How to Live Happily Ever After in the Highlands (Lady’s Guide to Scotsmen #1)
Chapter 1
“Damn and blast!”
Catriona cursed softly under her breath, then immediately glanced up and down the hallway to make sure no one had overheard. She was a lady (according to all her family history and the dictates of society), and ladies didn’t swear like soldiers, even when tested to the limits of their endurance.
Cat’s current test was surviving an evening of social drivel and the assessing gazes of unmarried—as well as married—gentlemen who were in attendance, despite the fact that she was not actually even supposed to be at this event (according to her personal preference and the dictates of society).
Lord, one glance at her outfit should make that clear as day!
Tonight’s party was one of the biggest of the Season in Edinburgh, though a far cry from the pomp and extravagance of the London Season.
Cat liked to believe that was because the Scottish people were less silly and wasteful.
In reality, she suspected it was because there wasn’t as much money to be spent, and not nearly as many participants in the marriage mart.
Several school friends of hers had gone down to London for their debut Season.
A few even persisted in repeating the ordeal the following year—particularly the young ladies who hadn’t garnered a suitable proposal, their families desperate to make all their efforts and expense pay out.
Cat had not gone to London for any Season, to no one’s surprise.
But Cat wasn’t thinking of parties or proposals just now.
She was thinking of birds. It was a stroke of luck that Lady Balfour, the hostess this evening, had managed to lose her favorite pet songbird less than an hour ago.
Cat leapt at the chance to recover it. She would have anyway, since she held a great love for nearly all animals.
But tonight, the missing bird gave Cat an excuse to escape the ballroom and all the curious stares at her very inappropriate attire, and instead search for the fugitive.
She greeted a woman she knew well as they passed each other in the hall.
“I’m looking for Lady Balfour’s bird,” Cat explained, skipping any pleasantries. “Have you seen one flying by?”
“No, indeed!” Miss McGregor responded. “Is bird-rescuing your new cause, then?”
“Only until this one is found,” Cat assured her. “You’ll see me at the meeting next week as usual.”
Her acquaintance wished her luck and continued on.
She hadn’t been the only volunteer to recover the bird, but it still felt like a solitary mission as she made her way through the halls, checking rooms one by one, and closing doors once she determined that the area was bird-free.
(Or in the case of a particular room on the floor above, determining that no bird could be inside, to judge by the passionate and frankly alarming sounds emanating from within.)
Thanks to her habit of reading widely, especially those books and other materials deemed unfit for ladies, Cat was aware of what was going on behind that door.
But although she was nearly twenty-five, she had no personal experience of it, nor did she expect to gain any for a long time, possibly ever.
Marriage was an outdated and oppressive institution, unsuitable for a modern young woman such as herself.
She would rather die than be married off to some man who just wanted her to raise his children so the next generation could perpetuate the cycle.
Cat would do something different with her life. She intended to forge her way alone.
Lost in her musings about future goals, she was startled when her present goal suddenly appeared in the form of a bright yellow songbird flitting across the hallway.
Cat took care not to make any moves that might be mistaken for a predatory pounce. She hated the idea that the bird might be too frightened of her to allow her to help.
Instead, she called softly to it, keeping her voice mellow. “Pretty bird, pretty bird,” she cooed. “There you are, Treacle darling. Let me bring you back to your home.”
She extended her arms slowly from below, cupping her palms as if preparing to receive manna from heaven. “Come here, sweet little thing. I won’t hurt you.”
The bird tipped its head, regarding her with curiosity.
“Yes, come along. I fully sympathize with your desire to fly away. I don’t want to be here either.
But you’ll be much safer back in your cage, you know.
Especially with all these people about. Fly to me, little bird!
” With every word, she kept her tone sweet and soft, hoping the bird recognized her as a kindred spirit.
Thankfully, the tiny creature was used to human contact, and fluttered into Cat’s gently cupped hands. She inhaled, surprised by how light the bird was—she might as well be holding mist.
“Ah, wise decision. Now let’s get you to safety, shall we?
” Cat spread her fingers to form an airy enclosure, and turned around to go back downstairs.
As she walked, she kept up a stream of gentle nonsense to soothe the nervous creature.
If she had the gift of music, she would have sung.
But Cat lacked such a gift, and she didn’t plan on subjecting any prisoner to that torture.
