by Meara Platt
“I definitely hate you,” she insisted, opening the door.
“Took you long enough,” Dillie muttered. “What were you doing in there?” Then she spotted Ewan standing behind her. No doubt still grinning behind her. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. I’m far too young and innocent. Not that I wish to remain that way, but I haven’t found my dominant baboon male yet.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why were you pounding on the door?”
“Daisy’s having her baby. Come on. We’re needed over there.”
As Dillie left, Lily turned to Ewan, not sure why she wanted another glance at him before she followed her sister out. His smile turned tender. He raised his hand to her cheek and gave it a light caress. “Go on, lass. Don’t keep her waiting.”
She nodded.
Did he like the kiss? He seemed to, but he’d regained his control awfully quickly. Perhaps he’d never lost it.
“Lily,” he said as she turned to walk away, “the answer is yes.”
“I didn’t ask a question.”
“You did, lass. It’s there in the uncertain, blue pools of your eyes. I did like the kiss. Now, for your second question—”
“I haven’t asked it either.”
“The answer is I liked it a lot. It was a damn great kiss.”
She smiled an openhearted smile. “I thought so, too.”
“And to answer your last question, no one else.”
She laughed. “What? No one else can kiss you into raptures as I did?”
“No, lass.” His voice was tender and husky, and his brogue more pronounced as it often was when he was other than calm. “No one else can kiss you into raptures as I did.”
***
Rose and Laurel were already in Daisy’s bedchamber assisting the midwife by the time Lily and her twin arrived. After giving Daisy a hug and a kiss, she and Dillie remained in the background, running whatever errands were requested of them, then quietly returning to the bedchamber. They simply wanted to be close to Daisy, all five sisters together, as though the strength of their love would make everything turn out right.
“Where’s Gabriel? How is he holding up?” Daisy asked, obviously worried about her husband as her contractions continued into the evening.
“He’s pacing downstairs. Graelem’s with him to lend support. So are Mother, Father, and Uncle George. He’ll be fine,” Laurel said, her words more reassuring for the hell she had survived during her first childbirth last year. Her husband, Graelem, had been mad with fear, as had the entire Farthingale clan. Even now, Lily wanted to reach out and hug Laurel, just to be sure she was alive and well, and not a ghostly vision.
When the midwife stepped out of the room during a quiet moment, Rose turned to Lily. “You’ve been distracted all evening. Out with it. What’s on your mind?”
Lily knew she ought to keep silent, for this was Daisy’s moment and nothing should distract them from that. But Farthingales never seemed able to keep quiet on any topic, even ones they knew very little about. It was the family curse. Except for Uncle George, who always knew precisely the right thing to say... or not to say... and at just the right time. But Uncle George wasn’t here to stop her, and she wasn’t used to being this confused. She simply hated the feeling. Hadn’t experienced it since she was a toddler. “Ewan kissed me.”
Even Daisy sat up with a start. “He did?”
Lily winced. “I started it, but he took over rather quickly.”
Rose and Laurel were grinning. Smug, womanly grins. Obviously, they understood what she was talking about. Good. She needed help to sort this out. Daisy broke the smiling silence with a sharp gasp. All eyes turned to her. “Forget it. Just a contraction. Go on, Lily. Tell us more.”
“Tell us everything,” Rose added.
Well, she wasn’t going to do that. Just the confusing details. “He’s very good at kissing. He was quite thorough about it.”
Ugh, her sisters were all grinning at her again. “And how did it feel to you?” Laurel asked.
Amazing. Breathtaking. “Good.”
Laurel persisted. “Just good? Or spectacular-knock-your-stockings-off good?”
Lily felt her face heating. “Yes, the latter choice. Spectacular. Better-get-a-chaperone-into-the-room-fast good. If Dillie hadn’t knocked on the library door just then... well, thank goodness she did.”
The grins now stretched so broadly across her sisters’ faces, one would think they were fillies at a horse auction, waiting to have their teeth inspected by potential bidders. “Oh, Lily! Don’t you realize what this means?”
