by Dawn Brower
Soon her Aunt Rhona and cousins, Fiona, Emilia, and Ainsley, were hustling in from varied activities to greet them.
“You’re finally here,” Fiona beamed grabbing her hands and pulling her arms out to her sides to assess how she looked. “You don’t look too damaged by those Sassenach.” Funny, early this morning she’d been accused of being a Sassenach, though Ewan McDougal had had the decency to just call her English.
“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Ainsley, the youngest sister asked. She was always stirring up trouble in a way Clarissa loved. Except for when Ainsley was asking pointed questions about the most humiliating moment of Clarissa’s life.
“Of course she isn’t,” Emilia gave her a wink. “Not until she’s ready.” She was the quietest of the three and often the most sensible. In this moment, Clarissa loved her for it.
Happiness washed through her as all four of her cousins hugged her at once. Then she reached back and took Agnes’s hand. “This is my other cousin, Agnes. You’re going to adore her.” And she pulled Agnes into the embrace.
“How darling,” Aunt Judith gushed behind them. “Haggis, lovely to see you again.”
“Aye, ye too, Judith. It’s been a long time.” He walked over to embrace her. Aunt Judith’s face pinched in disapproval but Uncle Haggis paid it no mind. Clarissa tried to hide her own smile. She adored her Scottish family’s more casual use of affection. Always had. She’d often wondered how her mother had survived a marriage with a stiff English lord. But her mother was affectionate enough for both of them, she supposed.
“How is my sister?” Uncle Haggis boomed, pulling Clarissa away from her cousins into his own embrace.
Their affection was like a balm, soothing away her heart’s aches. His barrel chest a safe haven as she hugged him back. It was as though some of the pieces of her heart fit back together. “She is well, sorry she couldn’t join us.”
“Taking care of your father, I suppose.” Uncle Haggis’s voice held a note of disapproval. It mirrored Clarissa’s own feeling, but that was absurd. He was her father, after all.
Aunt Rhona clucked her tongue. “Let me hug the child.” She pushed past Uncle Haggis. “And don’t you start in on her father already.
“It’s a fine mess he’s landed her in, don’t think I don’t know it.”
“Uncle Haggis, could we not speak of it, please? I’m…” She paused, taking a breath, “I’m not ready.”
“Fine,” he bellowed again. “Get yourself settled and fed and then we’ll celebrate tonight before the arrival of the rest of our guests.”
“Guests? What guests?” she asked, a sort of tingling starting in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to see anyone other than her family. That she was sure of.
“Fiona has a suitor.” Ainsley gave an impish grin. “An Earl from Dumfries. He was in the English army and got a title because of his bravery.” The younger girl danced a jig. “Doesn’t it sound romantic?”
Clarissa’s stomach nearly dropped. She was going to watch her cousin be courted? Of course, Fiona was at the age, just like herself, but she’d hoped to see no men, other than Uncle Haggis, on this trip. Perhaps forever.
Fiona scrunched up her face. “What is romantic about war? Don’t be ridiculous.”
Ainsley only danced faster. “She’s met him before and they didn’t get on very well—”
“We were children.” Fiona’s hands shot to her hips, bright red patches forming on her cheeks.
“When...when does he arrive?” She hid her hands in the folds of her skirt to hide the fists that had formed.
“Tomorrow, if the weather held on the journey,” Emilia responded quietly. Always demure her tone was soothing. But her eyes studied Clarissa intently. Clarissa tried to relax the lines of her face.
Giving them a weak smile, she said, “My trunks must have been brought up. My dress got atrociously muddy, I’ll just see to it.”
She hurried up the stairs but not before she heard Ainsely say, “Poor thing.”
Agnes agreed. “It really is terrible.”
They weren’t wrong. Being humiliated in front of all of society by a known rake truly was awful.
Chapter 3
The next morning Clarissa stood in a sitting room, just off the main entry, dressed in her finest wool gown, awaiting the arrival of the Earl from Dumfries. It wasn’t that she cared to impress, it was required of the occasion. She hadn’t asked anything else about him and her cousins hadn’t offered any more detail. Thankfully. So she sat silently waiting for the exact type of event she had been hoping to avoid coming to Scotland—socializing with eligible men.
