A Scottish Lord for Christmas

by Lauren Smith

  “Devil take it,” Rowena cursed, brushing her hair away from her face. The rain had tugged down the delicate coiffure and it hung lank about her shoulders. “Where did I leave that cloak?” She clutched her skirts, trying in vain to find the garment.

  “Rowena?” Quinn’s shout was muffled by the rumbling build of thunder. She’d have to leave it behind.

  Lightning flashed above her, the bright light sharp and piercing. Her foot caught on a stone and she cried out as she fell. Something sharp twisted in her already hurting ankle and pain lanced up her entire leg.

  Crack! The harsh clap of thunder was incredibly loud…

  Scrambling into the shelter of the old crumbling stairwell in the castle, Rowena waited, soaked to the bone and shaking.

  A figure emerged out of the heavy gloom. She sucked in a breath.

  “There you are, lass!” Quinn barked in a harsh tone. “Come on, we’ve got to run to the car!” He joined her beneath the stairwell, sheltering himself from the storm.

  “We can’t go down; the lightning is too close. We’re within striking distance. It’s too dangerous.” She gripped Quinn’s right arm and jerked him down deeper into the safety of the stones.

  Boom! Thunder, like cannons, temporarily deafened her ears. When the echoing rumble faded, she realized she was still clutching Quinn’s arm.

  “Very well, we ride out of the storm together.” He settled in beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The instant warmth of his body lessened the shivers that had been building since it had started to rain.

  Rowena buried her face in his chest, relishing the almost magical way he could make her feel warm and safe. A woman could get used to feeling like this with a man. She knew she was not like her sister; she was not strong or independent. She wished now more than anything that she had Milly’s strength.

  “I’m sorry, Quinn.” She mumbled the words against his coat but he still heard her.

  “Hush, lass. No one can tell how fast a storm will rise. We’ve all been caught unaware a time or two. At least you had the sense to take shelter here.” As he spoke, his arm tightened about her body and she crawled even closer to him.

  Rain fell hard all around them but the craggy stones were strong against the flowing rivers that made thick puddles amidst the ruins. The thought of all that cold water made her tremble harder.

  “You’re shaking hard enough to rattle even my bones, lass. Come here.” Quinn chuckled, and without warning, he scooped her up and settled her over his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing at the delicious heat of his body despite the chill of their wet clothes.

  “Perhaps we could distract each other,” she suggested as her teeth began to chatter from the chill. “Would you tell me about Forres? I’ve never been to Scotland.” Rowena raised her head, meeting his gaze. Those gray eyes of his were like the thundering clouds above, churning, tempestuous, but it was all trapped inside him. Did he miss home? Did he miss his wife? Rowena couldn’t fathom how hard such a loss must be. And now he was seeking a new woman, one who could ease his heartache, one who could raise his daughter with love. Rowena stared at his lips again, noticing how full and soft they looked. Everything else about the man was hard. But those lips promised soft, sweet, sensual things. A woman would do almost anything for that mouth to kiss hers.

  “Forres is lovely in the summer,” he replied, his tone husky, low, like a murmur of a lover in bed. “Heather covers the hills, and deep in the glens you catch a glimpse of red deer bucks wrestling for mates.” Quinn lowered his head until an inch separated their mouths. Every part of Rowena’s body tingled and sparked to life.

  Please let him kiss me.

  “Winter is beautiful.” He was whispering now. “All the hot fires in the hearths.” His brogue thickened and Rowena curled her fingers more tightly around his neck.

  “Hot?” she echoed breathlessly.

  “Burning…scorching…” That lightning heat was in his eyes as his lids lowered and his mouth covered hers.

  Rowena shut her own eyes as his kiss exploded through her entire body. Her abdomen clenched and a queer throbbing started between her thighs as he parted her lips with a gentle, questing tongue. Rowena shyly responded by touching her own tongue to his. Was this how a kiss should be? So intimate? So sinful?

  I don’t care…it’s wonderful. She melted into him, her fingers threading through his dark brown hair, tugging on the thick, silky strands as she sought to get closer.