“If I did, Daisy,” she said, trying not to sound as irritated as she felt, “I wouldn’t be asking all of you.”
Rose reached out and hugged her. “You’re in love.”
Lily shook her head and laughed. “Oh, no. No, no, no. At best I’m infatuated. Interested. Moderately attracted.”
“Love,” Laurel insisted.
She glanced at her twin. “Dillie, please rescue me. I feel outnumbered.”
“What can I do? I’m still young and innocent. But it seems as though our older and wiser sisters know what they’re talking about.”
“They don’t. It isn’t the same at all.” She placed her hands on each side of her waist and stared at her three married sisters in accusation. They were in love with their husbands and wanted the same for her, no doubt. Being in love was likely a wonderful feeling if the other party reciprocated. “Your husbands love you back. Ewan doesn’t love me.”
Rose gave her another quick hug. “Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes. He’s going to marry a beautiful Scottish woman. No pale-haired, weepy-eyed English girls for him.”
Dillie stepped forward. “Might I point out that you are neither pale haired nor weepy eyed. I ought to know. I look like you. And that’s another thing. He never mistakes me for you. Don’t you find that interesting?”
“No,” Lily said. “The Duke of Edgeware never mistakes me for you either. Not ever. And he doesn’t like me in that way... he... oh, crumpets! Dillie, it’s you he’s after!”
Dillie’s face turned the brightest shade of red she’d ever seen on a person. “He isn’t. Don’t be ridiculous, Lily. We’re speaking of you, anyway. Oh, look what you’ve done. Now you’ve got everyone looking at me. Stop it. Concentrate on Lily. She raised the topic. She’s the young innocent who was kissed by the big, bad wolf.”
“He isn’t bad. Well, perhaps bad in a good way,” Lily admitted. “No man has kissed me like that before. Not ever. I think I ought to run some more tests, make certain my response was unique to him.”
Dillie looked at her askance. “More tests? Do you mean that you’re going to kiss other men?”
“Why not? He practically challenged me to it. He said that no one else can kiss me into raptures as he did. Awfully smug of him, I thought. What if he’s wrong?”
Rose, Laurel, and Daisy groaned. “He isn’t wrong,” Rose said. “However, I’m not opposed to your plan. But I’d like to suggest some minor modifications.”
“Such as?”
“Make certain that Ewan is close by when you decide to let another man kiss you.”
“Why?” Lily was trying her best to follow Rose’s logic, but it was difficult. It was also a little humbling to see that her other sisters seemed to grasp the advice so easily.
Rose eyed her with infuriating patience and indulgence. “Because it’s Ewan’s response that matters most, not your response to the clunch you intend to kiss, or that clunch’s response to you. For the record, if you and your hapless clunch happen to consummate that kiss, you’ll hate it. At best you’ll feel indifferent. But it’ll never get to that point because Ewan won’t let it.”
“Are you sure? What if he doesn’t step in to stop us?”
Daisy shook her head. “I will admit, that’s bad. But he will step in. How could he not? You’re wonderful, Lily.”
“You’re perfect,” Rose added.
> “You’re kind and caring,” Laurel chimed in.
Dillie cast her a wicked grin. “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful young woman in all of England.”
Lily would take that comment— spoken by her identical twin—with a grain of salt.
But that’s why she loved her sisters so much. They were blind to her faults, always caring and supportive. They were the best sisters in the world.
“Here now,” the midwife said, stepping back into the room and noticing their smiles. “What’s this? A party?” She nudged Daisy back into proper birthing position. “You concentrate on getting that little tyke out of you. Stop dawdling and start pushing. Your body’s telling me the babe is ready to slip out.”
“How can you tell?” Lily asked, and listened with fascination as the knowledgeable midwife explained it to her in gory, intimate detail. Which was why Lily was closest at hand when not a half hour later, Daisy gave birth to a little girl.
