Instead he whispered, “Tonight we can plan your revenge against Fiona.”
And that was when it happened. She gave him a smile with no malice, no distrust even, just a beautiful unreserved grin that lit every hollow of her face. “Thank you,” she whispered back.
“For helping with revenge?” He brushed another tendril as it blew in the breeze. Her hair might be his undoing.
“For not telling me how I am a useless Sas—“ she started.
“Don’t say it,” he growled back because suddenly he was embarrassed by those words. For lumping her in with the men that had sent him off to war.
Keiran reined his horse next to them, Fiona just on his other side. Clarissa leveled her with a glare and for once, it was nice to not have it trained on him. “Fiona McDougal,” she snapped. “Were you attempting to orchestrate my death?”
“Don’t be silly.” Fiona looked less sure of herself now. Not so pleased with her jest.
Clarissa had one arm around his neck but the other came to her hip. “That horse could have killed me. That isn’t funny, Fi-o-na.” She drew out her cousin’s name to make her point.
“If you’d seen yourself, you might have thought it was comical,” Fiona answered, looking to the side.
“It was dangerous,” Ewan scolded, unable to help himself. Fiona’s tricks had always annoyed him and this one made him downright furious. He’d been so afraid for Clarissa. His hand tightened around her waist at the thought.
Fiona leveled him with a glare. “She’s my family. I am the one who cares for her. I don’t see that it’s any of your business what happens to the English miss.”
Ewan winced because she was correct. He’d done nothing but insult her English heritage. Many of his soldiers had suffered tremendously at the hand of the very men they’d fought for. Not only were they pushed to the front of the line again and again, suffering great losses, but when they returned home many of their lands had been confiscated and their families sent away in the name of progress.
But Clarissa had nothing to do with any of that.
Not that he wanted to marry an Englishwoman, but insulting her was just plain childish.
He looked down at her to say something, anything to explain himself but her eyes were now cast to the ground. “Lord Dumfries,” her voice was just above a whisper. “Would you please take me back to the castle? I am done riding for the day.”
“Of course,” he replied. But his insides twisted again because he could hear the hurt in her voice.
The ride back was silent, which he was alternately grateful for and worried about. Was she angry with him?
But her body remained pressed to his, head in the crook of his neck, his arm tucked around her waist. Never in his whole life had a woman felt this good against him. He leaned down and caught a whiff of her scent. Like spring flowers after a rain, it filled him with calm even as it excited him.
The castle came into view and he tightened his grip. He didn’t want to let her go. “Are ye sure you wish to return, lass?
“Oh yes, thank you, though.” She sat up a little straighter and he regretted asking. “Thank you again for rescuing me.” She didn’t look at him but her pink cheeks gave away her emotion.
“I’d never let anything happen to ye,” he said, surprised how much he meant the words.
She looked in his eyes then. The look tugged at his heart. Ach, he wanted to kiss her. “With any luck you’ll never need rescue me again.”
He wasn’t exactly sure that would be lucky. In fact, with any luck, he’d have her tucked against him like this in the very near future. The thought near scared him out of his wits because he shouldn’t want an English lass who could barely ride a horse. But something about her felt so right. He wasn’t ready to throw away his principles but he wouldn’t dismiss these feelings either. For the first time in a very long time he was alive again.
Chapter 5
Clarissa sat curled up in the library with a novel, exactly where she had wanted to be. So why did she feel so empty with everyone off and her here alone?
She could admit to one thing, her swirling thoughts were not about Lord Davenport, as they had been for days and weeks now. Instead they were on Lord McDougal.
She had to give him some modicum of credit. He’d come to her aid, twice. But his interest in her was obvious despite being here to court her cousin, which definitely made him a rake.
But he hated her English blood, and she his rakish ways, and so there was nothing left to think about really. Except she couldn’t seem to put him out of her mind.
Sighing, she closed the book. She wasn’t getting any reading done. Her Aunt Rhona walked into the library. She didn’t start browsing the titles but instead walked straight toward Clarissa. Clarissa held back a sigh. Clearly, her aunt wanted to discuss something.
