At the word “bed,” he swung her into his arms and carried her down to the beach. She rested her head on his chest as he easily moved, despite her additional weight. “You don’t have to carry me,” she murmured.
“You’re light as a feather.” He kissed her forehead then nudged ‘til her lips were facing up to his to plant a gentle kiss. “It will give you a chance to tell me what has you so upset.”
She sighed. “I knew I was angry at Davenport and embarrassed to face society. I even understood that I was upset with myself for allowing it all to happen, but I didn’t understand how livid I am with my father. He’s supposed to be the one who protects me.” She stopped before she admitted that it made it difficult for her to trust anyone else.
He gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m not one to tell ye what to do but I can say, Fiona might be a wee bit angry with her da too. He tried to force a marriage on her she didna want.”
She huffed a breath. “He wanted to see her safe and in a good match.”
“Exactly,” he answered.
She looked up at him as she pondered the statement. Uncle Haggis had not taken his error to the ridiculous lengths her father had, trying to repair an engagement that had made a fool of her in front of all of London, but they did share some commonalities. Their fathers had wanted to see them matched without taking their feelings into account.
They’d forgotten their daughters were grown women and not little girls capable of understanding themselves. “But why does my father persist?”
They’d now reached the rock cliff where’d they sheltered from the storm. He ducked under the lip giving them some privacy and shelter from the wind. Sitting down, he pulled her into his lap. “It’s within your father’s right to insist on the match. It’s because he loves you that he’s listening at all. Try to be patient and explain it to him again.” Ewan kissed her lips as she realized the truth in his statement.
His mouth started trailing down her neck. She wound her fingers up into his overlong hair pulling on the strands. “You’re right. I need to be patient and try to stop being so angry.”
He smiled against the skin of her collarbone. “Take it from me, anger will cripple you. Keep you from making good decisions for yourself.” His hands were undoing the buttons in the back of her dress and the fabric fell forward revealing more skin for him to kiss.
“What good decisions has anger kept you from?” she asked, her breathing growing more rapid as his lips kissed along the top of her breast.
“It almost kept me from pursuing you,” he whispered as he pushed the fabric of her chemise aside and lightly kissed the peak of her nipple.
Her head fell back as she arched toward him. “How do you know courting me is wise?” She could barely get the words past her lips, her head was swimming with desire. But she pushed through, needing to hear his answer. She was desperate to understand how to choose the right path. Because in this moment she wanted him to be the best choice.
“You ease the ache in my heart, lass. Ye’re making me feel whole again.”
He continued to kiss her chest, pulling the other side of chemise down. He told himself it didn’t matter if she didn’t respond but part of him was holding his breath. Because he couldn’t lose her now. The pieces of his mangled heart were just fitting back into place.
“You ease the ache in my heart too,” she whispered, her hands pulling his hair. “I couldn’t have made it through this without you.”
Relief and joy had him resting his forehead on her chest for a moment before his hand reached for the hem of her skirt. Then he was sliding it up under the layers of fabric, along with her pantaloons to the slit opening at the top. Pushing the fabric aside, his hand lightly brushed her folds and her body jerked in response, her hips bucking toward him. Her hands were pulling at his hair in an almost painful grip but he loved it all the more as he brushed against her again with a little more pressure.
The moan that escaped her lips made him pant with desire as he began to massage her sensitive bud.
Heat radiated off her as she writhed in his arms. His own desire straining to be released. She’d only left his bed a few hours before but that seemed to have stroked the flames between them rather than dousing them.
“Ewan.” She gasped his name and he nearly came undone.
“Mo chridhe,” he groaned. Her body was tensing and tightening underneath him and he had the sudden urge to taste her, know every part of her. Lowering her to the sand, he lowered his head until it was fitted between her legs.
It didn’t take more than a flick of his tongue before she was coming undone, gasping for air, crying his name into the wind.
Holding onto her hips, he kissed his way back up her body, nuzzling her neck. Even with all her skirts between them, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he brushed a tendril of hair back from her face. “You want choice, mo chridhe, and I want you to have that.”
“Thank you so much for understanding.” Her lips found his, her hips rubbing against him till he wanted to cry out in frustration and desire.
“Which is why I can’t be inside you again. The more times we do that the more likely I am to plant a seed in your belly, lass,” he whispered in her ear.
“A baby,” she nearly cooed and he smiled to himself. He was winning this war slowly but surely. He’d make her his.
“Not now, though, lass. It’s not the way we want it to happen.” He was pulling her dress back up onto her shoulders but she lightly pushed him away, a smile playing on her lips.
“If it did already, what will we do?” She didn’t look upset, only curious and so he answered honestly. “We’d have to marry, lass. I won’t have my bairn be a bastard.”
She gave another nod. “I agree.” Her eyes traveled down his body and stopped as they landed at the juncture of her legs. “Does that mean we have to stop this?” She pointed between them.
He gave a rueful grin. “There are other things we can do, I suppose. Like what I just did for you.” He wanted her to want to marry, but he didn’t want to push her away.
Smiling still, she bit her lip, her hand resting on his bare knee. “Do you wear anything under that kilt?” Her hand began travelling up his thigh.
