He had never kissed such a woman. He thought it would be so easy to simply ignore her, then taunt her, and then leave her in the past once she fell for his trick that he was not a good man and leave him alone to continue on with his plan. He had not expected bold and ‘wild’ Ruth, as Jamie and William called her, to push him against the corridor wall and kiss him under the light of the torches as she had with her perfect, pink lips. And he had not expected such a reaction from himself.
He had kissed her as if she was the very breath of life, and she was the last source of it. It made him feel whole again, like he was home, and that feeling scared the life out of him. He had pulled away in fear, the knowledge that if he’d gone any further, there would be no turning back.
What man would ever pull away from such an experience with just such a woman? An idiot, that’s who. And that’s just what he felt like as his mind roved over and over again on the events of last evening.
He sighed with his conclusion. Yes, he did want Ruth Browne, more than he expected to desire any woman. But, he could not give her what she wanted. She was so innocent, and she did not know what the world was like or what his past entailed. She would not want him when she found out what kind of a man he had been, what he had done. He had seen death, been a part of it, and he took what did not belong to him. He must spend the rest of his life repenting for such acts.
Ruth was pure, sweet, innocent. She needed the chance to live a clean life and be given a beautiful future full of promise, not weighed down with secrets and regrets. He had given her the excuse that she was too young and that he was a clergyman. What must she think of him now? He hoped, against his will, that she would think him vile and reject him entirely, so that he would not have to ache for her night after night until eternity.
She must be set free to live the life of adventure she always dreamed of. And once the May Day festival was over, he would let her be. She would be better for it. He sat up to get dressed and looked down to see that his hard cock had not followed the reasonable and logical path of his brain. He groaned, knowing that the memory of last night’s kiss would haunt him until the end of his days.
* * *
Ruth awoke in a fury. It seemed that was to be her habit, especially since Troy Ferguson had entered the scene from who knew where. Her party had been a total success, and she had warmly said goodbye and thanks to her friends as they slowly left the main hall with the early light of dawn coming through the castle windows. Jamie and Amelia had asked for William, Marianne, and Ruth to stay the night, and so she had been placed in a familiar room which was always given to her whenever she stayed.
She had slept only a few hours, after lying spent upon her pillow, tired from the dancing and from the tears that did not stop coming as she lay there. The wine had emboldened her, but it had also seemed to sharpen the pain of her emotions, and her mind was filled with Troy as she tried to sleep.
She thought that he was the man that she had always dreamed of, the man on her ship, the man fighting with a sword, the man who would support her dreams and cultivate her sense of adventure. No London man had ever come up to this standard in her mind, despite her father’s desperate efforts to match her up.
Troy would certainly look fitting on a ship deck. There was no question that he was skilled with a sword. And he could kiss like the devil, but he wouldn’t support her dreams. He did not believe a woman could amount to much. Yet she had fallen for his seductive glances and his sweet and thoughtful birthday gift, and she had kissed him like it was her last moment on Earth.
She closed her eyes remembering. She had smelled fresh rain and tasted ale upon his tongue as she encouraged his lips to open to hers. They had been firm yet gentle, and made her desire for him grow even more, despite her anger. She groaned with frustration. She only had to spend a few more days with him until the May Day festival, and then she would only need to see him at church before she made her plans to get out of Brechin.
More so now than ever she needed to get out, to escape the beautiful man whose hands she had felt on her back and buttocks, pulling her closer to him, making her feel like anything was possible. That memory would last her a lifetime.
* * *
Lord Browne sat in his dimly lit dining room, at the end of a long table, with only the light of one tall candle to eat by. He called out to the butler nearby who rushed to his side. “Dickson, where are the rest of the lights? I can barely see my own plate!”
Dickson shuddered slightly. His employer had always been gruff, but now, since the loss of his daughters and much of his money, he had become close to unbearable. Nothing could happen without Lord Browne’s criticism or harsh bellows.
“We have had to sell them, Sir. To pay back the bills from your...the creditors.” His voice quivered as well as his body.
Lord Browne hmphed with frustration. He had given the housekeeper instructions to sell so many items over the past months that he hadn’t kept track. Now, he would have to get used to eating in darkness as well as tea without sugar and meals without his two daughters.
He shooed the shaking butler away wordlessly and brought the fork to his mouth, thinking on what had happened since the departure of Marianne and Ruth. His wife, Katherine, would have attempted to slap sense into him if she were alive and had he let her. But no, they had left of their own volition, and for that he did not want to forgive them.
Marianne was missing out on a life of luxury with the wealthy Lord Hampshire. Instead she had chosen a simple life out on the moors of Scotland, as far away as possible, and Ruth had gone with her. That wild girl was most likely let loose upon the countryside to do Lord knows what and behave as ill as possible. That girl needed controlling if she was going to be of any further use to him.
