The Beastly Earl

by Monica Burns

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  “Don’t look at me like that,” Louisa said with exasperation. “I can’t possibly leave Ross here without someone who will treat him kindly.”

  “You’re not thinking clearly, Louisa.”

  Frustration darkened Sebastian's face as he rubbed his forehead in obvious aggravation. They’d been arguing about her plan to remain at Argaty as Ross Colquhoun’s governess for the past fifteen minutes. Louisa knew she was pushing her brother's patience as always, but she was determined to have her way in the matter.

  “You have two boys of your own to tend to. You cannot leave them in our care indefinitely. No one in the family would ever object to having the boys with them for whatever length of time you asked of us. We love them as much as our own, but they need their mother.”

  “I don’t intend to leave them with the family. I’ll have them brought here once the earl agrees to take me on as Ross’s governess. The child needs playmates. Charlie and Wills are exactly what Ross needs.”

  “And what makes you think the earl is going to agree to a woman of title serving as a governess to his son?”

  “He doesn’t know who I am. No one does. I’m simply Mrs. Morehouse, a widow who was injured on my way to Callendar Abbey to be a companion for Lady Stewart. A position, I’ve now lost.”

  “How and why would you have lost your position so quickly?”

  “Lady Stewart sent for you when I didn’t arrive at the abbey. When you mentioned the boys, she immediately dismissed me from my post. “

  “And that calls into question why you would take on a companion role to begin with when you have two boys.”

  “I’ll say it was because I was unable find a suitable governess’s position and needed to support myself and the boys.”

  “What about Charles’s holdings. They can’t go unattended for forever.”

  “I trust you to manage them for him. You know I’ve never had a head for numbers, even when Aunt Matilda tried to teach me how to manage the abbey’s accounts of her tenants and properties.” She shrugged her shoulders, which earned her a glare from her brother.

  “I think this has to be the most reckless idea you’ve ever concocted,” Sebastian snapped with frustration.

  “No, it’s not, Sebastian,” she said quietly. “Caleb would not have come to me if this wasn’t precisely where I’m supposed to be. Even if the an dara sealladh hadn’t shown me what I need to do, my heart wouldn’t have let me walk away. I simply can’t.”

  At the soft conviction in her voice, Sebastian closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He slowly exhaled in a manner that said she’d won him over. Satisfaction spiraled through her. Now she only had to persuade the earl to take her on as Ross’s governess.

  Chapter 5

  Ewan pushed aside his dinner plate and took a drink of the claret that had been on the supper tray McCallum had brought him earlier. He glanced at the note lying on the table next to the serving platter. Asadi had delivered it to him a short time ago. It was the fifth one since yesterday afternoon. With a grunt of discomfort, he massaged his forehead in an effort to ease the headache he’d developed from lack of sleep.

  McCallum had delivered the woman’s third note this morning just as Ewan had been on his way out of the keep. He’d been relieved he’d made arrangements to meet with one of his tenants and was unavailable to meet with Mrs. Morehouse, as McCallum referred to her. Any other time his excuse would have been a lie. But Duncansone was the only tenant Ewan visited on the estate.

  McCallum had managed the estate and its properties while he’d been in the Sudan. Upon his return, Ewan had told McCallum he had no interest in changing the order of things. Duncansone was the only exception. Ewan found the old Scotsman, who was going blind, to be a kindred spirit. A fellow soldier, Duncansone had lost his leg while fighting in Burma. He was the only person who understood Ewan’s anger and frustration when it came to his injuries.

  When Ewan had returned shortly before lunch, a fourth note had been waiting for him. He’d not even bothered to open it. Instead, he’d sent Asadi to tell the woman he was still out on the estate. Lying made him uncomfortable, so he’d gone to the stables to saddle Lachlan again and ride out onto the moors. The moors were his refuge. It was the one place where he was free of his mother’s vitriol.