“My wee bairn, how are ye fairin’?” Aunt Rhona kissed her cheek as she stood to greet her elder.
“Fine, Aunt Rhona.” She gave a weak smile.
“Are you going to tell me about what happened?”
“Fiona gave me a wild horse and I nearly was killed. Lord McDougal—”
“Lamb, I know about all that. I’m askin’ about London.” Her aunt reached for her hand giving it a squeeze.
With a sigh, she sat down and her aunt did too. “It was humiliating.”
“I can only imagine. Judith says you haven’t spoken a word about it. I think it’s time. Don’t you?”
She gave a mute nod, dreading this moment. But somehow, it didn’t hurt quite as much as the other times she attempted to discuss it. “It was the engagement party. It was supposed to be the event of the season. It’s not every day a marquess becomes betrothed.” She had been swept up in the excitement of it, she could admit that to herself. In less than two months, they’d gone from first meeting to engaged. Every lady knew that publicly announcing the match was a pinnacle moment.
Engaged couples were allowed time alone. Not that he’d been anything other than proper. But if the marriage fell through, the lady was ruined.
“How did the betrothal come about? Were you in love with him?” Her aunt was still holding her hand and she gave it a tiny squeeze.
“No, of course not. My father had arranged it. He wanted to see me attached to a strong title. I had heard the rumors about Lord Davenport, a gambler and a rake, but he was so attentive when we were together. He was handsome and complimentary, I thought our feelings would grow over time. I was such a fool.”
“You are young. And you were trying to make the best of an arranged marriage.” Her aunt gave her a gentle smile.
Clarissa took a shaky breath, the shame of what had happened washing over her once again. “My father was getting ready to make the toast but Lord Davenport was nowhere to be found. Five minutes past and then ten.” Her insides twisted into knots remembering the shame of standing there waiting for him, all eyes on her. It was nothing compared with what was about to come. “Two hundred people and I could have heard a pin drop. Then a howling laugh cut through the silence.” Her hands pressed into her eyes as nausea rose in her stomach. “‘He’s tuppping a maid!’” Tears burned at the back of her eyes but she wouldn’t let them fall.
“Oh, lamb.” Her aunt reached for her but she barely felt the touch as she relived the moment.
“Two hundred eyes turned to me. Some laughing, some appalled, some filled with pity. I heard a woman yell, ‘She couldn’t even get him to the altar.’” A tiny sob broke out. “I just ran. The next day I wrote the letter and three days later I set off for the castle. I haven’t shown my face in any respectable establishment in London since and I might never again.” she meant those words with every ache of her beating heart. She hadn’t done a thing wrong and yet a careless rake had destroyed her life. She’d fled her home, friends, even family. She’d never fall prey to a man like that again.
“Don’t say such things,” her aunt clucked. “You’re young and beautiful and not at fault that your father made a
match with a known rogue. There will be others.”
She shook her head. “I’m as good as ruined. That kind of scandal, only the most desperate of men would even consider—”
“Lass, England isn’t the only place to find a future. Even your father chose a Scottish bride.”
She shook her head. “I’ll never open myself up like that again.” While she hadn’t envisioned herself a spinster, she couldn’t see herself marrying either. And if she did, it certainly wouldn’t be to someone so carelessly handsome like Ewan. She’d need someone safe.
“Oh, Clarissa. Don’t let a man you didn’t even love close your heart.” Aunt Rhona’s eyes pleaded with her.
Giving a nod, Clarissa kept her thoughts to herself. She couldn’t imagine trusting like that ever again.
Long after her aunt had left the library those words reverberated through her chest.
With Clarissa gone, Ewan attempted to focus his attention on the ride and the woman he was here to court.
Fiona was everything he’d expected a wife to be. Her horsemanship was excellent, her ability to ride tireless, and even when it began to drizzle, she pushed forward, first to reach the loch. This was the type of woman who could work alongside him to repair his land.
