by Alexa Aston
“We’d better continue our stroll,” he suggested with a side-eyed glance.
They resumed walking, lest Aunt Louisa send a servant in search of them.
“Why would Liam think otherwise?” she asked.
They’d reached the end of the terrace once more and turned to retrace their steps. Again, when they passed the salon window, he made a point of giving the dowager baroness a cheeky wave.
Chuckling, she shook her head.
“You are incorrigible, Quinn,” Skye admonished with a giggle. “Shouldn’t you be on your best behavior to win Aunt Louisa’s and Liam’s approval?”
Pointing his attention overhead, his countenance grew solemn once more. “Though I dinna consider myself to be a wicked man, Skye, I’ve no’ been a saint either. Liam kens this above all others. But he also kens how loyal and steadfast I am. And I’m countin’ on that to win him over. I confess, I admire him for protectin’ ye, even if it exasperates me.”
“We can convince him together,” she said. The Christmas house party might prove to be the perfect opportunity to do just that. “I’ll tell him I’ll have no other, and I know he won’t condemn me to a life of spinsterhood.”
At least she didn’t think he would.
Emeline and Kendra wouldn’t let him.
Neither, she strongly suspected, would Aunt Louisa. By no means was Skye a pampered, cossetted miss accustomed to having her own way. Even though an only child, her parents had taken great pains to ensure she wasn’t spoiled. However, in this instance, she would remain adamant.
She would be Quinn’s wife.
“I want ye to ken that I have my own fortune, Skye. That was one of the reasons I had to leave. I’ve been estranged from my family for some time, but I kent that to make ye my bride, I needed to set my affairs in order and accept my inheritance.”
“I’ll take you just the way you are, Quinn. That’s the man I fell in love with. You needn’t change anything for me.”
“I want to.” His arm tensed beneath her fingers, and she realized he spoke the truth. “Liam was surprised when I informed him that I possess my own wealth. He admitted to suspectin’ I might’ve had my eyes on yer inheritance.” Another rueful grin quirked his mouth. “If I wasna tryin’ to win his approval, I would’ve clocked him for the insult.”
Skye looked askance at him, all outraged, kittenish fury.
“I never for an instant considered you might be a fortune hunter.” She wrinkled her nose in remembered distaste. “I’ve been the unfortunate target of several previously—four to be exact—and I assure you, I know precisely what to look for. I’m surprised you’re not more offended that Liam would accuse you of such a dishonorable thing.”
He canted his head and hitched a shoulder. “He has reason to doubt me.”
She started to protest, but he held up his hand.
“Hear me out. I’ll have nae secrets between us. Ye must ken exactly the kind of man ye are agreein’ to spend the rest of yer life with.”
Examining his serious expression, she was half-afraid to hear what he wanted to tell her. Nevertheless, she dipped her chin. “Please, go on.”
“For the past decade, I’ve worked with a covert group to help no’ only West African slaves, but also children and adults forced into servitude and indentured service.” Scorn and wrath laced his snipped words.
Skye flinched, having never seen him angry before. He obviously had very strong feelings about these issues.
“I resigned my position because a married man needs to care for his wife and family foremost.” His sideways smile appeared almost apologetic. “It wouldna be honorable of me to take ye to wife, and then risk my life, kennin’ ye’d be left alone. Especially if there are wee bairns.”
A lovely feeling fluttered in her belly, because he’d make such a sacrifice for her. And because the idea of bearing his children thrilled mightily. It also humbled her and made her all that much more certain of his noble character.
“But,” he continued, “even though slavery and indentured service is legal, ye should ken that I shall continue to fight those atrocities in other ways.” A fierceness entered his voice and turned his visage stony. “I can never accept men enslavin’ their fellow man.”
Her eyes blurry from unshed tears, Skye nodded vigorously.
“I agree, Quinn. Slavery is awful. One time when I was in London with Mama and Papa, we saw people with their hands tied, being dragged onto a ship against their wills.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “There were small children crying and begging for their parents. I don’t understand how people can treat others like that.”
Quinn fished a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to her.