“Yes, you’re doing well, little bird. Not long now. You’ll get a treat, I’m sure. And it’s still rather cold out, you know. Spring isn’t here yet…”
With her eyes locked on the fragile creature in her hands, she rounded the corner…and promptly collided with another person rushing up from the adjoining corridor.
The bird went flying—literally. Cat cursed—loudly. And the man staggered, grabbing on to her as he did so.
She got a fleeting impression of what it must be like to run into a stone wall.
Except that the man’s body was warm rather than cold, and stone walls generally didn’t embrace a person and curl big hands over her upper arms, bare between her cap sleeves and the tops of her gloves.In any case, this far too intimate touch was what finally made Cat realize that she’d been tumbled practically on top of the man, his body breaking her fall.
He looked completely dazed for a second, then said, “Where’d you come from, lass? Are you all right?”
His voice was deep and full of concern, and for the briefest moment Cat wanted to tell him everything in her life that was not all right. But she shook off the strange sensation (surely the result of being knocked to the floor without warning).
That was when she locked her gaze with rich green eyes only inches away from her own.
They were, she noted with the calm that comes only from unexpected shock, very beautiful eyes.
The irises had a little golden rim, like a ring of sunlight.
If her assessment of the stranger’s appearance had ended with his eyes, the next few moments would have gone very differently.
But her assessment did not end there, to her eternal regret.
Because she saw what he was wearing: a military uniform. A disturbingly familiar-looking one. A uniform just like…
Cat’s breathing hitched, and her vision seemed to narrow to a pinhole. She opened her mouth to say…something…but nothing came out. By instinct, she reached up to touch the little charm that hung on the chain around her neck, seeking the comfort it provided.
That uniform. Here. Now. Why?
He said something else, but she couldn’t hear much past the sudden pounding of her blood in her ears.
“I’m alive,” she whispered. “I’m still alive.”
“You daft, lass? What are you saying?”
He stretched out one long arm and touched her, and the touch of that hand, extending from the sleeve of that uniform, was so utterly, shockingly wrong that it snapped her back to the present.
“Have you oats for brains?” she lashed out, now seeing only the uniform and the living body beneath it.
She pushed off him and jumped to a standing position, yanking her skirts back into place.
Thank God there was no one else there. “Next time, try a walking pace when indoors, sir. Though perhaps you’ve forgotten how to behave inside walls.
You clearly haven’t been in town very long.
” Why would anyone stroll about in his uniform unless he was on active duty?
Why would anyone want to be reminded of the war, of what it took away from people?
He frowned at her words, getting up as well—with far more agility than she had, annoyingly.
“True, I’ve been away for a while. I didn’t know it was the fashion to dress like a raven.
But it’s still the fashion to apologize for nearly knocking a man to the floor, isn’t it?
” As he spoke, he stood up, brushing himself off.
There was plenty to brush, since he stood well over six feet, with broad shoulders and, of course, the rock-hard torso that she’d smacked into a moment ago.
“I didn’t think Edinburgh was so dangerous. ”
“How dare you joke about danger now,” she said, eyes narrowing. Without warning, a snakelike hiss of fury lashed out of her soul and she said, “After all, you came back.”
He went still, a stillness that sent some signal to her body, a signal to flee in the face of a predator. Why had she said that? It was true, but it wasn’t fair.
The bright red of the uniform’s jacket was like a warning flag, waving too late.
“What,” he said. It was not a question. He’d heard her perfectly. The low voice was not full of concern now. It was deadly.
The signal must have been palpable, because the second she felt it, she heard the shrilling of the songbird, drawing her attention from the predator in front of her to the tiny creature she’d hoped to help.
Despite the chaos, it was still nearby, flapping from spot to spot in confusion and distress. Determined to save one life, Cat hastily scooped up the bird, still half-stunned.
“Come along,” she whispered. “Let’s get to safety.”
Her burden once again confined in her cupped hands, Cat turned to leave, refusing to look at the rough figure who’d knocked her down. Her heart was hammering in her chest, overworked from too many emotions in too short a time.
“Retreating so soon? Who the hell do you think you are?” the man growled to her back.
Without answering him, Cat fled. The brief, disturbing encounter with the unrecognized soldier in the recognizable uniform proved to Cat that she was by no means prepared to be among people, not yet. Her world was too fragile, her wounds too fresh.
She would leave the party the moment she returned the rescued bird to her hostess. And that way, she’d never see that man again.