Caught by the Scot

by Karen Hawkins

  “Ever since I was a child, I’ve been enamored of pirates,” Jane confessed blithely. “I still am. I read about them every chance I get.”

  Lance smiled kindly at her. “Mr. Douglas is not a pirate. Privateers are quite a different matter.”

  “I’m sure they are,” Jane said, looking chastised. “But they capture ships like pirates. And life at sea must be so romantic—the wind taking you to distant lands, the waves bearing you across the seas, the fellowship of the other sailors.”

  Thea, who’d been toying with her plum pudding, grimaced. “I think living on a ship would be wretched. It’s such a small space, and there’d be no privacy.”

  Jane blinked. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I daresay the ship smells, too—all those unwashed bodies, since fresh water is very precious on a ship.”

  Jane’s rapturous expression fell. “Well, there’s that.”

  “And the ship would be constantly sailing through great expanses of the ocean, through heat and cold and storms.”

  Jane paled a bit. “I hadn’t thought about storms. I daresay they are very unpleasant.”

  “Especially at sea,” Thea said in a flat, heartless tone.

  “Thea, enough!” Conner protested with a laugh. “Next you’ll say there’s an outbreak of the plague at least once a week, too. ’Tis nae as bad as that.”

  Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “I was going to mention cholera, rather than the plague.”

  Conner chuckled and told Jane, “Dinnae listen to her. While the sailing life is nae withoot hardships, it can be verrah exciting, too. And as we hover near shores while waiting on our prey, we’ve water and food aplenty for washing and such. ’Tis the long-haulers who face more rigorous conditions.”

  “But the storms—” Jane shivered.

  “—are nae a worry. A guid captain can read the weather and will find a safe harbor when storms come.”

  “You can read the weather?”

  “Aye.” His gaze found Thea again, enjoying the play of the candlelight over her expressive face. Her gaze was on her pudding again, her thick lashes casting crescent shadows over her cheeks. “Nature is as unpredictable as a woman, but if you know the signs, you will recognize trouble before it arrives.” And oh, did he see trouble on his horizon.

  “Have you been in many battles?” Jane asked.

  Conner shrugged. “A few.”

  Thea gave an inelegant snort, looking up from her plate. “Which means not as many as he’d like.”

  Conner winked. “I enjoy a brangle now and then. Who does nae?”

  Thea told Jane, “My brother believes Mr. Douglas is addicted to the excitement of those sea battles, and it is that which has kept him from staying on land and accepting his familial responsibilities.”

  Lance cast a concerned look at Conner. “Privateering is not the most secure profession, if one has family.”

  “I’ve brothers, both capable of living withoot my assistance. I’m nae sure what Thea is referring to.” Conner rocked back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. She was at least looking at him now. “Well, lass? What responsibilities have I been so remiss toward?”

  A shadow passed over her face, then she shrugged. “We all have responsibilities to our family name. For one, you haven’t yet settled down and married.”

  Conner considered announcing he’d decided to forgo his inheritance. But if he admitted that to Thea, he lost his reason to accompany them on their way north. So it was with a shrug that he said, “I’m on my way to find a wife now.”

  “Only because your sister’s will has forced you to do so—not because you wished to do your duty.”

  Lance said to Jane in an aside, “Mr. Douglas is compelled to marry in order to obtain his inheritance.”

  “Ohhhh!” Jane eyed Conner with even more interest. “Really?”

  “Aye. A condition of my sister’s will is that if I dinnae marry, the family funds will be dispensed to our biggest enemy.”

  “Oh no! What will you do?”

  “He’s decided to marry a woman he barely knows.” Thea sent Conner a black glare.

  Jane nodded. “No one will have you because of your dangerous profession.”

  Conner frowned. “I could marry today, did I wish it. I just decided to wed someone I’ve met before.”

  “So you know her. How many times have you met her?”

  “Two or three times. Perhaps more. I’m a bit fuzzy on the details.”

