A Scottish Lord for Christmas

by Lauren Smith

  “That is a relief. Leo, er…that is to say, Lord Hampton is such a dear. And so is Ivy.” Then her face turned a bright scarlet. “I ought not to call them that. I keep forgetting. Mama would be furious if she caught me not using titles. I always forget when it comes to my friends.” She laughed at herself.

  And there it was. That glimpse of who this woman was inside. A woman with a heart so open to friendliness and joy that she often called her friends by their Christian names. This was not the sort of woman he would find in London among the balls, dinners, and other engagements. Rowena was a rare and extraordinary creature.

  “If that is the case, I’d much prefer if you called me Quinn. I, too, am not inclined toward formality when I can help it.” A silly grin stretched his lips; he couldn’t stop it. There was something about Rowena that caught him off guard and he relaxed around her.

  Her blue eyes twinkled like the noon sunlight upon a loch’s surface, sparkling with a kaleidoscope of colors.

  “Then I will be Rowena to you,” she replied, the red blush still staining her cheeks. “Oh look! Luncheon!” She nodded at the elegant setting as they entered the dining room.

  The long mahogany table in the center of the room was set for only four places near the far end. A matching end piece sat against one wall, laden with dishes of cold turkey, lamb, pigeon, cold pie and ptarmigan, puddings, cheeses, biscuits, jellies, and fruit ready to be served. The soft pale green walls were decorated with portraits of the Hampton ancestors, who peered down at them from layers of oil.

  Ivy and Leo were already serving themselves on small plates. A footman stood in the corner of the room, ready to assist if necessary. Ivy smoothed her bright blue tea gown with one hand as she saw them come in, and she broke into a wide smile.

  “Rowena, come sit by me.” Ivy patted the chair beside her.

  Quinn kept his hold on Rowena’s arm and walked over to the chair beside Ivy; then he released her in order to pull the chair back. Once she was seated, he leaned over a little, catching the hint of rosewater perfume she wore. Just like he’d imagined…

  “Allow me to bring you a plate,” he murmured.

  Rowena glanced up at him, her eyes wide and delighted. “Thank you, Quinn.” His name came off her lips so naturally, and his body warmed at simply hearing it.

  Joining Leo at the side table, he fixed two plates, one for himself and one for Rowena, before he and Leo took their seats at the table.

  “Now,” Leo began with an amused glint in his eyes, “Ivy has just reminded me there is a wonderful old set of ruins we could ride up to and have a look around.”

  Quinn blinked. “Are you sure? It looks like rain.” When he’d rushed out to the gardens earlier, he’d scented it upon the air. That crisp, clear aroma was unmistakably rain. White clouds hung low upon the distant horizon, but they weren’t dark yet. Still, he knew when a storm was coming. It was a skill he’d attributed to living a life out of doors upon his estate at Forres. If there was one thing he knew about the English, it was that they played at being outdoorsmen, but most were too used to their pampered life of aristocratic splendor.

  Scotland was harsh at times, the winters colder, the land less inclined to yield food. It made men stronger, and the women too. He glanced at Rowena again. Perhaps he was wrong to seek an English bride, one who was not used to such harsh environments. But the thought of hearing his name uttered in a familiar Scottish tongue and not have it be from Maura’s lips…he could not bear it. No, better he marry an English lass because she would not remind him of what he’d lost. Again he stilled as he realized he was considering Rowena among his bridal prospects. But why shouldn’t he? She was young, beautiful, sweet with Blair, intelligent…

  “We’ll take the Stanley. If it starts to rain, we can drive back. What do you say, Forres?”

  With a shrug, Quinn settled in to eat his luncheon. “If the ladies wish to go, I’m happy to oblige.”

  “It does sound fun.” Rowena grinned happily across the table at him. Her smile was infectious.

  When he reached for the buttered toast, he noticed Ivy was watching him, an intense but not unfriendly focus gleaming in her warm, dark eyes. He offered her a small smile, which she returned before focusing on Leo.