But with her energy came a tireless need for adventure, which filled him with dread. He’d had all the adventure one life could handle, and now he wanted to rest in the country with a simple life.
His mind kept drifting to the library. Before they’d left, he’d heard Clarissa say that was where she would be. He envisioned her tucked by the fire, book in hand, steaming pot of tea by her side.
It sounded…divine. And as they approached the loch, he looked over the darkening water in the drizzle and realized that the grey blue of Clarissa’s eyes were exactly the color of the water on a cloudy day.
But that didn’t matter. So what if she looked like a piece of Scotland? She was English, and though he wouldn’t denigrate her any longer for it, it still didn’t change the fact that she’d likely want to continue her life in London. She deserved it. He could see by her gowns she came from wealth. What did he have to offer really? Years of war and a broken-down piece of land.
A rider appeared on the other side of the loch. He was wearing the green and red tartan of the Campbell Clan.
Fiona kicked her horse forward, “What are ye doin’ here?” she called out angrily.
The other riders had caught up and he heard Emilia and Ainsley giggling.
“Out with it now, lassies. What is so funny?”
Emilia hid her smile, trying to look innocent but Ainsley burst out, “That’s Colin Campbell. Colin and Fiona are always at odds. Mum swears they’re sweet on each other.”
“Ainsley McDougal,” Emilia chastised. “Stop your prattling.”
Belatedly Ainsley realized the implication of what she had said. But Ewan only shrugged. It was not so uncommon for a woman or a man to fancy someone else when a marriage was arranged.
It didn’t mean they wouldn’t suit one another.
With that in mind, he kicked his horse forward to join Fiona’s conversation.
As he approached, he could hear the arguing, but he couldn’t make out the words. Finally he caught Colin say, “You’d be married already if ye learned to curb your tongue.”
He could only see a third of Fiona’s face, but that third turned bright red at his words. “You’ve got to do better than that, Colin Campbell. Everyone knows no decent woman would have ye.”
“It’s not a decent woman that I’m—”
“Hey now,” Ewan called, intentionally interrupting the exchange. Those were no words to be saying to a lady, whether Fiona could handle them or not. If someone had spoken them to Clarissa… He forced his mind to focus back on Fiona.
“And who are ye?” Colin’s eyes raked up and down them.
“Lord McDougal is my intended.” She threw the words at Colin as though throwing a stone. Colin’s head snapped back, eyes blinking, and Ewan felt as shocked as Colin looked.
There had been no formal arrangement made. Up to this point, he could climb on his horse and return home with only a thank you. But her declaration changed things entirely.
But it was only to Colin and out of anger. Surely the other man would understand if he explained they weren’t formally…
“Well that’s wonderful news,” Ainsley chirped behind him. “Da will be so happy to hear it.”
His teeth snapped together and Fiona whipped her head around, panic making her eyes bulge as they met his. She clearly hadn’t meant to say the words but now they were out and there was no taking them back.
Colin gave a terse shake of his head. “Congratulations to ye both.” Then he turned his horse and was gone.
There was nothing to be said with the rest of the party watching and so he stared absently at the lake, a sick pit of dread filling his stomach.
He’d come here to court Fiona, he told himself. But Clarissa’s image danced behind his eyelids. Which was absurd; he hardly knew her and he wasn’t interested in an English lady.
She could barely ride a horse. She spoke with an English accent.
She smelled like flowers in the rain.
Emilia and Ainsley seemed to sense that something was wrong. They were silently appraising both Fiona and him. Keiran stood off to the side, whistling. For once, he wasn’t complaining about the mist falling. Only Agnes seemed unaffected. She stood at the shore of the loch taking in the mountains and the water, oblivious to the drama unfolding behind her.
Finally Emilia cleared her throat, “The rain is worsening. Let’s return.”
They all returned to their horses, Agnes giving the loch one final glance. “Scottish lochs may be the most beautiful sight in the world.”