He had thought Lord Hampshire to be a man of reason, but that was not to be true. The man had since married another young woman and was under another contract with a different family. The former contract with Marianne had been ripped to shreds by arrows, the man had told him, his daughter’s own arrows. Lord Browne had scoffed at the idea. His daughter could have done nothing of the sort.
But Lord Hampshire demanded the money back that he had already paid to Lord Browne to cover some debts, and so Lord Browne had to pay him back slowly and painstakingly, gradually cutting down parts of his household in order to do so.
His daughters had been his tools into wealth and privilege. Despite already being a lord, there was still the chance to grow to new heights in society, this is what he had dreamed. He wished his conservative bills had been accepted in the House of Lords, but they had been rejected, and with the loss of his daughters spreading around the aristocracy, he had lost some of his good name as well.
“Did you hear both of his daughters left him in the middle of the night? Off to be prostitutes on the streets, I’m sure. What hussies! To give up wealth and status for that. He must be a horrible man.”
These were the whispers that entered his ears whenever he walked the streets of London, and he was the recipient of many an odd look and avoidance. Yes, he needed his daughters back. Especially Ruth. He assumed Marianne had up and married a brutish Highland Scotsman, and he shivered with anger at the thought. “My daughter, a well-bred, conservative Lady of the nobility has done herself and her family a disservice!” He raged at the empty dining room.
But Ruth, Ruth would be useful if she was still unattached, which he assumed she was. She did not seem to have interest in marriage, and he could not fathom a respectable man who would take her on. So he knew what he must do. He must try again to find a man to latch himself to Ruth and receive back the money and the respectability he had lost in his daughters’ selfish departure.
But whom? To whom could he align himself who would not wish to avoid the connection? He would have to think on it. For now, he stood and took himself to his study, preparing to pen a letter to his dear, sweet Marianne.
He sat down, plans developing in his mind as he prepared the ink and quill.
* * *
Ruth had spent the day after her party seething and trying to force away the memory of Troy’s lips on hers, as well as his rejection. She’d returned to her room in William’s home and sat all day, attempting to draw once more, to see if her arm was feeling all right. It twinged slightly, but she moved slowly, so desperate to be back to her regular self that she didn’t care if it hurt.
It’s like she had turned into someone else these past few days, someone she loathed. She had become a woman who’s mind flickered back and forth with indecision, and about a man, no less! How utterly feminine she had become, and in the sense of the word in which her father spoke it.
Today, she felt more like herself and readier to approach the final preparations for the festival. She had entered into the village to make sure the seamstress had prepared all of the dresses to each dancer’s measurements, and then she distributed a dress to each of the young girl’s houses. It brightened her spirits to see their smiling faces, eager to take part in the yearly Scottish ritual.
Ruth was happy to do so as well. She wanted to experience everything that she could, and this festival would be like a wonderful parting event to her time in Scotland. She still had not decided what to do with her next adventure.
On her way back home, she stopped at the bakery to chat idly with Robyn before locking herself in her room again. Robyn was busy, selling the remaining breads and rolls from her wooden tables outside, but she allowed Ruth to sit by her and sample a few items.
Ruth chewed in silence for a while before Robyn asked, “Aye, and what happened tae ye, lass, at the party? Ye were dancing merrily enough with the minister, but then he disappeared. Ye returned to the dance with a grimace on yer face and danced as if yer life depended on it?”
Ruth grimaced again, and Robyn laughed. “Mr. Ferguson try something with ye?”
She sighed. She could say anything to Robyn. “No, I’m afraid that office falls to me.”
“What?” Robyn paused in the middle of handing a customer their bread. “‘Twas ye?”
The customer cleared their throat in impatience, and Robyn handed them the bread and hurried them away.
She turned back to Ruth, her hand on her floured hip. “What in God’s name happened, lass? Ye cannae tell a woman somethin’ such as this and then expect tae say naught else!”
Ruth sighed and closed her eyes. In the light of day, it was even more embarrassing. She began. “I must have consumed a little too much wine, for it dulled my senses and my ability to make reasonable and logical decisions.”
Robyn chuckled, and her eyes gleamed. “Aye, wine is wont tae do that.”
“We danced, and then he told me he had a gift for me. I was itching to see it, for no other reason than to see that he was in earnest.” Robyn smirked and shook her head in disbelief. Ruth ignored her and continued on. “I saw that he had given me lavender sprigs, which are...my favorite. I kept drinking the wine, and then…” she trailed off, her next action sounding so ridiculous it was difficult to express.
“And then?” Robyn asked impatiently.
“And then, I kissed him. Kissed him as if he was the last man in the world.”