  After the luncheon was over, the four of them retired to their chambers in order to dress more warmly for their outing. Quinn paused before the mirror close to his bed as he slid on his Chesterfield, a single-breasted coat of herringbone tweed. The velvet collar of the coat would keep his neck warm in case it did rain and a chill set in. His valet helped him tidy up his clothes before he exited his chambers. Hampton was just leaving his room and they descended the grand staircase together.

  “Hampton, what do think of Miss Rowena?” Quinn slid his black leather gloves on as they reached the bottom stair.

  Leo dug around in his coat until he found his own gloves. With a covert glance about the main hall, Leo leaned close to him.

  “She’s a lovely young woman, only just come out. Her presentation caused quite a stir in London. I imagine she won’t be on the market long.” Leo shot him a sideways glance as he propped one arm against the banister railing. “Mother thought you might be wife hunting. Is that true, Forres?”

  Rather than be angered by the blunt question, he was amused at the thought of his intentions being uncovered by Leo’s mother. She was undoubtedly shrewd.

  “Truth be told, I am. Blair needs a mother and the running of my household has become a burden I would be glad to share with a wife.” Since Maura had died, his sister had assumed the role, but Quinn was not blind. He’d seen Kenna mooning over wedding dresses in her fashion magazines from Paris and getting lost in daydreams of her own life. She deserved to have a chance to live and not suffer under any obligations Maura’s death may have left her with. Therefore, Quinn needed a wife.

  “Well, then,” Leo chuckled, “Rowena would suit you very well. She’s been trained to care for a large household, and I daresay she is affable too. But…” Leo paused, his eyes narrowing in speculation.

  “But?” Quinn pressed.

  Leo looked heavenward and sighed. “She’s a romantic and a dreamer, Forres. If I have learned anything from Ivy, it’s that you must let a woman be who she is meant to be. No clipping their wings, no binding them in marital shackles that would crush their spirits. The women of today are not like our mothers. They believe in equality and marriage as partnerships. Rowena is young but she’ll be like her sister, opinionated and intelligent.”

  Quinn considered this and did not find fault with the idea. “A woman who knows her own mind is not a bad thing.”

  “Agreed,” Leo said. “Rowena’s natural sweetness hides much, but do not be fooled. She will wish to run her own life as much as you do yours.”

  Quinn stared at Leo. Never had an Englishman been so frank with him before.

  “Your observations are noted, Hampton. I’ll be wise to remember your advice.” He lowered his voice as he glimpsed a flutter of skirts at the top of the stairs.

  Ivy appeared first, her lavender day gown with black trim a complement to her dark hair and olive-skinned complexion. She was hastily buttoning up a woolen overcoat. Quinn’s eyes moved from her and all thoughts of Ivy and her loveliness were eclipsed when he caught a glimpse of Rowena.

  He swallowed hard, strangely unable to speak as she descended the stairs. She wore a golden yellow gown, almost a rich mustard color, embroidered with red leaves on the hem and sleeves. Rather than wear a coat, she carried a gray plaid cape. Like a ray of sunlight, she seemed to float down the stairs in a brilliant splash of color. It took a moment for him to catch his breath.

  “Do I look all right, Quinn?” She was staring down at herself in concern.

  “Beg pardon?” Quinn finally got out as Rowena paused two steps above him. It placed her directly at eye level with him. He couldn’t help but gaze at her rosy lips.

  “You’re staring, old boy,” Leo muttered in his ear.

 
; With a little jerk, Quinn uttered an apology. Rowena dropped his chin, her cheeks red.

  “Let me.” He reached for her cloak and she turned her back, letting him drape it around her shoulders.

  “The Stanley is ready,” Leo announced.

  The group proceeded to the main door, which the butler opened. Leo escorted Ivy to the car.

  “Quinn, do you mind sitting in the back with Miss Rowena?” he asked.

  Sit next to a lovely woman? If he ever woke up one morning and answered no to that question, there was definitely something wrong with him.

  “I’d be happy to,” Quinn answered as he took charge of Rowena and lifted her up into the car’s backseat. He was presented with a glimpse of her bottom, all too tempting, even covered by the bright yellow gown. A flare of unexpected arousal hit him like a bolt of lightning.

  Must bury it deep. Quinn clenched his jaw and climbed into the car behind Rowena. He could survive one bloody afternoon, couldn’t he?