She wasn’t the only one who stoically waited. Normally, Fiona was the fearless leader of the group. Not only did she love adventure but her favorite pastime was pranks of any kind. She drove Clarissa mad at times, but she loved her like a sister. Her eldest cousin was unusually quiet today, so Ainsley took advantage of the silence to regale them with tales of runaway sheep and handsome boys from the village who saved them. At fifteen, Ainsley had discovered the virtues of the male species.
Clarissa remained silent, though a piece of her desperately wanted to warn the girl about the heartache men almost always brought. Especially the handsome ones.
Two figures appeared down the long drive and Fiona shot to her feet, her skin growing paler under her freckles. “I don’t want to do this,” she mumbled.
Clarissa reached out her hand and Fiona took it. Uncle Haggis’s voice boomed from the hall. “The gaggle of women currently in the sitting room needs to join me on the front steps.”
Fiona and Clarissa were last to leave the sanctuary of the sitting room. Her aunts had followed Uncle Haggis out onto the drive. Still holding hands, she and Fiona stepped onto the wide stone steps. Uncle Haggis gestured for them to move so that they all stood in a line of greeting.
Taking a deep breath, Clarissa closed her eyes. She needn’t be nervous, it wasn’t her fate that was in question now, but her heart ached for her cousin. Meeting a man whom she might spend the rest of her life with. It was almost absurd, really.
When her eyes fluttered open, she looked first at Fiona, whose skin had turned a putrid shade of white, then to the riders.
Green eyes penetrated into her from atop his horse. Ewan McDougal. His hair was still devilishly long, but his face was now clean-shaven. Her stomach flipped in the most curious sensation, which she told herself was dread.
Her eyes flicked to his companion. He must be the earl. No wonder he hadn’t gotten down from his horse to help. Now she would be stuck in this castle with those broad shoulders and rakish hips and… She forced herself to stop. She disliked everything about this man.
She’d have to warn Fiona about the type of rake her earl kept company with.
Stopping just short of the steps, they handed off their reins to a groom. “It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Uncle Haggis called.
“And you as well.” Ewan gave a warm grin. The kind that made her insides twist again. “This is Captain Kieran McKenna, Laird of McKenna.”
Clarissa scrunched her face in confusion; he hadn’t said that Laird McKenna was an earl? How curious because…
“Lord Dumfries, you remember my daughter, Miss Fiona McDougal, Maid of Ravenscraig.”
Her confusion vanished in a haze of anger. He was the earl, though he hadn’t introduced himself as Lord Dumfries. Instead, he’d given his common name. Probably misleading her for nefarious reasons. The same ones that had caused him to stare at her so intently and touch her in such a familiar way. All the while he was travelling to court her cousin. Ewan McDougal was a first-rate lout.
Ewan watched her face turn several shades of pink as her uncertainty disappeared and open hostility took its place.
It had also taken him by surprise to find the little English pixie he’d spent the night dreaming about here at Ravenscraig Castle. Haggis’ sister had married some English lord. She was likely the product of that union.
> But try as he might, he could not ascertain what he might have done or said to offend her so because she looked near livid.
He knew why he disliked her. English and haughty, with her nose currently in the air, she was nothing like the Scottish lass he hoped to marry.
“My Lord,” Fiona dipped into a bow and his eyes flitted over to the woman to whom he should be paying attention. She was exactly what he’d been telling himself he wanted and the lass looked just as he remembered her. Flying red hair blowing in the ocean breeze, despite obvious attempts to tame it, topped her freckled face. She was lovely and there was a kindness about her features that was pleasing to a man’s soul. Ewan should welcome her into his home and his life, but as he bowed, his gaze was drawn to Clarissa, sparkling in the morning sun next to her. His insides tightened dangerously.
In a beautiful pale pink wool gown, he could see her perfect hourglass shape, petite yet curvy in all the right places. Her glossy hair even brighter and her face somehow more vulnerable in her indignation at his identity.
