A Question of Love (Questions For A Highlander Book 1)

by Angeline Fortin

  Face aflame, Evelyn stared down at her plate while Fiona and Connor took their places at the table. Agnes bustled in then, setting plates before them, before leaving the room in silence.

  The clock ticked off the seconds.

  “Well?” Fiona finally asked irritably into the silent room a few moments later.

  “Well, what, Blossom?” Francis asked, puzzled by the impatient ill-humor his sister was displaying.

  “Lady Shaftesbury!” The girl demanded her attention and waited until Eve looked up and met her penetrating stare.

  Curiosity overwhelmed Eve in the face of Fiona’s determined look. “Yes, Fiona?”

  “My brother just said that he loves you,” she wiggled impatiently. “Have you nothing to say to him in return?”

  “Blossom!” Both men at the table choked in astonishment before Francis added, “That is none of your business, lass.”

  Fiona’s chin jutted out belligerently. “Well, I think it is!”

  “It isn’t,” Francis glowered at his youngest sibling.

  “Fiona,” Connor rolled his eyes. “You can’t just ask something like that.”

  “Why not?” she insisted, eyeing the younger MacKintosh with a raised brow. “Don’t you want to know?”

  “Of course, I do!” he agreed. “But you can’t just demand…”

  “I do,” Eve interrupted in a soft voice that caught their attention.

  “Beg pardon?” Fiona blinked across the table at her.

  Eve turned to find Francis considering her curiously and offered him a tender smile before turning back to their companions. “Of course you want to know. I understand that. You’re worried about your brother, aren’t you?”

  “That bitch ruined my brother’s life,” Fiona said bluntly.

  “Fiona Heather MacKintosh!” Francis groaned, wondering how he was ever to bring his youngest sibling out into polite society with her penchant for blunt honesty. It simply would not do at all.

  “It’s all right, Francis.” Eve laid a comforting hand on top of his, biting back a chuckle. “They worry about you. They want to make certain you are not treated so shabbily again. You’re lucky to have so many people who care.”

  “They’re pests,” he grumbled, but turned his hand over to grasp her fingers nonetheless.

  “They’re wonderful,” Eve grinned before looking back at the younger MacKintoshs. “So, in answer to your question, Fiona… yes, I love your brother. Very much, in fact.”

  Nodding seriously, Fiona just tilted her head to the side and studied them. “He’s happy, you know. I never realized how unhappy he’s been, for pretty much my whole life, until now. Because of you, he’s happy. I don’t want to see it go away. With all the mess that harlot made…”

  “That will be enough, Blossom!” Francis cut in abruptly and the girl flushed.

  Evelyn eyed him curiously. “Was there anyone who liked her?”

  “None that I can think of,” he answered honestly and changed the subject. “We shall play tomorrow, I think. The weather’s clearing up and I think Lady Shaftesbury feels that she’ll give us MacKintoshs a real go…”

  “I want to thank you for being so kind to my bratty siblings, Eden,” Francis said later as he walked her slowly up the stairs.

  “It isn’t difficult, Francis.” Eve clasped his arm and laid her head against his shoulder, reveling in their uncensored companionship. Thinking that every night with him could be hers if she but embraced his proposal, Eve shook off the urge to agree, saying only, “They are lovely people.”

  “You were lovely in the glow of the candles this evening,” he whispered in her ear and was rewarded with a shiver of anticipation from her.

  “Only this evening?” she teased breathlessly.

  “Every evening.”

  “You look very handsome yourself. Every evening as well. In daylight, though…” she trailed off with a grin.

  He squeezed her hand and laughed heartily. “I guess you'll just have to keep me in the dark then! Good thing that I have this wonderful place with all these dark rooms, isn't it?”

  “Very good thing. And I'll expect to see each and every one of them.”

  “Oh, I'll make sure you see them all or at least the ceilings!” His grin was decidedly wolfish.

