She nodded, for once in her life not wanting to be rude.
“I’m sure your father told you, but I’ve asked to court you.” He leaned in a little closer. A spoon clattered into a bowl across the table.
“He did, Fergus,” she replied. “If you’ll forgive me, I don’t ken ye all that well, and I’ll need time to think it over.” Her stomach twisted painfully. She didn’t need time, she needed to run away. But somehow, knowing how she felt for Colin, made her understand that it was time to grow up.
His hand brushed the tresses of her hair that hung her down her back. She resisted the urge to pull away. “You’ve beautiful hair.” His hand started climbing up her back. “And lovely skin. I’ve always thought you to be a real beauty, Fiona.”
His words were sweet. If delivered by another man, they might have filled her with light. But not from him. “Tis very kind of ye.” She turned back to her second course, to begin eating, hoping the dismissal would force him to remove his hand.
Her eyes caught Colin’s. His spoon was gripped tightly in his fist, his brows set low, his jaw taut.
What had gotten into him?
Rutland attempted to attract her attention next. His pointed nose was a fair bit closer than she would have liked. “Fiona,” the voice said near her ear, “how do ye like the dinner?”
“It’s a fine meal. Really lovely,” she replied.
He gave her a grin. “It’s nothing compared with what we eat at Lockwood. My father hired a French chef. I thought it a terrible idea until I tried the food.”
Fiona actually gave Rutland a genuine smile. He was attempting to legitimately court her rather than being lewd. It was a nice change. Her sister, Emilia, was a softer, gentler woman and people often treated her with more kindness than they did Fiona. For once in her life, she understood that gentleness brought out the same in others.
As the meal ended, the men left to smoke and drink, and the women retired to a salon for conversation. But Fiona returned to her room. She needed to think more, and the best way for her to do that was to actually sit less.
Tonight, she would take a ride.
Colin watched her slip up to her room. By the way she glanced at her father several times, he knew she was up to no good. He knew Fiona better than any other person in Scotland, he’d wager.
Changing out of his dinner clothes, he put on a riding jacket, boots, and gloves. If Fiona were sneaking out, the barn is where she would end up.
Sure enough he saw her coming up the path to the barn an hour later. She was dressed in breeches and a shirt, her hair tucked in her hat, but he’d recognize the sway of her hips anywhere.
He slipped further into the shadows as she crept into the barn. She came out just a few minutes later, with a horse that wasn’t saddled. A groom would be less likely to catch her if she didn’t have to spend the time prepping the horse. He watched her lead the animal over to the paddock fence and use the rails to climb up on the horse’s back. In an instant, she was gone.
Retrieving his own beast from the barn he swung up into the saddle, hell bent on catching her and when he did, they’d be far away from the house and its occupants.
He’d seen Halfmann touch her. He’d expected Fiona to toss his hand away, or at the very least, put him in his place. But she’d sat there, obediently. It made him sick. Fiona was fire, she burned brightly and he basked in her glow. He didn’t like to see that fire dim.
The beat of his horse’s hooves was the only sound he could hear but he caught sight of her up ahead. Her hair had come untucked and it streamed behind her in the moonlight. His blood sang in his veins and he kicked his horse faster.
She was approaching the pond he’d been at earlier that morning and as the landscape opened, she must have caught sight of him because she turned her head.
Slowing her horse, she did an about-face and in the same moment, pulled a pistol from her boot.
“Fiona, it’s me.” Colin held up his hands as he slowed the horse with the pressure of his legs.
“What are ye doin’ followin’ me?” she cried, dropping the pistol to her side and then tucking it away again.
He gave her a broad grin. There was his Fiona. “Trying to keep you out of trouble,” he laughed, as he pulled his horse up next to hers. She was facing the opposite way so that they could easily look at one another.
“I’m not in trouble. I just came out here to think.” She swatted him on the arm.
His own heart seized. He’d proposed this morning and she’d said no. Not that it had been much of a proposal. But all that same, he had and she had rejected him. Is that what she was thinking about? Did she regret her answer? “About what?”
She paused. Her unblinking eyes staring into his. “My da is right, Colin. It’s time I grew up. I can’t keep pretending I’m a child who can run about playin’.”
He understood what she meant. When he returned from the summit, he was claiming his land in the Highlands. Leaving home, taking on the responsibility of others—it frightened him a little but it was time. “I understand why yer da wants ye to marry, and he might be right, but don’t be too hasty, Fiona. Yer passion is special and yer husband should appreciate that.”
“That might be the nicest thing ye’ve ever said to me.” She gave him a glowing smile and without thought he reached for her hand.
Holding her much smaller fingers in his, he spoke softly. “Try to tell yer da that ye understand the responsibility and yer ready, ye just need time.”
She snorted then. “How would yer da take words like that? I’m fairly certain mine would think I was just stallin’.”
He squeezed her hand tighter. “My da is sick, Fiona. And not like before. It’s different.”
Without a word, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her body pressed to his was such a comfort, that he didn’t hesitate to pluck her from her horse and pull her into his lap. Burying his face into her silky tresses of hair, he inhaled deeply. She smelled of wind and water and her distinct musk that made him hard everywhere.
