Page 32 of Taming the Scot
Her secret was still safe.
At some point in the night, she managed to fall asleep, and the dawn came too early, the sun shining through her window. She’d hoped to wake and find it raining and the lesson for today needing to be postponed, but alas, she had no such luck.
Having brought only a few items of clothing with her, she re-wore the gown she’d donned on her arrival and made her way downstairs. The breakfast room was empty, and the array of eggs was on the sideboard. Today, she decided to have Euan’s childhood favorite, along with some of the mushrooms. As she ate, she thought about his late-night visit. If anyone were to have found out about that, it would have been considered a scandal, according to the guidebook.
So many rules that the upper crust had to follow, and so many Bronwen could do without. How did they go about each day, worrying so much about this or that?
Since the elder sisters and Euan had returned late into the night from the assembly—though Esme and Raine had predicted they wouldn’t be back until morning, so she supposed it was earlier than usual—and the youngest sisters had stayed up until nearly midnight from the impromptu party Bronwen orchestrated for them, the house was quiet.
After finishing her breakfast, she wandered into the ballroom. The drapes were still closed, so she spun in a circle on her tiptoes, the swish of her skirts circulating air over her claves. With her eyes closed, she envisioned music, the notes tinkling on the edge of her memory. She practiced a few of the dance steps she’d seen in the book, drawn in black outlines of figures. The moves were not much different than the dances she’d done in the taverns in Edinburgh during the few times she’d been invited out before losing her parents. Though they seemed slower perhaps—wider, maybe? She couldn’t tell; she was no dancing expert by any means.
Though she guessed the aristocrats would think their steps were much more refined, and perhaps they were. But they were also stiff. There didn’t seem to anything fun about what they did.
Hearing the public house music in her head, she smiled and tapped her way about the floor, bringing to life in her imagination perceived happier times. She swung her body around and around, laughing softly at her antics until she collided with strong, male muscle.
Her fingers curled into that muscle. “Oh,” she burst out, eyes popping open to find Euan smiling down at her, her hands clutching his chest.
“Ye’re a good dancer, though I’ve no’ seen this one before. Looks fun.” The genuine pleasure in his voice, written on his face, sent her face to flames.
“Ye’re no’ asleep,” she blurted out, feeling awkward and more than a little embarrassed at having been caught.
“Nay. We’ve lessons, and I’ve still got an estate to run.”
“Even after a late night?”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead. At least that was what my da used to say.”
Bronwen smiled and realized she was still gripping him—even more dire, his hands were resting on the small of her back. She practically leapt back, away from the heat of his body and the temptation to explore the wall of taut sinew that had collided with her.
She folded her hands behind her back as if that were going to help her. “If ye have work to do, I’ll no’ stand in your way.”
Euan grinned at her as if he knew her thoughts and took a step closer. Oh, but he smelled delicious. How was it fair that he should smell so good? Spicy, woodsy—temptation itself.
“I could use some fresh air first. How about the garden lesson?”
Goodness, but she needed fresh air too if she was going to survive. Air, the crisp breeze of morning. Something to cool down the flames in her cheeks and the rampant burbling of the blood heating in her veins. “All right.” Och, but her tongue felt thick.
This time when he offered her his arm, she didn’t hesitate in taking it as she had the previous times. It was only after she laid her palm on his forearm that she realized what she’d done and cursed herself. It would seem she had lost all semblance of control.
“Did ye sleep well, Miss Holmes?” He turned them toward a wall of glass doors that led out onto a patio overlooking the garden.
“Aye.” This wasn’t exactly a lie. When she finally had fallen asleep, she’d been dead to the world. It was getting there that had taken a while.
“Good.” He opened the door leading them out into the sunshine toward the garden.
A gentle breeze blew at her, and for a moment, she thought to turn back to get a shawl but decided against it. The side he was on was mighty warm already.
“And ye?” she managed to ask.
“Quite well. I only need a few decent hours of sleep a night to function.”
“’Tis the same for me.” Although, the indulgence of sleeping late was never an option for her. It would seem with all the burdens on Euan’s shoulders, neither had he.
Their shoes crunched on the gravel pathway as they traversed the garden. She almost forgot they were supposed to be having a lesson, so aware was she of his strong body beside hers.
“A garden walk is a good time to get to know your potential bride better,” she said, deciding to drag herself away from the yearning thoughts that kept trying to batter their way into her head like an enemy force, and return to the reason she was here to begin with.
“How right ye are.” His grin was devastatingly handsome. “So, tell me, Miss Holmes, what was your biggest dream as a wee lass?”
