Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  Toward the rear of the room, Richard hovered over Abby as she reclined on a chaise, chatting with her longtime friend Moira MacKenzie. It was almost uncomfortable to watch the couple sometimes. His brother loved his young wife so deeply, Francis often feared that someday in the future he might be completely undone by her. He shook his head against the idea. Abby was Abby, he had known her the whole of her life. She hadn’t a deceitful bone in her body and did love his brother deeply in return. Aye, she was truly an exception.

  He continued to scan the gathered crowd searching for someone other than his siblings whom he might know and could only shake his head knowing that he had truly been out of polite society’s grasp for much too long if he couldn’t find a soul he knew… especially a woman. It had been ages even since he’d even flirted with an eligible lady. He was thinking that his evening might be better spent at the cards when, between the couples dancing to a lively highland fare, Francis was caught by the sight of a lady standing at the doors that led to the terrace. Though she had her back to him, a feeling of déjà vu washed over him. It was not her gown that caught him, though she was dressed richly in black with diamonds winking out of her hair. It was her stance. The tilt of her head intrigued him, the color of her hair awoke a memory of a smile, and a touch… of Paradise lost.

  Eden.

  Mesmerized, Francis’ feet propelled him forward of their own accord so quickly he nearly stumbled gauchely. What? Was this real? Was it possible that after all this time she would walk back into his life? His head shook in unconscious denial as he approached her, slowly taking a circuitous route around the ballroom, hesitation in each step as he dreaded that she might turn and dash his wild hope. She turned her head slightly to greet one of the guests. In profile, he saw the tilt of her nose, the curve of her chin peeking from behind her lace fan. He closed his eyes as the years fell away.

  His heart seemed to skip a beat as he pictured her in his mind, then set up a rapid tattoo that was nearly painful in its intensity. Surely he was mistaken? Francis looked again but the vision remained unchanged. So astounding was the joy he felt that, if he were a lesser man, he might have been brought to his knees. Instead, the earl threaded his way around to his brother, nudging him in the ribs and ignoring the ladies entirely. “Richard,” he rasped hoarsely, his Scottish burr graveled with emotion. “Who is that?”

  “Good evening to you as well, Francis,” Richard replied dryly. “I’m sure Moira is warmed by your courteous greeting also.”

  Francis glanced at the red-headed fireball who had risen to greet him and managed a brotherly smile. “Aye, Moira, greetings, but you wouldn’t perhaps know who that lady is?”

  “Which lady?” Moira questioned glancing at Abby and then Richard who was bemused by his brother’s lack of manners as Francis was usually studiously polite, in mixed company at least.

  “The lady across the room…”

  The trio’s eyes followed Francis’ mesmerized gaze across the ballroom, noting that the faces of many ladies might be seen in that direction. “Could you manage a more precise description?” Abby asked.

  “The one in black,” Francis murmured in rapture, his eyes never leaving that lady’s face.

  Richard shot Abby an amused glance, for neither had ever before seen Francis so completely unnerved and, well, as awkward as a schoolboy. Then he realized whom his brother was so focused upon. “Evelyn?”

  “Aye, Evelyn,” the name came out with a swift release of breath. Not his imagination then. It was truly her. “Introduce me.”

  Richard frowned. Surely his brother didn’t know who the lovely lady was that had captured his attention? If he did, he wouldn’t have such a hungry, predatory look in his eye, to be sure. “Francis, I think you should know…”

  “Introduce me,” the earl commanded. Richard gaped in amazement at his brother’s tone and actually felt his jaw sag as Francis paused a moment to straighten his coat and cravat. He even ran a hand over his hair. Nervously? His brother, Earl Glenrothes, was actually going to try to impress a female! It was unheard of! Lord Francis MacKintosh had never put himself out to dazzle a lady in his lifetime, or anyone else for that matter. He didn’t have to. Woman fawned over him and fell at his feet. Glenrothes was like a legendary Scotsman, tall and broad with arms and legs thick and muscular. His hair was black with faint touches of red and brown from the sun and his skin darkly bronzed. With his roughly sculpted features, flashing white grin and heavy-lidded green eyes, the earl often had women turn and stare unabashedly at him before they remembered themselves. True enough, he’d gathered the eyes of many upon his approach, though Richard was sure Francis hadn’t taken notice.