“You know I don’t,” his voice rasped out as her hand reached his inner thigh. And then she was touching him, softly exploring his manhood in a way that was innocent and wicked all in the same breath.
“It’s so soft,” she murmured making his breath hiss out. Dimly he was aware that snow had begun to fall despite it being early May. A lambing snow, was what is was called, but soon bright colors behind his eyelids made him forget all about it as his body heaved to completion.
Gathering her closer, he peppered her face with kisses as she trailed her hand along the contours of his chest. “So strong,” she murmured, sounding terribly sleepy.
“Ye can’t fall asleep, love. We’ll be missed if we don’t go back.” He kissed her eyes, then her nose.
She gave him a sleepy smile. “Let’s stay here forever. Just the two of us.”
“I know the perfect place for just the two of us,” he whispered as her body relaxed further. He’d win her over. But he’d do it with kindness, love, and caring. And in the end, she’d be his because she wanted to be.
“I think I’d like that.” She nuzzled her face into his neck then.
“Are ye sayin’ what I think ye might be? You’ll return to Dumfries with me?” He used a finger to look in her eyes then.
“Yes,” she murmured, her body fitted to his.
“Will ye be my wife?” His lips pressed to her ear, softly imploring her to say yes.
“Yes,” she agreed.
He gathered her closer still and held her tight to his chest.
Chapter 17
The next day, Clarissa sat reading in the library. She hadn’t slept much again last night, Ewan having snuck into her room before she’d even had the chance to make it to his.
She grinned at the memory. Oh the things they’d done. Beautiful, wicked things. He’d said he was a rake for her alone and, not only did she love that, but she found herself more wanton than she’d ever been. But only for him.
He was right, of course. He’d have to return to his home and she didn’t want to be without him. The decision was fast approaching and she knew where her heart wanted to be. With Ewan. And so she’d tell her father that she’d decided to accept Ewan’s offer.
The door opening startled her slightly and she looked up from her book she’d barely been reading. Lord Davenport stood before her, looking impeccably groomed as always. A ridiculous image of him attempting to tup the maid without mussing his hair made her near giggle. She held it back.
“I’ve come to say my goodbyes,” he announced. “I’m leaving on the morrow.”
She gave a nod, unsure of what to say. Thank you for visiting or come again seemed untrue and inappropriate so she settled for, “I wish you all the best.”
“And you as well,” he replied stepping closer and nerves fluttered in her belly. She had hoped that would be the end.
He took a breath. “Which is why I must implore you one last time to consider my suit.”
“Lord Davenport,” she started, wanting to end this conversation before it began. Even without Ewan, she wouldn’t marry Davenport, but Ewan made her that much stronger.
“Call me James.” He gave her a pointed look. “I know you fancy yourself in love.”
“That has almost nothing to do with why I won’t marry you.” Why deny it?
“I never lied to you, Clarissa. I never pretended to have feelings I didn’t or misrepresent what I wanted from you.” His eyes were piercing as he leaned forward.
She took a steadying breath. “That is all well and good but it doesn’t change what happened.”
“Arranged marriages have an understanding.”
“Does that understanding include humiliation in front of all of English society?” Her voice was rising.
His face spasmed into something that appeared to be regret or pain. She didn’t care. He deserved to hurt. It wasn’t even close to how he’d hurt her. “You’re stronger than I gave you credit for. Most ladies wouldn’t have disobeyed their father as you did.” To her shock he ran his fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair, mussing it considerably. “And you’re right, of course. I can’t take it back and, unless I find another bride with a suitable dowry, I’ll likely be ruined for my misstep as well.”
She caught her breath then. To sell off his belongings would most certainly be an equivalent humiliation. Her face softened and her anger eased. “You’ll find someone. There are plenty of ladies more aware of the trade they would be making if they married you.”
His eyes snapped up to hers. “You’re still making that trade, Clarissa. That is what you need to understand.”
She stared at him in complete confusion, wondering what on earth he was talking about. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Dumfries is smarter than me. I’ll give him that. He’s appealed to your heart and, most likely, to your body. I thought I only needed to win over your father. I didn’t understand your spirit.”
“He….he…didn’t even kn-know I had a dowry,” she stuttered out. But a sinking dread pulled at her stomach.
His face scrunched in disbelief. “Of course he knew, everyone knows. Is that what he told you?” he shook his head and his eyes rolled heavenward. “I wounded your pride, Clarissa. I admit it freely. But when you discover he was just after the coin, he’ll break your heart.”
She sat stunned into silence, willing herself not to cry. Not in front of him of all people. Part of her wanted to stand up and cry out her denial while another was forced to admit it was a possibility. Ewan needed money, he’d made no secret of it and all of England knew about her dowry. Ewan wouldn’t trick her like that would he?
He took advantage of her silence to take her hand and place a soft kiss on it. “You can still change your mind. No matter what you’ve done with him, we have an understanding.”
Before she could answer, tell him how ridiculous a marriage based on an understanding of infidelity sounded, he stood and was gone.