  But his refusal to grant Mrs. Morehouse an audience hadn’t stopped her from writing. If anything, she’d become increasingly insistent on speaking with him. With a growl of irritation, Ewan rose quickly to his feet and shoved his chair away from him. He strode to the window and pulled the curtain aside to stare out at the moors. The only thing he saw was the faint reflection of his own image.

  The scars on his cheekbone beneath his eye patch made his reflection an ugly sight. Louisa Morehouse had been horrified when she'd seen the beast in all his glory the other night. Even with him wearing the patch or his metal hand covered by his glove, he was certain she would act no differently than when he'd found her on the moors.

  It was why he’d been refusing to meet with his guest. He had no wish to frighten her again. Ewan snorted loudly. He was lying to himself, and he knew it. He was avoiding the woman like the plague for a completely different reason. The memory of her lovely face and soft, voluptuous curves had been haunting him since the moment Maggie had helped him get the woman into bed.

  He’d been transfixed by her. The few hours of sleep he managed to catch over the past couple of days had been filled with dreams of Louisa Morehouse's soft naked curves. Dreams that had made him ache with the need to explore every inch of her with his mouth before he buried himself inside her. But it was the hours when he was awake that caused him the most difficulty.

  He was taunted constantly by the memory of a full, lush breast with its dark pink nipple. Every time the image filled his head his cock would stiffen. The way his body reacted at the mere thought of her emphasized how dangerous being in the woman’s company would be. Ewan grunted with aggravation.

  It had been months since he’d visited Alana in Stirling. The brothel madam was used to sharing her bed with men who were missing parts of their body. A small whisper slipped through his thoughts taunting him with the fact he wanted to visit a different bed altogether.

  Irritated by his obsession with his guest, he turned away from the window and reached for the woman’s note. Her handwriting was as lovely and lush as her body. Ewan muttered an oath at his fanciful thinking. With a sharp tug, he pulled the note from the envelope. As he unfolded the missive, he crossed the floor to stand at the hearth where he tilted the letter so the firelight could shine on the woman’s words.

  Dear Lord Argaty,

  I understand your time is quite valuable, but I have a matter I must discuss with you immediately. I assure you the matter is of great importance as it concerns your son. I hope you will send for me at your earliest convenience.

  Regards,

  Louisa Morehouse

  Louisa. The name suited her. Ewan closed his eyes with self-disgust at the thought. He shouldn’t give a damn what her first name was, and what the hell could she possibly have to say about Ross? If the lad had been bothering the woman, he’d give the boy a tongue lashing he wouldn’t soon forget.

  Yesterday the woman’s brother had paid a visit to their invalid while Ewan had been at Duncansone’s farm. When Ewan had questioned McCallum as to why their guest was still in residence, the Scotsman had reported her brother’s visit had exhausted the woman. It had been obvious to McCallum and Mrs. Selkirk the woman was still recovering and would most likely be here for the next two days.

  The news meant he needed to spend as much time away from the house as possible. The fact Mrs. Morehouse had already charmed McCallum and Mrs. Selkirk annoyed him almost as much as the idea of her remaining in the house for a few more days.

  Ewan shrugged his shoulder slightly to adjust the leather shoulder straps that held his artificial arm in place and allowed him to manipulate the metal fingers. The movement cause
d the leather to pinch the stub of his arm despite the layer of soft wool he’d used to protect his skin.

  He drew in a sharp hiss of air at the unpleasant sensation and looked down at the unnatural metal hand attached to his body. At least the hideous steel fingers were hidden by a black glove at the moment. It made him understand the repugnance he saw on people’s faces when he came into view. Even he found the metal contraption revolting to look at.

  From the day he’d first woken up in the hospital more than a year ago, he’d found his appearance nothing more than that of a maimed beast. The unnatural appendage attached to his arm along with his missing eye and facial scars were daily reminders of the fact. He’d never consider himself a vain man, but he now doubted that belief simply because he’d had all the mirrors in the East Wing and the downstairs rooms removed. He’d even found it necessary to throw a sheet over the mirror in the King’s bedroom while he’d been tending to Louisa Morehouse.