  A soft growl came from his throat as his kiss roughened and he angled her body back, allowing him to lean over her. The dominating hold he had over her sent fiery ripples through her. His mouth moved from her lips along her jaw down to her throat. Warm breath heated her skin and she moaned in helpless excitement.

  “God’s teeth, woman,” he whispered in her ear before he bit the lobe.

  Rowena jolted at the burst of pleasure deep inside her from the little love bite.

  “Don’t stop,” she begged him as he feathered kisses over her cheeks, her eyelashes, then her mouth. It was strange, but she had the sense he was saying goodbye and that made her cling to him more fiercely.

  “The rain is stopping, lass. We have to go for the car.” He pressed one more kiss to her lips and then he set her back onto the ground beside him.

  Shaking, but not from the chill in the air, Rowena watched Quinn get to his feet and peer out from the rocky stairwell to examine the skies. He was right. The storm was already passing.

  And the brief heated passion they’d shared was fading as quickly as the mists around them.

  With an outstretched hand, Quinn waited for her to stand. As they walked away from the ruins, she spotted her favorite cloak, which was now muddy and soaked. She ran over to it and picked it up, shaking some of the water out. Her ankle still stung a bit, but she ignored it. It was nothing compared to the emptiness in her chest when she glanced back at Quinn. There was a cool distance in his eyes that confused her. After what they’d just shared, she thought he would surely be warmer to her, or at least act more like a man interested in a woman.

  Perhaps he isn’t interested in me…but then why kiss me? As a distraction from the storm and nothing more? The emptiness in her transformed into a burning ache.

  In the distance, the motorcar was humming and Ivy waved to them. “Hurry! We should get back to the house and warm up.”

  Quinn reached the Stanley first, opening the door for Rowena, and then he lifted her clear up into the backseat, drenched and muddy as she was.

  “I’m terribly sorry, Leo. There’s a bit of mud—”

  “Nonsense.” The earl waved a hand. “It’ll clean up, I assure you.”

  “We were so worried.” Ivy turned around in the seat of the car, her dark eyes wide as she studied them. “Good heavens. We need to get you both into hot baths at once, or you’ll catch your death!”

  Teeth chattering, Rowena could only nod. Without Quinn’s body heat, she was frozen to the bone again. She peeped at him from beneath her lashes, feeling awfully silly. One kiss…they’d shared only one, and everything inside her felt alive, excited, and overjoyed. Yet his lips were pressed into a thin line and his features were brooding.

  Am I a terrible kisser? Perhaps he had not enjoyed it the way she had. It was a sobering, unhappy thought that dragged her usual high spirits into great depths as they drove back to Hampton House.

  I should not care about one kiss. It doesn’t matter.

  The lie was bittersweet, but she swallowed it down and raised her chin. It was the only way she would survive the remainder of the house party.

  Who knew a kiss could prove so fatal to her happiness?

  Chapter 4

  Quinn couldn’t get the sweet taste of Rowena out of his mind. That kiss had not been planned and it had been unwise given his resolve to keep his emotional distance from any future bride. Yet when he’d given in to that irresistible desire, all the pain, all the memories that weighed him down seemed to fade like
shadows before a rising sun.

  There was only Rowena and her enthusiastic sensual response to his passion. He was not so foolish to lie to himself; any wife he took would expect her husband to visit the marriage bed and he would, but he would not lose his heart to his new wife, not like he had to Maura. The guilt he felt at desiring to pick a comely wife made his skin itch. But he needed one.

  As the motorcar pulled up to the front entrance of Hampton House, he assisted Rowena from the vehicle and they walked in together.

  “Papa!” A small, sweet, birdlike chirp caught his attention. Blair was rushing toward him as fast as her little legs could carry her.

  “My wee heart.” He opened his arms to her and caught her up as she reached him. Spinning with his child in his arms, he found Rowena studying him a few feet away, as adorable as a half-drowned kitten, shaking and needing to be held as much as his daughter did. Her blue eyes were wide and soft, a little smile curling her lips as she watched them. An emotion, one he recognized all too clearly, haunted her face. An aching loneliness.