  It took a moment, but a red flush of understanding flooded her cheeks and a high-pitched “OH!” escaped her lips. He laughed deeply leaning over to kiss her cheek warmly and affectionately. Unable to help herself, Evelyn joined him in laughter. “You're awful, my lord!”

  “I do my best!”

  “Your best to embarrass me? Yes, you do it very well!”

  “Well, I must do my best at something!” he countered.

  Chapter 34

  It warmed Eve immensely to move her queen in line once again and speak. “Checkmate, my lord.”

  “I've never before met a woman whose favorite words seem to be ‘check’ and ‘mate’.” Francis leaned back in defeat and smiled at her across the board. Patting his leg, he invited her to come to him.

  “And I do truly love to say them,” Evelyn responded as she curled up in his lap, enjoying the solitude of the evening.

  “It's amazing. After that first night at Raven’s Craig, I tried every trick I knew and still I could not beat you! Who taught you to play?” he asked curiously.

  “My Da. He was very good.”

  “So, it would seem. You take great pride in beating me.”

  “It is nice to know I can defeat you in one thing, my lord,” she teased. “You quite bested me on the links today.”

  “Ahh, but don't you know, my lady, that you defeat me every night in another way?” he nuzzled her neck.

  “In what way?” she asked a bit breathlessly, distracted by the wonderful sensations his mouth was eliciting from her.

  “Each time I touch you and I lose control of myself, it is a defeat of my self-control and good sense,” he confessed.

  “Then I hope I can continue to defeat you time and again.”

  “Conquer me, you mean.” He kissed her lustily. “You do not mind, then, that I seem incapable of showing you some romance and tenderness?”

  “You show me tenderness each day, like now,” she whispered in his ear, causing him to shiver and pull her closer. “As for the romance, I think that you are the most romantic man I have ever imagined. I would not have you any other way.” Her lips caught his earlobe and she sucked on it lightly, drawing a deep moan from Francis.

  “Do not start, my lady, or you may not make it to your bed tonight.”

  Evelyn was strongly tempted, but she sighed and leaned back against his shoulder, staring into the blazing fire. “Must we really go back tomorrow?”

  “We can play an early round in the morning before we return.”

  “If it were not for Laurie, I'd never go back.”

  “You have a fine son, Evelyn,” he said and shifted uncomfortably beneath her.

  A messenger had brought word that Vanessa was still in town and refusing to budge. It made no sense that the woman was refusing the exorbitant amount of wealth he was offering, though Jack had wired that Vanessa had been seen in the company of several different men lately. He needed to get back to town and plan his next move.

  “Am I getting too heavy for you, my lord?”

  Francis started at her teasing comment before pushing aside his uncertainties. "Don't be ridiculous. It has been a delightful few days and I am loathe to have them end.”

  “I as well.”

  That first night, they snuck out to make wild love on the sand at the beach, with the crashing waves around them. Evelyn did not think she would try that again anytime soon. While the experience did have its element of romance, something Francis tried so hard for, the sand continued to irritate even into the next day when they played golf. Fiona was right. All the siblings were very good and Eve was rusty, at best, from not having played for a long while. They teased her one and all, but Eve had enjoyed the day and their
combined company.

  It had been wonderful, addictive. Something she could get used to. Something she wanted the opportunity to get used to, even if it took the rest of her life. And it could be hers if she was willing to take a chance.

  Waiting for the panic and disgust to descend, Eve felt only anticipation. Did she dare? Did she dare to grasp happiness with both hands? To put aside her fears? To embrace her chance for love? And she did love him. So much that it was a constant ache in her heart, a poignant combination of adoration and admiration for this man who had given her friendship, humor and a peek at that wonderful chaos that being a part of his large family might be. He could be hers, it all could be hers, if she dared to be his.

  “I was thinking, Francis.”

  “‘Bout what, paradise?” he asked as she lay cuddled in his arms.

  Eve’s nerves rang and she shivered just a bit. “I was thinking… that I might marry you. Maybe.”

