Chapter 2
Damn, she was even prettier up close, wasn’t she?
Smiling, and trying to pretend as if he hadn’t been waiting at the bottom of the stairs for Olive L’arbre to descend, Phineas stepped forward to greet her and her friends.
He had to admit, he liked the way her eyes widened behind her spectacles when she saw him wearing his formal kilt—thank Zeus he’d ignored his brother Lysander’s advice to burn the out-of-date fashion—and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a glint of appreciation in those dark orbs as well.
She wore a simple gown of blue silk, which clung to her shoulders as if prepared to fall off at any moment, and his fingers itched to help it along. Her dark hair was arranged into a simple bun, unlike the coiffures Athena managed.
His sister was absent again tonight, which was no surprise.
“Miss L’arbre.” When he greeted Olive, she flushed in the most adorable way, then offered a slight curtsey for him. Dare he hope she’d been looking forward to spending time with him as much as he’d been with her?
Since their introduction, he’d been hoping for the chance to get to know her better.
He’d only agreed to attend this house party at the estate which bordered his father’s as a favor to Da—who, Phin suspected, was sweet on their hostess.
That, and he’d finally been granted permission to investigate the local ruins.
Still, the days had been pleasant, and he’d enjoyed meeting so many interesting people.
But through it all, he’d watched Miss Olive L’arbre, a surprising bright spot in the festivities. She was clearly shy, but when they’d spoken, he’d seen the intelligence in her eyes, and had heard it in her words.
She intrigued him.
And now, when she placed her hand on his arm so he could lead her into dinner, he felt her body’s heat inside her gloves through the fine tailoring of his coat.
He definitely wanted to know more about this woman.
Small talk was discussions about the weather—expected to be damp in the coming week—and the dancing for the evening. He secured her promise of a dance, and when she blushed again and nibbled on her lower lip, he was glad his heavy sporran hid his body’s response.
As he held her chair for her to sit, Olive’s shoulder brushed against the back of his hand, and he could swear he saw her shiver. She tamped it down and turned to the older lady on her left, making small talk as he slid into his seat, unable to hide his smile.
As per Society’s regulations, Phin did his best to keep their conversations along acceptable topics, asking about her brother—sitting at the other end of the table—whom he’d met the week before at the card table.
“And Ash will be back there this evening, I have no doubt. I do hope you did not lose too much to him.”
Phin’s eyebrow twitched. “Ye assume he won?”
“Oh, Ash never loses at cards. It is one of his annoying traits.”
Surely she wasn’t saying…?
As if she could hear Phin’s unspoken thought, her eyes suddenly widened behind her spectacles, and she shook her head frantically.
“He would not cheat if that is what you are wondering. Ash does not need to cheat. He is just very good at math and knows where each card is. He has made quite a lot of money that way, and I am certain it is the only reason he agreed to attend this house party as our chaperone.” Her lips curled up beguilingly as she glanced down at her soup.
“I am just pleased because it means he leaves me to my own devices most days.”
Well, Phin liked the sound of that too. There were all sorts of things he wanted to experience with her—starting with a tour of the ruins and working up from there—and now he knew she had the freedom to make that happen if he could convince her to.
“I can understand the appeal. My oldest brother is content to leave us to our own devices as well, and our father has never been—” He shrugged. “Da is the laird of the clan, and believes in the free range method of child rearing.”
“Free range?” she repeated, interest in her tone.
“It’s an American term I learned from my newest brother.
” Yet another example of Da’s wild-oat sowing.
“Instead of fencing in their cattle, they allow them to graze where they want, then the cowboys round them up. Da has always allowed us to do what we will, even if it goes against Society’s standards. ”
Which was a polite way of explaining how his youngest sibling, Athena, had managed to get herself shunned from polite Society with one youthful mistake.
From the way Olive was staring at him, wide-eyed, he suspected she understood. “How delightfully…freeing.”
A surprised laugh burst from his lips, and he found himself toying with his spoon to keep from reaching for her. “Aye, I suppose it is, especially for my brothers and me.” Athena had been less lucky.
“You mentioned your newest brother?”
Phin smiled fondly. “Max—Maxwell DeVille. He’s an example of Da’s—” He found himself flushing slightly, and his smile turned to a wince. “Ah, let’s call it his liberal attitude when it comes to the whole bairns thing.”
