Wondering where this might be going, Eve gave him a stiff nod.
“The attraction between us, and I do mean the physical attraction, is stronger now than it was eight years ago…on my part at least.” He looked at her quizzically but Eve refused to let her demeanor waver. Francis sighed and continued. “I’ll be honest, darlin’ lass, I want you badly. I want to make love to…”
“Francis!” Eve hissed, blushing scarlet to her roots that he would dare to bring up something so intimate in public. Aghast, she glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I dinnae mean to go on so, but my point, if I might make it, is that I have no intention of seducing you into my bed. I said before that I wouldn’t and I meant it. I know that your reputation means everything to you and I would not dream of having you do anything you might consider amoral.”
“Well, thank you for that,” Eve replied dryly, thinking that he made her sound quite the prude with his statement.
“But,” he went on, “I cannae help but touch you. I want so badly to do so.”
“You cannot just keep doing so,” she chided, while admitting to herself it was not only because of the gossip it would prompt but also because of the havoc it played on her senses. The simplest of contact set her afire much as it had years before. “People will talk and assume what they will.”
“I will do my best to control myself. I do not want anyone to think we have become lovers.” No, indeed, he simply wanted to be lovers, he admitted to himself. He cared naught what anyone thought.
“I don’t want anyone else to think that way either.” She glanced up at him.
He looked into her bright green eyes and felt the tug of attraction that he wasn’t sure he had the power to fight. “Are you afraid of gossip, Eden, or are you afraid of me?”
“I am not afraid of you.” But she was afraid of the way he made her feel. With a look, Francis tempted her to throw all caution to the wind, to fall into his arms just so that she could feel the power of their desire from head to toe. It was so overwhelming and it would be so easy… “Just, please, try to behave.”
“I cannot make any promises,” he responded. “Even just sitting here, I want to move closer or even simply take your hand in mine.”
“Try,” she whispered painfully.
“I will try,” he conceded, knowing if he was to succeed he needed to keep some distance between them. “To that end, it might be best if we have a bit of entertainment to lighten the moment. What had you planned? Dancing, games? I know you had something planned.”
She flushed and nodded. “I knew it! A game then? Yes?” She nodded again. “Hmmm, Shadows?” he guessed.
“No I thought…” she started.
“No, don’t tell me, let me guess. Charades?”
She shook her head again trying to rein in the smile that threatened to escape her lips.
“Then it must certainly be Blind Man’s Bluff!”
Eve’s jaw sagged in astonishment. “How did you guess? There are dozens of games to choose from!”
He grinned that special grin again as he stood and helped her to her feet. “Simple, it is the one that will let me catch you and get a forfeit from you.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Can you guess what I will be asking for?”
“Francis! I never planned…”
He ignored her and turned to the room, calling for everyone’s attention. “Everyone, how about a game to lighten the evening? Perhaps a game of Blind Man’s Bluff would be fun?”
A murmur of appreciation went through the room and Francis’ sister Fiona jumped up and down clapping her hands before skipping over to him. “But Francis, you never want to play parlor games at home. You usually just sit in your office all night long, moping.”
“Reading,” he corrected. “Well, for a change, everyone is here. Why not enjoy it?”
Fiona looked at him suspiciously, studying his face as all the others in the room gathered to draw lots to go first. “What is it with you, Francis?”
Francis looked down into the earnest face of his youngest sibling. “What do you mean, Blossom?”
“Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you look almost… happy,” she decided uncertainly. She reached up and poked a finger between his brows. “The line is gone from there and I think I saw you smile a bit ago.”
“Don’t be silly, Blossom,” he chided. “I smile all the time.”
“No, Francis,” she said as she walked away, “you don’t.”
Chapter 18
Lots were drawn and Francis’ brother, Tam, was ‘it’ first. After being blind-folded, the other players scattered as quickly and quietly around the room as they could. Tam was spun around and sent on his way. Away he went, this way and that, coming first across the husband of one of Abby’s sisters, whom he was unable to identify by touch, and he moved on, coming next to Moira. He identified her with, Eve thought, more ‘touching’ than was needed before he announced her name and claimed his forfeit in a kiss much more enthusiastic than the game warranted, gaining hoots and whistles from around the room.
The first round set the tone for the remainder of the game. Abby found her husband with unerring accuracy on her turn, claiming a kiss that had Eve almost blushing. Fiona, who lived with Richard and Abby for most of the year, applauded them without a hint of embarrassment. James found Abby’s sister whom he had been flirting with earlier. Jack caught Fiona with a kiss that brought frowns to eight male faces in the room but a pleased blush to Fiona’s.
Surprisingly, the gentlemen were never able to identify other men if they found them first!
After being caught and identified by another of Francis’ brothers, Ian, Eve gracefully gave up a light kiss to the young man and it was then her turn to take the blindfold. It was tied tightly and she was turned about as the others rearranged themselves around the room. She reached out blindly before her, uncertain which way to go. Eve rotated left then right, hearing the giggles of the ladies as she took a step first in one direction, then another. A few steps and a turn to left brought her hand in contact with a male chest. Tall, fairly solid, nicely turned out tie… she had no idea. She wrinkled her brow. “Sean?”