Haggis McDougal continued the introductions. When he reached Lady Clarissa, she held up her hand. “We’ve met.” Her reply was short, dripping with open disdain.
“Did ye now?” Haggis’s bushy eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Where would that be?”
Ewan cleared his throat. “Their carriage was in need of repair on the road to Kirkcaldy. I stopped to aid them.”
Ewan would have thought that Haggis’s eyebrows couldn’t rise any higher but then one of them did. It scanned Clarissa’s rigid face and then swung back to Ewan. “Ye fixed their carriage?”
“Yes,” Ewan shrugged as he spoke, his hands coming up. She clearly didn’t like him, although he could not understand why. He found her damn interesting, that is to say, he would have found her to be interesting if she weren’t English.
Ushering everyone inside, Haggis led them to another drawing room. Ewan looked back to see Clarissa and Fiona clasping hands as they walked. He closed his eyes for a second. Somehow that seemed to be an omen of bad luck to come. While he hadn’t done a thing to either of them, he had the suspicion they were conspiring against him. He’d likely made this trip for nothing.
Once again he could blame the blasted English.
Taking a breath, Ewan tried to focus. Entering the drawing room, everyone began taking seats and Clarissa and Fiona sat together, leaving no room for anyone else.
He chose a seat across from them both, attempting to focus on Fiona. He’d ask her a question. Women liked that. Though admittedly, his skills in wooing women had dwindled significantly in the past ten years. “How have ye fared?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Since last I saw you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose.” He sensed trouble brewing. He should have practiced before arriving. Spending all his time with soldiers, he’d forgotten how to talk with fair maids.
“Well, good, poor, happy, sad….it has been nearly half me life since I saw ye last.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.
Clarissa hid a smile behind her gloved hand, clearly celebrating her cousin’s victory. He clenched his jaw. They were in league against him. Lady Clarissa was likely at the heart of it.
“And you, Lord Dumfries?” A teasing smile played on Fiona’s lips. It was the same one she wore when she’d put frogs in his bed when she’d visited as a child. He knew to be wary of that smile.
“Well,” he cleared his throat. “Of the ten years since we met, I spent eight of them in service to the British Armed forces and the last two at war in India. So I have had less, well and happy and a lot more poor and sad.”
The smile disappeared, embarrassment creasing her brow. “Of course, Lord Dumfries. Forgive my inconsiderate question.”
He gave a terse nod, but already he felt like a heel for saying such things. This was going all wrong.
Ainsley bounced in her seat, her excitement palpable. “What was it like, being on the battlefield?”
Kieran spared him answering, thank the saints. “Mostly wet and cold when it wasn’t scorching hot. Dreadful business.”
Smartly, Kieran had left out, terrifying and maddeningly grotesque. Kieran had been correct yesterday. Ewan needed his friend here.
Agnes gave him a curious look. “Is that why you didn’t help us with our wheel? You don’t like being wet anymore?”
Ewan bit back the smile at Kieran’s red cheeks. His friend’s normally strong jaw tucked into his chest in embarrassment. Ewan wasn’t the only one floundering now. There was nothing like a pretty little miss to make a man remember what was important in life.
“Agnes,” her mother chastised from the other side of the room.
But Agnes turned to Ewan, beaming at him. “Thank you again, my Lord, for your help.”
Ewan gave a nod of acceptance, “Ye’re welcome.” He returned her smile, glad to have at least one female ally. His shoulders relaxed by some small measure.
Two servants entered carrying trays of tea and cakes. Kieran jumped up gleefully. How that man stayed so trim, he had no idea. He nearly sighed with relief, eating meant a break from this conversation.
As tea was poured, he found himself glancing at Clarissa once again. She caught him staring and he nearly cursed allowed. He was going to make a fool of himself even more than he already had. He’d have to ask her something now. “Lady Clarissa,” he cleared his throat, “what brings you to Scotland?” He needed a reminder that she was English. He hated the English. They talked of a unified country but mostly they used the Scots and their resources for English gain. He was here for a Scottish bride, not another English trouncing.
