Master of the Highlands

by Veronica Wolff

Page 28

 

  “Aye, it’s thistle. ” Ewen gave Rowena a dark look that made it clear to everyone at the table that she had gone too far this time. “It was a gift from my father to my mother and now ’tis a gift from me to Lily. ”

  The admission silenced everyone at the table but for Rowena, whose audible breathing attested to her efforts at maintaining control at the laird’s affront. By the scowl on Rowena’s face, it was clear that she perceived this as an insult. And Lily knew then and there that she would be the one who would suffer for it.

  Ewen rose from his chair and stood behind Lily to unclasp the necklace. The touch of his hands on her neck in such an intimate gesture made Lily light-headed. She was thankful that Ewen placed the thistle on the table for her, as she was certain she would be unable to stand on her own. Lily knew the gift was made in haste, and in anger. She didn’t know what Ewen ’s relationship with his parents had been, but it was clear that Rowena had crossed a line to make him invoke their memory.

  Or perhaps he meant to make Rowena jealous. Lily was unclear what the woman’s involvement with the laird was, though if Rowena’s relationship with John was any indication, perhaps Ewen was grooming her to become a part of the Cameron clan. Even though the laird had pronounced he ’d never marry again, Rowena was a beautiful young thing, her nasty temperament aside. She ’d make a lovely bride.

  Regardless, she did not want to dwell on the fact that Ewen had staked the necklace and Lily would be forced to do whatever it took not to lose it.

  “O di immortals! Why such melancholia? Dispatch your gloom that we might continue this delightful divertissement! ” Lily hadn ’t noticed Robert’s return. “Archie my man, please retrieve another bottle of the laird ’s splendid Bordeaux whilst I peruse these fine items. ”

  Robert rifled through the pile. Lily breathed a sigh of relief as he passed over the necklace. He paused for a moment then, with a twinkle in his eye, swept his hand back and snatched the thistle up from the table.

  “Nostalgia has seized me. I must claim this as the next stake in the game. ”

  Ewen shot him a threatening look that only seemed to give Robert fresh resolve.

  “And I dare say I know the porcelain neck upon which glittered this fine treasure. ” Robert turned to face Lily. “We have in our midst an unsung artiste. As Virgil instructed in his Aeneid ‘, Inventas vitam iuvat excoluisse per artes. ’ Let us improve life through science and art! Lily, would you please ennoble our mortal coil through your pictorial arts and bless us with …with a sketch of our very own laird! ”

  Lily could have died on the spot. Ewen didn’t seem any more pleased with the situation than she did. The rest of the table, though, erupted into pleased exclamations of how lucky they were to be in the company of an artist, and how stylish it was these days for women to sketch and paint, and wherever did she learn such a craft.

  “I’ve already taken the liberty of having Kat fetch your pencils and paper from John ’s rooms. ” Robert promptly presented her with her supplies.

  Lily sat frozen, feeling mortified at the prospect of such a public test of her skills.

  Ewen sensed her dismay and, pouring her a fresh glass of wine, muttered under his breath, “You’ll do fine, lass, a swig of this will help. ”

  His sensitivity only made her feel all the more uncomfortable. She was uncertain, which made her more anxious, being forced to sketch—tipsy no less—in front of a group of strangers, or having to stare unabashedly at Ewen for as long as it would take her to study and record his features on paper.

  “Just do as good as you can, Lil’ ”, Ewen whispered in his maddeningly husky voice. “I ’m sure you can make a right bonny little picture. ”

  Lily’s anxiety turned to anger at his last statement. How dare he patronize her? She was a talented artist, not some simpering female who dabbled in pretty pictures of flowers and horses. She suddenly felt she was up for the challenge.

  Taking a sip of her wine, she looked Ewen directly in the eyes. “Sit still, Ewen. ” The use of his name in such a familiar way gave Lily a burst of confidence. She would show him.

  “Ah!” Archie declared. “You two are like lightning to a tree! ”

  “Or the frost on Ben Nevis. ” Rowena hissed under her breath. Her comment was for Tessa’s ears only, though Lily caught it.

  “Ah, but who is the lightning and who the tree?” Robert speculated.

  Ewen bristled, and Lily imagined that his foster brother would be in for some talking to after the guests departed. The laird’s public gift to Lily, though, gave the table free rein to discuss the two of them as if some sort of relationship existed.

  This time it was Lily who cut the charade short. “Please. I need silence to work. ”

  The unfortunate result was that all eyes rested on her expectantly. All she could do was pour herself into her sketch.

