Questions for a Highlander

by Angeline Fortin

  “I guess I was too much like my Da.”

  “What is he like?”

  “Shouldn’t you be asking some questions of Moira, my lord?” Eve asked primly. “I should hate for her to feel excluded from the conversation.”

  “I have known this brat from the day of her birth!” Francis poked Moira in the side as she laughed down at him. “There is nothing about her I do not know, but there is much about you that I do not. Now tell me about your father.”

  Eve glanced at Moira and received an encouraging nod. With a shrug, she went on. “Strong-willed, stubborn. To my knowledge he has only admitted that he was wrong about something once in his life.” That had been when Eve told him the truth about her marriage and asked him to help her get a divorce. He had said he was wrong to have forced her to marry. “He is a good man, though, a real fighter for what he wanted out of life.”

  She told him the story of how Lelan Preston had come to America from Ireland with hopes of making his fortune, just as so many others had in those years, though not so many as current years had brought. Her father had known what he wanted to do and be, and had chased that dream to New York and, frankly, had gotten very lucky. Not long after his arrival, Preston had met a businessman up and coming in the industry of shipping and railroads, a man well on his way to becoming one of the richest men in New York, or even the country. Her father had offered his knowledge of shipping (an area in which he was well-tutored as it was his family’s business in Ireland) and partnered with that businessman in several ventures in that area. Later he expanded his interests into railroad contracts with the man as well.

  Though after thirty years Lelan Preston could in no way rival the immense fortunes that Cornelius Vanderbilt had left his heirs, he knew well that he owed his own financial success to the faith that great man had put in his judgment and abilities.

  And so Preston had made his fortune in a relatively short time. A fortune that continued to grow, but it was ‘new’ money and not worth much to the old guard of Society. Once it was discovered however that Preston was not just another Irish immigrant but the second son of Viscount Gormanston, the doors opened for him just a crack… just enough, as her father liked to joke, for him to thrust through them into that Grand Society. His family’s was a low rank, and Irish at that, but peerage was peerage. New Yorkers loved nothing better than nobility among their ranks.

  Though Preston was clearly not cut out for the confines of such a close social atmosphere, only one thing keep him content to be there. Actually, one person. Not long after his road to wealth had started to be paved, Preston had wed Margaret Winters, a cousin of the Astors, one of the oldest and most respectable families in New York. Theirs was a true love match, quite unheard of at the time.

  Lelan Preston had left his wife a year later to fight for his new country during the War Between the States. Also quite unheard of for a man of his financial circumstance, but Eve’s father was a man of strong convictions and beliefs. Throughout her entire life, Evelyn had learned that a person should always fight for what they believe in. Evelyn herself was born just months after the war ended. During those years of war, Maggie Winters Preston controlled the Preston industries, especially active in shipping during the war, much to the disapproval of her peers.

  It remained Mrs. Preston’s single deviation from the confines of her role as society matron as dictated by generations of Knickerbocker elite.

  “So your father was a self-made man, huh? Very impressive to amass such a fortune.” A frown wrinkled Francis’ brow. “Lelan Preston?”

  Eve nodded, giving him a sly look from the corner of her eye. “Your father is Lelan Preston of New York? Owner of Preston Shipping and Transport?”

  She nodded again and was rewarded with his whistle of amazement. “You did not know then?” she wondered aloud the question that had plagued her for years. “When we first met, that I was his daughter?”

  “How would I have known?”

  “Da had insisted you must have known, but I knew I was right, that you weren’t just another person who was out to gain something from my father, as he thought,” she confessed.

  “No, I never knew until this moment. But I see more clearly now why Jack was so determined to pursue you.” Francis shook his head in amazement. And I am surprised he gave in so easily.