Robyn gasped with surprise, but then bent over in laughter, tears in her eyes. It took her a few moments to control herself. Ruth reddened as new customers approached. Ruth had to handle them while Robyn laughed and laughed.
She soon calmed and sat down next to Ruth, her face a picture of unbridled glee. “Good Lord, lass, I havnae heard a story tae tickle me so much in a long time. Kissing a minister? While ye were drunk? In the hallway at yer birthday party? ‘Tis enough tae fill a book, this life of yorn, ye ken.”
Ruth furrowed her brows. “Not quite. This? This is adventure to you? I’m certain no one would want to read about this...incident.”
“They surely would, and they’d pay good money too, especially if they knew the both of ye.” She smiled again, mischievously. “And? How was he? How was our fine minister as a kisser?”
Ruth crossed her arms with a twinge of pain in the one. She’d taken to not wearing her sling even during the day now. It hindered her too much. “He was...he was...not like a minister.”
At that, Robyn broke into a new wave of laughter, and Ruth rolled her eyes. Inside, she said, He was perfect, angelic, like a romantic hero whose lips were like soft and tender caresses, with the tongue of a god.
But she could not say that to Robyn, or else she’d be laughed out of the village. Instead she turned away and saw a handsome stranger approach the table. “Hello ladies,” he greeted with a husky voice as smooth as silk.
Both of the women’s eyes were drawn to the man with long dark hair whose hooded gaze held untold pleasures. He had a rough beard, but when he smiled, he displayed a set of beautiful white teeth. Looking at his lips, Ruth thought that he would be no stranger to the enjoyments of the flesh.
He was sensual, tall and well-built, and he spoke with kindness. “I wonder if I might buy a loaf from ye fine baker, mistress.”
Robyn stumbled over her words and pushed the strands of hair out of her face. He grinned at her nervousness. Surely he was used to such actions from women. He handed her a coin and she placed the loaf in his hands.
“Thank ye, lass.” He nodded in gratitude, and Robyn nodded in return. “I wonder if ye both might point me in the direction of the minister’s home. I have traveled a long way and wish to...confess.” He grinned.
“You have traveled?” Ruth’s eyes opened with excitement, and she stood up, her mind filling with questions every second. “I would be happy to show you the way. ‘Tis not far.”
He bowed in acquiescence. “I shall not say no tae such a beautiful young lady as yerself.” Despite herself, Ruth reddened, and she bowed in return, happy to bestow this gesture upon someone who was hopefully full of exciting stories. They waved goodbye to a flabbergasted Robyn and walked over the green grass towards the church, Ruth thinking this could be the key to her next adventure, and Robyn feeling like there was something fishy about the man that had just come to Brechin.
Chapter Ten
“Me name is Dougal, Dougal Menzies. May I ask yer name, me Lady?”
“Of course. I am Ruth, Ruth Browne. How long have you been in town, if I may ask?” He smiled, and then pulled off a piece of fresh bread and began to chew. He offered some to Ruth who refused.
“I have just arrived today. It has been a long journey. I have been in search of this place for a long time.”
“Oh?” Ruth could not imagine someone being so interested in coming to Brechin, of all places, although it painted a pretty picture with its hills, moors, and coastline.
“Aye. I have heard tales of the minister here. The area has not seen the like before. He is a good speaker and serves the people well.”
Ruth glowered at the fact that someone was giving Troy a compliment. But she had to admit that he was a fine speaker; his tender, smooth voice flowed over the crowd every Sunday, bolstering them with religious fervor for the rest of the week.
“He is a fine speaker, but I did not know this fact was spreading around the land.”
“Folk in these parts are very religious. I grew up in the Highlands meself before I left for the seas.”
Ruth turned to Dougal excitedly, “You’ve been on the sea?” She clung onto the side of his arm.
A surprised yet pleased Dougal smiled. “Aye.”
Ruth pulled away. “Forgive me, Sir. ‘Tis just that I long for the sea and anything that takes me away from here to experience an adventure!”
“Adventure is yer taste, is it?” Dougal was charmed by the young woman’s innocence and excitement. He thought she would be a lovely companion for a young pirate, a lovely bosom on which to rest his head after his long journeys.
Ruth nodded feverishly and then sighed. They continued walking, the white church building rising in the distance on
the hill in front of them. “Yes, I have longed for a real adventure for as long as I can remember. I enjoy reading maps and mapmaking, and I often wonder what it would be like to sail in a great boat across the sea. Will you tell me of it?”
Dougal nodded. “Of course, lass. I am happy tae share anything ye’d like tae know.”
“How do you navigate your path? I am studying navigation myself.”
Dougal looked surprised, and he smiled with encouragement. “Ye’re a funny lass, aren’t ye? But ye’re not from around these parts?”
Capturing The Reluctant Highlander (Lasses 0f The Kinnaird Castle Book 3) Page 8