“No,” she was turned around, back into her search. Two more times she came across men whom she was unable to identify. “Ian? James?” she asked, and was rewarded with laughter all around. “It seems that I am not very good at this!”
“One more try, Eve!” she heard Moira call from across the room. Eve turned in that direction and straight into a solid male chest. It didn’t take more than a heartbeat for her to know whom it belonged to. Francis. Funny that she would know him so quickly.
Eve flushed and took a step back. “Name him!” Moira taunted her, knowingly. “You have to guess!”
“It’s…” Eve groped for a name to give credence to a lie that would take her away from him.
“No lying,” he whispered huskily, reading her mind.
Defeated, she hung her head. “It’s Francis.” She pulled off the blindfold and stared up at him.
“Forfeit!” Fiona cried excitedly, for apparently this was her favorite part of the game.
“Forfeit!” others agreed.
Anticipation crackled through the air like lightening, raising the fine hairs on the back of Eve’s neck.
“Forfeit,” Francis whispered, as he lowered his lips to hers.
Chapter 19
Eve snuck down early the next morning to the stables hoping for – no, needing! – some time alone after humiliating herself the night before. Blind Man’s Bluff was definitely being stricken from the list of games she was willing to play, especially when Francis MacKintosh was in the room.
But that kiss!
His lips had been firm, but soft enough to mold to hers as they met. Her gasp of surprise had allowed the kiss to go deeper. He had caught first one lip, then the other moving back and forth before settling in the middle for a long drowning kiss. His han
d had caught the small of her back and held her firmly in place as his mouth played on hers. But she had needed no encouragement to stay. She had, in fact, flung her arms around his neck and pulled him closer for more!
When the kiss had finally ended, embarrassment had suffused Eve and it was all she could do to keep from fleeing the room in shame. Abby had insisted that the kiss had only lasted a few seconds, no longer than many of the others, but to Eve it had felt like an eternity. The tightness of her corset had almost brought her to a faint after it!
One kiss and all the promises to behave, all the good intentions, had fled.
But his kisses! Eve rubbed her lips as the groom, Andy, saddled her horse. Amazing! If she had ever thought their first kiss years ago had been amplified in her memory over time, she would have been wrong. If anything it was now more powerful. Consuming. Soulful. It brought want with it. Need. She admitted it. Desire.
She was roused from her daydream as the groom led her mount, Angel, from the stable. He was antsy from not being ridden for the past few days and pranced nervously against the reins. Eve approached him with a few cubes of sugar she had brought with her and stroked his forelock as he took the treat.
“He’s a mite wound up today, m’lady,” Andy commented. “Might take him a bit to settle in.”
“That’s alright, Andy,” Eve assured the boy. “I think we could both use a good run today.” She accepted the groom’s help into the side saddle and took several moments arranging her knee in the pommel and settling the skirts of her riding habit properly over her exposed ankles, while he held the reins for her.
“Would you like me to ride along with you, m’lady?” the groom asked, after she had settled herself and taken control of the horse.
“No need, Andy,” came a deep voice from behind her. “I will accompany Lady Shaftesbury out today.”
“Aye, m’lord.” The groom trotted away.
Ignoring the little shudder of pleasure that passed through her at the mere sound of his voice, Eve turned to see Francis atop a sleek gelding. The view was so spectacular that for a moment all thought fled her mind and she forgot even how to take a breath. His windblown dark hair shone under the morning sun. Hatless, and coatless as well, he had obviously just returned from his own ride. Sweat glimmered at his throat, down the V of his open shirt collar. Eve’s eyes followed the trail of damp skin, swallowing deeply. “I don’t want to be a bother, my lord,” she protested weakly. “I can see you’ve already had a turn about this morning.”
“No bother at all,” he insisted, and turned away, expecting her to follow. The stable was located behind the old castle where most of what was the bailey three hundred years before had long ago crumbled to a large rectangle of fallen walls. He led her from the bailey east across the lawns then along a small trail that led through a copse of trees toward the firth. “In truth,” he continued as she came alongside when the path widened, “I needed some extra exercise this morning. Didn’t sleep well, you know.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Did you sleep well?”
Eve considered for a long moment whether to lie to him, but simply admitted, “No.”
“That bears some thinking about, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’ve thought about it all I care to for the moment.” Her answer was a bit snippy but she was in no mood to go into their problems at the moment. She was already confused by the temptation Francis represented, by the strange lure he cast to leave the trappings of decorum aside and bewildered by her willingness to do so. She had wanted time alone to consider these things but that would not happen this morning. “Can we talk about something else, please?” She pointed up ahead of them to a circular building hidden in the trees that bordered the rocky coastline on the Firth of Forth and the beach beyond. “What is that building?” she asked, as they rode along.