A moment of horror, then anger, followed by shame, crossed her terribly expressive face. Every emotion played out on her features. “I…uh…I wanted to visit my family.” She answered quietly, all the fire gone from her voice. He’d clearly struck a chord because she’d been nothing but haughty since they’d met.
What caused her so much distress? “I understand that. I missed me land and family more than I can say while I was gone.”
She gave a nod and relief clearly made her relax. What didn’t she want to discuss?
Kieran swallowed a giant bite of cake. “I thought everyone who was anyone in England went to London for the season?”
And just like that she tensed again. Every muscle tightened and her face pinched as though she was in pain as she struggled to formulate an answer. “I…that is to say…I was…I…”
Curiosity and sympathy warred within him as he watched her struggle. He couldn’t fathom why he cared, but he couldn’t leave her dangling either. Just like yesterday with the carriage, he couldn’t abandon her to try to fix this on her own. “We were in London at this time last year on our return trip from India. ‘Tis an amazing time of year to be in that city, if ye like that sort of thing.” He gave her a pleasant smile. “Glittering gowns and balls till dawn.” Then he shrugged. “I found it a wee bit exhausting.”
Agnes and Ainsley both leaned forward in their excitement at his words but Clarissa’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I didn’t find that it suited me all that much either.” Her face was pale but her eyes grateful.
“I understand,” he answered as kindly as he could. “I prefer the quiet of my home.” His tongue itched to ask her more. Why she didn’t want to be in London. She was a mystery he was so tempted to unravel. Why did she seem so immune to his charms? Why didn’t she like London?
She gave him a curious look as though she didn’t quite believe him.
Fiona cleared her throat. Her hand reaching for her cousin’s once again in an almost protective gesture. Then she turned to him, giving him a bright smile. “You went overland for this trip rather than by sea. Why lengthen the journey?”
He had the distinct impression Fiona was changing the subject on purpose. She was also protecting Clarissa, but why? “Aye. I love the sea, but spring in Scotland is a sight my eyes missed.”
“We should go riding tomorrow,” Emilia suggested, speaking
for the first time. “We can ride inland toward the loch of Kirkcaldy.”
Several younger members of the party nodded their agreement and he smiled to himself. No one beat a Scot on a horse. He was sure this was Fiona’s place to shine. Because he wanted a Scot bride, not a prickly Sassenach with big grey blue eyes that cried out to him for comfort.
Tomorrow would be the day he put Lady Clarissa out of his mind and focused on a proper Scottish lass.
Chapter 4
Clarissa was not going riding. She sat in the breakfast salon assessing her four cousins. Uncle Haggis had his paper up, ignoring the conversation. Her aunts sipped their tea.
“First of all, I don’t like it all that much. Second, I don’t want to spend time socializing, except of course with the four of you, and third—”
Ainsley cut her words off. “But the four of us will all be there and you’ll be here by yourself.”
“I am truly fine with that. Alone time is what I need—”
“You need a distraction,” Emilia nodded. “The less you think, the less you’ll remember.”
“Besides,” Fiona added. “I’ve the perfect horse for a novice rider.”
Clarissa’s eyes narrowed. She loved Fiona but her cousin could be a real menace if she scented an opportunity to play a trick. There was nothing her cousin loved better.
“Please, Clarissa? I don’t want to go without you,” Agnes begged from her right.
The last plea was her undoing. She couldn’t deny Agnes anything. “Very well,” she sighed. “But no tricks with the horse, Fiona.”
Fiona gave her a feline grin and Clarissa cringed. She was going to regret her decision. She was about to give Fiona another warning when Ewan and Kieran came striding into the breakfast room. Her words died on her tongue as Ewan’s green eyes captured hers and that wave of sickening butterflies filled her stomach.
He was altogether too disconcerting. Here to court her cousin, his eyes strayed to her far too often. Though she had to admit that he’d saved her during their discussion at tea yesterday and on the roadside. While he had some gentlemanly tendencies, it didn’t make him less a rake. He was obvious in interest of her even while being a potential bridegroom to Fiona. After what had happened to her, she had no use for a man like that.
