Page 36 of Taming the Scot
“Ye’re a good sport, Martin.”
“Thank ye, sir.”
Euan supposed he needed to be a good sport too. He’d enjoyed most of the games up to this point, but he wanted to spend more time with Bronwen, and Maggie had interrupted a moment that could have revealed more about their guest. More information that could help him protect her.
Alas, he had no other choice. He might have been Laird of Drum, the eldest of the Irvine siblings, but he was outnumbered six to one. When it came to arguments, there were often times that acquiescing was easier.
“Are ye ready, Captain?”
With another resigned sigh, Euan nodded. “Aye.”
Martin opened the door and proceeded to announce Euan back into the parlor.
The ladies were all in a row, hands folded before them. A gorgeous band of women with Bronwen at their center, drawing his gaze like a ship to the beacon of light. Owen approached him, nuzzling his hand in welcome, and Euan stroked the back of his dog’s neck, giving his ears a little scratch.
Keeping up the charade, his sisters seemed surprised and delighted to see him. Even Bronwen was playing along. All seven women curtsied in unison, but his eyes were only on his governess, who bobbed with elegance and grace, in stark contrast to a few days ago. Perhaps her nerves had finally started to settle. That was a welcome observation.
“Welcome, welcome, Captain Irvine. Please allow me to introduce ye to our guests,” Maggie said with a flourish of her hands. “This is Miss Amabel and her sisters the Misses Lillie, Skye, Esme and Raine. And this,” she paused, gesturing grandly to Bronwen, “is our distinguished guest of the evening, hailing all way from Edinburgh and in our quaint village of Drum only a short time. I present to ye, Miss Bronwen Holmes.”
Euan was determined to treat Bronwen as he would any other lady of his initial acquaintance if only to prove to her he wasn’t the cad she thought him to be. To show her that he’d been paying attention to every lesson thus far. That he did care—even if that attention seemed more and more to center on her alone.
He strolled forward, extending his hand for the one Bronwen had yet to put out. When she didn’t move, he waited, hoping to disarm her with his smile.
Amabel nudged Bronwen with the slightest touch to her elbow, but it seemed to startle their guest, who swallowed so hard he could see the column of her throat undulate. She seemed more nervous than he was.
“Oh, right,” Bronwen quietly said as she thrust her hand out for him.
Euan touched his fingers to her slim, gloved ones and tugged her gently closer until his lips brushed a centimeter away, then he let her go, a feat much harder than he’d anticipated it being. He longed to tug her against him, to kiss her the way he had in the garden. To dismiss his sisters for the night and have this lass all to himself.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Holmes.” He somehow managed not to sound as if he was being strangled with unsaid things when he said it.
She inclined her head, folding her hands before her, but if he wasn’t mistaken, she was holding onto them a little tighter than before. “And yours, sir.”
“Pardon the interruption, Captain and ladies,” said Martin, “but dinner is served.”
Euan offered his elbow to Bronwen, hoping she didn’t shove him away or box his ears as she’d threatened before. But she smiled shyly at him and threaded her arm around his, fingers resting on his forearm, as if little hot irons were singeing him. He yearned for more of that. To feel the sizzle as she stroked him, clutched to him.
Nay, he couldn’t think in terms of desire, passion, pleasure. That was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place. What he needed was a few moments alone to apologize for his behavior in the garden. To beg for her forgiveness. To promise never to kiss her again unless she wanted him to. God, did he want her to want another.
Their dinner was pleasant, small talk mostly. His sisters dominated the conversations about ribbons and frocks and what fashionable people would be coming into Edinburgh soon from London for the season. But Euan had eyes only for Bronwen, who nodded and smiled but seemed out of her element. He supposed being a governess—or whatever she’d been by trade before she’d come to Drum Castle—that was true. And most governesses, if that was what she was, wouldn’t dine with the family. The governesses hired prior to Maggie taking over the duties had all dined with the staff or in their chambers.
However, with Miss Holmes, he and his sisters had insisted from the moment she arrived that she dine with them. Perhaps because she was helping him gain a wife and not dealing with the rearing and tutoring of children.
To be quite frank, he had no interest in the conversation and wanted very much to take Bronwen by the hand and disappear into the garden. He shifted in his chair, trying to think of the various ways in which he could call this dinner at an end. Finally, the moment arrived, and their dessert was cleared.
But before he could suggest a stroll with Bronwen, Maggie clapped her hands.
“Now for the fun part,” Maggie said. “We’re going to play games in the parlor.”
“Games?” Bronwen looked startled, flicking her gaze nervously toward his and back.
Lillie stood from the table exuberantly. “Aye. Charades, it’s one of our favorites.”
“No’ one of mine,” Euan said with a teasing grin. Owen, who’d been lying quietly by his side, popped his head up at finally hearing his master speak.
He really did loathe the game, and he’d been pulled into it more times than he could count. And always as the most ridiculous of characters or tasks.
“Nor mine,” Bronwen chimed in, looking at him gratefully if only for the tiniest flash.
