Mesmerized By A Roguish Highlander (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance)

by Maddie MacKenna

  There was a ball in the manor in honor of her birthday in the evening, and she wanted to think before she had to head to the ballroom and be kind and full of smiles. If she wasn’t Lady Marion Bewforest, then who was she?

  And from Scotland, no less! I’ve heard the stories from Scotland. Can I really be one of them?

  She hurried through the dim corridors.

  She reached her room and threw herself on the bed. She buried her head into one of her silk pillows and let hot tears pour out of her eyes. She was sobbing from the bottom of her heart, while her entire life flashed in front of her eyes. All the birthdays, all the promises, all the loving words—all a big fat lie!

  If they could lie about something like this, what else are they hiding? And why would my parents abandon me? Why would they do that?

  Marion was muffling her cries into a pillow so Rose Keenan, her old governess, wouldn’t hear. Miss Keenan was like family, which is why she had stayed at the manor even years after Marion didn’t need a governess anymore.

  But Marion still preferred her not hearing her sobs. She would have asked too many questions.

  The sobs started to quiet down as the hot flush of anger became just plain old irritation. She wiped her face and thought about the ball. There was a brandnew red gown with delicate slippers in her wardrobe, waiting for her to put them on and dazzle each and every person who looked at her. Marion’s warm complexion and dark brown, long hair matched perfectly with the tones of the gown.

  Her best friend, Edith Hall, would be arriving today. Marion looked forward to meeting her, as she would surely know what to do. She’d comfort her with understanding words and make everything better.

  Edith was the exact opposite of Marion in many ways. Marion may know how to hold an interesting conversation, how to bat her eyelashes to make men notice her, and how to keep her Ladylike grace wherever she went. But for Marion, it was all a learnt behavior. For Edith, on the other hand, it was in her nature.

  She was the sweetest young girl in England and her blonde curls and blue eyes attracted everyone. Men gravitated towards her and her shyness, and women loved her because she never said a bad word about anyone.

  A sharp knock on the door interrupted Marion’s thoughts. She quickly sat up and composed her face to cover any traces of sadness and anger.

  “Come in, Rose,” Marion said.

  “Lady Marion, time to get ready for your ball! We must make sure you look absolutely dashing, of course, you always do. The Earl of Brookville is coming. I bet you will be happy to see him, won’t you?” Miss Keenan went on while she fetched a bowl of water and a hair brush.

  The Earl of Brookville was certainly a handsome man. He was young and wealthy, qualities to which Marion was not opposed. He had been wanting to court Marion for a long time and to Marion’s happy surprise, her father had given him Marion’s hand.

  “Why, of course I will,” Marion said. “Do make me the prettiest girl in the room, Rose, will you?” She spoke with a gentle smile and let Miss Keenan go on about the ball.

  I’d best push this out of my head until I’m alone.

  Marion egged Miss Keenan on by asking her questions to keep her talking.

  In a few hours’ time, Marion was ready and she was admiring her own image in the mirror. Her long, dark brown hair was combed and flowed like a waterfall over her shoulders. The dark eyebrows seemed to bend over her deep brown eyes like a bird’s wings. The red gown looked stunning on her, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit better about herself.

  Marion waved Miss Keenan out the door and soon followed behind her. She was headed to the ballroom, where most of the guests would already be. The excitement of the ball cheered her up a notch—she couldn’t resist a nice ball with happy people and great food.

  The ballroom was on the first floor, so she descended down the cold stony spiral staircase, holding up the gown to keep herself from tripping. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard wonderful music coming from at the end of the corridor. People were chattering and laughing.

  She hurried towards the happy voices and entered the ballroom. As soon as she did, everyone turned to look at her. She felt her heart leap—she loved the attention.

  “Happy Birthday, Lady Marion!” everyone yelled in unison.

  “Thank you everyone, thank you very much for coming to celebrate my 21st birthday with me. Please, enjoy the music, dance, and of course, don’t leave here hungry!” Marion said and everyone applauded.