“I’m so sorry, Colin. I know it hasn’t been easy fer ye with yer da.” Her hands wound into his hair, rubbing his scalp in a way that was both soothing and exciting.
“He’s such a strong man when he isn’t ill,” he choked on the words. “I hate seein’ him like this.”
“He’ll recover. He always does.” Confusion laced her voice.
He shook his head. “I don’t know this time. He’s got this cough.”
Her breath caught. “Yer mum will take care of him. She’s always carried him through.”
He started then. Because Fiona had put into words something that had always nipped at the edges but he hadn’t allowed himself to think. “I wonder if my da sees it that way.”
Was his father’s mistake allowing love to rule his heart the first time or denying his mother love the second? She’d been a good and faithful wife. Didn’t she deserve his affection?
But he couldn’t think it through further because Fiona’s cheek brushed his as her head pulled back. She was unwinding her hands from his hair and that just wouldn’t do. The only thing that was quieting the turmoil inside of him was her touch and so he dipped his head even further and captured her lips with his own.
They had kissed before. But it never failed to amaze him how different Fiona’s kiss was from every woman who had come before her. While other women were pleasant or fun to touch, Fiona was a spark that began a blaze.
As her lips brushed lightly against his, his belly clenched even as his manhood lengthened. Tingling spread through his entire body. He broke contact only long enough to kiss her again, deeper and harder. A third time, their lips came together, and this time, he slanted her lips open to touch their tongues. He heard her soft groan at the same moment one ripped from his mouth. Pulling her tighter against him, he plundered the softness of her lips, her tongue, until they were both gasping for breath. He’d held back the last time he kissed her, aware it was all new to h
er. But this time, he didn’t think he’d have the control. He wanted her so much. It was unlike anything that had come before it.
One of his hands slid up her back and grasped her neck, angling her to better drink from her lips. Once satisfied, his hand began gliding down her front until it reached the soft mound of her breast. As he cupped it in his hand, he felt her nipple tighten, and she arched her back to increase the contact. He’d touched her last time, but he hadn’t removed any of her clothing and he had a desperate need to see her without her shirt. He wanted to know the color of her nipples and the curve of her belly.
His hand left the rounded flesh to find the top button of the shirt she wore. She gave a groan of protest, so he promptly brought his other hand up to massage its mate as his right hand worked the buttons free.
“Colin,” she moaned as he slid his hand into the now open shirt so that only her chemise separated their skin.
The urge was growing stronger, to touch her flesh and he pulled at the chemise, wanting to push it out of the way but instead it ripped. He pulled back then only to be met with sight of her pale pink nipple, thrusting out at him from her creamy, pert, and full breast. It was perfection. He let out a guttural noise from his throat as he dipped his head to suckle at it.
Her nails dug into his back as she arched higher. She’d been sitting sideways in his lap but lifting her up, he set her astride him then dipped his lips back down to take her nipple in his mouth again. As his rock hard member came into contact with the softness between her legs, Colin near exploded even as she gasped, rocking against him.
“Mo chridhe.” He grabbed her behind to press her closer.
But she wrenched away from him then. “I’m not your heart,” she gasped, grabbing the edges of her shirt and pulling it together.
Frustration made his neck veins pop as he tried to bring her back against him. “I proposed tae ye this mornin’ ye ken.”
“Yeah, but ye didn’t mean it. If I’d ‘ave accepted, ye probably would have run off. Ye don’t want to marry me or ye would ‘ave asked weeks ago.” She was buttoning her shirt now as she scrambled off his horse. “I ken ye, Colin.”
He sat silently because he didn’t know what to say. She was right. He had done it out of worry for her and, honestly, if they were engaged right now, he didn’t know how he would feel. Happy? Terrified?
She struggled but managed to get on her horse. “I am going to look for a husband as my father wants. I ken it isn’t going to be ye, and that’s all right, but ye can’t stand in my way, Colin Campbell. Ye can’t have it both ways.”
Then she kicked her horse and headed back toward the estate.
Colin hung his head as he watched her ride away. He was getting tired of the sight of her back.
Chapter 6
Fiona galloped off, nothing short of furious. She was so tired of Colin’s indecision. One minute he seemed to want her, the next he didn’t. What was wrong with him and why did she allow it?
Something about his father didn’t sit right but she didn’t know what it was. Laird Campbell’s illnesses had always impacted Colin, made him more distant. But why? Was it just sadness over his father or something else?
As the barn came into view, Fiona swung off the horse and quietly led him inside. She worked quickly to brush the animal down and then put him back in his stall before anyone discovered she’d taken him.
Colin’s mother had been steadfast at his father’s side. She never seemed to get too sad or too rambunctious. Exactly like Colin. Where Fiona was prone to fits of passion, Colin remained calm. Except when they kissed. She loved that side of Colin, when he became impassioned and free.
When she spoke to him again, she’d ask him why his father’s fits upset him so, when little else did. Colin was likely right about a few things, and one of them was talking more. If she shared more with her father, perhaps she wouldn’t be in this situation she was now.