  Indeed, never in all of his years had Richard ever seen his brother stand agape at the mere sight of a woman. Never had he seen him anxious to make one’s acquaintance. It was definitely comical and well worth the near black-mail it had taken to get him to come to this occasion. But Evelyn? Obviously his brother did not realize whom it was that he was so taken by. Richard shared a speaking glance with his wife, who could do little more than shrug.

  “Come along then, brother,” he conceded with a wry smile. “And close your mouth, won't you, old man? You look like a fish out of water!”

  Abby and Moira traded a significant look.

  Francis was entranced, his eyes never leaving Evelyn’s face as they approached. Finally, he would be able to touch her again. Finally he would know that his dreams these past many years had been founded in reality. Twenty feet away and his heart was already pounding fiercely at the thought of taking her hand in his. He hadn’t felt anything like this giddiness since… well, since he last saw her, he supposed.

  As they approached, he noted the small changes here and there that maturity had wrought. The girlishness of her countenance was gone, replaced by serenity, though her skin was yet smooth and unlined. Her figure more voluptuous, but yet slim. She had gone from lovely lass to stunning lady. Tantalizing. The past eight years, he thought, had been extremely kind to her.

  Chapter 12

  But to see her was to love her,

  Love but her, and love forever.

  Had we never lov’d sae kindly,

  Had we never lov’d sae blindly,

  Never met – or never parted –

  We had ne’er been brokenhearted.

  - Robert Burns, Ae Fond Kiss

  Eve moved back inside the ballroom to chat with Abby’s grandmother, who had indeed accompanied the couple up to Scotland. She knew Lady Boughton well, having accompanied Abby home on breaks from boarding school so many years before. The elderly lady was pleasant company but standing by her also gave Eve the advantage of eluding the overzealous young dandies who had begun trying to claim a dance with her. She knew lingering with the dowager wasn't going to deter them for long from begging a waltz, but she had no interest or inclination in accepting one of them. She wanted to dance, of course. She had thought of little else all afternoon, but not with one of these pups and certainly not with Jack Merrill. Abby had promised her a brother other than her own to dance with. A nice safe brother.

  And so she waited patiently, appearing cool, poised and beautiful as she chatted with her companion.

  But Eve was not so poised on the inside. It wasn’t simply nerves either. In spite of the number of people present, she could actually feel someone looking at her. Not the curious gazes of the locals though. Something more intent and focused than that. She could feel the eyes on her as if it were an actual touch. Her insides quivered as if it were a physical caress. Eve looked covertly about the room, scanning from face to face. Someone was watching her. She was sure of it. But who?

  She continued to scrutinize the room discreetly.

  Her gaze drifted past a gentleman as he approached and in the next instant, her eyes snapped back and locked with a pair of intense olive green eyes. With a gasp, she tore her eyes away and closed them in disbelief before cautiously opening them once more. It couldn’t be. But indeed it was! Surp
rised, Eve drank him in as he moved with a prowling grace toward her, noting the rough maturity of his features, the deepened lines on his face, a threading of gray here and there, the new thickness of his chest and limbs. The man was so lovely, yet completely virile and manly. Devastatingly compelling. Time had only served to transform the beautiful young lad she had met into a dazzling man who could steal more than her breath away.

  Francis! What was he doing here?

  She met his gaze again as he came up, saw her awareness reflected in his.

  Lady Boughton stretched out her hand in welcome as he approached, and graced him with a wide, pleased smile. “Lord Glenrothes, what a pleasure and a surprise to see you here,” she greeted, her voice warm. “Abby was unsure if you would attend.”