  Perhaps we are kindred spirits.

  “Papa,” Blair whispered against his neck in a way only a child could do. It melted away the ice in his heart. Hugging her close, he breathed in her scent.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord. She’s been anxious ever since the storm. Maybe now you’re here she’ll settle down for a nap.” Blair’s nurse trundled down the stairs, huffing and puffing. She was getting too old to keep up with a child. All the more reason to have a young wife.

  “May I help with her?” Rowena asked. The hopeful look in her eyes was impossible to ignore.

  “If you’d like.” He shifted Blair in his arms and they walked up the stairs to his chambers. The nurse had seen to it that a wooden crib had been placed by his bed and that was where he tucked Blair in with extra blankets. He knew most people would have hidden their child away in a distant nursery while visiting a house, but he wanted Blair close. She was his world and he didn’t want her out of reach.

  “Papa is here; you can sleep now.” He brushed her curls and she yawned, rubbing chubby fists against her eyes. Rowena stood beside him, peering down at Blair with open adoration.

  “She is such a beautiful child.”

  “Thank you.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw as he finally made a decision. There was no need to go to London. Not if Rowena would consent to marry him. She was beautiful, sweet, and protective of his child, and she responded well to him physically. Yes, she would do well enough.

  “Rowena, may I…” He gripped the cradle’s edge and then sighed. “Could I speak with you on a delicate matter, alone?” When her brows drew together, he continued. “I’m aware of the impropriety but what I have to say is important.”

  “Of course, Quinn.” She glanced at Blair, who had already fallen asleep nestled in her blankets.

  “She’s fine now. We can leave her.”

  Rowena left his chambers and he followed her to her own room.

  “What would you like to speak to me about?” She waited, poised and proper, except for her wet, bedraggled appearance. For some reason, he found he was fond of her looking imperfect. It was oddly charming. A wet lock of her hair hung like burnished gold against one cheek. He reached up and tucked it behind her ear.

  “I’m not a romantic man. I’m sure I’m about to do this all wrong but I hope you’ll at least give me a chance.”

  A faint wrinkle formed between her brows but she did not interrupt him.

  “You know I am seeking a suitable bride. One who will love my child, and one who can take charge of my vast estate. I believe you would suit me very well.”

  Her lips parted and she blinked once. “I…” She swallowed. “Is this a proposal?” Her voice was soft, a little higher than usual.

  “Er…yes.” He shook his head and laughed. “I know we’ve really only spent a few hours together, but I trust what I feel and I see how you are with Blair.” When she still said nothing and continued to stare at him in shock, he growled softly. “I’ve made a bloody mess of this. I should be on bended knee, professing my ardent love for you.” That was something he could never do, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that.

  “Oh, you mustn’t do that!” She covered her mouth, but not before he saw a shaky smile.

  Quinn took one of her hands in his and lifted it to his lips. “Would you consider it? I do not need an answer right away, and I should speak to your father, of course, and—”

  “Yes.” The word was so soft he almost thought he’d imagined it. When he met her gaze, tears glinted, deepening the cornflower blue to a rich sapphire.

  “Yes?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes. I will marry you.”

  He was relieved and…excited. “I’ll speak to your father first thing tomorrow, then.”

  “Very well.” She bit her lip, cheeks blushing to a rosy red. “Do we seal it with a kiss?”

  Such hopefulness, such sweetness…he really couldn’t say no.

  “If you wish to.”

  “I do.” She stepped closer and he needed no further urging.

