by Meara Platt
“They’re safe. I have them in my pocket. Lass, what are you doing here?”
“Visiting Meggie. Dillie’s with her in her bedchamber. I was on my way to the library.”
“Then I’ll not detain you. Let me toss on a shirt and I’ll join you downstairs.”
“That sounds…” No, wait. Did he say toss on a shirt? He still had his arms around her. His bare arms. And bare chest. She felt his warm, damp skin beneath her palms and inhaled the fresh scent of lather against his chin, the appealing scent that tended to linger on a man after he’d shaved. This was Ewan’s scent, a mix of pine forest, lather, and male.
She drew away as soon as he’d finished wiping her eyes, eager to look at the muscular body she’d been touching all the while. “I—” Blessed saints and burnt crumpets! Her mouth dropped open. She tried to close her eyes, but couldn’t seem to do it, for she was too busy staring at Ewan’s lean and muscled body. His lean and muscled shirtless body.
She heard the door to Meggie’s room open. “Good morning, Ewan,” Dillie said. “You’re looking quite fit this morning.”
Burnt, fiery crumpets. Fit didn’t begin to describe how good he looked.
“Nice to see you, Dillie.”
She grinned. “Meggie invited us over.”
Meggie winced. “I thought it would be fun to show you off. You look much better without that awful beard.”
“But you’re missing some clothes,” Dillie added unhelpfully. “Not that my sister minds at all.”
“Dillie!” Thank goodness Ewan was wearing trousers. Nice trousers. And boots. He was wearing polished black boots, too. And nothing else besides those articles. His chest was bare and skin lightly tanned. A spray of dark hair ran across his broad chest, and he’d casually thrown his towel back over one of his muscled shoulders. His upper torso tapered at his trim waist. The taut muscles across his chest and flat stomach rippled as he moved, marred only by an ugly red gash along his ribs, a reminder of the knife wound he’d received at Tattersalls. The imperfection only made him look more perfect.
She was appalled. Stricken and frozen in place.
The butterflies in her stomach felt no such thing. Those traitorous creatures were glancing heavenward to smile at the angels. Thank you, thank you!
Ewan’s half-naked body was so close to her she could feel the heat radiating off his golden skin. Oh, he looked sinfully good! His hair was slicked back and still wet from his earlier bath, several wet strands curling about his neck. She glanced up to meet his gaze. Realization struck her just then. He’d shaved!
“Lily, you’re staring at me.”
He’d shaved for her. At her urging. The first step to turning him into a proper gentleman, and not a heathen to be attacked at horse auctions, then blamed for starting the fight. His family would be surprised. All of London would take notice. She’d thought him handsome before, but this... this was incredible. Nicely firm jaw, well-shaped mouth. All perfectly situated on his ruggedly appealing face. His hard, muscled body was perfection, too.
She let out an eep! as he lifted her into his arms and carried her downstairs. She wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself as he strode toward the library. His skin was deliciously warm, his body delightfully hard. She touched a hand to his clean-shaven cheek. Angels, did I thank you yet? Let me thank you again. And again.
“You did this for me,” she said in a whisper.
He ignored the comment as well as the palm she was now resting against his cheek. He lightly kicked open the library door with his boot and set her in a chair beside the fireplace. “Wait here.”
She nodded.
Meggie and Dillie had followed them down. She heard their smothered giggles.
Ewan paused beside his sister. “Meggie, don’t pull another stunt like that again.”
He shot all three of them a warning glance and stalked out of the library, firmly shutting the door behind him.
“Lily, are you all right?” Meggie asked. “Your face is the deepest shade of crimson I’ve ever seen.” She paused to study her more closely. “Oh, dear. You’re angry with me.”
“Meggie, that was so wrong. So scandalous. So improper. So—”
“Worth going straight to hell for it?” Dillie suggested.
Lily burst out laughing. “Yes, you evil twin. He shaved! I’m so pleased.”
Dillie swallowed her own laughter. “Wait, that’s what has you in raptures? His face? Didn’t you look at the rest of him?”