To his surprise, Miss L’arbre chuckled—a low, arousing sound—and turned back to her soup. “I think I should enjoy meeting your father. Will you tell me about your family?”
And so, Phineas found himself describing his siblings to the intriguing young lady at his side.
Leonidas, his oldest brother and their father’s heir, who’d lost his love and nearly his life in the fire which scarred him horribly, and who rarely left the ancient ruins of their ancestral home.
The dobber had become cold and reclusive, and Phin hated how little they saw of one another these days.
Lysander, the oldest son of the laird’s second wife, and thus a viscount in his own right. He was charismatic and suave, and prided himself on not only his fashion sense, but his charm and appeal when it came to the ladies.
“And of course ye’ve met Athena—she’s no’ attending the house party with Lysander and me, but she’ll pop over every once in a while for specific events.
She doesnae like to leave—” Phineas bit down on the words wee Callan, and substituted, “Newfincy Castle for verra long. Da’s estate isnae too far from here, so she can travel back and forth in an hour or so. ”
Olive had been nodding along, as if she recognized—or at least understood—the descriptions of his siblings. “And this newest brother of yours? Is he attending the house party?”
“Max? Nay, he is busy working.”
Phin found himself telling her how his father had called them together near the end of spring, to introduce them to the man their third cousin once removed, Andrew Prince, had hired to run Oliphant Engraving, a young American with a quiet strength, bold language, and eyes and features which matched Da’s.
“Max isnae the first surprise brother to pop up, ye understand,” he said in a low voice to Olive, “and it’s obvious the only thing he wants from us is acceptance. Easy enough to give.” He shrugged. “What’s one more brother? I’m lucky to have so many to love.”
She was watching him from the corner of her eye. “What a truly unique perspective, Mr. Oliphant. I have five siblings, and sometimes cannot stand any of them. Your acceptance of this Mr. DeVille speaks well of you.”
A little embarrassed, Phin found himself shrugging off her praise. “He’s an easy man to like, and I’ve enjoyed speaking with him. His plans for the factory are interesting, and he’s no’ a bad dancer either.”
Her chuckle was encouraging. “Truly the worth of a great man. Your father—he is lord of the Oliphant clan?”
“Laird,” he corrected gently, leaning slightly so his dish could be removed and the next course placed before them.
“In Scotland, we have lords—mostly Earls—and lairds. Da happens to be both, but there’s so many bloody earls up there—pardon my language—that it’s impossible to keep track of which one is which. ”
“Earl Somebody-or-Other,” Olive offered with a shy smile. “I can see why ‘Laird’ is a more convenient title. My father is a mere baronet, granted by the Queen after he impressed her with a rose he named after Princess Beatrice.”
“A botanist named L’arbre…” Phin frowned thoughtfully as he reached for his wineglass. “Yer surname means ‘tree’, does it no’?”
To his surprise, her lips pinched together in displeasure moments before she snapped, “Huzzah for you; you speak French!”
He blinked, and she winced. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she offered a quick apology. “I am sorry, Mr. Oliphant. That was rude of me. I am just used to being defensive when it comes to my name.”
He liked that she owned her mistakes. “Why?”
“You would be too if your father had a terrible sense of humor and your mother indulged him,” she said with a rueful smile. “My brothers are Rowan, Ash and Cedar, and my sisters are Willow and Hazel.”
Ah. He was beginning to understand. “And Olive. Ye’re all trees then?”
“My father, the lucky blighter, is a William.” She sighed. “I have always disliked my name. Willows are—well, willowy—and hazels are strong. Olives are…what?”
Without thinking, he answered with a grin. “Delicious.”
By Zeus, but he was coming to love the way her eyes—a warm dark brown a man could get lost in—widened whenever he said something mildly shocking. She was a delight to gently tease, and each time she sucked on that bottom lip, his cock stirred.
“Mr. Oliphant, I…”
He wanted to tell her to call him Phin, but he also wanted to set her at ease, so he shrugged and leaned back in his chair.
“I love to travel, Miss L’arbre. Some of my favorite cuisines of the Mediterranean involve olives, so ye’ll forgive me if I disagree with ye. Olive trees are among my favorites.”
“Oh,” she breathed, looking at him with something akin to wonder, and he wasn’t certain if it was thanks to his compliment or some other reason.
“Well,” he said briskly, toasting her with his wine glass, “we’ve exhausted our families and the weather. What should we speak about next?”