Chapter Ten
Evelyn drank him in. The touch of his lips against hers. The clean, heady scent of his skin. The tantalizing feel of his fingers threading through her loosely upswept hair.
This was madness—a sweet, intoxicating rush of sensation, but madness nonetheless.
She should break away from his embrace. Really, she should. Her rational mind whispered of the risks in her ear. Anyone might come upon them. She should think of what was proper…what a respectable woman would do.
If only the taste of his kiss was not so very delicious.
She relaxed against him, even as she willed herself to step away. One hand cupped her chin, while the other wove through the strands of her hair. Gently tipping her head back, he deepened the sensuous contact. His tongue gently parted her lips. Her breath mingling with his, she savored the tantalizing texture of his tongue against hers.
All the while, their tongues danced a sensual pas de deux.
Ah, she wanted this. Didn’t she? The heat of his body washed over her, even as he held her apart from him, a finger’s breadth…perhaps two…separating their bodies. He might’ve coiled his arms around her and pressed her to his long, muscular length, possessive and primal. Heaven knew, she would not have protested the contact. But he maintained that small distance. Was he attempting in some small way to play the gentleman, even as he claimed her kiss?
Or did he know better than to allow himself to be drawn in?
Summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, she stepped back, just enough to slip out of his arms. She met his questioning gaze.
“My, that was…intriguing.” Her voice sounded husky to her own ears.
“Ye might say that.” The rake’s smile returned. “Ye might also say that’s only the beginning.”
She softly shook her head. “No, Mr. MacMasters. It is not the beginning. It was only a kiss.”
He ran his fingertips over her cheek to her earlobe, smoothing a tendril of her hair back into some semblance of order. “Only a kiss, eh?”
“Yes—a kiss. A simple caress. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“I could convince ye otherwise.” Wicked promise danced in his eyes. “But that would take an entire night…alone with you.”
“Aren’t you the cheeky one?”
“That was more than just a kiss, lass. Ye know I’m right.” Reaching out, he straightened the cameo at her throat. “But this is neither the place nor the time to plead my case.”
The time. Good heavens! She’d lost track of the minutes ticking by. By now, Catriona and the others had most likely begun to gather in the parlor. If one of them went looking for her…well, she did not even want to think of it. Not another scandal. At least she could look herself in the mirror and tell herself she had not done anything truly foolish.
Not yet.
But if she stayed in the garden with this tempting specimen of Highlander much longer, she might well give herself cause to doubt her own resolve.
“I do need to be going. I’m expected… Will you be joining us?”
“Yes.” Those enigmatic eyes of his studied her, as if he found her a mystery he couldn’t quite solve. “I’ll wait a few minutes…for the sake of decorum.”
“Of course. We wouldn’t want to give the gossips a gift.”
She turned away and headed inside. With each step, she could feel his gaze trailing her. She closed the door behind her and entered the solarium. Grace and her sketchbook were nowhere to be seen. With any luck, the pleasant-faced American had not ventured toward the garden on the way to Catriona’s informal gathering.
Moving quickly, she made her way to the parlor. The Scotswoman lingered by a window, sipping what appeared to be red wine from a goblet.
“There’s been a slight change in plans, dear,” she said in greeting. “My husband has decided he wishes to grace our guests with the opportunity to admire his new billiard table. The ladies are waiting there.”
“Is he skilled with a cue? I know little about the game.”
“Sadly, one might say the same of my Jamie.” Catriona took another sip of her drink. “Ye’re looking well tonight, much more relaxed than ye were in town.”
“I must say I’m feeling more myself now.”
Catriona flashed her small white teeth, not quite a smile. “This fine Highland air has put some color back in yer face. Thank heavens ye’ve now got some pink in yer flesh. I’ve seen specters in this castle that have more life in them.”
Evelyn tamped down the smile that played on her lips. The fact she’d been kissed by the Highlander—exceedingly well kissed, at that—had far more to do with the fresh flush in her cheeks than any special quality of the atmosphere. But Catriona certainly didn’t need to know that.
