Lucy and Her Scottish Laird (12 page)

It was unfathomable how something so incredibly glorious could be so utterly wrong. Lucy was still breathless after her mad dash across the courtyard and
up to her room. She was pacing, though it did not help her scrub away thoughts of the pure pleasure she’d felt under Broxburn’s erotic
attentions.

Her buttons were still unfastened. She’d wrapped herself in her shawl in her haste to escape the tower and the onslaught of feelings he’d
aroused in her. Her mind raced while her body still hummed with pleasure. What was she to think? To do?

Broxburn was not the man she would marry. And yet she’d allowed – no, she’d relished – his kiss, his touch.

It was wholly improper, not to mention disloyal. She’d never kissed Joshua, never even thought about the intimacies they would share after they
married. And yet she’d allowed Broxburn to kiss her senseless, to undress her and touch her naked flesh.

Lucy had never realized that her breasts and womb were internally connected, but when he’d touched her nipples, her abdomen had tightened in a manner
that was altogether too agreeable. No, agreeable was too weak a word. She’d nearly lost her footing from the pleasure of it.

It was mortifying. Being so completely seduced by a man she didn’t even…

Well, it wasn’t as though she actually disliked him any more. He was certainly handsome enough, though it seemed his dark looks had become a serious
threat to her peace of mind. She did not understand how she had suddenly found the man so attractive, when they’d hardly done more than spar with
each other.

He’d been good enough to help her family when they’d faced dire circumstances, and it was clear he was shaken and worried by his father’s
condition. She could not fault him for that.

Lucy remembered the disheveled couple she’d seen in the clearing and realized the situation with Broxburn had been similar. But the woman had clearly
enjoyed it, where Lucy’s feelings were a good deal more confused. Outside of the impropriety of it, she’d been unfaithful to her feelings for
Joshua. She’d been so enthralled by Broxburn’s kiss and the heat of his powerful arms around her that she’d forgotten herself, forgotten
what she truly wanted.

It would not happen again. Somehow, she was going to avoid the man until her family could leave Craigmuir Castle.

She rang for one of the maids, removed her gown – something at which Lord Broxburn had been entirely too adept – and waited for help getting
undressed the rest of the way. She thought of Broxburn unfastening her stays after carrying her to bed, and her heart tripped.

She was mortified. How could she possibly face him again? With any luck, she would not have to.

The following morning, Lucy had no intention of going anywhere in the castle besides her aunt’s room. She’d spent a miserable night,
alternating between sleeplessness when she wasn’t fighting off ridiculous dreams. Her body had seemed to be on fire, but when she threw off the
covers, she felt chilled to the bone. Nothing was right.

And it still wasn’t right when she entered her aunt’s bedroom, well after daybreak.

“Why, Lucy,” her uncle said. “Are you ill?”

She cleared her throat and licked her lips. “No, Uncle. Why?”

“Oh. Well, you, uh…”

“I-I did not sleep well.” She did not know what else to say, nor did she want her uncle looking too deeply into her eyes. She went to her
aunt’s bedside, and her heart sank when she realized Arden seemed no better than she’d been the night before.

She took her aunt’s hand in her own and spoke softly to her, wishing her free of pain and praying for her full recovery. Lucy might be anxious to
leave Craigmuir Castle, but not at the cost of her aunt’s health.

“Did she sleep all night?” Lucy asked Sinclair.

“Mostly, yes,” the maid answered. “When she woke in pain, we gave her more laudanum.”

Lucy pressed her lips together. A dull ache gathered between her brows as the reality of staying at least another day at Craigmuir set in. She looked up at
her soft-hearted uncle, who dabbed tears from his eyes.

“I am sure she will recover fully, Uncle,” Lucy said, patting Archie’s hand. She put aside her own worries, determined to give him the
support he needed while she stayed clear of the man who’d seduced her— No, he’d
nearly
seduced her. There could be no repetition
of last night’s events in the tower room. She realized she’d been a fool to venture out there in the first place. She recognized that now,
though the allure of seeing a ghost still persisted.

And she hated to admit that there was some allure in the thought of seeing Broxburn again.

“Archie?”

Lucy saw that her aunt was awake, so she got up and moved aside so that Archie had space to sit on the bed beside her.

