Tying the Scot

by Jennifer Trethewey

  No. He would gloat if she admitted she had lied. She was certain she couldn’t endure that. She knew very well what her pride could and could not suffer. Lucy could not, would not tolerate his derision. At any rate, Alex was the one who needed to apologize.

  Lucy heard splashing beyond the tall grass. She approached cautiously then stiffened. He was bathing naked in the spring. His back was to her, but she would recognize that cocky stance anywhere. Weight on one hip, shoulders at an angle, head tilted slightly in opposition. Her initial impulse was to slink away. Leave him his privacy. But her feet were riveted to the ground. She marveled at his impressive back, lean and sinewy, broad at the shoulders, tapered at the waist. He had waded in almost to his hips. She could just glimpse the top of his bum. Lucy suppressed a smile.

  He had immersed himself at least once, for his hair was wet and slick against his head. Freed from its queue, it was surprisingly long. The snaky bronze tendrils clung to his back. He was shivering. The spring water must be freezing. She was close enough to see the gooseflesh on his arms.

  Alex turned suddenly, caught sight of her, and froze.

  She crossed her arms, refusing to look away. His private parts were well hidden beneath the surface of the water, and he made no move to cover his nakedness.

  “Lucy. What are you doing here?” Alex asked with calm curiosity.

  “Watching you unawares,” she answered.

  A wet sprinkling of ginger hair swirled across his chest, met in the center, and ran down his belly in a long dark line.

  “It’s not proper for you to—”

  “Nasty trick, isn’t it? How does it feel?”

  “I see. You’ve made your point. Now, if you’ll just turn your back—”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t think I will.”

  “Lucy, it’s cold. Dinnae tease me.” A playful warning.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in mock apology. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  His chest and belly muscles flexed and rippled with his slightest movement. “Yes,” he said with unnatural patience. “I’m about to freeze my bollocks off. And if you dinnae turn your back this instant, I’m going to walk out of this pond and show you what I mean.”

  “Idle threats are—oh!”

  Alex took one big step and Lucy ran. Once she was safely out of sight, she slowed to a walk and worked to catch her breath. In less than a minute, she heard the thump of running feet behind her and turned. Barefoot and still buttoning up the fall of his breeks, he stopped a few feet in front of her, chest heaving slightly from the brief run. His shirt clung to his wet body.

  When she looked in Alex’s eyes, she could see him thinking of what he should say to her. Choosing something, letting it go. Choosing something else and rejecting that. Until, all he said was, “Lucy.”

  “I wanted to thank you for the daisies. Gowans, you called them?”

  “Aye, but I have a confession to make. I was desperate to find a way back to you. The gowans were Declan’s idea.” He was quick to add, “But I picked them.”

  “You must have missed me very much,” she said, looking down.

  “I did.” He took a step toward her. She didn’t back away. “Lucy,” he said in almost a whisper. “Will you look at me?”

  She did. His eyes were a soft grey in the sunlight. And his long golden lashes bounced slowly when he blinked. Now was the time he should kneel before her and ask for her forgiveness.

  He took another step toward her. “Do you want to marry me?”

  She held her ground. “Your mother says we should be patient. Take some time to get to know each other.”

  His shoulders dropped and released a long, deep sigh as if all the air had gone out of his body. Lucy almost felt guilty for having disappointed him. When he lifted his head to peer at her, a change had come over him. His features had turned dark, causing her to take a step back.

  “Do you still love…him?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  Alex took another predatory step toward her as though hunting her, stalking her like a deer. Run, she thought. Run away. But her body would not obey. Like a cobra, he’d hypnotized her with his gaze.

  Without warning, the snake struck. A flash of movement and she was in his arms, plastered against his damp chest. She felt his warm breath an instant before his soft, cool lips touched hers. Tentative at first, then he kissed her harder.

