Sinful Scottish Laird--A Historical Romance Novel

by Julia London

No one else stood. It surprised her, and she hesitated a moment, waiting for the gentlemen to rise, as they ought to have done in deference to her. As gentlemen across London did at the mere suggestion she might rise. Arrandale seemed amused by her look of astonishment. Her uncle didn’t notice her at all. Was there no one in the Highlands with a proper set of manners?

  With a slight roll of her eyes, Daisy quit the dining room and moved down the hall toward the kitchen. As she neared the kitchen, she could hear the banging of pots and the slosh of water as Mrs. Green and her girl cleaned up. She stopped a few feet from the kitchen entrance at the door of the larder and took a candle from the sconce on the wall. She heard someone coming down the hall, and assumed at first it was Rowley, whose years of training would not allow his lady to fetch wine herself. But that was not the footfall of Rowley.

  Daisy held the candle aloft and peered into the shadows. She couldn’t make anything out and lifted her candle higher. Then she sighed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you, aye?” Arrandale said. “Your uncle had a wee bit of apoplexy for want of a cheroot. I promised I’d return with the tobacco with the speed of an angel, lest he perish before us.” He smiled.

  Daisy must have had more wine than she realized, because she was thinking how his eyes seemed almost gray in the light of a single candle.

  “What, then?” he asked, his brows dipping.

  “Pardon?”

  “Why do you look at me in that manner?”

  A warm blush crept into her cheeks. “Ah...” She gathered herself. “The cheroots are here. Would you mind?” she asked, and held out the candle for him to take. She opened the larder door, then retrieved her candle from him. “I’ll be only a moment.” And with that she disappeared down the short flight of stairs into the storeroom.

  Arrandale didn’t remain behind to wait like an obedient puppy. She heard him and turned to see his boots. Then his trews. Then the rest of him, ducking down beneath the slant of ceiling before reaching the floor. The larder was scarcely large enough for two people, and he stood awfully close to her as he looked around at the food they’d stored.

  “Now what are you doing?” she asked with more exasperation than she felt. “There’s not enough room—”

  “I couldna bear another long-winded tale.” He smiled conspiratorially, and when he did, it seemed as if the entire larder was illuminated with it. Daisy felt illuminated with it. Oh, but that was a beautiful smile, a smile that could tempt Daisy to do any number of things she really ought not to do.

  “You’re doing it again,” he said, shifting closer to her.

  “Doing what, pray?”

  His attention moved to her mouth. “Looking at me as if I’m a piece of cake that you’d very much like to eat.”

  He’d seen through her completely, and Daisy didn’t care. “Still flattering yourself, are you?” His lips were so...lush. She imagined the touch of them—wondered if they would be firm or soft on her lips. Firm or soft on her skin? On her thighs? On her breast? She hid a small shiver. “You accuse me of trifling with you, and yet you are the one following me into the larder to seduce me.”

  “Hmm,” he said contemplatively and shifted so close to her that Daisy had to move backward so that she was standing with her back against the shelving. “You donna know me, Lady Chatwick, but if you did, you would know that if I meant to seduce you...” He paused, allowed his gaze to waft over her and down, to her décolletage. “You would have no question of it.”

  Daisy ardently wanted to know how this man would seduce her. “You mistake me for a woman with no knowledge of the world, sir, but I know a notorious bachelor when I’ve met him. I know how he seduces.”

  He grinned. “Notorious, am I?” He braced his hand against the shelf at her head, and Daisy’s heart began to race as he wolfishly devoured her with his eyes. “Aye, you’re right, I am. I’m no gentleman, leannan, and I’ve a very strong desire at the moment to show you what has made me notorious.”

  She had an equally strong desire to see it. Daisy couldn’t help herself; she reached up and brushed a tress of hair that had fallen over his eye. “Do you mean to show me now?” she asked and lifted her face slightly, so that there was no question of the invitation to kiss her. Show me! Show me, Arrandale. Show me before it melts away. Blood rushed in her veins, pooling heavy in her groin. Maybe she’d drunk too much of the wine, but she’d like it very much if he lifted her skirts and slid into her now, pumping his body into hers, taking her like a night’s fevered dream. She could all but feel his hands on her skin, the warmth of his body against hers. She could all but taste those succulent lips and smell the scent of his skin.