  Chapter 16

  To Evelyn’s chagrin, as the afternoon turned into evening, she could not determine whether Francis’ presence warmed her or disturbed her. His genuine interest in her family and interests was beyond flattering and appealing. She would guess that he knew more about her in one morning than William had garnered from their entire marriage. Francis was playful and teasing, but no more so than he was to Moira and Abby. Though she tried her best to maintain a barrier of formality between them, Francis bombarded her with his own style of familiarity until it was nearly destroyed.

  When leaving to retire to her rooms for a rest and to change before dinner, the earl insisted on seeing her to her room, as unnecessary as it was. As they reached her door, Eve politely nodded her thanks and turned away only to have Francis take her hand and pull her back to face him. He gazed down at her with serious eyes. “Are you going to continue to deny this, Eden?” He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek sending a flush of warmth in their wake and a trembling to her heart.

  “Deny what?” she stuttered.

  “Ahh, I see that you are. There is nothing for it then,” he opened her bedroom door and pulled her in quickly, shutting the door behind them.

  “What are you doing?” Eve had meant to put some outrage in her voice but what emerged was a bit breathless as he backed her against the wall by the portal.

  Francis cupped her face in his big hands as he stared down at her, his calloused thumbs caressing her cheeks. “Reminding you…” Those low words were Eve’s only warning before his lips descended upon hers. His mouth was hot and hungry against hers, parting her lips and delving deeply.

  Eve caught his wrists in her hands in an attempt to pull him away, but instead she was caught in the moment, overwhelmed by his passionate kiss. Helpless to fight him, she slid her hands up his bulging arms until she found his shoulders and hung on as he continued to plunder her mouth. After the briefest moment, she gave in and returned his kiss with equal measure, welcoming him and softening beneath him. His kiss lightened then as well, tenderly sucking her bottom lip between his as he dropped his own arms to pull her into his embrace, fitting his big body flush with hers. Eve could feel his heart pounding in his chest and felt hers answer the call.

  Her head fell back in surrender and Francis took advantage, running his lips down her neck as she shivered and clung to him. “Oh, Francis,” she sighed. Eve could feel her blood racing hotly through her body, a coil of tension between her legs that had her clenching them tightly together. Never in all the years of her marriage had she felt such lust as Francis could inspire in a single kiss. She wanted it to go on forever. She never wanted it to end.

  “Eden, my paradise,” he murmured, before claiming her lips once again pushing his hands into her hair until it spilled from its arrangement and fell around her shoulders. Francis wrapped the mass around his hands and pulled her closer. “How I want you, my love. I want to make love to you.”

  Eve shuddered as another wave of overwhelming desire flooded her. She wanted him as well, wanted to feel the strength of his massive body around her. Over her. In her. She shuddered at the realization.

  “Francis, I…” She pulled back and met his hot gaze, read all the wanting there. She swallowed deeply. Her eyes roamed his face, its swarthy, sun-kissed hues, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the fullness of his lower lip. With one hand she caressed the rough planes of his cheeks, feeling the stubble breaking through. She noticed the slight graying at his temples. Never had she seen a man so handsome, so compelling. A man whose sheer size made her feel petite and safe. She wanted so badly to just sink into him and lose herself in everything that they
were together. But…

  Francis read it in her eyes and sighed regretfully, pulling her palm to his lips once more before releasing her and stepping back. Her lips were swollen by his kisses, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with desire, her hair falling in thick waves down her back. She was a postcard of lust and desire and still she would not allow herself to feel. What could have brought her to this, he wondered. What was holding her back? He shook his head. “I can see your answer, Eden. But why? You must know that this attraction between us is not something that comes along every day. It should be embraced. Not rejected.”

  Shaking her head in denial even as she acknowledged that truth in her heart, Eve merely whispered, “I can’t. I’m so sorry, Francis, but I do not want an affair with anyone… even you.” The words were the truth and a lie.

  “Because it isn’t proper.” It wasn’t a question. “Widows have affairs every day. It is allowed. Discreetly, of course.”

  “I do not. Cannot.”