  Francis leaned his head back and closed his eyes as relief and joy swept through him. “Is that a ‘yes’ then, finally?” he asked, needing the confirmation.

  “I think so. Probably.” She bit her lip anxiously.

  “Maybe? Probably? Might?” he tsked to put her at ease. “These are ambiguous words, my love. Hardly an acceptance, definitely a blow to my manhood. Is it to be a yea or nay?” The words were light and undemanding.

  There was a twitching deep inside that Eve fought against. Say it, she thought to herself, just say it. You know you want to.

  She did. She wanted to spend the rest of her life loving him openly, publically. She wanted a life of days like these. She wanted to be his and wanted him for her own. “Uhhhh, yes.”

  Francis leaned back and looked seriously into her eyes. “Thank you, my love. I know that took a lot for you, but I promise you will never regret it. I will make you happy.”

  “You already do,” she assured him and rested back in his arms, absorbing the contentment and peace that enveloped them.

  “Would you care for tea now?” Martin said loudly from the door. He had taken to calling his arrival from the doors before entering. A warning shot, Francis cheerfully called it.

  “That would be nice.” Evelyn rose, unembarrassed, from Francis’ lap to welcome the servants and the tray. It was their last night together here and Evelyn wanted nothing to spoil it.

  Agnes pushed in the cart, smiling at the countess and not looking at all at her lord. She had already grown very fond of the lord’s new lady. She was gracious and kind to both her and Martin. A true lady. Lord MacKintosh could have done no better. “I brought ye some more of those nice lemon tarts, m’lady.”

  “Ohhh! Lemon tarts!” Fiona squealed as she and Connor came in, still carrying their golf bags. The pair had chosen to play another round after their foursome that morning. The younger siblings laid into the tea cart eating heartily of the fare.

  “Thank you, Agnes! Lemon tarts are my favorite as well!” Evelyn responded in delight, for the tarts were truly her favorites. “I am going to miss these after we leave.”

  “Do you need to go already?” Connor asked. “Blossom and I thought we might stay on a couple more days and play while the weather is nice.”

  “Do stay!” Fiona agreed.

  “I’m sorry,” Eve mourned. “We must get back to town.”

  “We’ll miss you, Lady Shaftesbury,” the girl pouted playfully.

  “And we'll miss the sound of the lord's laughter,” added Agnes.

  “Well, you’ll get to see a lot more of her in the future,” Francis informed them with a wide smile. “You are the first to know that Lady Shaftesbury has just consented to be my wife!”

  The four of them expressed their congratulations heartily. Fiona enthusiastically hugged them both while Connor shook his brother’s hand and offered a kiss to Eve’s cheek. Agnes soon wiped a tear of happiness from her cheek. “My lady! I am so happy for you both! After seeing the two of ye together I just knew the lad could find no one to love so much as ye!”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Francis added jovially as Eve handed him a cup of tea. “We should make it champagne, perhaps?”

  Eve smiled but shook her head. “This is fine. A night just as I hope to spend many others in the future.”

  Fiona and Connor joined them for a quick toast before leaving to wash up after their long day on the links. “Well, said, my love,” Francis told her. “I feel the same way. But please, hurry and eat your tarts, my love, so that I can take you to bed and make a perfect night complete.”

  Evelyn popped the entire tart into her mouth and stood brushing off her skirts. “All right, I'm done!” she mumbled, licking the crumbs from her lips.

  Laughing, Francis scooped her into his arms and turned to the door.

  “Wait!” Evelyn cried with a full mouth. “Go back!”

  Amused, Francis turned back to the fireplace and laughed even harder as she leaned over to lift the plate of tarts from the tray. “All right, I'm ready!” Still laughing, the earl started out of the room stumbling. “Stop laughing or you're going to drop me!” she cried out.

  “Fear not, my lady!” he posed gallantly. “I won't let you fall! I swear I shall not drop you… unless it's on my bed!”