  Arrandale shifted closer, his hand sliding into the shelf near her head. He was so close now, his lips a mere breadth from hers, and Daisy’s blood rushed harder, making it difficult to breathe.

  “Do you think every man you meet lusts after you, Lady Chatwick?” he asked in a rough whisper.

  “Most,” she admitted.

  One of his dark brows floated above the other. “You are so full of conceit it’s a wonder you donna explode, aye?”

  It was a wonder she’d not exploded, but not because of her conceit. Because every nerve, every muscle pulsed with want. “Shall I pretend it’s not true? Shall I pretend to be an innocent? Would that please you?”

  He laughed softly, the sound of it rich and silky, caressing her from head to toe. Kiss me. Just kiss me.

  “On the contrary,” he murmured. “I’d be disappointed if you pretended to be anything but who you are.”

  Daisy sucked in a breath to steady herself. He was going to kiss her, and every bit of her shimmered in anticipation. She’d gladly follow him down any path he led her. Waiting for it, she closed her eyes.

  She felt him shift closer, and now she felt the fabric of his coat against her bosom. She parted her lips...

  “But even a woman who is often lusted after ought to have a care for whom she seduces. Men are vile creatures and will take advantage.”

  What? Daisy opened her eyes. Arrandale smirked with triumph. He faded back from her and held up the box of cheroots. “I believe this is what your uncle wants, is it no’?”

  She gaped at him. The dirty, rotten bounder! He’d baited her, and she, like a green little debutante, had taken it. “That was badly done,” she said darkly.

  Arrandale chuckled. “Who was it, then, who said she would trifle with whomever she pleased, and if I was offended, I should stay away?”

  “And who was it who said he had no intention of engaging me in a flirtation?” she shot back.

  “Lass, you play with fire—”

  Daisy didn’t allow him to finish. She caught his lapels and jerked him forward at the same moment she rose up on her toes and kissed him. She planted her lips on his, and she felt the shock of her behavior and the softness of his lips reverberate down to her toes. Soft. In spite of his strength, his lips were soft.

  Arrandale did not resist her, oh no—his hand was on her breast, his arm around her waist, pulling her into his body, pressing her backward as he kissed her. Whatever Daisy’s intention had been, it was swallowed and forgotten in the wake of his ferocious response. She opened her mouth to his, felt his tongue slide in between her teeth. He cupped her face, his thumb at the corner of her mouth as his tongue tangled with hers.

  Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm as he pressed a length of hardness against her. A delicious and salacious image of her legs open as he slid that hardness into her, her breasts exposed and straining for him, filled her mind’s eye. She moved against him, arching into him, sliding her pelvis against his hip. It was a wild kiss, full of unacceptable pleasure, full of craving and anticipation, full of the sort of thirst that could not be slaked.

  And then, just as suddenly as Daisy had begun it, Arrandale ended it. He le
t go her waist and drew back from her. He picked up the box of cheroots from the shelf where he’d dropped it when Daisy kissed him, and ran his hand over the top of his head as his gaze skated over her, from the top of her head to the tips of her jeweled slippers. He studied her as he swiped his forefinger across his bottom lip. “Was it worth the risk, then?” he asked, his voice deep and rough. He pointed to the open door, to the people, she presumed, that could have found them there in the midst of that torrid kiss.

  Daisy couldn’t think about that—she was still trying to find her breath. Still feeling his lips on hers. She shakily pushed away from the shelving and ran her hands down the sides of her waist. “You tell me.”

  In the dim golden light of a single candle, she saw a glittering in his eyes that she felt very much in herself. Lust and pleasure. Surprise. Fascination.

  “As I said, you play with fire,” he said softly. “You are to be married soon—you risk too much.”

  “I know,” she said simply. There was no argument for her behavior. There was only need. Raw, monstrous need.

