Sinful Scottish Laird--A Historical Romance Novel

by Julia London

  “Daisy...” Robert was suddenly on one knee beside her as she pulled weeds from beneath the wild orchids. He took her hand, brushing the dirt from it. “You shouldn’t do this.”

  “What?”

  “Pull weeds,” he said, grimacing slightly.

  “But I like—”

  “You are a great lady with other responsibilities. You need someone to care for you as you have for your family. Someone upon whom you can lean and look to for advice and guidance.”

  She didn’t feel as if she needed that at all. “You?” she asked softly. She was struck with the memory that she’d tried to lean on him once before and his guidance had been to accept her fate.

  But Robert stroked her face, his gaze admiring. “Is it not obvious?” he asked. “Haven’t I shown you my devotion by making this journey to find you? I’ve always loved you, darling. Always. Scarcely a day passed that I didn’t think of you. I never dreamed I’d have another opportunity, but...” He hesitated.

  “But?”

  He boyishly bit his lip. “I can only hope you feel the same for me, or at least can find some affection for me that remains with you after these many years.”

  “Why haven’t you offered?” she whispered, suddenly desperate to know.

  “Daisy—”

  “Isn’t that why you have come?”

  “Of course it is,” he said flatly.

  “Then why?”

  He sighed heavenward, then met her gaze once more. She could see his affection for her. He was earnest; she could feel it in her heart. “Because I must speak with the bishop first. I have been a captain in the Royal Navy, and my situation is greatly improved...but still, I am not good enough for a woman like you. I have to prove to the bishop that I am worthy of your hand.”

  It was a declaration of esteem, and once Daisy’s heart would have burst with love for him. But her thoughts, so many jumbled questions and doubts, raced. “How do you know about the bishop?” she asked. She hadn’t told him about the bishop. She hadn’t told him how Clive had betrayed her. She’d been too ashamed to admit that her late husband had not trusted her to care for her own son, and the only way he could know it was to have heard the gossip about her.

  Robert blinked. And then his brows dipped. “Lady Beckinsal told me,” he said. “She told me everything.”

  Daisy dropped her gaze to the weeds beneath the wild orchids, still there, stubbornly clinging to that tiny patch of soil. Was that why he’d come to Auchenard? Because Lady Beckinsal had made him aware of a deadline after which she would no longer possess a fortune?

  “So now you see why I am so eager to return to London,” he said, squeezing her hand lightly. “I will waste no time in speaking to the bishop. I hope to tell him that you return my affection.”

  Daisy felt a little as if she’d just taken a blow to her belly—she had no breath. None. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think clearly. She hadn’t told him of the bishop...and neither had he told her that he knew of her unique circumstances. Not until she’d pressed him.

  “You don’t have to answer just now, of course,” he hastily added. “You will at least consider it?”

  Daisy swallowed down the lump in her throat. She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I will consider it.” She was considering it even now. But she didn’t care for the suspicious thoughts rumbling around in her head as she did.

  Robert studied her with some concern. He abruptly leaned forward and kissed her. It was a real kiss, not the chaste and proper sort he’d given her the last day or two. And yet he stopped the moment he began, shyly backing away. “We ought not to allow our emotions to overcome our good judgment,” he said. He leaped to his feet and pulled her up. “Come, darling.”

  But she hadn’t finished her weeding. Daisy looked down at the weeds as Robert put her hand in the crook of his elbow. The weeds were staying. They had rooted here; they were staying.

  He led her out of the garden, and as they emerged onto the path, they were startled by a burst through the lodge door. Ellis was racing toward them. “Mamma!” he cried. “Is Cailean coming to dine?”

  Robert stopped Ellis with a hand to his shoulder. “Hold there, lad. That is not the way you approach a lady.”

  “It’s all right—” Daisy started, but Robert interrupted her.