  “Even if you want to?” Francis saw her brow furrow and almost laughed. “Come, Eden, at least admit that you want to. I know you do, as I do.” He added this last in a low husky brogue that Eve had to physically move away from, lest she succumb once more.

  She moved to her dressing table and toyed with her brush, wishing he would leave. “Can we not just leave it as a ‘no, thank you’?”

  “Very polite, Eden. Ever polite.” The earl caught her reflection in the mirror, watching as she swallowed deeply and frowned.

  “Ever polite,” she repeated in a sad whisper that caught at Francis’ heart strings and made him relent.

  “Very well, Eden,” he conceded, feeling that she was on the verge of tears, though he knew not why. “I will let it go. I have no wish to cause you pain. But I will say that I enjoy your company and companionship too greatly to let you go completely. I must insist that you give me your friendship at least.”

  Eve met his eyes in the mirror. “You want to be my friend?”

  “Well, I do like you very much,” he teased, rousing a small if somewhat regretful smile from her.

  “I like you as well,” she returned in a tense, shaky whisper. “I would very much like for us to be friends. But no more kisses, Francis. I have my reputation to think about.”

  “No more,” he swore and cracked the door to ensure the hall was empty before stepping out. “I will see you at dinner then.”

  Eve nodded and watched as the door snicked closed behind him. “I am such a fool,” she mocked herself. “Friendship, indeed.”

  Chapter 17

  Francis might have claimed that friendship would be enough – and she did so want to have it as she simply enjoyed his company – but as they gathered before dinner and as he was seating her at the table, he persisted in touching her. Her hand, her back. Her cheeks as she sat and he pushed in her chair. From the opposite end of the table, he shot her looks that alternated between longing and heated desire.

  Evelyn was not so innocent in the world that she did not know that Francis was seducing her indirectly with those looks and caresses. Worse was that she wasn’t even sure he was aware of those little moments, since she was certain of the sincerity of his promise to remain friends. The attraction between them was strong and unconscious. The urge to touch and look was beyond control and she could only hope what was obvious to her did not seem so to the others.

  It was not just a physical seduction but a mental one as well. Eve admired his humor and intellect. She liked that he made her laugh even in situations where she knew she should not. He teased her about her adherence to propriety. Yet he praised her skills with the bow that she had displayed that afternoon with open honesty and admiration. Furthermore, he asked her opinions on social and political issues – something her husband had never done throughout the entire course of their marriage. That in of itself held a strong allure.

  Still, the physical seduction, the touching, had to be unconscious on his part, she thought again. It was as though he had to be in contact with her in some way at all times. Indeed, this she understood, for it simply felt good to have such tender contact. Such affectionate moments had never occurred with William. Francis was most lover-like and the most terrifying part of it was that some portion of her wanted to become his lover in truth.

  Of course, Moira continued to openly flirt with him as well, all through dinner as she was seated at his right, laughing freely at his jests and acting, in Evelyn’s opinion, much too familiar with him. Evelyn felt that Moira was developing an infatuation, though she had not admitted as much yet. If the shy nephew of the local bishop was appealing where she came from, then surely a man such as Francis was the most desirable gentleman that she’d ever come across.

  To Evelyn’s further annoyance, she found herself envying Moira her freedom in flirting with Francis.

  “Lord Glenrothes seems to enjoy your company a great deal, Moira,” she ventured that evening, as the ladies separated to the parlor after dinner.

  “Oh, I’ve known them all forever, you know that,” Moira laughed lightly. “When I would visit Abby, she and I would sneak over to Glen Cairn and follow all the lads around like puppies. As we have gotten older, we all became excellent friends. Eventually, Abby got her Richard, and you needn’t worry that I am after Francis, because for me there has been only Vin.”

  “Vin? Oh, Vincent. Yes, I recall.” Vincent was the brother just a year younger than Francis according to the recitation he had given her years before, but now she was able to make the connection between that Vin and the young man Moira had been infatuated with since they were in boarding school. “I have not met him yet. Why is he not here?” she wondered.