  The ballroom looked exceptionally beautiful this evening. It was filled with hundreds of candles and wild flowers. Dozens and dozens of different colored ribbons were hanging from the walls and the ceiling.

  Suddenly, she felt a tight squeeze around her, as a set of tiny white hands grabbed her waist.

  “Happy Birthday!” Edith wished and kissed Marion’s cheek.

  “Edith! I’m so glad to see you! I trust you are doing well?”

  “Very much so, darling, I have met the most interesting man here tonight, for which I should probably thank you,” she said and pinched her arm playfully. “Mr. Alby said you have spoken kind words about me!”

  Marion laughed and immersed herself into a conversation with her best friend. The uplifting feeling in the room made her push her worries aside and decide that she would think about them later.

  The eventful day had almost made Marion forget one of the main reasons she was so excited for the ball. Almost, but not quite. The Earl of Brookville, Albert Byron, was due to visit with his uncle and aunt, who were very good friends of the Earl and Countess of Ackworth.

  Marion would never forget the day she had been introduced to the Earl of Brookville by her father. He was to be her betrothed and the union was very welcome to the Earl of Ackworth, as it would make Lady Marion a Countess. Marion, on the other hand, didn’t so much care for the titles.

  She had seen some of her friends married off to old Barons and Counts who were the most boring people she had ever met. Secretly, she had been afraid that her marriage was going to be the same, married to an awfully boring old man with a boring and uneventful life.

  Fortunately, the Earl of Brookville was neither old nor boring. When he had met Marion at a wedding that took place in York, Marion had immediately thanked the Lord for her parents’ good taste. The Earl of Brookville was a tall, well-dressed man with strawberry-blond hair and childlike eyes full of sparkle. He was polite and formal, and during the short talks Marion had with him, she had discovered him to be well-read and educated.

  What more could I hope for?

  Marion searched for him with her gaze wandering among the ballroom full of people.

  She didn’t have to wait long for him to appear. He was making his way through the crowd and as he reached Marion, he bowed deeply, sending Marion’s heart to flutter like a butterfly.

  “Why, Lady Marion, you look most wonderful tonight! May I have this dance?” he asked, his arm held out. Marion took his hand and flashed an excited smile over her shoulder to Edith, who was standing beside her, talking to the new beau of her own.

  He danced unusually fluidly, leading Marion on the dance floor in a way that made everyone turn their eyes at the soon-to-be couple. She enjoyed the dance, and her smile was not forced anymore—rather, the closeness of the Earl made her heart race and cheeks blush.

  But she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of her mind.

  After her dance with the Earl, Marion curtsied and thanked him for the wonderful dance. She needed to find Edith and tell her about the day’s events.

  I can’t hold this in any longer! I just have to find Edith and it’ll all be all right.

  She found Edith still chatting with Mr. Alby—they sure had become close in only a few hours’ time.

  “Edith, darling, may I speak with you for a moment?” Marion said as she touched her shoulder for attention. Neither of them had noticed Marion’s arrival, as they were both very deep in conversation.

  �
��Ah, Lady Marion, the rose of the party!” Mr. Alby said. “Miss Hall and I were just having the most interesting conversation about their new mare, it seems she has been giving the grooms quite the runaround. Miss Hall is the most wonderful young lady—I don’t know how I can possibly part with her tonight!”

  “That’s such a pleasure to hear, Mr. Alby. I do think very highly of her myself. If you’ll excuse us for a moment—I hear a girl should always give her beau a chance to miss her, after all,” Marion said with a big smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She adored Mr. Alby, but he had the habit of being quite intense.

  Marion grabbed Edith’s hand and they made their way through the crowd and out the ballroom doors.

  “Marion, what’s going on?” Edith asked, while Marion was leading her through the dim corridors.

  Marion didn’t respond, but instead, opened a heavy wooden door to their left. They stepped into a small library, that the Countess often used as her personal study.