“I couldn’t stop looking,” Lily admitted. However, she wasn’t feeling quite so mirthful as her partners in crime. Skulking beside Ewan’s bedchamber had been a stupid prank, but the powerful force of attraction she’d felt when seeing him in his half-dressed state was no laughing matter. Her sister could giggle and ogle and make jests, but she couldn’t.
What she’d felt went far beyond mere attraction. Her senses were still reeling. She understood how Jasper must have felt that day at Eloise’s when trying to stop himself in mid leap, clawing the air and trying in vain for a soft landing as he fell.
And she was falling hard for Ewan. Painfully hard.
She wasn’t certain she could stop herself.
***
Ewan returned to his quarters after depositing Lily in the library, and then dressed and hurriedly returned downstairs. He was relieved to find Lily alone where he’d left her in the library. “Meggie and Dillie are in the dining room sharing a pot of tea.” She set aside the book she had been reading and started to rise. “Shall I call them?”
He saw that she’d been engrossed in a publication of Sir William Maitland’s early explorations. She probably knew it by heart. He wondered if there was a chapter on those baboons that seemed to fascinate her so much. “No, lass. It’s you I care to see.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise, probably in response to the awkward phrasing of his sentence. He did care to see her. Always liked seeing her. Preferably naked, but that wasn’t likely ever to happen.
She sank back down in her chair and waited for him to take the seat beside her. “Lily, I expect I know the answer to this question, but still, I must ask it. Do you have any enemies?”
She pursed her lips and frowned, looking quite adorable and earnest. “Other than your grandfather and the entire male membership of the Royal Society? No.”
He dismissed those old codgers and their newest Fellow, her friend, Ashton Mortimer. “Think on it. Anyone who’s ever been mean to you or wished you ill? Outside of those fossils in the Royal Society.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m certain of it. Why do you ask?”
“My cousin’s rudeness to you at the dressmaker’s can be explained. He was actually there to scare Meggie. But I don’t understand why that blackguard came after you at Tattersalls. It troubles me. It doesn’t fit into a neat explanation and that puts me on edge.”
“In all likelihood, he and his unsavory friends saw me with you and thought to gain your attention by accosting me.”
He shook his head and sighed. “Perhaps. It’s logical. But I don’t have enemies either, none that I know of... outside of my own family.” He winced at the dismal state of his family relations. “But neither Desmond nor my grandfather claim to have had a hand in the incident. I believe them.”
“Where does that leave us, Ewan? Was it simply a matter of mistaken identity?”
He took her hand in his, liking the feel of her skin against his. She had small, delicate hands. Innocent hands. “I don’t know. Lily, don’t go off on your own until we’ve figured it out. Will you promise me that? I need to know you’re safe.”
She cast him an indulgent smile, obviously doubting she was in any danger. He doubted it as well, but it couldn’t hurt to be thorough. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” He rose and brought her to her feet beside him. “I want you to remain with Meggie and Dillie today. Don’t stay alone anywhere, not even here at Lotheil Court. Not even in this library.”
“Not here?” She seemed disappoin
ted, but reluctantly agreed.
After escorting her into the dining room and depositing her with Meggie and Dillie, he made quick excuses to slip away from Lotheil Court. He cast Lily a concerned glance. “Remember what I said, Lily.”
“It is seared into my brain,” she teased, but he noted a mix of relief and disappointment in her eyes. He understood how she felt. His senses reeled whenever he was around her, and she responded the same way whenever in his presence. He knew it as surely as if she’d spoken the sentiments aloud. All he had to do was look into her beautifully expressive eyes.
He hurried off, forcing his attention to all that needed to be accomplished in the next few hours. Besides the day to day work of putting his father’s estate affairs in order, he had an investigation to conduct. He’d questioned Lily, but merely as a formality. Who would want to harm a nineteen-year-old innocent? No, it wasn’t her these villains were after. Someone wanted to hurt him, possibly kill him. His first call would be on a reliable Bow Street runner by the name of Homer Barrow, a sharp old-timer who came highly recommended by a friend.