“Yes, there is something to be said for this clean country air.”
“It’s nothing like that dreary fog ye live with in London.”
“I’ve been told the fog is good for one’s complexion,” Evelyn countered.
“I suppose one can find a benefit in anything if one looks hard enough,” Catriona said, squinting as she studied Evelyn’s face. “Did ye manage to get dirt even…there?”
“Even…where?”
“I do wonder if ye’ll ever get all that muck off ye. In any case, ye’re none the worse for wear. I’m pleased ye were able to join us before the meal is served.” Catriona reached out, making a show of brushing a speck that may or may not have existed off Evelyn’s cheek. False warmth marked her tone. “Would ye be of a mind to accompany me to the billiard room? Another guest has arrived. Some old school chum of my brother’s, or so I’m told. I must offer a proper greeting.”
“It would be my pleasure.” Amazing, how smoothly the little lie flowed from Evelyn’s tongue.
“I do cherish my home and my family, but there are times… What I wouldn’t do to be carefree and unburdened.” Catriona slanted Evelyn a glance. “Like ye.”
“Quite so,” Evelyn said coolly, again refusing the bait. “I’ve come to see freedom as a rare commodity to be treasured.”
Catriona’s mouth set in a pinched bow. How disappointing it must be for her that Evelyn had not responded to her oh-so-civilized barbs. At least she had not mentioned MacMasters’ unexpected appearance in her bath. Had she been informed of the incident? While there had been nothing truly shocking to speak of—it wasn’t as if she and the handsome Scot had been caught in flagrante delicto—the slightest spark could set a scandal ablaze. Hadn’t she learned that lesson all too well when her betrothal had ended and her good name had been caught in the flames?
Still, it was possible that Millie would wish to shield the mistress of the house from the gossip. Given Catriona’s stern manner, the housemaids would not wish to stir her displeasure. If one of them had been responsible for escorting MacMasters to the wrong chamber, she might be chastised—or perhaps, dismissed—over such an error. It was indeed possible the news would not make it to Catriona’s ears. Or so Evelyn reassured herself.
Her mind wandered, mulling an array of possibilities. By now, the household staff had undoubtedly learned of MacMasters’ accidental visit to her bathing chamber. Despite her initial concern, Millie’s consternation had likely transformed to a spark of excitement once she’d been in the company of the other maids. If Evelyn strained her ears and listened intently enough, she might well hear the tale spreading through the nooks and crannies of the mansion, growing more outrageous and lascivious with each telling.
A poorly timed smile pulled at her lips. How would the Scot respond to talk of their unfortunate incident, as the gossips would likely describe his unexpected appearance in her bathing chamber? Unfortunate, in that somehow, even though she’d been minding her own business in a steamy vat of water, she’d been thrust into another potential scandal.
She couldn’t imagine he’d give the busybodies the satisfaction of confirming or denying the rumors. Not that it would matter to him. Not really. After all, it was different for a man—and this man seemed made for scandal. It wasn’t as if he were some staid barrister or stuffy lord. He wouldn’t feel compelled to offer vows in some too-blasted-late attempt to salvage the few shreds that remained of her reputation—thank heavens! The very last thing she needed was a man intent on rescuing her, much less from her comfortable life as a rather happily fallen woman.
With that too-tempting-for-her-own-good brogue of his, he’d likely seduced more than his fair share of willing women. A man like MacMasters would see no need to save her from scandal. To the contrary, the rebelliousness in his expression spoke of a man who’d seek a behind-closed-doors rendezvous to follow their brief encounter. If their eyes met over the first course, would wry humor color his interest?
Or would heat infuse his gaze?
Banishing the smoldering image from her thoughts, Evelyn focused on far more mundane topics of conversation, something she might speak of during the meal. Something light-hearted. Something witty. At the very least, some subject that had absolutely, positively nothing to do with the prospect of ending up in the arms—or the bed—of a Highland rake.
