A Scottish Lord for Christmas

by Lauren Smith

  What am I to do? Should I try to act normal? Yes, that would be best. He mustn’t see how much I am hurting.

  “How long is the drive to Forres?” she asked as she tugged the heavy wool coat around her shoulders.

  “Half a day. We should arrive there by early afternoon.” Quinn started the car and they were once more driving down the road.

  Rowena gave up on conversation quickly. It was obvious from Quinn’s monosyllabic responses he didn’t wish to talk. She retrieved a book from her handbag, one of the few possessions she’d carried away from Pepperwirth Vale, and tried to read. She had been raised, along with Milly, to love reading, and normally it was easy to fall into a story’s narrative and become lost to the world. But not this day. The silence seemed ominous between them, growing only stronger as they sat inches apart in the car, and Rowena found that for the first time in a long time, she could not read a single word.

  They made one stop in a tiny Scottish village a short way from Forres to refuel before finishing the journey home.

  “Quinn, do you mind if I stretch my legs a bit?” Rowena asked.

  Her husband made a gruff noise she took for acceptance. Tugging her coat tight and fluffing the fur stole around her neck, she wandered up the snow-covered streets of the tiny village. Snow crunched beneath her boots, and the weight of heavy clouds pressed down upon her. Her breath came out in soft white clouds that faded seconds later. Rowena followed the street up, pausing to admire hats in a shop window. She looked over her shoulder at Quinn, who was entering a tavern to get hot drinks.

  The cold tugged at the long locks of her hair and nipped at her cheeks. Rowena hurried farther up the street until she came across a silversmith’s shop. Oil lamps lit the windows and an older woman with silver threaded through her light blond hair was polishing a set of spoons until sunlight glinted off them. She glanced up and saw Rowena, then waved her inside.

  A small brass bell tinkled overhead as Rowena slipped inside the shop. The lamplight shined from the reflection of a dozen teapots and serving dishes.

  “Escaping from the cold?” The woman’s brown eyes sparkled with warmth.

  “Oh yes. My husband and I are driving through and we stopped to stretch our legs.”

  “Newly married?” the woman guessed.

  Flushing, Rowena nodded. “How could you tell?”

  The shopkeeper chuckled and tapped her nose. “You have that fresh bride look, a little nervous, a little excited. Marriage lasts a long time, lassie; ’tis not a race but a journey. You will settle in.”

  Rowena smiled, relaxing. “It isn’t at all what I expected,” she admitted.

  The older woman’s eyes sharpened. “He’s not rough with you, is he?”

  “No!” She waved her hands. “It’s that…well, he doesn’t love me. There was another, his first wife. She passed away a year ago. I thought, foolishly, I could win him over. I want to make him happy.” It was not the sort of thing she should confess to a stranger, but Rowena had never been good at hiding her heart. Milly used to tease her, saying she wore it pinned to her gown sleeve.

  “What is your husband like?” The woman bustled around the counter, which contained several rings and a collection of small knives and watches. “Maybe you could get him a wee gift? Men do like a present now and then, just like us.”

  “He’s very serious.” Rowena considered as she stepped closer to the glass counter, peering down at the items resting on a black velvet cloth.

  “A serious man,” the woman mused. “What family does he hail from?”

  “He hails from Forres, but his family name is MacCauley.” Rowena rested her head in one hand as she studied the set of daggers.

  “MacCauley?” The woman across from her looked startled. “You mean to say you’re newly married to Quinn MacCauley?”

  “Why, yes.” Her heart skipped a few beats. Did this shopkeeper know her husband?

  “I know just the thing. Wait here.” The woman spun around and disappeared behind a blue curtain at the back of the shop. When she came back a moment later, she had something wrapped up in a slip of purple cloth. She set it on the counter and unrolled it. A slim dagger with a blade made of deer antler bone lay there. The blade had a crest carved into it. A pair of stag heads facing each other over a trio of stars.

  “That is the MacCauley family crest.”

  “His family’s?” Rowena marveled at the blade. “How can you be sure?”