  “I arrived just this afternoon, Lady Boughton.” His rich, deep brogue returned her greeting as his gaze returned to the vision next to the dowager. “I had not planned on staying over but a night, but perhaps there might be incentive to change my mind. May I have the pleasure?”

  The lady who held his attention was still silent and staring, her eyes wide with surprise. If he had been more himself, well, he might have been amused by her lack of response. Silence and awe were not qualities he recalled in her. Shock and amazement were running rampant through him as well as… excitement? Anticipation? Nerves? He wasn’t sure but it was something he had not felt in many a year. He felt like a schoolboy let go on his first flirtation. Giddy, indeed. Frankly, considering the state of his nerves, he was surprised he was functioning so well as to offer a polite bow.

  “Evelyn?” Lady Boughton said, touching her arm to gain her attention.

  Eve mentally shook herself from her stupor and smiled her apology. “Yes, my lady?”

  “The gentlemen are trying to make their greetings.”

  Eve looked down at the dark head bowed over her hand for the first time, nearly forgetting that another gentleman had been present. Recalling herself with a shake of her head, she addressed him, “Hullo, Richard. Is Abby holding up all right?”

  “Aye, but I believe she’s about done in.” Richard indicated the man at his side. “Before I take her off, may I have the pleasure of introducing Francis MacKintosh, Earl Glenrothes, Lord of Glen Cairn, laird of the clan and so on and so forth. Francis, this is Lady Evelyn Ashley-Cooper, Countess of Shaftesbury and a few lesser titles as well I’m sure.”

  Francis ignored his brother's badly delivered humor and took the hand the lady offered in his own gloved one, his eye's never leaving hers as he turned it over and kissed her palm. Eve’s pulse leapt and raced and she knew he realized it. Nothing had changed. “The pleasure is incomparable, my lady.”

  “My lord,” she nodded as coolly as she could though she was stunned by the boldness of his kiss. His changeable eyes were so intense they seemed to sparkle with challenge. She found her voice again, thankful to hear it emerge cool and collected. She was unaware her eyes were telling another story, warm and caressing as she stared at Francis. Her normally pale cheeks flushed with becoming color. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  Richard looked from his brother’s face to the countess’ and knew in that instant that there was going to be trouble. Never in his life had he seen Francis so utterly entranced. He was staring at Evelyn as if he wanted to eat her up. And cool, collected Evelyn was looking as if she would hand him the spoon herself!

  “Countess? You married well, my lady.” Francis’ emphasis on those last two murmured words caused Eve to blush and, just realizing that he had been tightly holding her hand all the while, she tried to pull it away.

  Francis held on.

  “I was married, my lord.” The words were soft. “You find me currently, however, in a widowed state.”

  “And a more pleasing state I could never find you in…” he paused and grinned devilishly with raised brows. “Ahh, perhaps I can imagine a more pleasing state after all.”

  “Francis!” Richard admonished. wondering what had gotten into his brother. Francis had always been studiously polite in company. Never had he seen him flirt so boldly with a lady he had just met.

  “My lord!” she chastised blushing hotly at his insinuation.

  “Forgi’ me, my lady. I don't know what devil has prompted me to tease you so.” He grinned again, feeling carefree and devilish for the first time in years. He could not remember the last time he had felt so light of heart. His fair Eden! How was it possible that eight years had gone by and he still felt like a young lad with his first crush? A man of his years! He longed to tease a smile from her, to walk her through the gardens and…

  Haddington approached and slapped Francis roughly on the shoulder with a laugh. “MacKintosh, it looks like you’ve got yourself a bonny handful there. Not planning on sharing?”

  Francis turned and grabbed Jack’s offered hand with a hearty shake. “Merrill, ‘bout time you showed up, old man! Have you met Lady Shaftesbury?”

  “I have had the honor.” He grabbed her hand before she had a chance to move it from his reach. “Lady Shaftesbury,” Merrill drawled, kissing her hand and winking boldly at her. “It is always my greatest pleasure.”