  Thea’s brows rose. “Fuzzy? What’s her nam—”

  “But that is what the engagement is for, nae?” Conner interrupted ruthlessly. “To get to know one’s intended and make certain ’tis nae a mistake.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Jane said, although she didn’t look certain. “But . . . if you don’t know her well, don’t you worry that this lady might reject your proposal?”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Thea confided.

  “It’s the obvious question,” the younger girl agreed. “Such a marriage would be very difficult, what with Mr. Douglas’s risky career. Why, he’d be gone all the time.”

  “Exactly,” Thea said smoothly.

  Conner scowled. “I suppose ’tis true that my being gone could pose an issue. But I’ve heard of couples who’ve only known one another a few weeks who’ve decided to marry. People who’ve spoken only a few times, perhaps visited one another for two or three weeks—”

  “If you’re talking about Lance and me,” Thea replied in a chilly voice, “we spoke quite a bit over two entire months.”

  “Well . . .” Lance rubbed his chin. “All together, we only spoke over the course of three weeks.”

  Thea looked astounded. “It was more than that. We began speaking in September, and it’s now the beginning of November.”

  “We first spoke during the final week of September, but then I returned home and didn’t return until the second week of October, as my sister was ill and I couldn’t leave my mother to care for her and keep an eye on the farm.”

  “Oh.”

  “Of course I visited when I could for the next two weeks, but then it was time for shearing, and I had to be gone for that.”

  “But we wrote,” she said valiantly.

  “True. Long letters, too. Still, all told, we only spoke over the course of three weeks.”

  Thea blinked, and appeared so uneasy that Conner had to fight the desire to exclaim, “Finally!”

  “Oh my, but that was a very fast courtship,” Jane said. When Thea flashed a look at the younger woman, she flushed and hurried to say, “But sometimes it doesn’t take long for people to realize they’re in love.”

  “Very true.” Lance smiled at Theodora and reached over to take her hand between his. “You cannot always predict love.”

  Thea’s eyes widened and she looked every type of uncomfortable there was. Conner wondered if this was the first time the squire had used the term “love.” Satisfied to see a chink in her armor, whatever the cause, Conner said in a cool tone, “A few weeks is hardly time for true love to grow roots.”

  “It could happen!” Jane said stoutly.

  “In books, perhaps. Or on a stage. But in real life? Never.”

  Thea sent Conner a hard look as she tugged her hand free from Lance’s grip. “Not that it’s anyone else’s business, but I’m quite satisfied with my engagement.”

  “Of course you are!” Jane looked shocked anyone could think otherwise. “You and the squire are perfect for one another. Anyone can see it.”

  “Thank you, Jane,” Lance said in a solemn tone. “You are most kind.”

  The younger girl flushed. “Squire, I’m only—”

  “Please, it’s Lance. We are all friends here.”

  Her flush deepened and she cast him a shy look. “Yes, of course. You have an interesting name. Does . . . if you don’t mind me asking, does ‘Lance’ stand for Lancelot, perhaps?”

  Lance grimaced. “Yes. For a
ll her stern ways, my mother is a bit of a romantic at heart.”

  “My mother was stern, too, although I don’t believe she was much of a romantic.”

  “Ah, yes, your esteemed mother,” Conner said. “You mentioned her last night and that she lives with you. I suppose she’ll be moving oot after the wedding.”

  “Move? Oh no. She will live with me for as long as she wishes.”

  Thea’s brows snapped down. “She will?”

  “Of course. My father died four years ago, and Mother was quite distraught. She leans on me to take care of things, you know. She could not do without me.”

  “So we’ll be living with her,” Thea said in a hollow tone. “Forever.”

  He looked surprised. “I thought you knew that.”

  “You mentioned you had another house in the village, and I assumed that once we wed, your mother would be using it as a dower house.”

  Lance chuckled indulgently. “It’s rented to the local vicar. He’s lived there for over twenty years and I could never ask him to move. Besides, my mother will need our assistance with my sisters.”