  The woman laughed. “Nigh on ten years ago, my husband won that in a game of cards from the late Earl of Forres. That’d be Quinn’s father. He was a good man. I believe he let my Angus win. We were in need of coin that winter, like many folk here. The entire village was having a bad time of things. The old earl came through town and lost quite of bit of coin at the tavern that night during card games to men who needed it most for their families.” The woman flashed Rowena a knowing smile as it dawned on her what the woman was saying. Quinn’s father had lost the money on purpose to help the men feed and clothe their families. It had likely been more welcome than if the late earl had tried to give them charity.

  “And the dagger? Your husband didn’t sell it?”

  “Ack, no. Angus knew what the earl meant by it and was so honored, he kept it. He always meant to find a way to return it. Then my Angus took ill last year and passed. God bless him.” She pushed the dagger toward Rowena. “Take it, lassie. Give it to your husband.”

  Rowena opened her coat to search for her coin purse, but the woman scoffed.

  “Now, now, none of that. I want only to know it gets back to the man it belongs to.” There was a gleam in the older woman’s eyes as she leaned over the counter to speak in a hushed tone. Rowena leaned in too.

  “And if I were you, lassie, when you give him that present, it might be good to be wearing a lot less clothes, if you take my meaning. Men forget to keep their distance when a bonnie lassie is waiting for them in bed.” With a wink, she shoved Rowena back out into the streets.

  Clasping the dagger, Rowena wrapped it back up in the cloth and slid it into one of her coat pockets before walking to the motorcar. Quinn stood there, leaning against the door, his coat open and flapping slowly in the winter wind. His arms were crossed, and he was frowning slightly until he saw her. There was a flash of light in his serious eyes, a heat, a pleasure, before he banished it. That hint was all Rowena needed to summon her courage. She hastened her steps and when she reached him, she curled her arms around his neck and kissed him. Startled, he didn’t immediately respond, but after a moment, he kissed her deeply, fire burning between their lips, his arms wrapping around her body to lift her up against him. After a long, delicious moment of kissing, he gently set her on her feet again. His cheeks were ruddy as he cleared his throat.

  “Ready to go?”

  “Yes.” She smiled happily. There was still hope. Tonight she would do as the silversmith had said. She’d present Quinn with his father’s dagger, and she’d do it in such a way he would want to take her back to bed.

  The next hour passed quicker than Rowena expected. She spent the entire time quivering inside with excitement. She had a plan to win him over tonight. It would work; it had to.

  “There it is, Castle Forres.” Quinn’s deep voice cut through the flash of giddy thoughts she was having.

  Rowena focused on the view through her side of the car. In the distance, vast hills formed a ragged line against the sky. Closer still lay a gray stone house. It wasn’t really a castle. It was more modern than medieval. Gothic peaked spires appeared through the heavy mists that had gathered as the day warmed. It made the castle appear like a crouched wolfhound, protective, a force to be reckoned with. The snow-covered lawns leading up to the front entrance were bare, but beyond the castle she saw the promise of a snow-veiled garden. It appeared harsh, but Rowena had a feeling it was like Quinn: a gruff serious exterior that would open up to reveal a soft heart.

  When they reached the front door, Quinn parked the motorcar and got
out. Rowena started to open her door, but he beat her to it and helped her out. It felt so wonderful to be in his arms again as he lowered her to the ground. She felt a little foolish, too, but she was a married woman now and enjoying her husband was her right, wasn’t it?

  The castle’s tall oak door opened and a burly man in a black suit stood there, grim-faced and scowling slightly. Rowena mustered a smile as she and Quinn walked up to him. He stood back to allow them in.

  “Welcome home, milord.” He flicked his eyes over Rowena, the gaze sharp and cold. “Milady,” he added as an afterthought.

  Perhaps he’s just a bit serious. She hoped that was the reason. She hated to think the butler disapproved of her only seconds after meeting her.

  “Afternoon, Morris.” Quinn nodded at the stiff butler. “This is Rowena, the new Countess of Forres. Rowena, this is Malcom Morris.”