In any event, he was glad to be away from Lily just now, couldn’t remain under the same roof with the girl without his senses exploding. He needed distance from her in order to get his mind and body fully under control. The feel of her soft body was still branded on his chest, and her light, rose scent still tickled his nostrils. She’d seen him bare-chested. All he could think about was seeing her bare-chested, running his lips and tongue over her soft, white breasts and worshiping their pink tips. He wanted Lily beneath him, crying his name in ecstasy.
Lord! He was in agony.
Over a bookish, bespectacled innocent, no less!
He had about ten hours to get himself back under control. He knew she would be at the Simmington musicale this evening. Since he, Meggie, and their grandfather planned to attend, he expected to see her there. It was to be one of those small society functions that Eloise had deemed suitable for him and Meggie. A quiet gathering of close friends. Yes, he could manage seeing Lily in a crowd.
Lady Simmington’s father was a Highlander, a proud member of the MacCorkindale clan, so he expected to find several of his own friends and acquaintances there. It was a good way to ease Meggie into the stream of London parties. It was also a good way to distract his thoughts from Lily’s blue eyes and soft, pink lips.
***
Ewan attended to his business affairs, retained Homer Barrow to conduct his investigation, and returned late to Lotheil Court. If he hurried, he could make it to the musicale without missing too much of the music.
Meggie and his grandfather, as expected, were nowhere about when he arrived. They’d surely gone ahead without him. He felt a pang of regret for not being by Meggie’s side, but she’d likely spent the day with Lily and her sister, and would only have been alone with their grandfather for the short carriage ride to the Simmington residence.
“My lord.” Harding met him in the entry hall as he was about to climb the stairs. “Your sister asked that I give this to you.” The butler handed him an envelope. Ewan took it with a nod and continued to his bedchamber, where he opened it, read it, and then paused and laughingly shook his head. Lily had invited Meggie and his grandfather to supper with her family before the musicale. Incredibly, his grandfather had accepted.
He read it again, unable to believe that the old man had accepted a hastily sent invitation from a family of no consequence, from the very upstart he’d just banished from the Royal Society. But this was precisely the sort of generous thing Lily would do, extend an invitation to the old curmudgeon who had treated her unfairly. She’d done it for Meggie.
She’d done it for him.
“Jasper,” he said, turning to the lumpy beast stretched out beside the hearth, “you have excellent taste in women.” He walked over and scratched him behind the ears. “But I can’t marry her. It isn’t only that she’s English. She’s very close to her family. How can I take her so far away from her parents and sisters? And she’s a delicate thing. She’d never adapt to the harsh Highlands weather.”
Jasper didn’t seem in the least impressed or convinced.
“And I’m not about to take her into my heart while some unknown enemy is out there trying to kill me. What if he goes after Lily again? I can’t let the lass get hurt.” Which was why he’d instructed Homer Barrow to hire another of his Bow Street colleagues to watch over Lily.
Still unimpressed.
“Bah, what do you know, anyway? You’re just a dog.” He rose and walked across the room to dress.
Jasper began to howl at Ewan. Wroolf, wrooiditoolf. His dog voice had the oddest inflection. Sounded as though Jasper was calling him an idiot. Perhaps he was, but he wasn’t about to let a damn dog tell him so. “Shut up, ye hairy looby.”
Wroolf, wrooiditoolf.
Jasper had called him an idiot again. “Enough, Jasper. I need you to behave. And if you’re so damned smart, then tell me why this enemy of mine went after Lily? Not Meggie or any other Cameron. Lily. Why her?”
***
The Italian singer finished his third song to loud applause, and although Lily was enjoying the evening, she wished Ewan were here to enjoy the Simmington’s affair with her. Meggie was having a wonderful time, no doubt because Lily’s young and dashing cousin, William Farthingale, was paying her particular attention.
Also, Meggie had walked in on her grandfather’s arm and been introduced as his granddaughter, and any relative of a duke was certain to dazzle at any society gathering. The crowd mistook Meggie’s panic as delightfully sweet shyness. That, along with her pretty features, enhanced her reputation as a newcomer of note.
