Page 10 of Taming the Scot
She pointed to her valise on the floor. “A gentleman carries a lass’s bags.”
Euan smiled at her—a smile he intended to melt some of the ice—but she sniffed and turned her face away. “Right ye are, Miss Holmes.” This lesson he also knew. But where was his butler? Martin should be taking care of her baggage.
The lass marched up the stairs as if she’d been to Drum a thousand times, and he was made to lift the valise and follow after her. Owen came as a distant third, his old bones less excited than his wagging tail at the uphill journey.
Where did one put a governess? His sisters’ governesses had remained in a room beside the nursery, even after they’d grown out of needing the nursery. But it didn’t seem right to put his governess there.
“From where do ye hail, Miss Holmes?” he asked as they walked down the corridor.
“My family is from Scotland, Captain.”
Euan chuckled at her jest. “As is mine. We also hail from Drum.”
“I figured as much, seeing as how we’re in Drum Castle.” She sounded completely serious, and his smile faltered.
Euan couldn’t figure out if she were deflecting on purpose or if she might be a little addled herself.
“And what port did ye travel from?”
She studied the paintings that lined the wall, some ancient, a few newer. “A rather busy one.”
For the love of… Euan drew in a breath. She was definitely being evasive, and he decided he’d need to get to the bottom of it. But thus far, she seemed to be taking the position sincerely and had tossed in a couple of minor lessons to boot.
She stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “A gentleman does not pry, Captain. Keep it up, and ye’ll have to be punished like the lads in the schoolroom.”
“And how is that?” He raised a brow.
“A rap on the knuckles. Or perhaps, I’ll box your ears.” Her eyes twinkled in the sunlight filtering in through the window at the end of the corridor, but she whisked herself around fast enough he thought he might have misinterpreted.
Euan chuckled. “Well, Miss Holmes, I shall do my utmost no’ to irritate ye then.”
“All ye have to do is follow the lessons. Ye want a rich wife, aye?” She glanced over at him.
He’d not said as much before. Money to him truly wasn’t the object of this farce, but to end this ridiculous competition with his cousin, because if he didn’t there was no telling what Hector would do with the inheritance, and there was no way he was going to let his sisters end up in the crooked bastard’s hands. “A wife, aye.”
“Then trust in me, Captain, and ye’ll soon find yourself happily wedded.”
Euan didn’t miss the flicker of doubt on her face, which conflicted with her confident tone, before she turned away from him. That didn’t bode well. Did she think he was not fit material to be a husband? Or did she find him far rougher than he imagined, and he’d have more work to do?
Tossing the thoughts aside, Euan nodded and strode to the end of the corridor where there was a corner bedroom, which had windows on two walls overlooking the grounds. It was a lovely room that his mother had often used for special guests. He supposed if he was asking a governess to do her normal job for a grown man, she counted as special, didn’t it?
He pushed the door open and waited for her to step through before he’d follow her inside with the valise. Owen nudged him out of the way, going in first.
“Stop right there, Captain.” Miss Holmes whirled around, her hand held palm out toward him, and her lips pursed into a frown. “A gentleman never enters a lass’s bedroom without permission, and even if permission is given, he should think twice before doing so.” She gave him a stern look that had him rethinking the purpose for his entry, which was to put down her valise. My God, the way she’d acted was as if he’d crossed the threshold for a nefarious act.
“May I come in to set down the valise?” he asked tentatively.
Owen walked over to the hearth and settled on the rug.
“Nay, ye may no’.” Miss Holmes snatched the valise from his hand, her cold, slim fingers brushing his. “Good day, Captain.”
“Good day.” He bowed, even though he wasn’t supposed to, suddenly confused by who was who and what was what.
Euan backed from the room, unable to hide his puzzlement.
Miss Holmes stomped forward and shut the door in his face, leaving Euan to stare at the wide expanse of wood dumbfounded. Owen was still inside, the traitor.
“I like her,” Maggie said from behind, her tone too filled with mirth for his liking.