  “Good afternoon,” Rowena greeted, giving him what her father always said was her most winning smile.

  The man did not blink once. His dark eyes were as cold as a frozen lake at midnight.

  “Ah, here’s the rest of the staff.” Quinn brought Rowena farther into the house and announced a row of maids and footmen, but Rowena was only half listening. The housekeeper, Mrs. Stuart, was clutching a set of keys and frowning, much as Mr. Morris had done, as though upset that Rowena was here.

  An anxious knot grew in the pit of her belly.

  Am I so awful that they won’t smile?

  She knew, as any proper English lady of good breeding did, that a clear line existed between the occupants of the upper stairs and lower stairs, but she knew, too, that a smile upon greeting was not frowned upon. Perhaps Quinn’s servants were afraid to meet her and therefore they were acting unusually formal.

  “You all may go. Morris, where is my sister and the bairn?”

  “They are in the nursery,” the butler replied. “The child has had a bit of a cold the last few days.”

  “Oh?” Quinn paused, worry tightening his eyes.

  “Aye, the good doctor was just here a few hours ago. He’ll return tomorrow morning to see how the bairn feels,” Morris replied, seemingly not that concerned. Children did often catch illnesses, but Rowena would do what she could to help Blair feel better.

  “Thank you, Morris. Have the doctor see me first thing when he arrives tomorrow.” Quinn handed his coat to the remaining footman and finally glanced at her. “Well, take off your coat and I’ll show you to the rooms I’ve had prepared.”

  “Oh, but—”

  He halted on his way to the stairs after stammering a response. “Y-yes?”

  “Might we see Blair first? I’ve missed her and it would do me good to hold her.”

  “It would?” Quinn’s eyes widened.

  Rowena nodded as she struggled out of her fur stole and coat, which the footman took from her. She didn’t want to mention her feeling nervous about Blair suffering a cold; it would seem silly. Besides, the truth was that she missed Blair terribly. The little child had crawled into her heart alongside Quinn. Right now, she needed to cuddle the sick child and feel that she had at least one person who liked her.

  “Yes, may we please see her?” She caught up with him on the stairs and captured his arm.

  His gaze softened. “Of course. This way.” He allowed her to loop her arm in his and the little victory filled her with quiet joy. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder how many steps forward she could take before she would be dragged back.

  I will win him. I must. If she couldn’t, she’d face a life with a loveless marriage. A life without love was not a life worth living.

  * * *

  Quinn led Rowena down a dark paneled hallway. There were tall windows framed with evergreen curtains that when caught in the sunlight seemed to glow like the leaves of trees in the middle of summer. Maura had loved green, and summer had been her favorite time of year. She’d explore the hills and glens around Forres for hours on horseback. It was something they’d done together many times.

  He couldn’t help but wonder, what did Rowena prefer? The heat of summer or the promise of spring? Perhaps the beauty of winter or the breathtaking golds and reds of autumn? He dropped his gaze to the top of Rowena’s head, momentarily bewitched by the way the afternoon light made the coiled coiffure of her blond locks glow like a delicate pile of spun gold.

  Lord, he wanted to touch it, to tease the pins out of her hair and let the strands tumble down her shoulders in endless waves of brilliant sunny color. Quinn forced himself to remember his promise to keep his distance. He couldn’t let Rowena’s irresistible nature draw him in and tempt him to surrender to passion.

  “Is the nursery very far from our room?” Rowena lifted her head and met his gaze, calling him out of the lulling thoughts of her hair and how he wanted to kiss her.

  “Aye, ’tis at the opposite side of the house.”

  “What?” She stopped short and stared at him. “Why would you put your daughter so far away from us?”

  He didn’t miss the word us. From the moment she’d met his child, she’d taken an interest in Blair. Yet her near-instant affection for his daughter always startled him. Rowena was young, barely old enough to start having bairns of her own, yet she wanted to care for a child who wasn’t hers.

  “The nursery has always been in the east wing.”

  Rowena’s brow furrowed. “Well, I would like her moved closer to us. May we do that?”