Feeling better prepared, she left the barn and headed for her room. Sneaking in by the kitchen, she skirted the servants still awake and made her way up the stairs to her room.
She breathed a sigh when she reached her hallway but her nerves immediately fluttered again, because her door was ajar and she was sure she’d left it closed.
Pushing it open wider, she was met with the sight of her father sitting on her bed. “Imagine my surprise,” he glowered at her. “I came tae tell ye what a fine job ye’d done this evening only tae find ye gone.”
She gulped. “I’m sorry, Da.”
Surprise crossed his face. “Do tell.”
“I just needed to think. I went out for some air, that’s all.” She was glad he couldn’t see her ripped chemise under her shirt.
“Air? Did that air come on the back of a horse?” Her father’s eyebrows raised.
Fiona ignored the question. “And I think yer right. It’s time I did some growin’ up.” She took a step closer. “I will really consider the suitors here, and I will try to curb myself.”
Her father stood but his look was less angry. “No takin’ off in the night, Fiona. And no slippin’ away in the day. Ye need to participate here and act like a lady.”
“I will.” She took a few steps closer. “Can I ask ye somethin’?”
He gave a curt nod.
“Do ye ken anything about Colin’s father? His illnesses all these years?”
Haggis sat back down on the bed, a grim expression clouding his face. “He’s had them as long as I’ve known him, though they got worse as he got older. He seemed to fixate on the loss of his first wife; but honestly, it started way before that. A sadness he couldn’t shake. Why dae ye ask?”
Fiona’s insides twisted painfully. How awful to watch one’s father waste away. Hers had always been a pillar of strength. “I ken it affects Colin. Even as children, he’d grow sad when his father took tae bed…”
“Colin’s lucky his mother is so steadfast, she kept that family grounded, including Shamus.” He rubbed his temple. “I see so much of Laird Campbell in Shamus, I was worried he’d suffer from the same sadness, but Lady Campbell keeps him grounded, talks him through them. She couldn’t have been a better stepmother.”
“Why would Shamus suffer from sadness just because his father did?” Fiona felt as though she were on the edge of understanding, not quite able to piece it together.
“I dunnae ken but I know the former Laird suffered from the same. It’s a miracle neither Colin nor any of his other siblings do.”
Fiona had a sudden memory. “Colin always seemed to think that his father didn’t love his mother.”
Haggis shook his head. “If that is true, then the man’s a fool. That woman has carried him through life and his children too. She is the person he was always meant to be with.”
She gave a nod and tried not to sigh. Both she and Colin were trying to find their way. Colin seemed caught in his past while Fiona was trying to navigate the present. Which meant acting the part of a heiress and lady.
And that sounded like no fun at all.
The next few days passed in a blur. Colin mostly stayed away from her and Fiona acted the part of a demure lady. She didn’t sass back and she didn’t sneak out for midnight rides. Several more men had begun to pursue this new Fiona. It made her nauseous. Is that what they wanted? A woman who looked at the ground and batted her eyelashes while she agreed with them?
It required no thought and very little energy, and she found herself in a state of half participation. She was there, walking with Lord Halfmann, dancing with Rutland, listening to Alastair’s longwinded explanation as to why Scotland didn’t need to support its people with frivolities such as doctors and schools. It was a position she vehemently disagreed with but rather than argue, she tuned him out while nodding her head.
To the outward appearance, she was a perfect lady.
Her father had smiled the first day, he stared at her the second, and now he seemed to be assessing her with a keen desire to understand what was happening in her mi
nd.
Colin was easier to understand. He looked furious.
Let him be angry. He didn’t want her, it shouldn’t be any of his business how she went about finding a husband.
It was Halfmann who sat down next to her as they waited for dinner in the parlor. She gave him a nod, her mind already wandering away when he did something that jolted her back to the present. He took her hand in his in front of everyone, as though he had the right.
“I’ve been thinking of you a great deal, Fiona.” He cleared his throat.
Fiona tried not to panic. He wouldn’t dare propose in front of all these people, would he? She gently pulled her hand free of his. “That’s kind of ye.”
He nodded as though agreeing. “I’ve told several of the other lairds about our courtship.”
“Courtship?” she chirped out much louder than she intended. It wouldn’t do to be rude now, but she wanted to tell him there was no courtship. It was a promise she had no intention of keeping.
He nodded eagerly, scooting closer. “Don’t you think we could make our match official soon?”
Fiona blinked. The old her would have told him to piss off. But she couldn’t do that, not here. She was learning how to behave but she honestly had no idea how a demure lady told a man that she wasn’t interested. She stood, instead. “I will have to speak to my father.”
He gave her a nod and a smile, looking quite pleased. Clearly she hadn’t been effective. As she made her way across the room, Alastair stopped her. “Halfmann thinks you are all but his,” he hissed looking angry.
She blinked as color flushed her cheeks. She belonged to no one but herself. What was more, Alastair’s anger was unsettling. But she took a deep breath. But she couldn’t say that now, not if the goal was to find a husband and so she tried for another truth instead. “I’ve no idea how to explain to him that isn’t the case.”
Heart of a Highlander_Scottish Historical Romance Page 5