After blotting her eyes and cheeks, she returned it to him. “Thank you. I didn’t think to bring a hankie out with me.”
“There are people who are good and decent and honorable to their verra core, and there are others who are rotten and foul to the marrow.” He scowled, brushing a gloved hand over his eyes as if unbearably weary or to erase a memory. “My father and grandfather were the latter. Ye should ken, they participated in the enslavement of innocent people. That’s why I was estranged from them, and why I refused my inheritance.”
She clasped a hand to her mouth, staring at him in horror and sympathy. “Oh, Quinn. I’m so sorry. How that must haunt you.”
“It did for a verra long time.” His expression grew intense, and he trailed his gaze over her face. “Until I met ye. Now though, leannan, I believe I can put that behind me, and I can use my monies to help others.” Mirth crinkled his eyes as he flicked the tip of her cold nose. “Isna that what Christmas is truly about? Carin’ for our fellow man?”
“It is, indeed.” Skye hadn’t a doubt her eyes shone with admiration and love. “What shall we do about Liam?”
A genuine smile wreathed his face. “My darlin’ bonnie lass, even though Liam has initially said nae, I believe he will eventually say aye. How can he stand in the way of true love?”
“He must agree, for as I said, I shall have no other,” Skye vowed.
It was most unfortunate that Liam had control of her inheritance until she turned one and twenty. But she’d read her father’s will, and her bequeathment could not be withheld from her after that. For any reason.
Growing serious once more, Quinn urged her around the house’s corner. After looking in both directions, he enfolded her in his arms, and a delicious thrill zipped to her toes. He cupped her face with one hand, his emotion darkening his eyes to a riveting jade.
“Though I canna officially request yer hand, Skye, I humbly ask ye to consider becomin’ my wife.”
“Yes, Quinn. Yes. Yes.” The icy ache in her heart was thawing. Because of this brave, strong, and wonderfully unique man, she could feel happiness and joy again. “Yes, Quinn. I’ll marry you and, together, we’ll convince Liam that it is the best thing for both of us.”
“And if he still refuses?” He lowered his head until his lips were but an inch from hers.
Lifting onto her toes, she braced her hands on his shoulders, whispering, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Then his lips were on hers, taking her mouth in a searing kiss that made her forget all else.
Chapter Ten
The next fortnight was a whirlwind of activity. Invitations were sent out and accepted by all. Supplies were ordered, and instead of leaving to gather the various greeneries required to decorate Eytone Hall, Liam had requested the Duke of Roxdale to bring them with him.
The duke and his wards, Bethea and Branwen Glanville, had been the last to arrive two days ago with an entire wagon filled with various greens. Since then, amidst laughter and animated conversation, as well as copious amounts of tea, coffee, brandy, and various dainties, everyone had been about one task or another helping with the preparations.
With the help of Marjorie Kennedy, also an Englishwoman, Skye had delegated various responsibilities to others.
An air of
anticipation and giddiness permeated Eytone Hall, and she smiled to herself more than once at the almost childish anticipation of the guests and her family. Quinn, too, seemed caught up in the spirit, although she’d come upon him deep in thought multiple times.
He’d smile and after a hasty glance around, would pull her into a corner or a corridor for a very satisfying kiss. Or two. Or five. Each day, she fell impossibly more in love with him. Not marrying him didn’t bear contemplating upon.
They would wed. Somehow. Someway.
The Christmas ball was the day after tomorrow, and she hummed to herself as she finished tying a gold ribbon around the last gift she’d wrapped. Her trip to the village last week had proved quite satisfactory.
She’d purchased an elaborate lace fichu for Aunt Louisa, a pair of evening gloves embroidered with silver and gold thread for Kendra, and a delicate, pink crocheted shawl for Emeline. A silver-plated inkwell set had been selected for Liam and, after much thought, she’d settled on a gold pocket watch for Quinn.
At her behest, the jeweler etched the image of a bird in flight on the inside of the case. It was the only thing she could think of that represented freedom for all. She’d been tempted to also have the jeweler etch an endearment, but suspected Liam might want to exclaim over the gift as people were wont to do.