  “Vin was lost in Egypt more than five years ago.” Moira’s usually sunny demeanor dimmed a notch. “He, Richard and my brother Jason all joined with the Queen’s army that last summer of boarding school, do you remember? They came and went for a couple of years, that last time almost six years ago. I’m sure I wrote you all about this, haven’t I? Well, then when Richard came back without them, he admitted that they had been sent behind enemy lines and Jason and Vin had both been captured.”

  “They were spying? Well, I’m sure you never told me that!”

  “Mmm, well Richard got away but when he went back searching he could not find Vin or Jason, and they have never come back,” this last came as the softest whisper.

  Eve squeezed her arm. “You loved him.”

  “No, I love him.” Moira corrected the tense of the declaration. “True love does not just go away. I think if you pay attention, you’ll realize it for yourself.”

  Eve looked affronted. “I have no idea what you mean!”

  “Yes, you do!” Moira poked back. “You shouldn’t have to think too hard about it.”

  The gentlemen joined them a short time later. Eve watched as Francis skirted the perimeter of the room, having a word with his sister here, a brother there, but she was aware that his eyes were drawn back to her every few moments. As she was drawn to him, she admitted to herself. Watching him move toward her was in itself a breathtaking experience. For such a big man, the earl carried himself quite gracefully, rolling in an almost cat-like prowl that sent heat pooling between her thighs as she clenched them together in denial. His thigh muscles bunched and strained against his breeches. The long, narrowly cut trousers clung to his calves all the way to his shiny black shoes. When her eyes travelled back up over his gorgeous visage to meet his gaze, she found him watching her with a glint in his eye that Eve felt could only spell trouble for her, and recognized her own fragile acknowledgement of the inevitable outcome of their attraction.

  She turned her attention determinedly to Moira as she played a light highland tune on the piano while laughing and teasing Jack. Francis’ sister, Fiona, danced lightly nearby holding her skirts high in traditional highland fashion.

  Still, Eve was aware of his position, so when he dropped down on the settee next to her, she wasn’t surprised. Though he laid an arm ca
sually along the back of the settee, she maintained a proper posture with her hands folded in her lap and tried to ignore him… or at least not lean toward him.

  As she continued to disregard him or even glance his way, his outstretched arm moved a little farther as he caught a loose curl at the back of her neck and twirled it about his finger. Eve shuddered – in anger? in excitement? – and slapped his hand away, glaring at him in reproach.

  Francis flashed her that same lopsided grin that had seemed to thaw her through the course of the day and was rewarded with a much different look from his lady. It was a look that begged, but for what, he wasn’t sure. Indeed, he wasn’t certain she even knew.

  “You must stop that, my lord,” she insisted breathlessly.

  “Francis,” he reminded yet again. “And what do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean,” Eve chided. “All the little touches, like just now and at dinner.”

  “Did I touch you at dinner?” he asked innocently.

  “Don’t play that game with me.” Of course he knew exactly what she meant, since his grin had taken on a mischievous bent. “And you must stop! People are starting to notice and comment upon it. Propriety…”

  “I care nothing about propriety,” he interrupted with a wave of his hand.

  “But I do.”

  The soft intensity of her words drew his attention and he watched her twist her handkerchief in her lap. She was truly concerned, he realized. She continued. “I do not want to be a source of gossip. Everyone here knows you, while I am relatively unknown. I do not want to be seen as your plaything.”

  “You are not a plaything, Eden. I would never consider you that way. Besides, it is just family here.” As he had indicated earlier, mostly it was just his family staying through the week’s end. But as well as the Roper girls and their father and aunt, there was also Abby’s two sisters and their husbands, a cousin up from London with her mother and, of course, Jack, Moira, and Moira’s great-aunt Edith who acted as her chaperone, making it a large assembly indeed. He turned a bit in his seat so that he could face her, and for the first time, his expression was serious. “Let me be frank, Eden, if I may?”