to in the future. Lord Lyle has urged me to have a care, and he’s right. I’ll not be meeting any more delegates. I’m certain there is more going on than meets the eye. I cannae afford to get involved in anything that will compromise my teaching.”

  She made her way toward the front door with Hilda walking just behind her.

  Suddenly, Laird Angus Stuart planted himself in her way. “A word with you,” he demanded, looming above her.

  “Stand aside. I have no desire to speak to you.” She made sure her voice was loud and clear, though unease made her throat tighten. The buzz in the tavern quieted, and people turned to stare.

  “What did those men want of you?” Laird Angus asked.

  “Get out of my way immediately,” she said. “You have no right to interrogate me.”

  “My lady!” Hilda said, her voice rising in fear. The maid spun around. “Someone help my lady. Help! Help! This man is accosting her. She’s done naught wrong.”

  “You’ll answer me whether you like it or not. You’re a hoor and a subversive. I’ve heard you speaking about unseemly matters.” Laird Angus grabbed Crystal by the arm and dragged her toward the door.

  “’Ere, wot’re yer doing to the lady?” someone yelled, and a buzz of alarm went around the tavern.

  Before he could reach it, the tavern door opened, and Aaron stood in front of her like an avenging angel. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

  “Unhand the lady,” he commanded Stuart.

  “She’s been meeting with known troublemakers,” Laird Angus said.

  “We were discussing teaching young female weavers to read,” she cried in outrage, trying to pull away from him.

  “Let. Her. Go.” Aaron’s teeth were bared, and his eyes blazed. His normally fair skin had darkened, and his fists were bunched.

  “Here, have yer hoor, but I’ll be reporting her behavior to the prince himself.”

  “How dare you besmirch the lady’s honor?” His eyes blazed hot with fury.

  Stuart shoved her at him so hard she stumbled.

  Aaron caught her and righted her onto her feet. “Lady Crystal, take your maid and go outside to my carriage. You’ll be safe there.”

  The tavern’s occupants fled their tables to get away from the angry lords. She moved past them with Hilda by her side, then heard a bone-crunching sound.

  She turned at the doorway to see the Stuart lord fly backward into the tavern, his nose flattened and blood streaming down his front. He landed flat on his back on the hard floor. He groaned and staggered to his feet, shaking his head from side to side. He wobbled on his feet, lifted his chin, focused on Aaron, and charged.

  Crystal grabbed Hilda, watching spellbound, unable to pull herself away.

  Aaron stood ready with his fists, but the bartender and several workers grabbed Stuart first. He shook several off as if they were fleas on a hound, but a large tavern worker hit him over the head with a heavy ale jug, knocking him back to the floor.

  “He’s been felled like a tree,” Hilda said triumphantly.

  “Poor Lord Lyle must have near broken his hand,” Crystal murmured.

  “I think the Stuart’s head is made of rock,” Hilda said.

  “Move aside,” Aaron told the crowd that had gathered around his fallen foe.

  The tavern workers scrambled away.

  Aaron put his boot on the Stuart’s back, grabbed him by the hair, and yanked up his head. “You insulted the lady, the daughter of Earl Wilding. She has done naught but teach the poor.”

  “And a good lady she is,” Mr. McDonald shouted from the back of the
room.

  Everyone nodded and cheered, and it gave Crystal enormous satisfaction to hear the noise reaching the rafters. She smiled at them from the doorway. The people’s support had buoyed her spirits.

  She now had a clear purpose in the city she called home.

  “I will have satisfaction,” Aaron called out.

  “Oh dear. Lord Lyle means to call him out,” Crystal said to Hilda, gripping her maid’s arm.

  “Aye, and if he kills the fool, he will be arrested,” Hilda muttered.

  Crystal’s head spun with the horror of it. A punch, she had no issue with. But a duel?

  “Lord Lyle. No!”

  Aristocrats and commoners beat their tankards on the wooden tables and stamped their feet. “Have yer satisfaction,” yelled someone.

  “Blow his head off,” yelled another.

  “I’ll no’ duel with you, you Hanoverian ass-licker,” Stuart said, spitting blood on the tiles.

  Aaron stepped back, dusting his hands together. “Coward! I’ll see you gone from your position. You’ll serve the king no longer. Run now, like your Stuart king did before you.” He turned to the tavern keeper. “Throw him outside. I’ll deal with him there. I’ll teach him not to insult a lady.”

  “Aye, my lord, I want no troublemakers ’ere,” the tavern keeper said. “You’ll not enter this fine establishment again,” he told Stuart.

  Crystal left her position near the doorway and raced over to the carriage with Hilda in tow.

  Stuart roared with fury and struggled against the two burly men who ejected him from the tavern, one booting him in the backside so he fell onto the footpath.

  Aaron marched out onto the street and, on locking eyes with her, strode toward her. “What are you still doing out here?”

  “I’d not miss this for the world. You called him out because of me.” A wave of exhilaration raced through her at the knowledge that he must have strong feelings for her if he’d risk his life for her.