  Arrandale moved toward the steps leading up to the hallway. He paused there and glanced back at her. His eyes still gleamed with the spark of that kiss...or rather, Daisy imagined that they did. “If you do that again, I’ll no’ be responsible for my response, aye?”

  He meant that to shock her, to shake some sense into her. But it thrilled her. She looked at this man, this bewitching man, and thought she could very well take flight with all the desire she was feeling for him at the moment. “I understand.”

  He disappeared up the stairs.

  When he’d gone, Daisy leaned back against the shelving and closed her eyes, releasing the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. That man, that man...he stoked such a fire in her! No man had ever affected her so, not even Clive. She luxuriated in the tingling in her body, the memory of his mouth and hands on hers, the feel of his body pressed against her. She ran her hands up her arms trying to re-create that feeling, but it was no use.

  Daisy sighed and opened her eyes. Good God, she had just kissed the Scotsman. Uninvited, she had kissed him like a woman with few morals and a complete disregard for her reputation. She had lost her fool mind. But to answer his question, it had been well worth the risk.

  * * *

  CAILEAN WAS A man of experience, and yet he feared the pleasure of that surprising, stunning kiss was evident in his expression somehow, if not in his trews. For that reason, he delivered the cheroots to the butler, then made his way to the room he’d been given for the night.

  He was lost in thought and sensations he’d not felt in months. Women were such strange creatures, always fluffing their wings and smiling as if they knew a secret.

  He was unsettled by that kiss. It had moved him, had made him want...something. Was that boldly flirtatious, devil-may-care widow likewise unsettled? Was it possible that she wasn’t as dauntless as she fancied herself to be? Could she really be contemplating marriage with one man and kiss him like she just had?

  Cailean was annoyed with her for having kissed him and kicking up the storm that was raging in him. He was annoyed with himself for having succumbed to it so quickly and so completely.

  And yet he knew it was absurd to be vexed. What did any of it matter to him? He was not her keeper. He was not in the hunt. He was not the judge of her character. The woman had a peculiar dilemma and perhaps she was addressing it as well as anyone could in her circumstance. What did he care, then?

  He didn’t care. He wouldn’t care.

  He readied for bed in that meager room with a single, narrow window overlooking the loch, and a brazier for warmth. The bed was too short, and his feet hung off the end of it. The pillow was little more than a square of cloth stuffed with a few goose feathers. Cailean punched it several times, but it was useless.

  He lay on his back, his hands pillowing his head now, staring up in the dark at the bare ceiling. Aye, he was vexed. Nettled. This wasn’t like him—he never felt so out of sorts. It was this blasted bed and pillow, that was what...

  Or perhaps it was simpler than that. Perhaps, having discovered that he was now unpolished in the art of flirting, he realized he’d spent too much time with no other company than a dog and a horse. Cailean had been well-occupied building Arrandale and working with his father. He’d had no time for unpredictable women. And he’d been perfectly content, too, by God.

  Or, had he convinced himself of that? Because it had taken nothing more than a kiss to untether that unfed, untrained beast of desire in him.

  Damn her, but this was her fault. He’d not asked to be kissed, especially not in a way that suggested the lady wanted more, much more from him, and goddammit, he’d wanted to give her more, there in the larder.

  His ill humor, this feeling at sixes and sevens, was her fault.

  But what, exactly, he intended to do about it, Cailean had no idea.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I DON’T APPROVE of Mr. Fergus MacDonald swearing before Ellis,” Belinda said to Daisy the next morning as she helped her dress. “That sort of talk will unduly influence a child and may very well lead to risqué behavior.”

  “Risqué behavior? What sort of swearing?” Daisy asked as Belinda finished lacing her gown.

  “He took the Lord’s name in vain at least twice,” Belinda whispered.

  Daisy didn’t think that would lead to risqué behavior, but she knew when to argue with Belinda, and this was not the time.

  Belinda stood back to admire her handiwork. “There you are, pretty as a painting.”

  “Thank you.” Daisy took a seat at the small vanity to brush her hair.