  She glanced at Ewen and quickly turned her eyes back to the paper in front of her. Overwhelmed by the man seated in front of her, Lily thought the best and only way to begin would be to do a rough outline of his figure. Capturing the essence of his face would be a difficult task; the set of hisjaw, his unwavering gaze, and the innate power that Ewen exuded all seemed too much to reproduce with mere light and shadow.

  So she set to work on the outline of his body. Lily had noticed how imposing a figure he cut, but it was only now, able to stare at Ewen so openly, that she saw just how broad his shoulders were. How the fine material of his waistcoat strained from the muscles of his arms and chest beneath. Lily the artist tried to visualize those arms and that chest so she could best represent them, but the woman in her shivered at the thought of what that body was capable of. Suppressing her body’s response, she mindlessly began to scribble a few lines on her paper to bring herself back into the moment and try to get a little control over her wayward imagination.

  She worked in silence for some time. At first, she had just wanted to prove her artistic talents to the skeptics at the table. Once into the sketch, though, she became obsessed that the end result be more than a mere lifelike rendering of his figure. She wanted to express Ewen’s essential nature, what it was about him that at one glance conveyed his power, character, and spirit.

  The drawing became a way for her to get to know Ewen. And the more she studied the subtle shifts of expression, his every line and crease, the more intrigued she grew with who she saw.

  The materials at hand were beginning to frustrate Lily. She needed charcoals for this, not graphite. Charcoals to capture the deep black sheen of his hair, the shadows cast by his strong angular features, and the faint cast of whiskers that had already appeared even though he’d shaved that morning.

  She caught herself staring into his eyes, marveling that she hadn’t realized just how dark a blue they were, wondering how she would ever capture their intensity.

  “Lil’, the sketch?” His knowing smile was enough to tell her that he knew which direction her thoughts had been going. She gave a small start. “Yes, it’s just about finished. ” Lily used the edge of the blunted pencil to loosely dash off some background shadow, more as an excuse to collect herself than because the picture required it.

  Any discomfort she felt vanished the instant she revealed the portrait. Lily couldn’t explain why the look of quiet pride on Ewen’s face filled her with such satisfaction. As for the rest of the table, everyone erupted into enthusiastic exclamations over the laird ’s likeness, Lily’s talent, and when she would be available to do their own portrait. Everyone except for Rowena, whose expressions ran the gamut from sulky, to indignant, to outright murderous.

  Ewen cursed himself. He had not intended to actually make a gift of the necklace. He ’d just thought to loan it to

  Lily for the evening, as it and the gown were a pair.

  And to reminisce publicly that it had been a gift from his father to his mother. The implication would be obvious to a blind man. H
e had spoken in a moment of anger and drawn a parallel between his parents and him and Lily. There was no taking it back now, though. At least not without seeming a fool.

  He was furious with himself. The laird should always act with discretion and, most of all, with a clear head. There was something about Lily, though, that made him want to stand up in her defense. Something that made him act so without thinking.

  Not to mention that he enjoyed leveling that mindless Rowena. She took far too many liberties. Ewen noticed that she ’d done a tidy job of insinuating herself with John as well. He didn ’t know how or when that had happened, but he would need to talk with the lad about it. He didn’t know what Rowena was up to, but he knew he didn ’t trust her. Perhaps he would have Robert keep an eye on her. He was such a curious one anyway, he could keep watch on her without garnering too much undue attention.

  And what of Robert? What could his foster brother be thinking to bait him so? Requesting a sketch from Lily placed the two of them in an unacceptably intimate situation. Though Ewen had to admit, he enjoyed having her eyes wander over him so intently.

  Her occasional flush of discomfort was more telling to him than any feminine wiles would ever be. That Ewen kept women at arm’s length did not mean he didn ’t know how to read a lass. To the contrary. He could tell that this one was as drawn to him as he was to her. He knew her confused blushes spoke of an attraction to him.

  And he knew a surge of desire in response.

  Lily’s drawing had given Ewen the opportunity to study her. She was forced to regard him openly, and he ’d been unable to look away. Instead, he ’d felt like a mischievous schoolboy eyeing her so unabashedly in turn.

  He had recognized her appeal before, but tonight—dressed as she was and with the wine in her cheeks—it was clear just how lovely she really was.

  And how unknowingly seductive. Engrossed in her sketch, Lily’s tongue had played at the corner of her mouth and Ewen was forced to adjust his kilt several times as his body made its fervent response uncomfortably clear.

  Most women played their strengths brazenly. Exposing a leg to dance, turning a cheek just so, or using fashion to display trim waists, full bosoms, or other assets. But Lily wore her beauty effortlessly, as if she had no idea what a beauty she was. And Ewen imagined she probably didn’t, which is partly why he found her so appealing. He wanted her, and wanted to make her feel just how desirable she was.