  “He needs to learn. The boy will never be the man you want him to be if you don’t teach him properly.” He dropped Daisy’s hand, put both hands on Ellis’s shoulders and turned him around, marching him away a few steps, then turning him back around to Daisy. “Now then. Approach your mother with respect. Bow your head. Ask her permission to address her.”

  Ellis looked as confused as Daisy felt. He looked mortified as he took two tentative steps forward, woodenly bowed, then said, “May I speak now?”

  Daisy’s heart ached. She sank down onto her knees before him and took his hands. “Of course, darling. You may always speak to me. You need not ask my permission. Never,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “The laird is not coming to dine, darling. But he came round to invite us to a festival.”

  Ellis gasped. “May we?”

  She smiled. “We’ll speak to Uncle Alfonso about it. Go and find him, will you? Ask him what he thinks.” She kissed his cheek. Ellis darted away, cutting a wide berth around Robert.

  Daisy stood up before Robert could help her. “That wasn’t at all necessary. I have taught him properly,” she said, struggling to control her temper.

  “I have not implied otherwise. But there are some things only a man can teach a boy. I know you’ve done the best you could under the circumstances.”

  Daisy opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head and put up a hand. “I don’t expect you to understand, darling. You must trust me when I tell you that if you want him to be a respected viscount one day, he must possess the proper manners and demeanor. I’m only doing it for his sake.”

  Her son possessed very good manners. And he had the demeanor of a nine-year-old boy, just as he should.

  The bank of dark clouds in Daisy’s thoughts grew thicker.

  “You cannot mean to attend this...festival,” Robert said with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

  “I do,” Daisy said. “For Ellis’s sake, I do.”

  “For God’s sake, Daisy,” Robert said. He pivoted away from her, his hands finding his hips, shaking his head to the heavens. “Will you not heed me? He is a dangerous man. A criminal in the eyes of the Crown. Your...association with him not only tarnishes your reputation, but it is destructive to your son’s future prospects!”

  “I don’t believe it!” Daisy argued. “How can anyone know of the summer he has spent here?”

  “Because people come and go between Scotland and England every day. Because tongues wag. Because all it takes is one mention,” he said, shaking his finger at her, “of the Lady Chatwick at the home of a known smuggler, and talk follows.”

  He was angry with her, brimming with it. There was some truth in what he was saying, she knew—but she had seen her son flourish here in a way she’d never seen. She wanted to give him this. And she couldn’t bring herself to believe that someone would hasten back to London to tell where she’d been.

  “I’ll speak to my uncle,” she assured him, but Robert was not mollified.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he said sternly. “I can’t force my will on you,” he added.

  Daisy thought, Yet.

  “But I am asking you to consider my wishes,” he finished.

  “And I am asking you to consider mine,” she said. “I have been in the man’s company on several occasions. If there are tongues to be wagged, it is too late for it.”

  “That is not—”

  “I beg your pardon, Robert, but I am unwell,” she said. “My head is hurting
so.”

  He pressed his lips together as if he was biting back what he would say to that. “Perhaps you should rest,” he said curtly.

  “Perhaps I should,” she agreed and left him standing on the path, his dark gaze boring through her as she retreated to the lodge and her room.

  She lay down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  Her head hurt, but it was the exhaustion of her emotions that had felled her and caused the tears that welled in her eyes. Robert was the man she thought she’d always wanted, a good man. She didn’t care for the way he’d corrected Ellis, but she was also painfully aware that it could be worse. It could be the edicts of a complete stranger with no regard for her at all. And if that stranger was indifferent to Ellis, or worse, cruel, she couldn’t bear it. She may not care for the way Robert spoke to Ellis, but at least she knew that he cared for her, and surely that devotion would carry over to her son. Wouldn’t it?

  There had been only one man besides her uncle who had shown Ellis even the smallest amount of regard, and that was Cailean. And oh, how Ellis adored him.

  A tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek. Daisy swiped angrily at it. She had only herself to blame for turning an impetuous physical spark with a handsome man into something more than it was or could ever be.

