Page 43 of The Scot is Hers
“Much,” Lady Mary said, her tone clipped. “Though I would dearly like to sit if Your Grace does no’ mind?” Her gaze was pointed at Jaime.
Jaime stood immediately, gracious as always. “Of course no’, please do sit.”
Giselle detected the most minor drops of irritation in her dear friend’s tone and hid her smile.
Of course, Lady Mary’s mother looked horrified. It was the second time in the evening her daughter had crossed the bounds of proper behavior with her betters.
It was hilarious, but Giselle kept her mouth shut, preferring to watch the scene unfold around her rather than being a direct part of it.
“It truly has been a lovely night, but I find myself growing tired, and I’d rather no’ overdo it as I’d like to join the rest of ye tomorrow as well.” Giselle picked up her cane and stood, with Alec rushing to her side to steady her balance, though she didn’t need it.
“If I may, my lady,” he said, quite properly, which almost made her laugh aloud considering the very improper way his tongue had been dancing across hers moments ago.
“Thank ye, my lord,” she replied, equally appropriate.
The countess flicked her gaze around the group, finding Jaime in conversation with her soon-to-be husband. The countess’s lips pursed in irritation. “Och, my lord, ye need no’ leave your own party. I’ll escort the lass upstairs.”
Giselle bit her tongue against a rude sound she wished to make. She didn’t want the old dragon to escort her up. Having had her kiss with Alec interrupted for the second evening in a row, she dearly wanted to continue what they’d started uninterrupted. Of course, she knew this was incredibly uncouth, but alas, she found herself caring less and less about all of those society rules.
“That’s no’ necessary, my lady,” Alec said to his mother. “With Lady Giselle so unsteady on her feet, I’d hate for both of ye to take a tumble when I can manage perfectly well.”
“All right, well I shall accompany ye then and see that she’s settled in her room. Alone.”
“Very gracious of ye,” Giselle said, wishing she could tell the older woman to remain behind, and settle the irritated kitten—Lady Mary—on the bench rather than breathing down their necks.
But there did not appear to be any way to push the woman’s desires aside. She was already turning to head inside.
Alec passed her an apologetic look, and Giselle bid goodnight to those in the crowd as they made their way back into the castle, up the stairs and down the corridor where their evening would come to a disappointing close. Lady Mary had to be out there on that bench, still gloating.
Upon the threshold of her chamber door, they turned to look at one another, unable to say aloud the words tumbling through their minds.
“Say goodnight, Lord Errol,” his mother said crisply.
Giselle’s lip twitched as she gazed into his eyes. There was a little flicker of his eyebrow, but otherwise, not any reaction whatsoever. How had she been so lucky to meet a man that seemed able to read her thoughts?
“Good night, my lady.” Alec took her gloved hand in his and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the knuckles, lingering longer than his mother would like.
How she wished it were more, but she was willing to take whatever it was she could get. The countess, however, was having none of it, her impatience showing as she cleared her throat and stepped between them, forcing them to part. She barged into Giselle’s bedroom.
“Good night, my lord.” Giselle leaned on the cane, entering her chamber and moving toward the chair before the hearth, prepared for whatever it was the dowager was about to say, for she was certain the older woman had not volunteered to escort her here without a plan in mind.
“Thank ye so much for the escort,” Giselle said to the older woman as she took her seat, sweetly smiling as she picked at a piece of lint on her skirt that was not there.
“Do no’ thank me. What are ye up to?” Lady Errol snapped her skirts against the cushion across from Giselle. “How exactly did ye come to find my son on the moors? Was it an act of trickery? Because I will no’ abide by such deceits.”
Giselle had expected the woman to be unhappy, but she hadn’t expected her to make that sort of an accusation. The bitterness and untruth of it stung. “Lady Errol, I do apologize for having imposed on this house party that ye so kindly arranged for your son.” Goodness, but it was taking every ounce of willpower she had to keep herself cordial. To placate the woman. “But the truth of the matter is there were no machinations on my part. Merely fate. If it were no’ for your son, I’d have fallen over the cliffs and been gone from this world. I owe him a debt of gratitude for saving my life.” In more ways than one.
“What kind of lady rides out alone in a storm?” The way Lady Errol was looking down her nose at Giselle, it was clear what type of lady she thought her to be.
“I was in trouble.” Giselle felt the heat rising to her face. She didn’t know what else to say—nothing that wouldn’t sound as bad as her situation was. And besides, she couldn’t be certain that Lady Errol wouldn’t be of the same opinion of her mother. In fact, it was very likely she would be.
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” There was a flicker of worry in the woman’s face.
“I prefer no’ to say.” There, Giselle had been honest, by confessing she’d rather not say, than actually saying it, and that counted, she was certain.
“What?” Lady Errol sputtered. “I’m afraid ye’ll have to be more clear, else I’ve a mind to demand your family make haste in their coming to Slains to retrieve ye. I’ll no’ have my son be duped.”
Make haste. Nay, that wouldn’t do at all. “I do believe Lord Errol has sent a missive to my parents to let them know of my whereabouts.” At least that was the untruth they planned to tell everyone to give her a few days’ rest before she had to face off with them. She didn’t like lying to Lady Errol, but it was in everyone’s best interest if Alec’s mother didn’t pop off to inform her parents and, more importantly Sir Joshua, where she was precisely.