“Arden, my pet. You are awake.”

Arden furrowed her brow. “Wh-where are we?”

“We are at Craigmuir Castle, my dear,” Archie said. “We came here after the accident.”

Arden said naught, but Lucy decided her puzzled frown could not be any deeper. Her aunt did not remember what had brought them there.

Archie spoke softly to his wife, explaining what had happened, and trying to prod her memory. He took her uninjured hand in his and spoke affectionately,
with patience, and Lucy could actually feel the warmth of their regard for each other.

Her aunt might be a brash, outspoken matron, but it was clear that Archie loved her with all his heart.

Lucy found herself thinking of Lord Broxburn’s seduction again and immediately shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind. Her reaction to him was
solely because he’d taken her off guard. She hadn’t expected…

No, that was not true. In letting down her hair and slipping his fingers through it, he’d given her ample warning that he was going to steal a kiss.

And yet their kiss had been so much more than an insignificant theft. It had led to the most incredible—

“Lucy,” Arden said.

Lucy knelt down again. “Aunt Arden?”

Arden turned her head toward her, wincing. “Lucy. You…my girl, you were unharmed?”

Lucy nodded. “Only a small bump on the head.”

Arden closed her eyes and sighed. “I am so very tired.”

“I know, Aunt. You received the worst of it.”

Arden’s eyes remained closed, and Lucy wondered if she’d fallen asleep again. But then her aunt said, “Tea. If I could just have a
sip.”

“Of course!” Lucy got to her feet and poured some lukewarm tea into a cup.

“Can you raise your head, Aunt?”

“A little.”

Lord Kildrum got out of the way as Lucy and Sinclair helped Arden to lift up and drink a small amount.

“Ah. That’s good.”

“Are you in much pain, Aunt Arden?”

“Well, aside from the tattoo beating in my head and the claymore tearing apart my arm, not much.”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Lucy replied. Obviously, Arden was in pain. “Would you like a dose of laudanum?”

“What I would like is to go home.”

Lucy looked at her uncle. Pleadingly, she feared.

“As soon as Dr. Henderson says you can be moved, we will go home, Arden.”

“I am ready, Archie,” she said. “I need no permission from any physician.”

“I would prefer to wait, pet,” Archie said, the picture of patience. “I will not risk your health only to arrive in Edinburgh a day or
two sooner.”

“Bah. I’ll be as right as rain once I am in my own bed.”

Lucy decided to slip out of the room and let her aunt and uncle deal with the question of when they would travel. If only there were some way to convince
Dr. Henderson to give them his blessing to leave, but Lucy decided he was not the type to be influenced by pleading.

She pulled the door closed quietly, and when she turned, found herself face to face with the man she’d hoped to avoid.

“Little Sassenach,” he said. He paused, looking into her eyes, causing Lucy to tremble a little. “I just came to look in on your
aunt.”

He was clean-shaven today, and even though his hair was combed back, it was still wavy and unruly. His eyes were clear, his gaze direct, and when he looked
at her mouth, she felt as though there was a string tugging from his eyes to her womb.

“Oh, yes,” Lucy said, chagrined by her breathless reply. She cleared her throat. “My aunt is awake now.”

“That is very good news, then.”

She nodded, feeling tongue-tied. He was standing quite close now, and Lucy could almost feel his breath upon her cheek. Her traitorous body wanted more.

“Dr. Henderson will be here soon,” he said.

She nodded. “She wants to go home.”

Her words seemed to take him aback. “Is she ready?”

“I do not know.”
But one could hope.
“She seems to think so. M-My uncle and I are ready to leave at a moment’s notice. We
will be out of your way quite soon.”

It felt impossibly dangerous, standing there with him so close, close enough to—

He tucked a loose lock of her hair behind her ear and she stepped back before he could do more.

“Miss St—”

“Good day, Lord Broxburn,” she said, quickly turning around and entering her bedroom, closing the door behind her. He would not dare follow.

And yet there was a knock at her door. “Miss Stillwater.”

“Go away, my lord.”

Duncan had been impossible to awaken, so Ian rode down to Craigmuir Way with Ferguson and Malcolm. Ian was not happy about Duncan’s abdication of his
newly-assigned duty, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Besides, Duncan was more likely to muck it all up than he was to do anything
productive.

