Chapter 2
She is bonnie.
Duncan had never met a woman this beautiful. She had hair the shade of gold but with red tones that made it look like sun-fire. Her eyes were a pale blue; they glowed and clung to his without relenting.
Duncan immediately felt a thrilling spasm rush through him. It settled deep within and tickled his nerves. She was staring at him, but strangely, it felt like she wasn’t looking at him but into him.
Like she can see my soul.
It was unnerving. Duncan was not a man easily rattled, but at that moment, he felt the urge to break eye contact first.
“Please sit,” she offered then did the same.
The other woman she had called Lily backed to a corner of the room, and the Lady crossed her hands on her lap.
“Sit. Do I not need to meet my opponent?” he queried and frowned a little. “I am here for yer hand, My Lady. A competition for yer hand. That means I must kill my opponent, nae?”
His questions were met with a rough chuckle. “I am afraid that you will not be killing anyone today, My Laird. All you need to do is talk.”
“Talk?” Duncan combed his fingers through is hair then looked from the Lady to Lily, who was standing in a corner and watching him with hawkish black eyes like she wanted to swallow him.
“Yes, talk… Although I would very much like it if you fought the gentleman who just walked out, I’d rather just talk with you.”
Duncan did not understand her or the giggling woman in the room either. They both seemed at ease, and his sour mood was slowly drifting to the surface.
I came here to win her hand; I am nay leaving without it.
He took some time to look around the room they were in.
It was lavishly furnished with settees, rugs, and lovely artistic artifacts. He had aways thought the English wasted too many resources on decorations. His castle was much simpler than this Duke’s manor.
Back home in McLennan, he could have walked into the castle and found his way to the drawing room without the need for a footman.
He spotted the round table in a corner. That too was lavished with numerous delicacies. Duncan saw poundcake, fruits, and tarts. He also noticed a teapot and some saucers.
He hated English tea.
“Please, sit and have some tea with me.”
“I do not want tea,” he quickly replied, not sure he could handle supping from that tiny cup like they did. He neither had the taste nor the patience for it.
“All right, then.”
Her fingers were lean. He saw her twitch the fabric of her dress and purse her lips. When her tongue gently swept over the lower one, Duncan nearly groaned out loud because his body tightened in unimaginable ways.
“Are you sure you do not want something to drink?” she asked him again, slightly arching her right brow.
Duncan licked his lips. His palms had turned sweaty, and he smoothed them down his kilt. “All right,” he agreed. He was at a loss for words.
How can she make me this nervous?
He had fought many battles, and not once had he feared to look his opponent in the eye. Now, he could barely make eye contact with this lady.
He had thought she would be hideous. Maybe unable to secure a match herself.
Why else would a father want to marry his daughter off to a stranger?
Duncan knew now that she was far from hideous. She had high cheekbones and delicate features. Her lips were a rosy-pink shade, the kind that could beg any man for kisses.
Duncan imagined they would be as soft and moist as they looked then he damned himself for letting the thought slip into his mind.
“Have you traveled from Scotland, My Lord?” she asked.
“Laird,” he corrected again then cleared his throat. “Aye, My Lady. I have come from the Highlands.”
“Oh,” she gasped. “Is that not very far away? I have never traveled beyond the countryside, My Laird. I do wish to know what it would be like in the Highlands.”
“It is the most beautiful sight,” Duncan found himself answering with a smile in the next second. “The skies are just breathtaking. Nothing here in England compares, I am afraid.”
“And how well do you know England?”
“I have traveled too far and wide, My Lady. It does not compare.”
“Do you at least enjoy our music?” she asked. “The pianoforte? Or perhaps our fine love for balls and dinners?”
He paused when a tiny smile played out on her lips. “I hate balls,” he told her.
Her responding laugh was a shock. The unexpected riotous sound filled the air around them and drew a light chuckle from him. When she laughed, her eyes squinted at the corners, and her dimples flashed. She had a lovely smile.
Duncan felt his heartbeat pick up its pace, and his pulse began doing crazy things. There was also a flush deep inside him, one he had never felt before.
“I hate balls too. My goodness, they are ridiculous. And these dresses, can you believe it takes almost an hour to get into this corset?”