  Chapter 3

  Afternoon sunlight bathed the crumbling ruins of the old castle with an almost ethereal glow. The distant clouds slowly building on the horizon forced the light to break through in shafts. The effect was lovely, the way the light pooled thickly in places and only glimmered in fading beams in others. Ivy leaves covered the gray stones, rippling at the barest caress of a breeze.

  Rowena sighed, lost in dreams of what this old craggy edifice must have seen over the centuries. Knights astride white chargers, rushing along the sloping hill to the castle, fair maidens leaning out of windows, waiting for their men to come safely home.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Quinn’s husky brogue filled her ears. She spun around. He was standing right behind her, eyes drifting from one spot of the ruins to another before his gaze came to rest on her face. He smiled, a slight dimple in one cheek as he joined her beside what appeared to have once been a window. His smile hit her behind her knees as a fluttering sensation blossomed in her stomach. Rowena reached out to touch the stone window ledge behind her in an effort to steady herself.

  Quinn’s strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her up, setting her on the ledge so she faced him. She gripped his shoulders as her bottom touched the stone. The gray of his eyes was bright, like a mirror reflecting a beam of morning light. With the clouds in the distance, it seemed to make the world around the two of them full of sunshine.

  “Quinn.” She breathed his name, even more aware of how close they were. Her belly tightened with an excited tension she’d never felt before as he touched her. The way his hands, such large, capable hands, curled around her waist. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this…putting his palms on her body, but, Lord, it left her dizzy-headed, and a tense excitement sparked deep inside her belly. It was scandalous, yet she wanted more.

  He’d placed her eye level with him and she had all the time in the world to study him. The strong, stubborn cut of his jaw, the proud chin and straight nose. There was nothing weak about a man like Quinn. He was taller than Leo by a few inches and wider too. Such wide shoulders, her fingers curled into the layers of his coat. He wore no hat and the light breeze teased his dark hair into his eyes. He didn’t move; his gaze was riveted on her face, a look of hunger there, a look she felt her own body mirrored. Her legs were parted slightly, her skirts tugged wide as he moved to stand between her knees, crowding her. Rather than be frightened, her breath caught in her throat and a slow, burning fire started in her abdomen, flushing her skin with heat.

  He tilted his head, his eyes dropping to her lips, and she prayed he would kiss her. It was wild and inappropriate, but all she could think of in that moment was that she wanted him to do it.

  Rowena licked her lips, suddenly remembering she ought to be behaving in the proper way, but none of Milly’s lessons had prepared her for a situation like this. And she’d never been warned how she’d feel. It wasn’t just that he was a handsome man. She’d met plenty in London. No, there was something about the haunted, intense look in his eyes as he gazed at her. Milly had often called her a hopeless romantic, and it was true. Rowena looked at Quinn and she felt the strong desire to heal him, to erase the pain that shadowed his face when he thought no one was looking.

  But I am looking…and I want to help him.

  “Forres!” Leo’s distant shout shook Rowena out of her inner panic. “Where are you? We’ve set up a blanket with some lemonade and strawberries!”

  “Oh goodness!” She pulled her hands off Quinn’s shoulders and with a little shove, she hopped onto the ground, wincing when one of her ankles twinged on landing.

  Quinn did not immediately step out of the way. Instead, she had to tilt her head back to gaze up at him, waiting for him to move. Never in her life had she felt so small, but Quinn made her feel…small. It was not bad. It was odd. It was as though he could easily lift her up and carry her off. The notion was silly, but it also sent little quivers of a forbidden thrill through her. She wished they hadn’t been interrupted, but it was for the best; she’d been on the verge of doing something very foolish and very dangerous, like begging him to kiss her.

  “Let me escort you,” he murmured, his low voice a little gruff as he met her gaze.

  They walked over the rocky path to where Leo and Ivy had set out a light picnic.

  “There you are!” Ivy smiled. “I was worried you’d vanished. They say the fairies still roam these hills, you know.” Her honey-brown eyes twinkled as she offered Rowena and Quinn plates of food.

  Rowena settled herself onto the corner of the large woolen blanket, just a foot from Quinn. The small space between them seemed to crackle with energy and her body still hummed from that almost-kiss.