  He smelled clean and sulfury, like the spring. She liked the raspy feel of his beard against her chin. She sensed his urgency. Coaxing her. Opening her. Kiss, kiss, kissing her. She hadn’t remembered circling his neck with her arms, but they were there. Holding on tight.

  Then she felt what she’d only heard women whisper about. Through her gown, shift, and petticoat. Solid and demanding. She wasn’t appalled as she should be. It was too thrilling.

  In the distance, Mother Flora called, “Loo-cy. Aaa-lex.”

  They separated, breathless. Shocked and shaken by the intensity of the kiss.

  Reason returned, as did her ire. “You…you…” She couldn’t think of a bad enough name for him. “How dare you? Get back to the spring before she sees you like that.” She pointed to his trousers.

  Alex looked down, seeming surprised to find his body in such a condition. “Oh, aye,” he said, and started to leave, but stopped, grabbed her, and kissed her again.

  When he released her, Lucy gasped. “Bastard.”

  Smirking, Alex shrugged an apology. A moment later, he disappeared around the bend in the path.

  Struggling to pull her wits together, she marched back to the house. Bold, insolent behavior. Kissing her without permission not once but twice. She was embarrassed, too, by her reaction to his body. Alex’s kiss had left her senseless. Nothing like Langley’s kiss. Langley had pressed his lips to hers, briefly, the way any gentleman would do. Alex’s kiss…well, it felt like he had kissed her whole body, invaded every inch of her person. She felt a tingling sensation everywhere.

  Mother Flora met her at the back entrance to the house. “You look flushed, dear. Are you feeling well?”

  Merde. Did the affect Alex’s kiss had on her show? Had he actually branded her with his passion? Could everyone see?

  “Perhaps I got too much sun. I’d better rest before supper.”

  …

  He hoped supper would be different from the last time he and Lucy had dined together. Alex waited at the bottom of the stairs for her. He wore his best shirt and great kilt. Not his philibeg, his uniform kilt, but the green-and-blue tartan woven nearly seventy-five years ago by his great-great-grandmother and secreted away from the English in the wake of Culloden. His father wore it from time to time and had taught Alex how to wear the kilt when he was a boy. He hoped Lucy would approve.

  Once again, he had angered her. She had called him a bastard for having stolen a kiss. But oh what a kiss. Her lips told him everything he wanted to know. Alex no longer doubted her. She wanted him. Wanted to marry him. Of that he was certain. A kiss never lies.

  Was it wrong to steal a kiss?

  Yes. He would apologize to her for being impulsive.

  Was he sorry?

  No. Not at all.

  She seemed to float down the stairs in a light blue gown of fine, shimmering cloth that made a whispering sound when she walked. The long sleeves were cleverly embroidered with daisies in a chain pattern. Did she choose this gown because he had given her daisies?

  Lucy’s stays pressed against her breasts, making them plump up above the neckline of her gown. A thin swatch of lace covered them, giving him a tantalizing peek at her peaks.

  She wore her hair down in the back like a maid. Candlelight from the wall sconces reflected on her shiny curls, making his fingers twitch with the need to pet them. He had planned to say something flattering to her, but once face-to-face he forgot, so utterly entranced by her beauty.

  “You’re wearing daisies,” he said, staring into eyes the same blue as her gown.

  “Daisies are my
favorite.”

  “I’ll not forget.” He waited a moment, then said, “I’m sorry I kissed you without your consent. I know I was wrong, but I couldnae help myself. Will you forgive me?”

  Lucy pursed her pink lips and tilted her head as if considering his request. “I accept your apology, and I forgive you because you asked nicely.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lucy swept toward the dining hall, calling over her shoulder, “And I forgive you for everything else, as well.”

  “Everything else?” What the hell was she talking about? “Do you mean—” Too late. The wee bizzum had already slipped away. He had to laugh at her cheek. She’d forced his apology for his previous bad behavior by forgiving him without his apology. Alex headed into the dining room, looking forward to continuing the conversation after supper.