  “I’ve held this in the whole day and I simply cannot do it any longer!” Marion exhaled and told Edith the whole conversation between her and her parents.

  “Oh, dear, that is certainly a lot to take in,” Edith said and patted Marion’s hand that was resting in hers.

  “Why would they leave me? Papa won’t let me go and find them, he says it’s too dangerous. But how am I supposed to live the rest of my life, knowing what I know?” Marion sobbed and wiped a stray tear off her cheek.

  “Your father is right, Marion, going to Scotland alone would be foolish. Your family loves you and your life is very sheltered and secure. And you are to marry the Earl of Brookville, no less! You are loved, and that’s all that matters. Besides, it’s not like you can just hop on your horse and go find them.”

  2

  Regret Is A Lousy Friend

  Without knowing it, Edith had given Marion an idea. If her father wouldn’t let her go find her parents, she would simply have to take matters into her own hands.

  It was in the middle of the night, and everything was quiet. The whole manor was sleeping. Marion stepped quietly into the barn where her horse, Bells, was half-asleep in her stall.

  She saddled her up and walked her into the muddy yard. Her hands were trembling a little bit. She was about to leave behind the only world she had ever known, the only people who had ever loved her.

  A shadow of doubt covered her mind and for a brief moment she thought of going back.

  No. I’m doing this tonight.

  She pushed the blue tartan with her initials deeper into her bundle. She had grabbed it before leaving her room—maybe it would help her find her parents.

  She mounted Bells and hurried her outside of the manor gates. She glanced back for a second.

  I’m sorry, Mother and Father. I will be back—I promise.

  She asked Bells to trot faster.

  The night was still and quiet, but Marion didn’t notice it. She felt the fresh night air on her face and her hair unraveled from its bun. The men’s saddle she had picked over her own saddle felt strange under her legs and her thighs started to tire.

  The sun started to peek through the clouds in the horizon after what felt like hours to Marion. Her legs were shaking and the adrenalin in her veins started to disappear.

  “Whoa, Bells,” she sighed and slowed the horse down to walk. When she had grabbed the tartan and escaped in the night, she had been determined, rebellious even. Now, Marion felt doubt for the very first time.

  Which way am I supposed to go? Maybe the villagers can point me in the right direction.

  Marion kept riding towards a small village she saw on the horizon.

  The sun was up when Marion finally reached the edge of the village. The air was filled with the chatter of women buying vegetables and apples at the market. She saw a little girl feeding clucking chickens in front of her house and heard men greeting each other.

  Marion pulled her hood up to cover her face. She didn’t want anyone to recognize her. Walking slowly, not wanting to draw attention, she passed small stone houses. The houses had colorful flower beds in the front yards and freshly smelling herbs and vegetable gardens. Many houses had muddy pig sties in the back and she could hear the pigs splashing around in their pens having breakfast.

  This reminded her about her own stomach, that made loud noises in protest. Soon she reached the edge of the village and found a well in the middle of a square. She hopped off her horse with stiff and aching legs. Now would be a good time to have some food and give Bells a well-deserved break.

  * * *

  Miss Keenan ran down the stony cold stairs towards the breakfast room. She was a heavy woman who rarely ran anymore, so her breathing was labored and wheezing.

  Oh dear! Oh dear!

  She wobbled forwards.

  Earlier in the morning, she had knocked on Lady Marion’s door to help the young Lady get ready for breakfast. Instead of finding Lady Marion fast asleep, she had found an empty bed. Miss Keenan knew her little madam inside and out, and immediately thought that something was wrong. She had hurried around the house from room to room and even told William to swiftly check the stables for Lady Marion. But she was nowhere to be found.

  Servants weren’t supposed to know the business of the masters, but Miss Keenan prided herself on her excellent hearing and sharp eyes. And a little eavesdropping never hurt anyone. She was well aware of the surprising news that the young Lady had received, even though she had tried to hide it from her.