  “I’m exhausted,” Belinda said and fell onto Daisy’s bed, draping herself across the pillows. “Now that it’s said and done, what do you think of your neighbors?”

  Her neighbors? She could think of only one. She could think only of that kiss. “Unfortunately, I think very few of them can properly be termed neighbors,” Daisy said. “It would appear you were right, dearest,” she said, sighing with defeat. “Our neighbors have sent their prospects for a match, just as you suggested.”

  “None that you’d consider, I should hope,” Belinda said.

  Daisy laughed. “Of course not.”

  “Thank God for it,” Belinda said softly. “I had begun to fear that you might have changed your mind about your best prospect.”

  Daisy glanced at Belinda’s reflection in the mirror. “Pardon?”

  Belinda flushed and averted her gaze. “I saw you speaking to the Scotsman, and I... I fretted that you had forgotten Captain Spivey.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Belinda,” Daisy said and turned about on her bench to face her cousin. “I don’t know if I can be any plainer. My marriage, or lack thereof, is not your worry. You should think of your own prospects and not mine.”

  Belinda laughed. “My prospects? You know very well I could never marry, Daisy, on account of my hips being far too narrow for delivering a child. Mrs. Brendan, God rest her soul, died in childbirth because her hips were too narrow. I’ve explained to you more than once that no gentleman will have me if I cannot bear him a child, and certainly I can’t risk my life for the sake of marriage.”

  Well, it was certainly true that Belinda had explained it more than once. It was just that there were times that Daisy feigned listening to Belinda. She turned back to the looking glass so she could resume brushing her hair.

  “But even if I could bear a child properly, I don’t have an edict from beyond the grave hanging over my head as you do, Daisy. You must marry, and really, dearest, shouldn’t we return to London as soon as possible? We’ve been here for weeks now. Surely the captain has come. You’ve not seen him in years! Won’t you need time for a proper courtship? Mustn’t you reacquaint yourself with him before any talk of a match can
happen?”

  “Belinda—”

  “I bring it up only because of Ellis,” Belinda said quickly. “I would never forgive myself if I did not warn you of squandering his fortune.”

  Daisy didn’t mean to bring the brush down on the vanity as violently as she did, but the ivory handle cracked, and Belinda gasped, sitting up, her eyes wide as she looked at the brush.

  “I will not squander my son’s fortune!” Daisy said sharply. “The arrangement will be made with or without me, and voilà, I will be married! Ellis will keep his fortune, and I will... I will manage somehow. But please, for the love of God, stop accusing me of squandering my son’s inheritance.”

  “Oh, Daisy,” Belinda said sadly. “I didn’t mean to. I know you would never intentionally do such a thing. But I don’t understand why we languish in Scotland. I only wish you’d find a bit more romance in your situation.”

  “Romance? Are you mad? My first marriage was made without the benefit of romance,” she said, biting out the word. “My situation now does not provide for any romance. That is a young girl’s dream, Belinda. It’s not the truth of things.” She picked up the brush to examine it. She’d broken the handle. Now what would she do? It wasn’t as if she could send a footman out to fetch her a new one.

  “But...” Belinda sighed. “Never mind.”

  “Never mind what?” Daisy asked absently as she tried to fit the broken piece onto the brush.

  “It’s none of my affair—”

  “No.”

  “You do still hope to marry Captain Spivey, do you not?”

  “Yes!” Daisy said, terribly exasperated with her cousin. She didn’t want to think of Rob today. She was still thinking of another man’s kiss. Could she not have that one small pleasure? “That’s why we’ve come all this way, remember? The bishop was so eager to make a match that I feared he’d have done it before Rob could reach me. You know this.”

  “Yes, I know. But I saw the way you looked at Arrandale.”

  Daisy sighed. She came to her feet and began to pace. “I have trifled with him, Belinda, that is true. But it has been a harmless flirtation. I am a grown woman and I miss—” She stopped herself before she said too much. I miss intercourse. I miss a man’s hands on me. I miss being desired and wanted in that way. Belinda would not understand these things.