  A full table on this night: Alex, Lucy, and his parents, as well as Uncle Fergus and Aunt Agnes. His father had also invited Magnus and Declan to join them as thanks for the fresh venison. The table held platters and serving bowls full of venison stew, smoked fish, cheeses, tatties, and neeps. Alex and Lucy sat on either side of his father. The conversation was lively and loud, Fergus teasing Aunt Agnes mercilessly and Magnus making bawdy jokes.

  His father was in excellent humor. He’d even brought out his imported sherry wine and passed it around the table. Unheard of. At one point, John took Alex and Lucy’s hands, one in each of his, and squeezed. Making his father this happy brought him pleasure so acute it pained his heart.

  Alex tried to stay with the conversation, but it was impossible to concentrate with Lucy looking so fetching. What was more, she looked back. She met his eyes often. Each time, he heated up inside. She hadn’t yet told him she wanted to marry him, but he had kissed her. Really kissed her. And Lucy had kissed him back. A victory for him. He filled his plate and forgot to eat. All he could think of was how and where he could get Lucy alone and kiss her again. Press against her soft, willing body and hear her sigh.

  Declan half rose from his chair and called down the table to him. “Alex. Did they work, man?”

  “Like a charm, Declan,” Lucy called back. “I had no idea you were such a ladies’ man.”

  The room erupted in laughter. Declan blushed furiously and dropped back into his chair. Magnus delivered a few cuffs to his ears and Aunt Agnes, finding Declan’s ticklish spot, poked him ruthlessly until he begged for mercy.

  Declan’s taunting remark was meant for Alex. He would have absorbed the blow easily, but Lucy had turned it around, clever girl. She could participate in good-natured teasing. Hold her own and return it in kind. Her cheeks were flushed with what he hoped was happiness, and her whole body seemed less contained, her movements flowing and graceful rather than rigid and self-conscious. In only a few days, she had blossomed.

  What could have brought about this change in her? Surely it hadn’t been the daisies, and he wasn’t so arrogant as to believe his kiss alone had altered her heart. No. More likely, it was the magic of Balforss that had transformed her.

  Balforss had always been like a living thing to Alex. Each stone held the power and grace of the men and women who had built it. He could reach out, touch a stone, and feel the hand of the man who had fashioned it. Draw strength from a grandfather, a great-grandfather, a great-great-grandmother. The walls of this house connected him to a proud lineage of Highlanders. They were most likely men who looked just like Alex. Yet, in his imagination, they were giants. Men and women of infinite strength and courage. They had to have been to have survived those precarious times.

  His father rose, and the room quieted. When he lifted his glass, Alex expected he would make a toast to his and Lucy’s upcoming nuptials. Instead, his father looked to his mother and said, “Here’s to the greatest of all God’s blessings, our women, who give us life, love, and a reason to be better men. Slainte.”

  After supper, Uncle Fergus detained him and Alex lost track of Lucy. He searched the house and the yard until he found her in the front garden among the gowans. She didn’t see him right away, so he watched her. He liked watching her. God, how long had she watched him today when he was bathing at the spring? She must not have minded too much. He hoped not. It would be nice if she liked looking at his body.

  He hadn’t allowed himself to think about what she might look like naked. He’d seen the tops of her breasts. He liked those very much. She was small. Not so much short as slim. Women wore so many clothes it was impossible to tell how they were shaped. He would find out soon, though. Very soon.

  “You look beautiful in the moonlight,” he said.

  Lucy looked up suddenly.

  Now that he was closer, he could see something was troubling her. “What’s wrong, lass?”

  “The attack on the camp. You said you would tell me about your father’s suspicions.”

  “I told you. There’s no need to worry. You’re safe here with us.”

  “Do you believe husbands and wives should be honest with each other at all times?”

  “Does that mean you want to marry me?”

  “Alex, just tell me the truth.” She was making a serious request of him. He should answer her seriously.

  “Do you ken the family we met on the road to Latheron?” he asked. “The people who’d been burned out of their croft?”