For a moment, she considered inquiring about Catriona’s choice of foliage in her gardens, but quickly thought better of it. Better not to remind her hostess of the near-catastrophe she’d inflicted on her plants. Why, it wouldn’t surprise her—not very much, at least—if the Scotswoman arranged for a piper in black to visit her garden and perform a dirge in honor of the fallen seedlings.
Managing a companionable silence, the two women strolled along the warmly lighted corridor. Portraits of kilted men, and women draped in the family plaid, adorned the spacious passageway. Her hostess led her to a cavernous room tastefully appointed in the lush greens and golds of a forest. A massive walnut bookcase populated with neatly arranged leather-bound tomes, and what appeared to be mementos collected during travels through Britain and the Continent, filled one wall. A massive coat of arms was centered over the fireplace. Large, arched windows trimmed with stained glass filled another wall, allowing natural light to stream into the room. Beside the windows, Evelyn spotted a dollhouse that stood nearly as high as she was tall. Displayed on a sturdy stand, the house had been modeled after a fairy tale castle, so enchanting a miniature Cinderella might have departed it in a pumpkin coach at the stroke of midnight. The only thing missing was a tiny glass slipper on the steps.
“Do ye like it?” Catriona trailed a fingertip over the door of the precisely scaled abode.
“It’s utterly charming.”
A bittersweet expression washed over Catriona’s features. “My father had it made for me, so many years ago. It brings back wonderful memories.”
Good heavens, was that a tear in her eye? The woman was an enigma.
“The detail is amazing. I nearly expect to see a prince ride up on his steed.”
“I do treasure it so.” Catriona’s eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, as if in warning. “I would be devastated if something were to happen to it.”
“Understandably so,” Evelyn murmured, taking a step back. She would not want to displace so much as a fingernail-sized shingle on the castle roof.
“Ah, there is our latest arrival.” Catriona moved toward the bookshelves. “Shall we greet him?”
If there was one thing to be said for the Highlands, the region was certainly not at a loss for handsome men. Evelyn’s attention was drawn to an appealing specimen. He stood with his back to her, perusing the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. At least a head taller than her, he wore his chestnut brown hair cut in a fashionable style, while his impeccably tailored charcoal tweed jacket emphasized his broad shoulders.
As the door closed noiselessly behind her, he turned, a thick tome in hand. The faintest of smiles curved his generous mouth. A sage tie precisely knotted at his throat brought out the mossy green hue of his eyes. Quite a handsome fellow, indeed.
She’d never laid eyes upon the man until that moment. Of that, she was quite certain. Yet, there was something disconcertingly familiar about him. He cocked his head ever so slightly, as if studying her. Had he also picked up on the sense that somehow, somewhere, they’d encountered each other?
Catriona addressed the stranger. “I am Lady Houghton. I dinnae believe we have met. I presume ye are a guest of my brother’s.”
The stranger’s smile intensified, warm and inviting. Evelyn took in the angular precision of his chiseled features. So very familiar.
“Indeed, Dougal and I were at university. As I recall, I visited your family home once. As memory serves, you were not in residence at the time. Was there an occasion when you studied in France… Renaissance art, as I recall?”
Catriona positively beamed at his recollection. “Yes, those days in Paris before Laird Houghton and I were married were grand. I do so cherish the memories.”
“As anyone would.” He placed the book in his hand upon the shelf. “I must apologize, as it seems I have you at a disadvantage. I should introduce myself—”
The door opened, and Houghton walked in. “I see ye’ve already made Dr. MacMasters’ acquaintance.”
“Dr. MacMasters?” The question blurted from Evelyn’s mouth before she could stop herself.
The new arrival cocked his head, his features unreadable. “The medical school that issued my credentials is under that impression.” A hint of amusement tugged at his mouth. “Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not,” Evelyn said. “I did not mean to be impolite. It’s just that—”
Catriona moved closer to the handsome Scot. “Ye’re not the first MacMasters that Lady Evelyn has had the pleasure of encountering today.”