An etching could be added later.
She continued humming as she gathered the packages and left her chamber, heading for the formal drawing room. That was where Emeline and Aunt Louisa had decided to conduct most of the Twelfth Night activities.
The room had been transformed into a cheerful array of holly and pine boughs, sprigs of rosemary, ivy, and numerous bows. Many of the other rooms were similarly decorated, giving the mansion a splendid holiday atmosphere.
Two additional footmen and three maids had been hired from the village to assist with their guests’ needs as well as the revelry preparations.
As she descended the stairs, Arieen Wallace, Mayra Rutherford, and Berget Kennedy tumbled into the entry, holding their stomachs and swiping at their eyes, amid gales of laughter.
Upon spying Skye, Mayra smiled and waved her forward. “Come, Skye, join us. Emeline and Kendra are insistin’ we participate in a skit. The men are tasked with doin’ so as well.” She snickered and grinned widely. “They’re practicin’ right now.”
“Not willingly.” Arieen disagreed with a slight shake of her raven head, amusement fairly dancing in her green eyes. “They’re arguing and strutting about.”
Skye couldn’t imagine any of the brawny Highlanders willingly doing so.
Berget glanced over her shoulder and erupted into another fit of giggles. “Aye, they’re supposed to be the shepherds that the angels appeared to. I can’t wait to hear what they think the shepherds might’ve been saying or doing.”
Nor, truth be told, could Skye.
Mayra puffed out her chest and lowered her chin, saying in a deep, gravelly voice, “Ye great clod head, did ye give us tainted whisky? I vow I see men wearin’ women’s gowns and floatin’ about singin’ gibberish.”
“Can you imagine what they think the heavenly hosts will say?” Arieen quipped, between giggles. “Bryston McPherson and Camden Kennedy both threatened to go home when they were assigned the roles of lambs.”
A new chorus of laughter filled the entryway, and Skye joined in their merriment.
She was only too glad to leave the chore of organizing the entertainment to Emeline and Kendra. What she thought would be a small family gathering had blossomed into something much more, and though she didn’t mind the extra work, she appreciated all of the help she could muster.
She glanced from woman to woman expectantly. “So, what’s our skit to be about it?”
“We’re performin’ Jesus’ birth, except it will be told from the perspective of the animals in the manger.”
Lips twitching, Skye raised an eyebrow. “Both of these skits smack of Kendra’s sense of humor.”
“Aye,” Berget agreed as she fell in step with Arianne behind Mayra and Skye. “She has a wicked wit. She also vowed that anyone who didn’t participate wouldn’t be allowed any of the delicious confections being prepared in the kitchens.”
Ah, and now Skye knew precisely why the men had conceded. She’d seen that lot eat. Very sly of Kendra, and she couldn’t help but admire her cousin’s cunning and initiative.
“Please, give me a moment to leave these gifts in the drawing room.” With a small upward bend of her mouth, she slipped into the room and placed the gifts on the appointed table. A few others had already been left there as well. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, a slight feeling of misgiving swept her.
Perhaps she should’ve considered giving gifts to the other women as well, but wouldn’t that have made them feel obligated in turn? In addition to Berget, Arieen, and Mayra, Marjorie Kennedy and her two darling little red-haired girls, as well as Bethea and Branwen Glanville—the Duke of Roxdale’s wards—were here.
Giving a slight shake of her head, she turned away from the table.
This gathering wasn’t about exchanging gifts, but about spending time with family and friends. The merest hint of sadness shrouded her for a moment when she again recalled that this would be her first Christmas without her parents.
Yes, but it would also be her first Christmas—God willing, of many—with Quinn. That knowledge quite put her in a cheerful mood. With each passing day—no hour—she grew to love him more. And if Liam remained obstinate and uncompromising, she would elope with Quinn.
Love like theirs was too precious and rare to cast aside.
She joined the other ladies in the corridor, and they made their way to the solarium to practice their skit.