  Quinn closed the short space between them and curled one arm around her waist, tugging her against him. Her hands settled upon his chest as she tilted her head back. Uncaring of her now-ruined coiffure, he fisted one hand gently in the soft, damp coils of her hair and kissed her. He was no saint, could never profess to be, and she tasted too good to deny. And now that she’d agreed to be his, he couldn’t help but feel possessive of her. This lovely lass, his lass, belonged to him. Slanting his mouth over hers, he deepened the kiss. Her sweet lips parted beneath his and their tongues touched, then dueled, and he wanted to take her there, damn the consequences. His arms banded tighter around her waist, his hunger for her growing. Her curves were soft as she pressed against him, and he had that animal urge to growl again. It did not escape his notice that it would be easy to scoop her up and lay her flat so he could—

  Quinn jerked away from Rowena and muttered an apology.

  “Is that normal?” She studied him, anxious lines forming on her youthful face.

  “Is what?” He ran a hand through his hair, slicking back the wet strands to keep them out of his eyes.

  “For a man to pull away. Am I not good at…” The words died upon her tongue and the way her cheeks blossomed with pink sent pangs of regret through him.

  He’d been insensitive to her by pulling away. She had no knowledge of men or their proper behavior. She was but eighteen. He’d lived an entire decade longer, had been married, and had lived fully in the world. The wounded expression in her eyes cut him with a surprising sharpness.

  “That is my fault. You’re quite good at…er…that.” And there were certainly a few things he could teach her, the wicked way tongues could play, how lips could tease or ravage…An entire world of kisses awaited her.

  Clasping her hands together, Rowena glanced down at her little black boots. “Quite good…”

  He sensed that still wasn’t enough reassurance for his future bride.

  “Rowena.” Her name escaped his lips in a husky whisper. When she glanced up at him, he continued. “I’m attempting to be a gentleman. It isn’t done for us to be alone; surely you know that. If I let my control go, it would overwhelm you. And we’ve only just agreed to an engagement. I am trying my damnedest to behave respectably.” He almost laughed. If she only knew how kissing her frayed his control.

  Her eyes brightened. “You feel it too?”

  Feel it? He felt something dark and hungry whenever he got too close to her. Ghosts of long-dead passions he had vowed to banish after losing Maura stirred in the wings of closed-off corridors in his mind.

  “I do. And until we are married, it makes me a dangerous man. I’m not so polite, nor so controlled as Hampton. You’ve been lucky to see me so well behaved these last few days. It’s the Scot in me, I suppose.” His chuckle was darker than he intended as he reached up to caress her cheek. It was a miracle she did not fle
e.

  “Let me play the part of a gentleman for now. You deserve that, sweet Rowena.” He gazed at her lips, a thirst for more of her sweeping through him.

  “Promise me you won’t cry off,” she begged, catching his wrist.

  “Why do you think I’d cry off?” He tilted his head.

  “Because we’ve only just met and there’s no reason you’d want to marry me…” The dejected look in her eyes stirred things within him he didn’t want to face. But he did wish to reassure her.

  “There’ll be no crying off, especially not after kissing you like that, lass. I want you and I’m not going to change my mind.” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips.

  “I don’t want this to be a dream when tomorrow comes.” That damnable hope in her eyes made him feel wretched. She wanted to be loved, to be wooed, and he could only give her half of what she craved. Seduction, but no love. Yet he would claim Rowena as his, as selfish as it was.

  “I would visit your father tonight, but I cannot miss out on the dowager countess’s dinner. I promise, first thing on the morrow, I’ll go to Pepperwirth Vale. What do you say to a wedding in one month?”

  She beamed up at him. “I think that sounds wonderful.”

  He leaned down to press his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss. His body shouted for a hundred other, not-so-innocent kisses, but tonight he would be the gentleman, even if it killed him.

  “Good. It’s settled, then. Now.” He nodded at her. “Have your maid draw you a hot bath and warm up before dinner.”

  Quinn left Rowena’s chamber, not looking back. He knew his soul was black for taking advantage of her open heart, but she was the best choice for a wife and he could not let another man have her, not after he’d kissed her.

  Rowena was his.

  * * *

  I’m going to marry Lord Forres. Quinn…

  Rowena hugged herself and stared at the open doorway where he’d vanished moments before.

  He does not love me; we are strangers after all. But I can win his love.