Page 59 of Taming the Scot
Bronwen took in a deep breath and smiled. She was starving. Having been in the household nearly a month now, she’d gotten used to eating her fill without being sick, and this morning, she planned to fill her plate.
Even in this Edinburgh townhouse, Cook had been instructed to make every type of egg imaginable. And today, Bronwen chose to have what the footman called pie in a pan, which looked a lot like a combination of quiche and omelet. Eggs had been whipped together with asparagus and goat cheese, then fried in a pan and sliced into like a pie. Along with that, she took a scoop of mushrooms, two slices of bacon and two pieces of toast. Thank goodness no one was there to watch her gorge herself on what had quickly become her favorite meal of the day.
With her plate in hand, she sat at the table and poured herself a cup of tea.
A moment later, the heavy clomp of boots sounded. Oh, lucky morning. Euan had decided to wake and join her! She glanced up to smile at him, to tease him for sleeping later than her, only to find it wasn’t Euan entering the breakfast room but a total stranger.
The smile fell from her face.
The man standing in the entryway had similar features to Euan. The same color hair and eyes, but the grin on his face was not kind, nor was it pleasant. While Euan had a charming, devilishly handsome look about him, this man was more devil—not in the same way that sent faintish hearts skittering, but instead made her want to leave the room.
“I did no’ realize I’d have company,” he drawled, taking a few steps forward, toying with the button of his frockcoat.
Neither had she, and his intrusion felt most unwelcome. Bronwen wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin, and with her most imperial voice, said, “And ye are, sir?”
There was an almost imperceptible rise of his brows as though he’d expected her to react differently. “I’m surprised ye’ve no’ heard of me.” He gave a mocking pout. “I’m the cousin.”
The cousin. As if that was some sort of identifier. “I’ve several cousins myself, so I hardly think it prudent for ye to name yourself ‘the cousin,’ sir. I still know no’ who ye are.”
The stranger laughed, a grating sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. He flashed her a sharp gaze before turning back to the eggs. She decided she didn’t need to know who he was, and setting down her napkin, prepared to rise until she heard his next words and sank back into her chair with a chill.
“Interesting. Well, given I know who ye are, Bronwen Holmes, it seems only fair that I should share my identity with ye. I’m Hector Irvine, and I am cousin to Euan and his brood of sisters. Heir to the baronies of Drum and Bonshaw.”
With years of practice at hiding her emotions and reaction, Bronwen was able to do so now when she wanted to gape. Why hadn’t any of them ever mentioned Hector or the fact that he was staying at the house? Or that he was also an heir to the very same barony as Euan? She recalled he’d mentioned at one point it was still being decided. Was that because this man was contesting it?
Bronwen found the entire situation to be odd. The family had been so open with her about everything else. Why keep this one thing a secret? Besides that, she couldn’t help but wonder what the man was doing here. No one had mentioned they had a visitor, let alone that it was him.
She felt extremely uneasy. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end in the same way it always did when she was in danger. But this man couldn’t possibly pose a threat to her safety, could he? Aye, he knew her name, but perhaps that was because one of the family members or servants had shared it. It wasn’t as if her identity within the house was top secret. If it were, then she wouldn’t have gone to the ball.
So why did she feel so strange?
When she said nothing, he looked at her over his shoulder. “Ah, so my name does no’ ring a bell,” he said, a smile curling his lips that made her feel unsafe.
“I’m afraid no’, sir.” She kept her voice as neutral as possible.
He heaped his plate with just about everything while Bronwen suppressed a shudder. There was something so sinister in the line of his shoulders. She couldn’t quite decipher what about him made her skin crawl—besides the entire package. She watched him move slowly toward the table, eyes on her, daring her to move. When he sat down opposite her at the table, she lost her appetite. How could she eat with the way he was looking at her, as though he’d make a meal of her?
“Well, I suppose I can make sense of ye no’ knowing.” He shrugged and scooped some of the scrambled eggs, shoveling them into his mouth, chewing around a smile as he watched her. “Are ye no’ going to eat? Your eggs will get cold.”
Dutifully, Bronwen forked a bite of egg and shoved it into her mouth, which had gone dry. He smiled as if to say, “That’s a good lass,” and she wished she could spit it out.
The man mused to himself, eyebrows wiggling as he smeared butter on his toast, “My dear cousins would no’ want to spoil all the fun and tell ye their big secret.”
Secret.
Bronwen swallowed, the food she’d eaten thus far forming what felt like a lead ball in her belly. A sip of tea did not help. Not only was she now contending with this creepy stranger, but her mind was whirling about his mention of a secret. She’d told Euan so much about herself. And after last night… Euan had confessed his love to her and she to him. He’d asked her to marry him, and she’d agreed—albeit it had taken a commotion in the alleyway with the brutes who were after her, but still. They’d agreed to wed. They’d made love all night. She’d curled up in his arms and fell comfortably asleep. He’d told her she could trust him, confide in him. Yet, he’d not afforded her the same deference.
Not if there was a secret.
This man held it and was here in this house. Had he been here last night? Longer? Was he somehow the secret they were keeping hidden? Bronwen couldn’t understand why they would hide him and what he meant to them. Did he know what happened between her and Euan? There were so many questions, and no one here to answer them. Bronwen flicked her gaze toward the door, willing Euan or one of his sisters to come in. But alas, the entrance remained empty.
And she most definitely wasn’t going to ask this man. From what she gathered of him, he’d take pleasure in revealing whatever it was they’d kept hidden. The way he stared her down, he was practically willing her to ask.
When she remained silent, he put down his fork and leaned back in his chair. He gazed about the room, assessing.
“Well, ’tis too bad they’ll lose all this.” Hector spread his arms wide, indicating the room and perhaps even everything that Euan and his sisters held dear.
Despite the turmoil in her stomach, Bronwen attempted another bite of food, if only to appear that she wasn’t truly concerned about what he was saying. “Lose all of it?” The food was tasteless and rubbery in her mouth.