Lily was still marveling about the miracle of life as they all left the room to relate the good news to Daisy’s husband. Gabriel let out a rafter-shaking whoop and took the stairs three at a time to be with his wife and new daughter. Lily, her sisters, parents, and brother-in-law all remained downstairs and toasted the newborn. While their small group laughed and cried and hugged each other, their father opened a bottle of remarkably good champagne and poured everyone a glass. The champagne bubbles tickled Lily’s nose, but it was otherwise delicious and quite easy to drink.
She had three glasses of it.
Which was why she was a little off her stride when Rose’s husband, Julian Emory, burst through the door and announced, “Ewan’s been arrested.”
CHAPTER 11
LILY WAS SO ANGRY she could spit!
“You promised me you wouldn’t do anything foolish!” she exclaimed, finally admitted into the duke’s library well past ten o’clock the following morning and finding Ewan seated at his grandfather’s desk, engrossed in the Carnach ledgers he’d brought down from Scotland as though nothing untoward had happened at White’s last night.
Even Jasper thought better of leaping up to greet her. Instead, the coward scampered out of the room as though his tail were on fire. She heard the crash of another pot and whoosh of soil scattering across the marble floor as Jasper slipped and slid his ungainly way toward the stairs.
Ewan finally glanced up. “How did you get in here? I thought my grandfather banned you from ever stepping foot in his mausoleum again.”
“He has, but I’m not about to let a crusty old man or his hulking footmen stop me from talking to you.”
He rose and came to her side, his eyebrow arched. “So you strong-armed your way through their defenses? Impressive.”
She glowered up at him. “How could you do what you did last night?”
“Easy. I simply raised my fists—”
“You know that isn’t what I meant.”
“I made no promises to you, Lily. Never said I’d play by society’s rules. That was your idea, not mine.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Is this how you make amends with Desmond and Evangeline? By almost killing Desmond?”
“My cousin deserved the beating. I let him off too easy at Madame de Bressard’s. The coward sent his villainous underlings to Tattersalls to hurt you. I wasn’t about to let him get away with that despicable stunt a second time. It was the proper thing to do. I should have taken care of the matter sooner.”
She wanted to insist that he was in the wrong, but couldn’t. She was just as angry over that incident and furious that the Tattersalls authorities had done nothing about finding their attackers. Nor had Ewan’s grandfather chastised Desmond for his untoward behavior. She sighed in partial surrender. “Did you have to do it in the most exclusive gentleman’s establishment in London, in front of the most influential men in England? Couldn’t you have waited until he left his club?”
“You mean ambushed him in a dark alley? It isn’t my style.”
“Yes... no. Uncle George intended to look into the matter. He would have taken care of the insult to me.”
“Insult? The bastard struck you when he couldn’t get to Meggie at the dress shop, and then tried again at the horse auction. He happens to be my cousin, therefore my problem. Do you think I’d let your relatives risk their lives on a Cameron clan matter?”
She wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and throttle him. “You were very lucky last night that—”
“Desmond was the lucky one. I still may kill him.”
“You’ve played into his hands. Now, everyone believes you to be the madman he claims you are.” She glared at the thick-headed Scot, wondering how he was ever going to gain admittance to White’s or any gentleman’s club for that matter. Worse, how was he going to fulfill his father’s wish to reconcile the family? His cousin was doing a very effective job of pushing him away. Ewan was doing all he could to help him.
“Lily, I don’t give a damn.”
“Spoken like a true Cameron. Oh, yes. I’ve read up on your clan history and wasn’t in the least surprised to learn that you’re the most feared fighters among the fierce Scots, the most infuriatingly honorable—”
“Thank ye, lass.”
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment. You lose your estates to the Crown every few centuries and spend the next few centuries trying to gain them back because of your stubborn, twisted sense of honor and your penchant for spilling blood. You go to war and worry about the consequences later, when you’d be better served thinking first... oh, what’s the use? You’ll be fortunate if the Prince Regent lets you off with just a warning.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and planted himself directly in front of her. “Are you quite through blistering me?”