Lily wasn’t certain what to make of the old duke. He was a puzzle to her. Though cold and arrogant, he’d permitted Ewan, Meggie, and Jasper into his home without complaint and he was now showing off Meggie to his friends as though they’d been a close family for years. He’d even permitted Lily to visit Meggie at Lotheil Court (though she was still banned from the Royal Society), and he’d just dined with Eloise and the Farthingales in the Farthingale home.
The duke had said nothing about lifting the Royal Society ban and she hadn’t pressed him on the matter. It certainly was not a topic to be discussed at the supper table. Her mother had worked hard to make an elegant presentation, and Lily had possessed the presence not to ruin it by raising the volatile subject.
Everything in its own good time, her mother often said. Lily had to believe that kindness shown toward the duke would eventually be reciprocated. Not that she was expecting to improve her standing with the duke. Not at all. The point of kindness was to bestow it, not to expect or demand gratitude from others. Still, she hoped to mellow the duke by setting a good example. He didn’t need to bribe her to help make the Camerons a family. All he needed to do was ask. She was doing it anyway, for Meggie’s sake. “Affection has to be earned, not bought.”
“Did you say something, Lily?”
“No, Meggie. Just thinking aloud.”
“Mr. Giancarlo’s about to start singing again. We’d better take our seats. I’ve saved one for Ewan.”
Lily glanced around. “He isn’t here yet.”
“He will be. He said he’d attend and he always keeps his word.”
As if on cue, there was a sudden flurry of excitement by the doorway. Lily didn’t need to see Ewan to know that he’d just walked in. The expression on the faces of the females in the room gave it away. Did she look like that? All moon-eyed and breathless whenever he drew near?
He made his way through the crowd toward them. Oh, crumpets. He was wearing a kilt. Typical Ewan, making a scene... goodness, he looked handsome... looked better in a frock than she did. Looked more manly and rugged than any other man in the room, even though all the other men were wearing trousers. How did he manage that?
He’d done it on purpose, swaggered in dressed in his Highlander garb to purposely stick his Scottish thumb in his grandfather’s eye, as if to say “I
’m a Scot and proud of it. I refuse to accept your Sassenach ways.”
Too bad. His grandfather had been on his best behavior this evening. Ewan was about to ruin it.
“Ewan, thank goodness you’re here,” Meggie called to him. “Come sit by us. We’ve saved you a chair.”
“Sorry I’m late.” He bussed his sister’s cheek, and then turned to Lily and grinned. “Och, lass. You’re scowling at me. You disapprove?” He glanced down at his kilt.
“Yes. No. You look wonderful, of course.”
He grinned again. “Of course.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “You could have worn trousers.”
“Aye, I could have. I didn’t want to.” He glanced at Meggie, who’d turned away to speak to some elderly friends of Eloise’s. “How’s my sister managing? She looks happy. Thank you, lass. I know it’s all your doing.”
She sighed, unable to remain irritated with Ewan while he gazed at her in that tender manner, as though her meager assistance meant the world to him. He was being polite to her, that was all. He was so sure of himself, so comfortable in his own skin. He had to be, or he’d never have worn the kilt, or managed to carry it off as though every other man in the room was improperly dressed. He fit in everywhere. She felt comfortable only around her family and books. She wasn’t all that good with people. “Meggie deserves all the credit.”
He was about to say more when someone called to him in a deep, Scottish brogue, the greeting filled with lots of rolling r’s. “Och, Ewan. Therrrre ye arrre, laddie.”
A big man with bright red hair strode toward him. Ewan seemed genuinely pleased to see the fellow, who appeared to be a few years older than himself. “Archie, I heard you were in town. Come join us.”
Archibald MacCorkindale turned out to be one of Ewan’s close friends, or at least Lily thought so by the hearty manner in which they pounded each other on the back. “Callie’s here, too,” Archie said. “She’s eager to see you.”
They had only moments before the singer resumed his recital, but in those few moments, Lily was introduced to Archie’s niece, Caledonia MacCorkindale, a beautiful blonde with gray-green eyes, a melodic laugh, and a cheerful outlook.