  Lucy nodded.

  “The man you spoke to at the Latheron Inn, Patrick Sellar, the one who…” Alex gestured to himself.

  Lucy made a face and nodded again, understanding what he meant.

  “Sellar is the man responsible for burning that family’s croft and leaving them destitute.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “He’s clearing Sutherland property of all his crofters, his farming tenants. When they dinnae leave, he burns their cottages. He denies the act, of course, but it’s only a matter of time before Sellar injures or kills someone. He knows my father doesnae approve and that we’re watching him carefully. If we discover evidence of his treachery, we’ll take him to task.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “He’s threatened to harm you should I interfere with his business. But believe me, I willnae let anyone hurt you. Ever.”

  “Does my father know about this?”

  “There’s no need to trouble him. He knows you’re safe here with us. That is why you must stay on the property, close to the house, unless you’re with me or my men. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Now, to bring the conversation around to his purpose. “I need to hear from your lips—and no more talk of duty—do you want to marry me?”

  Lucy huffed and folded her arms under her breasts. “How do I know you want to marry me? You haven’t even asked me.”

  “What kind of man do you think I am? I kissed you. I wouldnae kiss a lady if I didnae want to marry her.” Alex dug his fingers in his hair and paced in a circle. Christ, the woman was maddening. Everything was an argument with her. He stopped his pacing and raised an index finger, preparing to make an important point. He completely forgot his important point when he saw the look of surprise on Lucy’s face.

  Eyes blinking, she said, “Oh.” Then gifted him a dazzling smile.

  Like some sort of female weapon, her smile turned his insides to jelly. “Fine. Yes. Well, shall we walk?” He offered her his arm. They made a quiet turn around the garden.

  “If not for duty, why do you want to marry me?” she asked.

  Alex wasn’t prepared. He hadn’t asked himself the question. He’d spent so much time thinking of how to get her to want him he hadn’t given any consideration as to why.

  “Duty aside, if we’re being completely honest with each other…” he began.

  She stopped walking and turned to him. The golden light from the windows of his father’s library spilled onto their faces.

  “Go on,” she said.

  “If we’re being completely honest, I dinnae ken.”

  A look of concer
n crossed her brow.

  “I barely know you. We barely know each other.”

  She looked away. He was losing her.

  “All I do know is that I want you.”

  She met his eyes again.

  Encouraged, he went on. “I want to spend the rest of my life knowing you.” He remembered his father’s toast at supper. “What was it my father said? ‘The greatest of all God’s blessings are our women, who give us a reason to be better men.’ It’s like that.”

  The wool wrap Lucy clung to in the cool night air slipped from one of her shoulders.

  He tugged her shawl back in place. “I want to care for you, protect you, fight for you. I want you to see me as a good man. To want me, and no other. To want me as much as I want you. Do you ken what I’m saying, Lucy?”

  “Yes. I think I do.”

  “So, I’m wanting to marry you, knowing we dinnae ken each other well, but trusting that we will. I promise to be the best man I can be so that maybe one day you’ll love me.” Alex held her hand in his. “Lucy, will you marry me?”

  She turned her beautiful face up to look at him, one side in shadow, the other shone golden in the candlelight from the window. “Yes, Alex. I will marry you.”

  He pulled her against him and bent to kiss her, but a burst of laughter from the study drew her attention, and he ended with his face buried in her hair.

  She pushed at his chest. “Stop. They’re looking. What will they think?”

  He raised his head and saw four figures silhouetted by candlelight in the window. “Don’t you see? It brings people joy to see us together.”

  “But we’re not married yet. It’s scandalous to make love in public.”

  “Maybe that’s true in England, but not here in the Highlands. Not between two people who are meant to be together.” Alex glanced back at the window. “They’re gone now. Let me have those sweet lips of yours.” Her face was very close to his. “Let me kiss you and then kiss me back.” Her eyes closed. “Let me know you want me like I want you.”