Keiran gave her a wink. “You should see the loch my home sits on. Puts this to shame.”
“Oh, I’d like to see that.” Agnes nodded as Keiran aided her onto her horse.
Ewan turned to help Fiona, but she’d seated herself already. Like a true Scottish lass.
Why did getting exactly what he wanted make him feel miserable?
Chapter 6
Clarissa glanced out the window of the library when the party returned, glad to see them back. She still ached inside, but a little less than she had this morning. Perhaps someday, her anger and sadness would abate.
It also occurred to her that some of her resentment toward Ewan was just a redistribution of her anger at Lord Davenport, whom she hadn’t allowed an audience before she left London. In retrospect she should have seen him, if only to tell him how much she hated him and every breath he took.
But that wasn’t Ewan’s fault and while she had labeled him a rake, he had no real commitment to Fiona. Perhaps she’d misjudged the situation.
Ainsley and Emilia rushed into the library, their eyes wide, as they approached her.
“Fiona declared her engagement to Lord McDougal,” Ainsley burst out.
Clarissa’s hands balled into fists. She hadn’t misjudged at all. He was giving her long glances while tying himself to her cousin.
“She can’t marry him,” her voice was far breathier than she intended. “He’s ill-intentioned.”
“It’s not his fault that Fiona is so hot-headed.” Emilia gave her a curious stare.
Clarissa blinked twice, absorbing those words. As Emilia rushed through the explanation of what had happened, Clarissa’s shoulders sagged. It didn’t matter, she told herself. That he hadn’t actually been acting as a rake made no difference, even if her heart cried that it did. She’d no intention of marrying, especially not a man courting her beloved cousin, but somehow it filled her with loneliness to see them actually paired. But perhaps she’d feel that way no matter what. It wasn’t any feelings toward Ewan, simply a reminder that she wouldn’t marry as all of her cousins would.
Walking into the foyer, she saw Ewan softly whispering in her ear. Clarissa had no idea what he said, but Fiona nodded several times. His
hand was on Fiona’s elbow, and she leaned her head down, almost touching his chest as he spoke.
The pose was so intimate that a stab of pain pierced her chest. She turned her head away. It didn’t matter. But all the same, she couldn’t watch them snuggled together, deep in an intimate discussion.
Holding her book, she decided she might read after all. Perhaps in her room, or mayhap she’d find the attic, or an outbuilding. Somewhere far away from the scene unfolding.
Ewan’s gaze caught hers and she inhaled sharply. She quickly schooled her features into a blank expression, but she feared he’d seen her look of pain before it had been erased.
She knew now that Scotland hadn’t been far enough to escape her heartache. Not even close. If anything, this was worse. Perhaps she should move to America.
Turning away, she slowly climbed the stairs to her room. What she needed was to be alone.
But that wasn’t meant to be. Two hours later, Agnes opened her door, huffing and tossing herself onto the bed. Ainsley followed, looking equally sullen.
“It is generally polite to knock.” She raised her eyebrows as Ainsley also threw herself across the bed.
“What?” Agnes titled her head to look at her. “My apologies.” She waved her hand, dismissing her gaff.
“They left without us,” Ainsley pouted.
“Who?” Clarissa asked, attempting to keep up with the conversation.
“Lord McKenna, Lord McDougal, Fiona, and Emilia.” Agnes huffed as though it should be obvious. “They said the weather had cleared and they wished to go on a proper ride.”
“We said we would join them, but we were told this was a smaller party and not to bother.” Ainsley crossed her arms over her chest.
“I don’t like Lord McKenna.” Agnes burst out. “It was surely his idea to leave us out. I bet he doesn’t like us simply because we’re English.”
Clarissa bit back a smile. It eased some of her ache. “Lord McDougal is the one who’s spoken out against the English.”
“That’s right and what has that got to do with me?” Ainsley stuck her thumb in her chest.
My Enemy, My Earl: Scottish Historical Romance (A Laird to Love Book 1) Page 4