  The memory of having done so made him resume making plans to avoid his guest. As he was debating where he could disappear to, he recalled McCallum mentioning the mines. Ewan smiled with relief. The Scotsman had been nagging him to visit the southern properties in Cumbernauld and Shotts for almost a year now. This was the perfect opportunity to do so.

  He’d leave after breakfast in the morning. Between the ride and the time he’d have to spend at each mine, he would not be back until well after dinner. That solved the problem of how to avoid the woman tomorrow. The day after, he’d find something else to occupy his time and take him away from Argaty. A quiet knock on the study’s door interrupted his thoughts and he turned to see Asadi enter the room.

  “McCallum sent me for your tray, Argaty sahib.” The boy eyed him with a questioning look and Ewan nodded toward the tray.

  “I’m done.” At his reply, the boy moved toward the table. Asadi glanced down at Ewan’s tray then turned to him.

  “You have eaten little, Argaty sahib.”

  “Just take the goddamn tray, Asadi,” he snarled.

  He glared at the boy who remained unfazed by his anger. With a shrug that mimicked McCallum’s general reaction to Ewan’s ill-tempered moods, the Sudanese boy placed everything on the tray and headed toward the door. As the Asadi pulled it shut behind him, Ewan heard the distinct sound of a female voice just as the lock mechanism clicked. The soft lilt of it confirmed it wasn’t his mother or his aunt.

  “Fuck, not even the saints were persecuted like this,” he muttered.

  Certain Asadi would usher the woman out of his East Wing sanctuary, Ewan moved toward the shelves of books in the far corner of the room. He’d just pulled a book off the shelf when he heard the sound of the door opening.

  “I take it you sent the woman on her way, Asadi.”

  “Actually, he did not, my lord.” The soft, feminine voice did not hide the steely note layered beneath it. “Please don’t be angry with the boy. I insisted on speaking with you and refused to take no for an answer.”

  Ewan stiffened in angry surprise, but didn’t turn around. The woman had invaded his private refuge, and he didn’t know whether to make her terrified of him or simply ignore her presence. He chose to act as if he were alone in the room. A womanly noise of frustration traveled through the air to his ear, and Ewan released a harsh sigh.

  “Speak, Mrs. Morehouse. As you can see, I’m busy.”

  “I understand I have you to thank for saving my life, and I wanted to express my gratitude.”

  “I don’t need your gratitude.”

  “I disagree. Mr. McCallum tells me you rode out into the storm to find me and brought me back to Argaty then served…as my nursemaid. I’m in your debt, my lord.”

  The small catch in Louisa Morehouse’s voice made him realize she was most likely remembering how she’d awakened to find herself without clothes. A small devil in him made his mouth tip upward slightly. No doubt the woman wouldn’t be happy to learn how much he’d enjoyed seeing her beautiful, naked curves. Perhaps embarrassing her was the best way to rid himself of the woman. His mouth curved upward a bit more.

  “You aren’t in my debt. I was paid quite handsomely when I undressed you.”

  The sound of a sharply inhaled breath made his mouth curve upward even more. Now the woman would surely leave him to his solitude. He silenced the protests in the far reaches of his brain. When he didn’t hear her walking out of the room, he closed his eyes in exasperation.

  “You’ve said your piece, Mrs. Morehouse. Now if you don’t mind, I trust you can find the door.”

  The silence stretched out for a long moment as he waited. When he didn’t hear the sound of the door opening and closing, his jaw hardened with anger. Louisa Morehouse was quickly becoming one of his least favorite people. Refusing to acknowledge that she hadn’t left the room, Ewan turned the page of the book he held in his artificial hand.

  Silently, he perused the text waiting for the woman to leave him alone in his quiet solitude. A soft tapping suddenly penetrated the air, and he cocked his head as he tried to identify the sound. It took only a brief moment to associate the noise with that of a woman's shoe repeatedly abusing the floor in irritation. Other than the tilt of his head, Ewan didn’t react to the sound. Instead, he continued to stare down at a page of words that had suddenly become nothing more than an incoherent mix of letters.