  It was time that she stopped daydreaming. It was time she faced her future. But by God, she was going to allow Ellis the pleasure of that festival before she did.

  Another tear slipped out, and this time Daisy not only swiped at it; she got up, determined to cease all feminine displays of disappointment. She had a son to think of, a future to get on with.

  She moved to her writing desk and opened her diary. She removed Cailean’s handkerchief and touched it to her nose. It didn’t smell of Cailean; it smelled of lavender. She returned it to the book and closed it, then restlessly stood up and moved to look out the window at her garden. It was in full bloom now, brought back to life with a little care, some rotting fish and a lot of rain. She would miss it so.

  With a heavy sigh, she gazed out at the lake and the heavy clouds overhead. There, in the distance, she could see a boat. The first boat she’d seen in days. She watched it glide along until it finally disappeared around the bend in the lake and she could no longer see it. That single, solitary boat reminded her of Cailean. It was like he was gliding away from her, disappearing in the distance, just...drifting away from her, carrying her heart with him.

  She loved him. She knew that she did. It wasn’t the infatuation she’d felt the first time she laid eyes on him, and it was wrong, so wrong, and impossible, but she couldn’t deny that she loved him desperately. She loved the way he treated her, with respect. As an equal. She loved the way he cared for Ellis. She loved everything about him...except that he was a smuggler, and an unrepentant one at that. That, she found maddening.

  * * *

  DAISY AT LAST came out of her room to join the others for supper.

  Robert and Uncle Alfonso were already in the great room, staring out the windows as they sipped from drams of whisky. Robert was talking about the navy, and Uncle Alfonso looked a bit glassy-eyed. The clouds overhead had turned everything quite gray. Even the light of many candles and the hearth could not chase the shadows from the room.

  When Rowley announced supper was served, Robert instantly held out his arm to Daisy, as if it were his place, and not that of her uncle’s, to escort her into the dining room. Her uncle seemed not to notice, remarking on the weather to Belinda.

  As Rowley served the first course, Uncle Alfonso said that Ellis had told him of the festival to be held at Balhaire. “Mr. Munro tells me it’s quite the event,” he said. “Dancing and demonstrations of strength and wares to be sold.”

  “A festival held in a den of smugglers—” Robert snorted “—does not sound like an appropriate event Lord Chatwick should attend.”

  Uncle Alfonso nodded thoughtfully. “There are indeed smugglers in these hills. But good people, too. I think the boy would enjoy it.”

  “I would like to attend,” Belinda said uncertainly, earning a look of surprise from her cousin and her uncle.

  “You would?” Daisy asked.

  “Mr. Munro saw my painting of the Dinwiddie keep,” she said. “It’s a ruin on the hill,” she explained to Robert. “He seems to think it might fetch a good sum.”

  “That settles it, then,” Uncle Alfonso said. “We will attend the festival.”

  Robert looked around, clearly unhappy with the lot of them. “I will not allow Lady Chatwick and her son to go alone,” he said. “I shall attend, as well.”

  It was curious that not one of them exclaimed how happy they were that he would deign to accompany them.

  Uncle Alfonso changed the subject entirely as Rowley served plates of fish and potatoes. “You’ll be quite proud of this meal, I should think, darling,” he said to Daisy as Rowley spooned sauce over the fish. “Ellis caught it. It was a pollack the size of a cat.”

  “Ellis caught it!” Daisy said, delighted.

  “I shudder to think of Ellis on the shoreline with a large fish on the other end of his string,” Belinda said and actually shuddered. “That’s precisely how Master Cavens died, you know.”

  “Oh, Belinda, please don’t mention it,” Daisy said, pressing a hand to her breast.

  “He had a fish on his line that pulled him right into the Thames. They found him a full day later.”

  “This is not the Thames,” Uncle Alfonso said brusquely. “The lake is calm. He would not be pulled away by the waters.”