Three hours later, she escaped with the excuse she needed to speak with Eytone Hall’s cook. Still chuckling under her breath at the silliness she’d been partaking in, she shook her head. Not only had Kendra and Emeline assigned each of the women the role of various animals—Skye was an Egyptian camel—the beasts had accents.
Horrible, hysterical accents.
A French cow. A Swiss goat. A Spanish donkey. A German lamb. An Italian ox…
If nothing else, they would all laugh.
She had just enough time to check with Mrs. Spence to make sure all of the food preparations were coming along before she must change for dinner and the charades afterward. Charades—another one of Kendra’s ideas, complete with a Christmastide theme.
So far, everyone had good-naturedly participated in the activities with patience and good cheer. Not for the want of a few rolled eyes and grumbles beneath the gentlemen’s breaths.
A grin tipped her lips upward.
Knowing Kendra’s penchant for outrageousness, someone might very well be pretending to bray like a donkey or riding a camel tonight. She just hoped it wasn’t her. A throaty chuckle escaped her. Watching Quinn do either might prove highly amusing, however.
As Skye turned the corner to descend into the kitchen, a man’s arm snaked around her waist.
A startled squeak caught in her throat, and she twisted this way and that to see who’d snared her. Although, she already had a pretty good idea who the villain might be. Quinn’s unique outdoorsy, spicy scent wafted around her, and she relaxed into his strong embrace.
“Quinn,” she chided. “We’re going to be caught.”
“Shh, my love. I havena had a moment alone with ye in two days. When Liam hasna had me at one task or another—I vow to keep me from ye—Grandmother has demanded my attention.” Quinn pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And I dinna care if we are outed. Then yer stubborn cousin would be marchin’ us before the cleric in a trice.”
Yes, but at what cost?
Besides, Quinn was too much of a gentleman to ruin her to gain what he wanted. He’d never use such nefarious means to win her hand. Even if she wouldn’t mind it too awfully much if he did. Skye had learned one very surprising thing about herself this past fortnight.
A wa
nton streak ran through her.
At least when it came to Quinn’s kisses and caresses.
Slipping her arms around his waist, she stepped nearer, savoring the feeling of arms encircling her and the wide expanse of his hard chest pressing against her breasts. A little thrill of sensation sparked from her bosom, outward to other more tantalizing places.
Yes, indeed. I am a wanton.
They’d indulged in numerous clandestine encounters over the past two weeks. Often, they’d only had time for a swift hug or a hot mouth pressed to her wrist accompanied by a wicked smile and his seductive gaze. Other times, they’d linger for blood-scorching kisses, and perhaps his hand stroking her spine or the curve of her throat.
Quinn never went beyond that, as if aware she wasn’t the kind of woman who could give herself to a man before vows were exchanged.
As he’d warned, his grandmother was an eccentric, but lovely woman with a penchant for outlandish wigs. Yesterday she wore a pink monstrosity adorned with several birds. Today, her two-foot-high white wig sported a birdcage. ’Twas a wonder the woman didn’t topple over, such were the height and weight of her headdresses.
Nonetheless, Elspet Dunwoodie possessed a keen wit, a charming sense of humor—much like her grandson—and a merry twinkle illuminated her dark brown eyes. Quizzing glass in hand, she’d taken Skye’s measure before declaring, “She’ll do, my boy. Indeed, she will.”
Rising to her toes, Skye kissed his jaw. “Have you spoken with Liam again?”
“No’ since last Wednesday. I thought I’d give him time to see how well we get on together, and to finish his snoopin’ about. I’ve nae doubt his man of business has been pokin’ around, verifyin’ my claims.” Twice more, Quinn had approached her mule-headed cousin and each time, he’d staunchly refused to agree to the match.
Disapproval turned Skye’s mouth down at the corners. “He’s your friend, for pity’s sake and knows your character. I cannot believe he’d stoop so low.”
Quinn merely lifted a shoulder and kissed her temple. “He cares about ye, love, and disna want to make a mistake he’d regret later. He’ll find nothin’ to forbid the match.” He gave her a saucy wink and a rakish grin. “I havena a wife hidden away or wee bairns toddlin’ about.”
