Page 34 of Taming the Scot
This was heaven, glorious euphoria. A delicious and intoxicating escape from everything and everyone. Just the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, their passion igniting.
Owen let out a loud woof in warning beside them and then again until Bronwen was pushing against Euan’s chest, managing to find the willpower to end the liplock. Every part of her yearned to lean back in. To not heed the warning of the dog that someone might be coming.
Breathing hard, she met his gaze, read the intense desire there that matched her own. And she knew she needed to put a stop to it. All the reasons she’d told herself before were still valid. They were too different. She bore too many burdens to lay on his shoulders. And he needed a wife that would fit well into his life.
“I am your governess,” she reminded him breathlessly.
“And I am a man kissing a lass.”
“Aye, but ye’re also a man that needs a bride. And I am no’ she.” Bronwen shook her head, let her hands fall from his chest. “The lessons are over for today.”
“Wait, do no’ go, please,” he said as she turned away.
But Bronwen couldn’t make herself stay. Couldn’t let herself fall into the trap of becoming his mistress when she knew he would still need a wife. That was not the life she wanted for herself. Always being second, never being fully safe.
And so, she hurried back to the castle, up the stairs to her bedroom, and when she was there, she flung open the wardrobe and threw her gowns onto the bed. She tugged her valise from beneath the bed. She would pack, and she would slip away. The lasses of the house were going into the village today to do some volunteer work with the church. They wouldn’t notice her gone for some time, and likely Euan would give her space. At least, she hoped he would.
“What are ye doing?”
Bronwen turned to see Amabel standing in the doorway, her face serious as usual. Blast it, but she’d forgotten to close the door.
Bronwen drew in a heavy breath and had to look away from Euan’s sister. “I’m packing.”
Amabel approached the bed and put her hand on Bronwen’s, drawing her attention back.
“Why?” Amabel cocked her head to the side, studying her with those large blue eyes that seemed to see inside Bronwen’s soul.
“Because I do no’ think I can do more here than I already have.” That was an understatement.
“Really? Seems like ye’ve just begun.” There was no censure in her voice, only genuine surprise.
Bronwen ran her sweaty palms over the front of her gown. “The captain does no’ need a governess to help him find a wife. He just needs to meet the right lady.”
“Please stay.”
Drawn to the sadness in the lass’s voice, Bronwen stopped what she was doing to pay her more attention. “Why?”
“I’ve never seen my brother so…lively. We’ve all been enjoying this side of him so much. He’s had so much on his shoulders—if ye only knew.” She stopped abruptly. “I think that these lessons have given him a new outlook. And perhaps if ye continue, he will indeed find the right bride. But I’m afraid if ye leave, that will never happen. And then, we’ll all be lost as he was when, well, since forever. It almost feels as if we have our brother back.”
Lost. That was a feeling Bronwen could identify with. More often than not, she was lost, searching for herself, for where she belonged. Was it the same for Euan? But even as she contemplated that, she knew it for what it was. He’d essentially told her that in the garden.
Amabel glided toward the bed, picking up a frock and hanging it back in the wardrobe. “A few more days. Please.”
Bronwen sank onto the edge of the bed, unable to deny Amabel and the rest of Euan’s sisters the brother they’d longed to have back. And perhaps to give herself a few more days of that sense of belonging, of family, before she thrust herself back into the cold, hard world she knew all too well—as alone as she was the day she’d arrived.
“All right.” Bronwen nodded, scooping up her gowns to put them back. “I’ll stay a few more days.”
9
He was a rogue. A bloody scamp, and he knew it.
All day long, he’d been reliving his moments with Bronwen in the garden. The things he’d shared. The confessions she’d made, and then the kiss. The way she’d felt in his arms. God, he’d wanted to lay her down right then and there on the bloody grass and show her what pleasure was. To declare himself to her and tell her that he could protect her forever.
And none of it would be true. Because as much as he wanted her, as much as he was feeling for her, she was not the woman he was supposed to marry. Not the woman his mother and father would have chosen for him, and certainly not the woman his grandfather had in mind to break this damned curse of a will. He would be expected to marry someone of his own station, not a governess.
Euan had spent the rest of the day in his private gymnasium, tearing his body to shreds with his training dumbbells and the weighted bag that hung from the ceiling he used when he didn’t have a partner. He ached from the exertion; his knuckles were raw. And none of it helped to alleviate the angst.
Now he had to go to dinner. He would see her, and he was afraid he’d drop to his knees in front of her and declare his undying…what? Lust? Adoration?