  “Well, no,” Belinda agreed. “But the danger is present all the same.”

  “That is quite enough,” Robert said and laid down his fork. “Miss Hainsworth, you will kindly cease with your untoward talk at this table. You have a way of putting everyone off their otherwise exceptional meal and I, for one, will not tolerate it.”

  Poor Belinda’s cheeks turned crimson.

  “Rob!” Daisy said, aghast.

  Tears sprang to Belinda’s eyes, and she pushed away from the table before Rowley could reach her, tipping her chair over in her haste. “I beg your pardon,” she said and fled from the room.

  Robert sighed. “She certainly has a sour view of the world.” He picked up his fork to continue with his meal, seemingly unconcerned that he’d just sent Daisy’s cousin fleeing in tears. “You were saying, Mr. Kimberly?”

  Daisy and her uncle exchanged a stunned look. “That’s simply the way she is,” Uncle Alfonso said darkly. “She doesn’t know better.”

  Robert nodded but offered no apology.

  As soon as the meal was done, Uncle Alfonso politely declined the port Robert suggested with the excuse that he had some work to do. Robert escorted Daisy into the great room and seated her on the settee near the hearth with her needlework. Needlework that had gone untouched for weeks now. Robert produced a book and sat down across from her, his legs crossed, and proceeded to read.

  Daisy made several stitches, but she had to remove them. She was exasperated, her work careless as a result. It wasn’t what Robert had said to Belinda—Lord knew they’d all lost patience with her at one time or another—it was his complete disregard for her feelings.

  She lowered her embroidery and stared at him.

  Robert glanced up from his reading. “Is everything all right?”

  “Belinda has no one else in the world but us.”

  “Pardon?” He lowered his book.

  “Belinda has no one else,” Daisy said again. “I know she can be quite difficult, but she is a member of this family, and we accept her as she is.”

  Robert looked confused. “Have I given you reason to think I want differently?”

  “You treated her ill this evening, Robert.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. “I agree I was a bit harsh
. My apologies.” He put the book aside and came to the settee to sit beside her. “My sincerest apologies,” he said, taking her hand. “I vow to do my best not to criticize Cousin Belinda.”

  Was he sincere? Or was he saying what she wanted to hear? “Perhaps you might apologize to her.”

  “The first opportunity, you have my word,” he said. He frowned lightly. “You are cross with me.” He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. “Forgive me, darling. I would never consciously wound you or your family—you know that I wouldn’t.”

  She believed that was true. Or rather, she wanted to believe it was true. He was new to them, new to her life now. Naturally it required accommodations from both of them. And patience—she had to be patient, had to see that this new relationship between her and Robert worked, for the sake of them all.

  Daisy moved her hand to his thigh, and he immediately deepened his kiss, his tongue slipping in between her lips. She moved her hand higher up his leg—

  Robert suddenly lifted his head and snatched her hand from his leg. “Daisy! Have a care!” he snapped.

  “It’s all right,” she tried to assure him. “I was married for many years—”

  “What has that to do with it?” He stood, his cheeks blooming. “That sort of behavior is very unbecoming, madam. You are too immodest!”

  She was too immodest? He’d spoken of marriage this afternoon, but he feared her touch?

  “Look now, I’ve displeased you,” he said irritably and sighed. “I was surprised. Forgive me for speaking so harshly.” He sat down again, took her hand in his. “I love you, Daisy. But I... I forget how much time has passed. You must allow me to grow accustomed to you as you are now.”

  “As I am now,” she repeated. “I am the same as I’ve ever been. Only a bit older and a bit more experienced.” She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. Once again Robert broke away. With a nervous laugh he stood. He was acting like a boy, like a virgin...

  “Robert? Are you...have you never...?”

  He seemed confused at first, but then his face darkened. “I beg your pardon!” he said low. “That is hardly something after which a proper lady should ever inquire.”