  Evelyn shoved a tart into his mouth. “You’d better not, my lord! You had better not!” She popped another of the delicious treats into her mouth before hanging on to him more tightly.

  Chapter 35

  Back at the Townhouse of Lord & Lady Richard MacKintosh

  Moray Place

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  “You have gone from looking blissfully content to perfectly miserable in the space of just one day, Evie,” Moira commented the evening following their return, as Eve descended the stairs of Richard’s townhouse with her friend to join their party at the Duchess of Roxburghe’s Black and White Ball.

  Eve had been in high spirits upon their return from St. Andrews. She and Francis had announced their engagement to the family and friends at dinner the previous evening and their celebration had lasted well into the night. Finally, they were going to be happy. She had been so certain.

  This day, however, had brought a rain cloud to hover over her joy. Though Abby had assured her that no new gossip or speculation about her relationship with Francis had taken root, the town was now abuzz with tales of Francis’ treatment of his former wife. Just that afternoon, Eve, Abby and Moira had encountered her nemesis at the Countess of Rothes’ tea. It seemed Vanessa was getting very good at making herself appear the wronged spouse gaining the sympathy of Society’s younger matrons who were not familiar with Glenrothes or the scandals that preceded their divorce years before. The woman had been pouring out her fictional woes to all who would listen, acting the ill-treated wife who had been divorced on a whim and going on about how Glenrothes had been so awful to send her away and had been threatening her of late.

  By necessity, Eve had to let Abby stand alone in her defense of Francis so as not to link herself any closer to him until their engagement was announced. It hadn’t been easy. She had nearly blurted out that she and Francis were planning on marrying, but the thought of further confrontation was hard to bear.

  Vanessa appeared no closer to leaving Edinburgh than she had three days before. Her snide remarks and innuendo had set Eve on edge for the remainder of the day. Andshe heard as the day went on that Vanessa expanded upon her misery by adding that Francis had been philandering on top of everything else. Eve wished she had heard that before the tea so she might have defended Francis regardless of the harm it might do her.

  If only they dared announce their engagement beyond the family! But they had thought it best to withhold that information until Vanessa left the area, lest she turn her malicious accusations from Francis to Eve.

  After such a miserable day, Eve wanted nothing more than to stay in tonight and avoid further contact with Francis’ ex-wife after a trying afternoon. There was nothing to be done for it, however. The duchess
had insisted on their presence at her ball and that was that. There was no excuse the lady would accept. Eve pinched the bridge of her nose as a headache blossomed. “I’m not exceedingly happy, Moira. It’s been a most tiresome day already.”

  “Well, one must endure, I guess. You mustn’t let that woman bother you so. But look at yourself! You will be the envy of every woman present. You must take me to meet the man who creates these gowns,” Moira continued, gushing with excitement. “I simply must have one or twenty.”

  The gown was, of course, Worth. One of her favorites from the previous year that she had not yet had the chance to wear. The skirt was simply shaped, without draping or gathering at the waist, falling from a simple flowing bell into a long train. The white silk, however, was covered in an intricate pattern of scrolling black velvet cutouts that swooped in long lines from her waist and curled here and there across the entire skirt of the gown. The effect from the back was especially dramatic and elegant. The scrollwork continued in smaller detail up the tight bodice and the short sleeves were a confection of white Chantilly lace and black feathers. Beneath the hem, her black silk petticoats peeked out when she walked or when she would dance. She wore black feathers in her hair, white gloves and simple black opal drop earrings and necklace for adornment, leaving the gown to make the largest impression.

  “That dress must have cost a fortune,” Moira added sportily bouncing merrily down the stairs. “I’m sure Papa and Pops would buy me a dozen if it meant finding a husband. You’re lucky you have the fortune to afford them, most widows don’t, but of course your father gets you everything you want.”

  Eve grimaced but couldn’t disagree. “You might think that with all the money I have got that I might be happy for a while.”

  “Money cannot buy happiness, don't you know?” Moira edified.