  Thea’s smile was rigid. “Of course. If your mother is living with us, then your sisters will, too.”

  “They are coming of age, and you will be quite busy escorting them about when you’re not working on the house and the farm.”

  “I see.” Thea’s knuckles were now white around her spoon.

  As if totally unaware of the turbulent waters through which they sailed, Jane gazed at Lance with true admiration. “You are so kind to take care of your mother and sisters.”

  “What else could I do?” Lance asked, looking surprised.

  “You are a paragon, my friend!” Conner exclaimed, deeply amused. “You are indeed like your name, then—Lancelot. A true hero!”

  Lance flushed, but looked pleased. “I cannot take such credit; it is a family name.”

  “So you mentioned last night.” Conner slipped a glance at Thea and waited.

  “I’m the fourth,” Lance announced. “The whole name is quite a mouthful. It’s Archibald Montague Lancelot Fox.”

  Conner tried not to laugh, but was only marginally successful.

  Lance chuckled as well, “I know. It’s a bit much.”

  “I like it,” Jane said, clasping her hands together. “It’s like a name from a novel.”

  Thea shot Conner a hard look. Don’t say another word, her expression warned.

  Oh, there were so many things he wished to say, but he could not ignore that look. Though it cost him dearly, Conner swallowed his thoughts.

  Lance waved a hand. “It’s a ridiculous name, and so I’ve told my mother countless times. To be honest, I’ve hated it since I could first write.”

  “Why, you’d use every letter of the alphabet!” Jane exclaimed.

  Which won a laugh from Lance. “It felt like it,” he confessed. “But now you know why I chose to go by the name Lance.”

  “I like the name Lancelot,” Thea said. “It’s quite romantic.”

  The squire brightened. “Do you think so?”

  “I do,” she said in a stout tone intended, Conner decided, to show him the error of his thinking. “In fact,” she added, “I like all of your names.”

  The squire couldn’t have looked more relieved. “And here I was afraid to mention it, as many people laugh when I tell them.”

  “One must bear the family banner.” Conner leaned back in his chair. “Since it’s a family name, I suppose you’ll pass that name on to your own son, when you have one.”

  Thea’s gaze jerked back to Lance.

  Lance nodded. “I must.”

  “You must?” Thea repeated blankly.

  Lance’s expression grew grave. “My mother would be devastated if we named our firstborn son anything else.”

  “I see.” Thea stabbed her spoon into her pudding. “And naturally, we must do as your mother wishes.”

  “It would break her heart if we did not. She is very tenderhearted, which she cannot help. My oldest sister Sally says the whole family dances a tune to Mother’s tears.”

  “That’s—” Thea bit back her own words, finally saying, “That’s a colorful way of putting it.”

  “Indeed it is. I hope you don’t mind naming our son in the family tradition.” Lance brightened. “But never fear! I’ll give you leave to name the other five or six children whatever you think is appropriate.”

  Thea had lifted a spoonful of pudding, but at his words, she almost dropped her full spoon onto the table. “The other five children?”

  “Or six,” Conner added helpfully.

  Thea shot him a dagger glance.

  Lance didn’t seem to notice, adding in a thoughtful tone, “I would like at least six children. More hands for the farm, you know. And, Theodora, if you wish, we could name one for your father, as well as your brother. And any girls could—”

  “Lance!” Thea snapped out the word as if it were a firecracker.

  He blinked. “Yes?”

  “This is a conversation for another time.”

  He looked at the others in the room before flushing. “Of course. Forgive me. I’m just excited about our future.”

  “With guid reason.” Conner leaned over to slap the other man on the back. “You’ve a bright future ahead of you, my friend. You and your lovely wife, and all six of your children, and your sisters, and your mother. That’ll be quite a house full.”

  “It’s a large house. We’ve seven bedchambers.”

  “Seven? But with so many people—” Thea caught Lance’s hopeful look and clamped her lips over the rest of her sentence. After a stifled moment, she said, “We will discuss that later, too.”