She took a startled step back, suddenly realizing she might have come at him a little too forcefully. He was a laird. A duke’s grandson. A very large and muscular one. The proud leader of a warrior clan. “Oh, Ewan. I’m sorry. I spoke out of concern for your well-being and simply forgot myself.”
“Ye’re forgiven,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m sorry, too. And the Prince Regent did come after me.”
“What?”
“I still have my lands, but I’ve been fined by the Crown.” He returned to the desk and lifted a parchment from it, handing it over to her.
She took the parchment from his hands and read it. “Outrageous! I’ll see what Uncle George can do about reducing it.”
“Ye will no’, lass.”
Oh, his brogue was thick again. “But it’s a fortune!”
“It’s an expense I can afford. I will no’ fight it, nor permit you to interfere—”
“Interfere!”
“Very well, intercede on my behalf. However, ye were right about the Cameron nature. We have an uncanny ability to lose fortunes to the Crown because we fight first and worry about the consequences later. I would no’ be a very good leader if I endangered the well-being of my clan in this dispute with Desmond.”
She held the breath she was about to release. Could it be? A shred of sense from the proud Scot?
“You win. Lily, I’m yours.”
***
Ewan expected that allowing Lily to mold him into a proper gentleman was a mistake, but he’d agreed to it for two reasons. The first was his approach was getting nowhere with his cousins and his grandfather, all of whom believed he was a savage and disdained him for it. He now stood in his grandfather’s study at Lotheil Court, pacing a hole in the exquisite oriental carpet while waiting for the old man, Desmond, and Evangeline to arrive. Ewan had asked for a family meeting and wasn’t certain any of them would appear.
The second reason for agreeing to Lily’s plan was her situation with the Royal Society. Its board’s refusal to acknowledge her research, even her very existence, was squarely his fault. Had it not been for his feud with his grandfather, she would have been tolerated by those old fossils enough for the re
sults of her research to be published even if they still wouldn’t have accepted her as a member. No doubt most of the credit would have gone to Ashton Mortimer. Still, it would have been published, and that would have made Lily very happy.
Though he was loathe to admit it, there was a third reason for allowing Lily to get her hands on him... simply put, he wanted Lily’s hands on him. All over him. As often as possible. That he wanted her close was not surprising. That he needed her close, was. He didn’t like needing anyone. Certainly not this bookish snip of a girl.
“You aren’t carrying weapons, are you?” Ewan’s grandfather asked, striding into his study and taking a seat at the head of the small conference table situated near the far wall. It was shortly after three o’clock, and afternoon light streamed in through the row of Palladian windows, enhancing the warm, red tones of the mahogany wood. Otherwise, there was no warmth to be found in the room, certainly none from the duke, who shot daggers at Ewan with his icy gaze. The rest of the furniture—grand mahogany desk and ornately carved chairs, gleaming silver candlesticks and imposing burgundy silk drapes framing the windows—was like the old man himself, ancient, cold, and severe.
“You’re mistaking me for your other grandson, the one who likes to use weapons against defenseless young ladies.” Ewan folded his arms across his chest to hide that his hands were now clenched into fists. Not that he’d ever use them on his grandfather, no matter how much he disliked him. No, striking the elderly and defenseless was something only English gentlemen did. And he was considered the savage?
“You’re referring to that little nuisance—”
“Lily’s not a nuisance.”
His grandfather waved his hand impatiently. “The girl ought to be thinking of parties and marriage, not conducting research on shifting land masses and their effect on animal populations. That’s Mortimer’s topic and he should be taking the lead on that work. Have you read her monograph on baboon populations? The chit is actually comparing our civilized culture to that of baboons, as though such creatures have the ability to organize, to think, to develop a political structure. I will not have the nobility of man tarnished by her ridiculous comparisons.”