If Davenport hadn’t been paying attention to her in London, he certainly had been in Scotland, because he had undoubtedly found her weakest point. She was afraid that no man would love her more than he loved her dowry. That it was the most attractive thing about her and if she entered a relationship, she’d undoubtedly find that the man she’d fallen for did not return her feelings.
She’d known Ewan needed money to repair his lands after being gone. No wonder she’d been so resistant. In her heart, she’d always been worried that it wasn’t her he wanted at all.
Chapter 18
She stayed in her room for dinner that night, not wanting to see anyone. Clarissa knew she was hiding again. But her conversation with Ewan needed to be private and she was a terrible liar. Her feelings would be written all over her face.
Finishing her tray of food, she set it in the hall and then paced around her room. The house grew quiet but sleep eluded her.
Around midnight a soft knock came at her door. “Clarissa,” Ewan called.
She bit her lip. Taking a breath, she tiptoed to the door. “I don’t…I don’t feel well.”
She heard his swear softly. “I shouldna have kept ye outside for so long, lass. Do ye have a fever?”
He was blaming himself? Guilt rolled in her stomach. “No, I’m fine, really.” She clasped her hands together. “I just need some rest, that’s all.”
“Let me check on ye, lass, to be safe. I hate to think—”
“No,” she said a too loudly and much too fast. She thought she wanted a private conversation with him but the truth was, she just wanted more time to sort out her feelings. “I…I’ll see you at breakfast.”
He was silent for so long that she crept closer to the door to see if she could hear any sound. Was it possible he’d left?
“Clarissa, open the door.” The volume of his voice startled her, he was no longer whispering, and she jumped back giving a little cry.
“I can’t…I mean I shouldn’t…You wouldn’t want to fall ill,” she fumbled hurriedly.
“Open the door now, or I’ll pound on it ‘til I wake the entire house.” His voice rumbled with anger and she paused for only a second before rushing to the door.
As soon as the latch slid over he pushed it open and then quickly closed it. Clarissa might have been afraid, allowing an angry man into her room, but Ewan would never hurt her.
His eyes scanned up and down her. “What the devil is going on?”
Her eyes drank him in too. His strength, the broad chest, strong arms, and chiseled jaw, his overlong hair.
Some part of her wanted to rush into his arms and forget her fears. Seek comfort in the warmth of his embrace.
“I…I… just didn’t feel well and I…” She looked away, not making eye contact.
He moved closer then and she could smell him. His fresh, manly scent that filled her with longing. “You’re not tellin’ me the truth. Out with it.”
She gave a nod, breathing in his scent, drawing strength from it, but still not looking at him. “I wanted to know if you knew about my dowry when you arrived to court Fiona.”
She heard him suck in his breath, could actually feel him tensing. “I didna.”
“Everyone knows about it,” she answered but it sounded foolish repeating Davenport’s words here in front of Ewan. She looked at him then, because the truth would be in his eyes.
“Well, I didna.” His eyes were narrowing. “What does it have to do with anything?”
Didn’t he already know? Was he lying? “You came here looking for an heiress. Fiona told me so.”
His eyes widened and for a moment, pain spasmed across his features before he masked them again. “Ye think I only want yer dowry?” his voice held a soft, dead calm that frightened her
more than his anger would have.
She stepped closer, her gaze imploring him to understand. “I can’t be fooled again, Ewan. It would destroy any hope I have left.”
“But after what we’ve shared, I can’t believe you still don’t trust me.” He turned away and stepped to the window. Raking his hands through his hair, he crossed his arms over his chest.
Fear was bubbling inside her. She thought this was what she wanted but looking at him now, she wasn’t at all sure about what she was doing. When he wasn’t there it was easy to doubt but with his large frame filling her bedroom, her only thought was to throw herself in his arms and beg him to kiss her into oblivion. “I love you,” her voice sounded strange to her own ears. “But I’m afraid.”
He turned then. Every line of his body was hard as stone. “That just isn’t good enough. I’ve been trying to be patient but ye doubt me at every turn. How can we build a life on that?” His voice was growing louder with every word.
She shook her head. “Please don’t be angry. I don’t want to doubt.”
“I could marry ye anyway, lass, and hope that my love wins ye over.” His tone sounded deflated and he scrubbed his face with his hands. “But what if I dunna?”
“Please…” she said because in this moment, she didn’t know what else to say. And then she threw herself into his arms.
In that moment she realized that he felt like home. His chest was under her ear as his strong arms wrapped protectively around her. One of his hands snaked up into her hair and tilting her head back, his lips crashed down on hers.
It was a desperate, passionate kiss that was made more achingly beautiful by the threat of loss. Her lips clung to his and his arms wrapped more tightly around her.
He pulled away first, lifting his head. She stood on tiptoe to keep from breaking the contact but all too soon, his lips left hers. “I have to go.”
Her heart thumped wildly. But tomorrow would be a new day and then she could think about how to make this better. Because now that she was losing him, she realized that they belonged together. “We can talk in the morning. I’ll find an excuse to slip away.”
My Enemy, My Earl: Scottish Historical Romance (A Laird to Love Book 1) Page 11