  “Do you believe in fairies, Ivy?” Leo asked. He and Quinn shared amused looks, one Rowena had seen upon her father’s face too often. Indulgence and amusement.

  Ivy continued to smile. “I suppose I do. Gypsy culture is full of superstition and beliefs. Fairies are a natural part of that.”

  Rowena nibbled on a bit of cheese as she studied the hilltop. It was easy to imagine a dozen glowing sprites dancing about the ruins, calling upon their magic to whisk away unsuspecting travelers. She caught Quinn’s lips curled in a crooked, charming grin, as though he was inwardly laughing at the conversation. But the moment he noticed her watching him, the smile vanished and his eyes darkened with shadows again. Was he afraid to enjoy himself?

  “What about you, Quinn?” she asked, curious to see what a Scottish lord would say.

  “Oh, aye, the wee folk. I’d be lying if I said I dinna believe in them. There is a reason I never leave my daughter unattended for long. A human bairn is a prized trophy for the fairies.” Quinn’s tone was serious, but the glint in his eyes warned Rowena he was teasing her.

  “Very funny,” she laughed. The Scot chuckled and stole a glance at her, their eyes meeting. A flush crept across her skin and she prayed it would not pinken her cheeks too much. She’d known men could be snobbish, stubborn, and prideful—at least that had been her older sister’s experience—but Quinn’s behavior didn’t fit with what her sister had said about men.

  “Quinn, I believe we might be in the presence of two fairy queens ourselves.” Leo chuckled and Ivy shot him a smile and everyone laughed.

  The next half hour was pleasant and not too awkward as the four finished their picnic and talked about mutual friends back in London.

  “I’ll take the picnic basket back to the Stanley,” Leo announced.

  “I’ll help you.” Ivy collected the plates.

  Quinn rose and stretched in a show of leonine grace. “I’d like one more tour about the ruins,” he said.

  Rowena watched Ivy and Leo preparing the basket, and they didn’t seem to need her assistance. Could she be bold enough to offer to go with Quinn alone to see the ruins once more? She wanted to be with him again, just to talk, or not talk. It was so easy to be around him, yet he filled her with a wild excitement that she wanted to experience again.

  Yes, yes, I
can be bold. She squared her shoulders and stood.

  “May I accompany you, Quinn?” Rowena asked, hating how breathless she sounded.

  “Of course.” He waved for her to join him. The thought of it sent a flurry of nervous butterflies through Rowena. Was it being close to any man or this man that made her feel so…strangely excited?

  They walked up the sloping hills and paused beside an archway. Below them the distant figures of Leo and Ivy were fast becoming as small as ants as they traipsed down the hills to the motorcar. The once-faraway clouds began to roll overhead. It would likely rain soon.

  “Are you bound for London after this house party?” Rowena lifted her yellow skirts, following Quinn as he strolled idly through the crumbling edifice. She paused again by the window ledge he’d lifted her up onto earlier, remembering how having him hold her close had been…wonderful.

  “I suppose,” Quinn mused as he came around the other side of the window and leaned one elbow on the ledge to watch her.

  “You are not certain, then?” A breeze tugged a lock of her pale hair free of its carefully arranged coiffure. Before she could tuck it safely back into place, Quinn reached over and stroked the unruly lock of hair behind her left ear. His warm fingertips lingered against the line of her jaw, the touch burning in a delicious way that made her tingle all over.

  “I might stay here a while longer.” Quinn’s sensual lips parted slightly as his eyes dropped to her mouth. “If something persuades me to stay.”

  Without conscious thought, Rowena started to lean forward, hoping he’d lean closer, too, and he’d kiss her. Her heart pounded as he stared at her lips and started to lean in—and that was when the skies overhead opened up and rain fell in the thick, hard sheets.

  Damnation! She’d wanted to kiss him.

  “Come, we must return to the car,” Quinn ordered gruffly, briefly disappearing from view. Gasping, Rowena looked about for her plaid cloak. It was a particular favorite and she didn’t want to lose it. The cold rain was thick and hard upon her skin as it poured from the clouds, forming a heavy mist upon the warm earth of the ruins.