  “Of course. I look forward to introducing you to Mother. You will love her, and she will love you.”

  “Aye,” Conner said. “ ’Tis a pity she dinnae know aboot the marriage and will be— How did you put it last night, Lance? ‘Livid,’ was the term you used, I believe.”

  Thea’s gaze flew to Lance. “You said you thought your mother would welcome me into the family.”

  “And she will,” Lance said stiffly. “Eventually.”

  Thea closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples.

  Jane’s face grew shadowed. “I don’t remember my mother. I was six when she died.”

  “It is a loss one never forgets,” Conner agreed. “But Lance, your mother seems quite strong in character.”

  Lance beamed. “She is wonderful. Though she is stricken with ailments, as many women are, she is forever finding the strength to involve herself in all of our lives.”

  “That is so kind of her.” Jane sighed with obvious envy. “I often wish my mother were still alive, so that I might benefit from her advice.”

  “Mother never hesitates in that area, I assure you.” He began a long litany of enthusiastic praise for his surviving parent that included so many instances of intrusive actions into his and his sisters’ private lives that even mild-mannered Jane was made to wince a time or two.

  Listening with growing horror, Theodora fought a very real desire to run away.

  Lance was good-hearted; he was pure of intentions, loved his sisters and his mother—weren’t those important traits for a husband? Listening to him now, she found herself wishing she could silence him and spend a day or ten away from his presence, which seemed to grow more stifling each day. Worse, she felt no passion for him, no . . . anything.

  Meanwhile, Conner had but to look her way and her skin grew warm, her heart raced, and she yearned to touch him and be touched by him.

  It was so wrong. Lance should make her heart race and her mouth go dry and her palms grow damp with excitement. It must be because he’s never kissed me. Why hasn’t he?

  Was he too predictable? Too safe? Lance was calm, and pragmatic, and she’d wanted a comfortable, trusting marriage. She’d believed passion would eventually grow, based on mutual respect and compatible goals. But now she wondered if she’d been
naîve.

  Was she wrong to believe passion something one could cultivate like a rose garden? She had no idea, but the thought of being in a passionless marriage made her ache with loneliness.

  There was only one thing to be done. I must kiss Lance. That will stir the passion between us, and I’ll know for certain that our marriage will be all it should be.

  Jane asked a question about Lance’s farm, and he answered, looking animated and handsome, his dark hair framing his strong jaw. Yes—a kiss should prove she wasn’t making a mistake.

  But even as she had the thought, her attention slid to Conner, and their gazes locked. Her throat tightened, her skin prickled awake, and her breath came faster as she imagined feeling his arms about her, pulling her toward him as his mouth lowered to—

  No! I cannot think this. I cannot feel this.

  She jerked her gaze away from him, her mind reeling, her body aching as she turned back to Lance. That will change—starting tomorrow. She could do nothing more tonight, not with Conner watching her with that blazing hot gaze.

  As soon as Lance paused, she stood.

  Lance hurried to do the same. Conner stood as well, pausing to assist Jane from her chair even though his heated gaze followed Theodora in the most unsettling way.

  “I’m sorry to retire so early,” Theodora said. “I’m just so tired. Jane, you should come, too. You need your rest.” And she needed time alone to think.

  With almost indecent haste she made her good-byes and led the younger woman out of the parlor, leaving behind a solicitous Lance, a simmering Conner, and a welter of unanswered questions.

  14

  That night, Theodora dreamed she was locked in a huge house and every door she opened revealed a bare-chested Conner, who grinned as if he knew she couldn’t resist him. She awoke from that disturbing image only to fall back into a fitful slumber, where she dreamed she and Lance were sitting at their dining room table that stretched on and on as far as the eye could see, every seat taken by identically dressed, noisy children. Dishes were passed, each progressively emptier. As the dishes emptied, the children’s voices became more shrill and demanding until she awoke in a panic, panting as if she’d been running up and down stairs.