He hiked a brow. “I take it you’ve met Gerard,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “You are kin to him?”
“According to our mother. The no-doubt ill-mannered lummox you met earlier is my brother.” Dr. MacMasters’ eyes flashed with good humor as he sketched a playful bow. “Harrison MacMasters, at your service.”
“Lummox, is it?” Gerard MacMasters’ hearty voice boomed from the doorway. His low, rumbling laugh warmed her. The Scot gave a nod of acknowledgment to Catriona and Evelyn. “Ladies, in truth, my brother is the gentleman of the family. I dare say it takes him a good quarter hour just to ensure his tie is knotted in the latest fashion. Ye dinnae often find that dedication to propriety in a MacMasters.”
“I thought I heard yer voice, MacMasters.” Sally’s fiancé sauntered into the room with Sally at his side, her hand resting in his. A lean, red-headed man, Dougal McLeod’s smile softened angular features that might’ve been carved with a sharp blade.
“It’s good to see ye both could make the journey.” McLeod threw an arm around Harrison in greeting.
“A swarm of water-kelpies could not have kept us away,” Harrison replied drily.
McLeod stepped back, smiling heartily. “So, it’s doctor now—I knew ye’d put that brain of yours to good use. Ye always were the studious sort.”
“Studious sort?” Harrison smiled. “As I recall, we were more apt to be found with cues in our hands in some rowdy tavern than burying our noses in books.”
McLeod’s attention shot to the billiard table. He grinned. “We convinced quite a few rich men’s sons we didn’t know our way around a rack. If memory serves, playing the fool was rather lucrative. How long’s it been since ye separated some cocky bounder from his blunt?”
“It’s been a while.” A sly smile curved Harrison’s mouth. “Too long.”
Gerard MacMasters cocked his head and rocked back on his heels. “Good God, are ye telling me there was ever a time when Harrison didn’t put duty before pleasure?”
“Aye, I could tell ye some stories,” Dougal volunteered.
Catriona crossed the room to stand at her brother’s side. “I am so pleased that ye’re enjoying this opportunity to become reacquainted. I am quite sure our conversation over dinner will be enjoyable.” She slanted Evelyn a glance. “As I understand it, Lady Evelyn could tell quite a story of her own. She’s had a very interesting day.”
“There’s really not much to tell,” Evelyn said. “The incident is over and done. Nothing to be concerned about, I’m sure.”
“I do admire ye, keeping a stiff upper lip as ye are,” Catriona said in a voice more syrupy than molasses. “Of course, isn’t that what the English are known for?”
“I cannot say as I’ve had no cause to be brave.”
“I must respectfully disagree.” Catriona threaded slender fingers through her long, reddish-blonde hair, tossing the strands over her shoulder. “Ye’ve had quite a trying experience. Ye’ve had more unusual…unanticipated encounters today than I’ve had in all my days.”
Something about the Scotswoman’s thin, false smile set off alarm bells in Evelyn’s mind. She looked as if she knew a secret, one she longed to reveal.
Evelyn forced herself to hold the other woman’s gaze. Pity she couldn’t shrink down to the size of one of Catriona’s dolls and take refuge in her miniature castle. Anything to escape her piercing regard.
Ah, yes, Catriona knew. The prospect of revealing what had happened in her bathing chamber fairly danced in her blue eyes.
The sound of chimes drifted through the chamber. Evelyn’s attention flickered to the clock on the far wall. Had she been given a reprieve?
“I do hate to interrupt, but it’s time to prepare for supper. Mrs. Dougherty has assured me the first course will be ready precisely at a quarter past the hour. We must make our way to the dining hall.” Her attention flashed back to Evelyn. “I have enjoyed our conversation. It’s as if ye’re a magnet for mishaps. I am looking forward to hearing all about yer latest adventure.”