Duncan tried hard not to think how long it would take to get her out of it. “What do you do then, if you hate balls? Is it not what London is all about?”
“It is,” she agreed. “But I prefer other things. I like books… I like to walk around the gardens and even garden myself. And I play the pianoforte. Hopefully, you don’t have any strong objections against it.” She smiled, and the other girl stifled a laugh too.
Ah, another joke between them.
“My maither gardens,” he told her.
“She does?”
“Aye… She has this little corner in my castle; she calls it her heaven. In there, she has many herbs, and she helps out the people whenever she can.”
“I like your mother already.” She laughed again, and this time, Duncan could not hold back his own light chuckle. He could get used to this.
Her eyes were still on him, and that strange feeling came over him again. She had not blinked since he had walked into this room.
“Maybe she would have even accepted a cup of tea.”
He could only imagine what thoughts went through her mind.
Are they like mine?
Duncan thought of her lips briefly. They were slightly parted, and her skin was pale.
If I draw close to her, can she see me? Or sense me?
Duncan knew thinking of her this way was wrong and impulsive, but he couldn’t help it.
So, this lady had a sense of humor.
“I usually prefer whiskey,” he told her without thinking. “It’s more solid, fierier.”
“I see.”
The other lady moved to the table then, and she returned with a cup of tea for him.
“Please,” she said. “I brewed this myself. It is not English tea, I promise you.” Then, with mischief in her eyes, she added, “I hate English tea too. Ever since I tasted tea brewed by an Indian housekeeper once, I knew I would never stop loving it.”
Duncan took the cup from the lady, and she curtsied before walking back to her corner.
He sipped the tea, savored the rich taste of mint in it, then looked at her when Amelia asked with enthusiasm, “How does it taste?”
“Amazing, My Lady,” he said. “I love the mint.”
“You know your herbs, My Laird,” she replied and chuckled. “You should call me by my name.” She paused then added, “Amelia Milton. I am tired of being called My Lady.”
“Duncan Russell,” he returned. “It is only right that you use my name too.”
Amelia was tapping her foot on the ground now, and Duncan chose to associate the move with nerves. He could only imagine how nervous she was.
Meeting a strange man and discussing marriage.
At least he had the liberty of choosing to walk away. It was different for her. If it was not him, then she would wed one of the other gentlemen of the ton anyway. Some of which might not have the purest of intentions.
What do you know about pure intentions?
Duncan questioned himself as the thought entered his mind. If it was not for her dowry, he would not be here either.
“Tell me, My Laird, what is the craziest story you have ever heard?” Her question tore into his thoughts, and his attention returned to her.
She was still grinning, and her eyes were expectant as if she needed him to answer this question.
Duncan thought of telling her the story of the mistress that his married best friend had met when he was here.
His best friend had been caught in a brothel with her, and his wife had proceeded to write a journal publication in the English gossip paper.
That conversation was not appropriate for a lady though, so he cleared his throat and thought of something else. Looking at her again, and taking in her mesmerizing looks, he found the perfect one.
“In my castle, there was said to be a Scottish faerie walking the grounds. It is told that she was blessed by the moon and cursed by the sun. Whenever the clan’s people saw her, something disastrous happened, and so she locked herself away in the walls of the castle, never to be seen again till she passed away.
Some say they still see her on the nights of the full moon, and others rumor it is every night when there’s no sun. ”
“And do you believe this, My Laird?”
Duncan shrugged. “I do not believe in fairytales and myths, My Lady. Only what is in front of me.”
Judging from the myth, Duncan realized the strange feeling he got with her was because of the tale.
Blessed by the moon and cursed by the sun.
Her eyes were the same pale blue he saw in the skies at dawn each time he looked up. Her hair was the reflection of sun and fire.
“I, too, do not believe in myths,” she said with a laugh, “but I found your myth very entertaining.” She rose to her feet then, and he did the same.
“Lily, please prepare a chamber for our guest. I shall speak with my father and tell him that Laird McLennan shall stay with us for as long as he wants.”
Duncan thought he saw shock on Lily’s face, but she moved quickly, came to him, and took his cup.
“Welcome to Brandon Estate, My Laird,” she said and curtsied to him. “I shall prepare your chambers.”