Chapter Thirteen
Ewan grimaced when he awoke. The sun was high in the sky. He hadn’t intended to sleep in. Today would likely be his last day with Violet and he didn’t want to waste a minute. He had no idea why Jessie hadn’t already scratched on his door with his breakfast.
He leaned up on his elbow and gazed down at her. She snuffled a snore. His heart hitched.
Poor thing. He’d exhausted her.
He hadn’t intended to make love to her all night. But every time they finished and he held her cradled in his embrace, he would remember Moncrieff was coming for her soon, and panic would claw at Ewan’s gut. And before he knew it, they were at it once more.
He couldn’t resist.
Her belly growled and he frowned. If he was going to be a gentleman, he shouldn’t fuck her again—at least not until he’d gotten her some sustenance. He decided to run down to the kitchen and order a tray. Then he would return here and—and have her. Hold her. Kiss her again.
To his chagrin, Kaitlin MacAllister was on her way up the spiral staircase as he made his way down buttoning his shirt. “What the hell are you doing here?” he sputtered. “I told you to stay in your room.”
She tipped up a defiant chin. Lord, she was pretty. She just wasn’t... She just wasn’t. “I am going to see Violet.”
He blanched. “You most certainly are no’.”
Kaitlin narrowed her eyes. “I must know she is all right.”
“She’s fine.”
“Wonderful. Let me see her.”
He opened his mouth to respond but she didn’t give him a chance.
“Let me see her now.” She fixed him with a mutinous glare and snapped, “Consider it a wedding present.”
Clearly she was as delighted at the prospect of marrying him as he was at the thought of waking up to spend every day of the rest of his life with her. With a dark glower he turned around and started back up the stairs. “You really are a harpy, you know.”
“The worst sort. We shall be so happy together.”
He snorted.
“I canna believe you’re keeping her in the tower,” she muttered.
He flicked a glance over his shoulder. “She’s safer here. The men would never—” He broke off, recalling to whom he was talking. “She’s tried to escape. It’s either the tower or the dungeons, and the dungeons are in terrible shape.”
“Unlike the great hall?”
He snorted again. Yes. All right. The great hall could use a little work. A lot of work. But his boys wouldn’t be doing it. They’d made it more than clear yesterday. He’d suffered hours of their complaints about her incessant demands, their outrage at being forced to clean like washerwomen.
“Will we always live here?” There was a petulant thread in Kaitlin’s tone. And a hint of dread.
He stopped, stock still, at her question. Something cold wedged in his throat. The thought of spending his life with a woman who was not Violet made him ill. But he couldn’t tell her that. He shrugged and muttered, “I have a house in Perth.”
“Is it as charming as this? And will your men all live with us? Because they are charming as well.”
Glory, she was a shrew. “Nae. They are only here to—why am I explaining myself to you?”
“Because I’m to be your bride?” Sarcasm dripped from the words.
His fisted his hands on his hips. “Are you always this difficult?”
She offered a toothy smile. “Did Callum no’ warn you?”
He blew out a breath and continued up the stairs. He stopped on the landing and pinned her with an imposing glare. “Wait here,” he snapped, then entered the solar, closing the door behind him.
On tiptoe, he approached the bed and poked his head through the curtains. “Violet,” he whispered. “You must wake up.”
She snuffled and stirred. “Hmm?” A drowsy murmur.
He chook her gently. “Violet. Wake up.”
She pushed him away. “Ewan. Not yet. I’m sleepy.”
“Come on, get dressed. Someone’s here to see you.”
“What?”
Ewan nearly leapt out of his skin when a sharp voice, directly behind him, boomed, “He said someone’s here to see you.”
He whipped around and glowered at Kaitlin. “I told you to wait outside!”
She smirked. “I’m disobedient.”
Fury curled in his gut. “Why I ought to—”
“What? Beat me?”
He frowned. “I doona beat women. Where did you get the idea I beat women?”
“You’re a villain.”
“I doona beat women—”
“Kaitlin?” Ah, hell. Violet thrust her head out between the curtains, her eyes wide. “Oh, Kaitlin! Is that you?” She emerged from the bed, wrapping a blanket around her body, and flew across the solar to fold Kaitlin in a hug.
“Darling. You look—” Kaitlin’s gaze raked Violet. She paled. “Are you naked?” She fixed him with a scorching frown. “Is she naked? Why is she naked?”
Because he’d fucked her. All night long. Again and again and again. He’d ripped her dress from her body and fucked her.
He glared at Kaitlin and didn’t respond.
“Darling,” Violet sighed. It annoyed Ewan that she wasn’t talking to him in that adoring tone. “It’s so good to see you. But what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in London.”
Kaitlin tipped her chin up a notch. Ewan could see she was struggling to be brave. “I came to rescue you.”
Sadness swept over Violet’s face. It made his heart ache. She put her palm to her friend’s cheek. “You really shouldn’t have come. Now you will have to marry him.”
He didn’t like the way she said it. Not at all. He cleared the annoyance from his throat. “I’m standing right here.”
They ignored him.
“I had to come,” Kaitlin gushed. “I couldna bear the thought of you being held in his evil clutches because of me.”
Annoyance curled into irritation. “I’m in the room.”
“I know, but darling, how can I ever bear it? Knowing you gave up your freedom for mine? That you surely face a fate worse than death...”