“The old dovecote,” he answered, allowing her to guide their conversation. “And up ahead is what remains of the old battlements.” He gestured to the remains of the low stone wall that once ran up the coastline. As they came out of the tree cover, Francis pointed farther ahead indicating, the bowling green, and back up toward the castle. “As you can see, the old lass has lost some of her former luster. It’s hard to keep the old castles up and running. The castle fell into disrepair a century past. Restoration takes time.”
“I think you’ve done a wonderful job,” Eve insisted truthfully. “The interior is lovely and you’ve done well bringing in some modern conveniences.”
“Still, my home at Glen Cairn is much more comfortable. More a manor than a castle and far away from anyone else.” He led the way across the rocky outcroppings leading to the beach. “With the hamlets of Dysart to the north and Kirkcaldy to the south growing and creeping closer to the castle, Raven’s Craig will be lost to the towns soon. If I did not own all that land, they would probably build right up to the front door. Perhaps one day they will.”
“Luckily you have the bridge and moat to keep them out,” she teased lightly. She followed him out onto the beach where the breeze picked up and toyed with her lace jabot, drawing his attention.
“Have I mentioned that you look lovely this morning?” She did, indeed. Her velvet riding habit’s long skirt and short tailored jacket were black, offset by the white lace jabot of her blouse and lace at the cuffs with a peacock blue vest under the jacket. Her small black top hat had a band of blue ribbon that just matched her vest, a trio of short peacock feathers accenting the black lace veil tucked around the brim. He felt the now familiar rush of lust she invoked in him and ruthlessly tamped it back down. It would do nothing but alienate Eve if he were to continue to pressure her and seduce her, though he often felt it was all beyond his control when he was with her.
He was astounded again by their mutual attraction. Glenrothes had been certain the disastrous conclusion to his God-forsaken marriage had killed any desire to please or court another lady. His marriage had started out well enough, he supposed. As a gauche eighteen-year-old lad, he had been quite dazzled by Vanessa Fane’s dark, seductive beauty. She had been a flirtatious minx, truth be told, but it hadn’t taken long to see that her flirtation and seduction skills were not to be limited to her husband. As the years had gone on, Francis had spent more time wallowing in humiliation and anger than any carefree lad should.
Vanessa had made a cuckold of him to the whole of Scotland, publically and brazenly, while other women tried to comfort him with their effusive assurance that the Countess of Glenrothes must be mad not to want him. He had spent years making certain that it was commonly known that his marital woes had nothing to do with his proficiency in the bedchamber. She had been gone for almost two years when he had met Eve. He had almost begun feeling like a bachelor once again without his wife’s presence. She had returned a year later with her Spanish lover and had set to living publically with him, making a laughingstock of the MacKintosh name before again fleeing with yet another lover.
There had never been a duel or fight where Francis had attempted to defend his wife’s honor, for he knew she had none. By the time he had been able to secure his divorce, Glenrothes had become a stern, bitter man. He knew this about himself. Had accepted it, sure that he would remain alone and embittered for the rest of his days.
Was it any wonder he reveled in the feelings Eve roused in him? So easily she revived a part of him he thought long-dead and buried. She reminded him that life could be filled with humor, exhilaration and anticipation for the future. Francis wanted nothing more than to embrace it all with both hands and never let it go. To run away from the man he had become… and didn’t really like overmuch.
“Thank you,” she responded finally with a blush of pleasure for his appreciative gaze. “You look quite dashing this morning as well.”
“Tha –”
“Despite your lack of proper riding attire,” she added stifling a small grin at his look of affront. “Your mount is quite a nice piece of horseflesh as well.” The thoro
ughbred gelding was a lovely chestnut with long legs and thick chest.
“As is yours.” Francis looked over the black mount with its powerful body, long mane, tail and fetlocks that all nearly brushed the ground. “Frisian, is it not?” She nodded. “He’s a beauty.”
Eve patted Angel’s neck proudly. “Yes he is. Aren’t you a beauty?” she crooned to the horse who threw his head back as if nodding in agreement. “My father gave him to me many years ago. My mother fairly swooned to see me atop such a beast. Ladies should have a proper mare to ride, she thought, but Da knew me better than that. Angel is my best boy, aren’t you?”
The horse threw his head again, gaining a laugh from Francis. “Angel, is it? Looks more like the devil to me.”
“Well, he’s as sweet as an angel with me,” she insisted proudly.
“Is he a runner?”
“Oh he’s a good runner, knows he looks magnificent when he does, to be sure,” she laughed. “But he’d never beat yours in a race. Yours looks like he was built for speed.”
“Aye, he was…ran Ascot a few years back.” Francis went on to tell how the horse had fallen during a race several years before, sustaining injury that had almost had him put down, but Francis had insisted that he could make a full recovery.
“Has he?”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” With a kick of his heels, Francis spurred his mount into action, leaving Eve momentarily in the dust. The next second, she tapped Angel with her quirt and they were off in pursuit up the sandy beaches of the firth. As they neared the Dysart harbor about a half mile up the beach, however, the terrain became too rough and Francis pulled into a walk as Eve came along side. Her cheeks were flushed from excitement and her eyes bright in the morning sun. He had never enjoyed a sight more.
Questions for a Highlander Page 35