  Evelyn snatched her hand back with an iciness that bordered on the rude. “Yes, I know, Lord Merrill.” Her voice was cold and she offered no further greeting. For two months he had tried to engage her in conversation and her replies always been clipped. Still, he always approached her as if she gave him the utmost pleasure. Abby had not been joking when she said he was desperate for money. Hopefully, her friend would soon dissuade her brother from his pursuit.

  If Merrill was aware of her cold tone, he did not acknowledge it by word or action as he continued warmly. “I had no idea that you were acquainted with my dear friend, Glenrothes, here though.”

  Her eyes darted back to Francis. “You are a friend of his?” She jerked her head toward Jack. Her tone suggested such a thing might lower him in her esteem.

  “You wound me, Lady Shaftesbury,” Jack put in, his hand dramatically over his heart.

  “But unfortunately it is not a fatal blow,” she responded frostily without looking at him.

  “We are friends, but I can throw him over if it would impress you,” Francis confirmed, slapping Jack on the back once more.

  “Et tu, MacKintosh?” Jack interjected with a more deeply wounded voice, dramatically pressing a hand to his heart. “After we grew up together and have been friends our entire lives?”

  “Grew up…but…” Evelyn frowned slightly and raised a brow to Francis. “MacKintosh? Are you related to Richard?”

  “You know my brother then?”

  “Your brother!” Evelyn glanced over at Richard but found he had turned Jack away to greet Lady Boughton. “Imagine that,” she said instead to Francis. “Well, with as many siblings as you have, I suppose it would be possible to have met one before. I went to finishing school with Abby.”

  “Abby has mentioned her friends from school before and always with affection. I had no idea you were one of her quartet. Are you staying in Edinburgh long, my lady?” His emphasis again on those last two words prompted a renewed warmth to her cheeks.

  “I came up only to help Abby plan this ball for Sean and Col…I guess, more of your brothers, my lord,” she responded with a shaky laugh. “I do not plan on staying long.”

  “Then I shall try to make the most of it,” he whispered in a low seductive tone, but as he noticed Merrill eyeing him inquisitively, cleared his throat loudly, “I believe I would enjoy a dance. Shall we, Lady Shaftesbury?” He took her hand and bowed gallantly, playfully.

  Evelyn started at the change of subject. “Shall we what?”

  “Is it such a hard decision, then? I was asking, you know, rather than simply assuming. Ahh, well…” He shrugged and made as if he was turning to go. Apparently, he forgot as much as Eve that he still held her hand.

  Eve tightened her grip impulsively and pulled him back. “You might attempt to phrase the question more politely, my
lord.”

  Lord MacKintosh bowed formally still holding her now unresisting hand in his. "May I have the pleasure of a dance, my lady?”

  Do I dare? A dance with one of Richard’s nonthreatening younger brothers was one thing but to meet Francis on the dance floor was bound to be fraught with emotion that Eve was uncertain she was ready to face. Years ago, one brief moment with this incredible man had set her entire world abuzz. It had taken the whole of her willpower and strength to push him from her heart so that she might face marriage with William without the specter of the past in her mind and soul. Eve met Francis’ dark gaze and shivered at the force of the heat and promise she read there. Danger, it said. There was no safe, structured haven with him. Only uncertainty that she wasn’t sure she could handle.

  Run away, far away, her mind yelled.

  But then Eve noticed Haddington coming back in their direction and made the quick decision that a moment of uncertainty trumped a night of unpleasantness. She gave Francis a warm smile and waved her fan flirtatiously. “A waltz? With you?”

  Glenrothes smiled fully, revealing deep masculine dimples as if he had actually heard the thoughts race through her mind and tugged her hand playfully. “Honor me, my lady?”

  Eve simply could not refuse a smile like that, no matter what propriety said. No matter what peril lay ahead. After all, she had conceded that she would dance with one of Richard’s brothers. Though in her mind that brother was an unassuming youth, not a danger to her equilibrium. “Very well, I suppose that I might have just one dance,” she conceded and, snapping her fan closed, took his arm as he led her out onto the dance floor, leaving Haddington staring after them with a puzzled frown.