A fate worse than death? What manner of melodrama was this? This was exactly why he’d kept the two of them apart. “I can hear you!” he bellowed.
They turned to him and Kaitlin frowned, pinning him with a glower that made him wriggle like a worm on a hook. “Why is Violet naked?”
Well, hell. He could hardly tell her the truth. “To keep her from escaping.” Not the best of his reasons but certainly one of them.
Her brow thundered. “You are a brute,” she spat. “An absolute beast. And you want me to marry you?”
No. No! His soul howled. He did not!
Her face twisted into a peevish mien. “I swear to God in heaven above. I shall make your life a living, breathing hell.”
Of that, he had no doubt.
He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t. Couldn’t find the words. A scratch on the door saved him from answering.
“What?” he yelled.
“Sir, there are visitors.”
“Stinking hell. More visitors?” He tunneled his fingers through his hair.
“This place was supposed to be remote.” He stomped to the window and peered out.
A fancy carriage with a crest emblazoned on the door was parked by the pier on the far side of the river, surrounded by a milling herd of people.
The skiff bobbed on the river, halfway to the island.
His visitors from the day before were aboard.
The Duke of Moncrieff, it seemed, didn’t waste any time.
Acid churned in his gut.
“Fuck.”
It was over. Done. He’d made love to her for the final time.
Sinking desolation assailed him.
“What is it, Ewan?” Violet asked.
He shot a glance over his shoulder, staring at his Violet one last time. One desperate lingering look. “Your cousin, the duke, I presume,” he said. “He’s brought a battalion.”
He left the women in the solar—this took much longer than it should have, as between the two of them they battered him with questions and demands—and though he locked them in, a prickle of discomfort ravaged his neck. He hated to leave them alone. Together.
Who knew what stories they would share?
But he had no other choice. He certainly could not allow them to come downstairs with him. That would be disastrous for certain.
He thundered down the stairs to find his visitors assembled in the hall. He raked the room with a glower. His men were nowhere to be seen. He didn’t fancy having this meeting with no backup.
“Pippin!” he bellowed. “Where are my men?”
The boy shrugged. “They all left.”
“They left?”
“Said they’d had enough of her. Went to town to drink in peace.”
“Hell.”
“McCloud,” Edward boomed. “We’ve come for Violet.”
“Where is she?” Ned stepped forward, bristling for a fight. His fists opened and closed belligerently.
Edward sighed. “Please, Ned. Let me handle this. The McCloud is a reasonable man.” He shot Ewan a speaking glance. “I trust you considered my offer.”
Ewan’s gaze flitted over the boy. “Perhaps we could discuss this in private.”
“In private?”
“These are sensitive matters.”
Edward studied him in silence and then nodded. “Fine.” He turned to Transom and Ned. “Wait here. And don’t interrupt.” This last bit was directed at Ned.
Ewan led the way to the plank table by the hearth and they sat, facing each other.
“Well?” Edward said. “Did you consider my offer?”
“I did. It was very generous. Trouble is...” He dropped his voice. “I can’t give them both up.”
The duke glowered at him. “It’s a damn lot of money.”
“Money isn’t everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a sister, you know.”
Moncrieff’s eyes narrowed. “I did not.”
“Everything I’ve ever done—the good and the not so good—has been for Sophia. I’ve built my fortune but it’s still not enough for entrée. And she deserves a season.”
Edward blinked. “You want me to arrange a season for your sister?”
“If you take away my highborn bride? I must insist on it.” Ewan firmed his chin, and his resolve.
This was the perfect solution. Well, nearly perfect.
It would give Sophia the season she needed—and he would be able to see Violet on occasion.
Perhaps have a chance to convince her he wasn’t as vile as she thought he was.
“It is the only way I can assure her the chance at a decent husband.
To his relief, Edward nodded. “Agreed.”
“Excellent. She will stay with you. I will take a house in London nearby. I assume you have an adequate chaperone?” Even he—with his poor education of manners and standards of the haute ton—knew that was a necessity.
Edward sighed, a resigned expression on his face. “My aunt. She’s a battle-ax. And the boys will be there as well.”
“The boys?”
“Violet’s brothers. They all live with me.”
Ewan blinked. He knew she had two brothers—Ned and Malcolm. Were there more? “How many are there?”
“Six.” Edward winced when he said it.
“Six?” Old Horace had been a busy bugger since Ewan had left Browning.
“It’s quite a full house.”
“That will be fine then. We shall arrive next month.”
Edward nodded. “And the money I owe you?”
Ewan leaned forward, intensity thrumming from him. “If you do this for my sister, I will call us even.” They both stood, then, and shook hands.
A bustle at the top of the stairs captured their attention. Ewan swung around to see Violet and Kaitlin rushing down. Violet was wearing Kaitlin’s dress and Kaitlin was wrapped in a blanket and—good God!—was she wearing his shirt? It hit her at her knees. Her legs were bare.
Annoyance roiled. How the fuck had they gotten out?
“What the hell?” he snapped. “I thought I locked you in the tower.”
Edward spun on him. A growl emanated from the depth of his being. Without warning, and for no appreciable reason, his friend planted his fist squarely in Ewan’s face.
And everything went black.
––––––––
When he came to, they were gone.
All of them. Including Violet.
A chasm opened up in his soul.