  Miss Keenan reached the breakfast parlor and found the Earl and Countess enjoying their breakfast.

  “Scuse me, My Lord,” Miss Keenan said, still panting from all the running.

  “Whatever is the matter, Miss Keenan? You look upset,” the Earl asked, confused.

  “My Lord, My Lady, I should not be bothering in the midst of your breakfast, today’s porridge is exceptionally delicious… but My Lord, the young Lady is nowhere to be found!” Miss Keenan explained, grabbing her chest.

  The Earl and Countess listened quietly when Miss Keenan explained the events of the early morning. The Countess let out a faint sob and the Earl started giving out orders to other servants. A few of his men were to go after Lady Marion and no one was allowed to say a word about this to anyone in town. What a shame it would be if anyone heard that the young Lady had escaped in the middle of the night, alone without a chaperone. It would ruin her reputation and engagement to the Earl of Brookville.

  The whole manor was buzzing with worry and the servants were whispering to each other in the hall. By the end of the day, every servant in town would know what had happened—their masters none the wiser.

  * * *

  Marion was back on her horse, headed north towards Edinburgh. She had met an older, tired-looking woman at the well who had pointed her in the right direction. Though she had been very friendly and polite, Marion had noticed that she had looked at her clothes, knowing immediately that she was upper class and that something was up.

  Before the woman in the smudgy clothes had had a chance to ask any questions, Marion had thanked her and left.

  As the day went on, Marion took many breaks. Every few hours her legs would get tired and she would stop and walk Bells forward instead of riding. The journey advanced slowly, and Marion was sure that someone from the manor was already looking for her. She couldn’t afford to stop, not yet, not so close to home.

  The sun started to set and it was soon to be dinner time. Marion had reached fields and all she saw around her were hilly meadows. The road squirmed on like a snake, disappearing behind the hills. She was tired and decided to stop for the night.

  Marion let Bells graze in the meadow, while she sat down by an old oak tree. She exhaled deeply and rubbed her swollen legs. The wind had picked up since yesterday and the breeze felt good on her face. She let her gaze wander around the meadows, while her mind was back at the manor.

  Oh, Mother, please, please don’t be angry with me.

  She was fee
ling the same sting of guilt she had felt before.

  Papa will be so disappointed in me.

  She pushed these thoughts aside and opened the cotton towel of food. It was nearly empty already. One carrot was left with a splash of water in the flask.

  Oh!

  She was now angry at herself.

  How could I be so stupid?

  Marion ate in silence, absentmindedly holding onto the corner of the tartan. Her fingers were tracing the threads that made her initials—S.M.

  I wonder what my last name was? Maybe this will help me get started… though it is not much to go on.

  Marion drifted to sleep.

  * * *

  The next morning, she woke up hungry. She hadn’t eaten well the day before and riding the whole day had taken a toll on her. The sun was barely above the horizon when she stood up and dusted herself off. Sleeping on hard ground was a new experience for her and her muscles were sore.

  Where can I get some more food? I have no money with me.

  Marion grabbed Bells’ reins. She mounted the horse and started north.

  Begging would not be all right… I am a Lady, after all, and what if someone recognizes me? They would tell my parents and I’d have to return home.

  She was passing a line of beautifully kept stone houses on the right.

  The houses were small, but well-kept and homey-looking. They were close together and she saw pig sties behind some of them and heard the pigs sloshing around in their muddy pens.

  The gardens in the front yards were nurtured and growing many vegetables. She could see carrots, potato beds, apple trees and plums…

  Apple trees?

  Marion got an idea that immediately squeezed her stomach.

  Should I? It would only be a few apples. No one would know.

  She slowed Bells down a little bit.

  She made the decision in an instant. She dismounted Bells quietly and stepped over the little wooden fence that was marking the yard of one of the stone houses. She reached the low-hanging apples and stuffed a few of them in her bag.