  Her delicate fingers curled around his arm and tightened their hold.

  “Well.” He paused, considering. It was normal to keep children out of the way…but he’d always wanted Blair close. Why hadn’t it occurred to him to move her to a room closer to his?

  “Please,” she whispered. Rowena’s eyes, those lovely cornflower blue eyes, were soft and pleading.

  “If you wish it, then we can have the staff begin moving her to a room in our hallway.”

  “Thank you.” Rowena was up on tiptoe, kissing his cheek, but he turned his face, catching her mouth with his. Her lips were soft and warm. The light brush of them sent bolts of arousal through him. He shut his eyes tight, grasping at his control. You’ve had her already, and you promised to restrain yourself.

  “Rowena—” he murmured, beginning to lose himself in her touch, her kiss.

  “Quinn! You’re back!” His sister’s voice startled him and he stepped back from Rowena. Kenna stood at the end of the hallway, holding Blair’s hand.

  “Kenna.” He ushered Rowena forward. His wife glanced at him, her cheeks pink and then she looked away.

  “Rowena, this is my sister, Kenna. Kenna, this is Rowena.”

  Kenna’s eyes leapt from his face to his wife’s, a curious gleam there. Then she held out a hand to Rowena, who grasped it.

  “Welcome to Forres.” Kenna smiled and glanced down at Blair. “Blair, love, say hello to Rowena.”

  The little girl buried her face in Kenna’s skirts as though shy too. She swayed, her little black dress with a white pinafore waving like a bell in a church steeple. When she glanced at him, Quinn smiled and winked indulgently. Every time he looked at his child, his heart filled with a quiet joy. He noticed her cheeks were a tad too pink and her nose a little red. So she had been feeling a little unwell. It was good the doctor would return on the morrow.

  Rowena let go of his arm and knelt on the ground, arms outstretched. “Do you remember me, Blair? We looked at lily pads in the garden together.”

  Blair peeped out from the folds of Kenna’s skirts and gave a tiny nod. “We looked for fishes.” She had such a tiny, high-pitched little voice, like a wee bird chattering. It made his chest ache when Blair spoke.

  “That’s right, we did.” Rowena grinned. “May I have a hug, Blair? I’m awfully lonely and it would make me feel better.” Rowena curled her fingers in invitation, and Blair, as though mesmerized, released Kenna’s skirts and ambled forward to tuck herself into Rowena’s arms.

  It was impossible to miss the relief and joy in Rowena�
�s face the moment she picked Blair up and cuddled her close. Rowena began to speak softly to the child, telling her about the long car journey and how excited she was to come to live here. Blair stared at her, one thumb tucked in her mouth, as she listened with rapt attention.

  The two of them walked down the hall, giving Quinn a minute alone with his sister.

  “She’s very pretty, Quinn. You didn’t tell me that.” Kenna was watching him, her too-observant gaze pinning him to the floor.

  “She is, but it doesn’t matter. I did not marry her because she is pretty. I married her so Blair can have a mother and to help you, so you do not have to stay here and run the house.”

  His sister crossed her arms over her chest. “If you think you’re going to stay away from a lovely lass like that, you’re a damned fool, brother.”

  Quinn curled his hands into fists. “Kenna, I don’t love her, and she isn’t here for me but for my child. That is all.” The words came out louder than he’d intended, and it was then he heard the silence. Rowena and Blair were staring at him from the end of the hallway. Rowena’s eyes were bright with tears.

  She bit her lip and glanced at Blair. “Which room is the nursery? I’d like to take her back so she can play. And then if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like some tea.” She spoke not to him, but instead to Kenna.

  “Of course. I was just about to have the nurse ring for a maid to bring me a fresh pot. This way.”

  His sister sent him a quelling gaze that threatened him pain if he dared to come after them. As they entered the nursery a few doors away, he stood there, feeling like a fool and a bloody bastard. He should not have said what he did, especially not when Rowena stood so close. Still, she needed to know what his intentions were. This was a marriage of convenience, not a love match. The sooner she learned that, the better off she would be.

  Chapter 9