  “It wasn’t just my desire to express my appreciation for you saving my life, my lord,” Louisa said in a crisp tone. “I wanted to speak with you about your son as well.”

  The mention of the boy caused Ewan to frown in puzzlement while he ignored the fact that he’d thought of her as Louisa and not Mrs. Morehouse. The only time he’d been aware Ross had been in the woman’s company was when she’d been ill. He’d given the lad strict instructions to not bother her again. The thought that the boy had disobeyed him angered Ewan.

  “If Ross has been troubling you, inform McCallum about it, and he’ll see to it the boy won’t trouble you anymore.”

  “Your son hasn’t been any trouble at all. In fact, I find him far too quiet and withdrawn for a boy his age.”

  Despite the firm rejection of Ross being a nuisance, he heard the motherly note of concern in her voice. It was a gentle empathy his mother had never expressed when he’d been a boy, and he’d certainly never heard the dowager countess speak of Ross in such a manner. His aunt and Mrs. Selkirk had always been the ones to offer Ewan motherly concern when he’d been a boy, and he was certain the two women did the same for Ross.

  Ewan frowned as he absorbed Louisa’s description of the child. Now that it had been pointed out to him, it was an accurate portrayal of the boy. Perhaps he’d been wrong to keep Ross here. The boy might have been better off at school. A sudden flashback to his days at Charterhouse produced a tactile sensation of antipathy. Not even on Ross would he inflict such a punishment.

  “The boy is not a concern of yours…Mrs. Morehouse.” The muscles in his face tugged sharply at an empty eye socket as he barely managed to avoid addressing her as Louisa.

  “Perhaps not, but I wish to make it my concern since you seem to be oblivious to the fact that the child needs a governess.”

  Startled by her condemnation, Ewan almost turned to face her before he stopped himself. Louisa Morehouse was becoming an irritating thorn in his side. He turned another page in the book ensuring the sound was as audible as possible.

  “And what makes you an expert on what the child needs or doesn’t need?”

  “If you’d spend time with him, you wouldn’t have to answer that question,” Louisa snapped.

  The woman’s impertinence made Ewan close his book in a fierce movement. The violence of the act caused a sharp crack of sound to linger in the room. There was a soft intake of air behind him, and he knew he’d startled perhaps even alarmed her. Satisfaction pounded its way through his limbs at the knowledge. He was accustomed to his mother’s criticism, but he refused to be chastised by a stranger no matter how lovely she was.


  He uttered an inaudible curse word as he slowly turned to face her. Self-disgust crashed through him the instant he experienced gratitude that the fireplace was the only source of light in the room. That he even cared about the woman's reaction to his physical appearance emphasized the strength of his awareness for Louisa Morehouse. An awareness he didn't want to feel.

  Louisa stood close to the hearth, and the firelight accentuated one of the reasons why he’d done his best to avoid her. As he studied her, the memory of a wet chemise clinging to her skin made his mouth go dry. Infuriated by the direction of his thoughts, Ewan narrowed his one eye at her.

  “I don’t need a Sassenach to tell me how to raise the boy,” he said coldly.

  “My mother was Scottish, so you’ll have to think of another way to insult me.” The condescension in her response only added fuel to his growing anger.

  “Then I shall rephrase my words by saying, I don’t need a woman telling me how to raise Ross.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. In fact, there’s a great deal I can tell you—”

  “Enough,” he snarled as he forced himself to remain in the shadows when what he really wanted to do was silence her in a much different way. He shoved the disturbing thought back into a compartment labeled don’t touch. “You’re a guest in my house, Louisa Morehouse, and I’ll thank you to remember that.”

  “The boy needs a governess,” she continued as if she’d not heard a word he’d said. In the back of his head, he noted her stubbornness rivaled McCallum’s, only she wasn’t as subtle as the old retainer was. “And as I understand from McCallum, each of the last two governesses the child had left in less than a month of arriving at Argaty.”