Nor could Ian do anything about Lucy Stillwater. She was determined to avoid him.

Last night, he’d returned to the keep after those unbelievable few moments with her in the tower. He’d wanted nothing more than to follow her
up to her bedroom and finish what they’d begun in the tower, but – as he’d told Duncan – Lucy Stillwater was no Edinburgh trollop.
He had been so far out of line with her he ought to be whipped.

He had taken advantage of her innocence.

Ian could not regret it, though. Her passionate response to his kiss was enough to fuel his dreams long after she was gone. And she would soon leave. She
would be in Edinburgh, no doubt pining for the man she loved.

He met with the manager of the brickworks and discussed plans to expand the business and build another kiln. After an hour, he and Malcolm left it to
Ferguson to work out the details, and rode north to the town of Haddington where they stopped at a public house.

They claimed a table near the front window.

“Something is bothering you, Brox,” Malcolm said. “Is it your father?”

Ian looked up. He hadn’t even thought about his father since he’d kissed Lucy Stillwater.

“Uh, no. I just—” He paused. “Malcolm, how do you know you are ready to marry?”

Kindale raised his brows, deferring his reply until after the barman placed drinks on their table and left.

“I cannot tell you with any certainty, Ian,” he said.

“Well, are you ready to marry Miss Douglas?”

 Malcolm scrubbed one hand across his mouth and chin, giving Ian a decidedly dismal impression of what his friend’s future would be.

“Of course I am ready,” Malcolm said. But Ian observed his friend’s countenance and knew he was not. He knew there was nothing he could
do to dissuade him from marrying his father’s ward – not when he’d made a solemn promise to the old earl to do so.

“What about you and Lady Kathryn?” Malcolm asked. “Are
you
ready?”

Ian took a swallow of his ale. He had not given a thought to Kathryn Hay since Malcolm had last mentioned her.

“See? It is not the simplest of questions,” Malcolm said.

“No, I suppose not.” He considered Lady Kathryn and could barely remember anything about her, other than her red hair, which – he
admitted – was quite fetching. But Lucy Stillwater filled his mind and set his body on fire. The liberties he’d taken last night were
inexcusable, and she had quite rightly avoided him this morning. It was obvious she wanted nothing more to do with him.

“How is Lady Kildrum this morning?” Malcolm asked.

“’Tis possible she is ready to travel.”

Malcolm raised a brow.

“At least, that is what Miss Stillwater said,” Ian explained. “They were waiting for the physician when we left the castle.”

Malcolm sat quietly, tapping his fingers on the side of his mug, seeming preoccupied. He finally looked up. “She will be inundated by suitors once
she arrives in Edinburgh. Miss Stillwater, I mean.”

“What?” Ian said, frowning. “Oh. I suppose she will.” The thought of it gave him a sharp pang in his belly.

“Her father is one of the wealthiest landowners in Berkshire,” Malcolm continued. “No doubt she will have a handsome dowry. Every
beggared Scot near the city will be looking to win her hand.”

“Ach. Erskine,” Ian muttered. And Duncan. And a host of others.
Bloody hell.

Malcolm gave a quick nod. “You ought to warn her.”

“Won’t her uncle protect her from fortune hunters?” Ian asked.

“He would, but we both know the earl is preoccupied at the moment.”

What was Malcolm saying? That Ian needed to protect Lucy somehow? “All right, I’ll warn her. But I do not think there is much danger in her
being swept off her feet in Edinburgh.”

“Oh?”

“She is in love with some fellow in Berkshire.” And the thought of it rankled.

Malcolm’s ginger brows rose again, in his typical fashion. “I did not realize it was as serious as that. Joshua Parris, I suppose.”

Ian leaned forward. “What? You know the man?”

“Uh, no,” he replied somewhat awkwardly, “but I met one of her sisters at Windermere early in the year, and she spoke at length of her
family. She knew I’d met Lucy and mentioned her sister’s affection for Mr. Parris.”

“What else do you know of Miss Stillwater?”

“She has four sisters and two brothers,” Malcolm said. “They are a close-knit family.”