Chapter 15
Predictably, Harry spent the entire supper making an absolute boor of himself.
He grimaced at the food that was set in front of him and made a great show of cutting off the smallest pieces and putting them in his mouth with visible distaste as though he was being asked to consume the diseased droppings of woodland creatures.
He turned his nose up at the wine that was served and kept fidgeting the entire time as though the chair he’d been seated in was lined with sharp nails.
Thankfully, the others did their best to ignore him as they chatted and got to know one another a bit better.
Cora was pleased with that; she kept having dreadful images of Laird Cawley losing his patience entirely, seizing one of the ornamental swords which hung upon the walls around them and beheading Harry with a single stroke before her brother had a chance even to finish his latest lament.
And would she have blamed Cawley for such a thing? Certainly not, given how horrid her brother’s behavior was.
Logan sat quietly, for the most part. Every time Cora glanced in his direction, she found him looking at her intently as though she were some mystery he was attempting to solve.
She supposed she shouldn’t have been particularly surprised by that.
No doubt he wanted to make sure that his brother was marrying someone he approved of himself.
Most of the conversation took place between Cameron’s sisters and Matilda, who seemed to be having a positively grand time. The girls asked many questions about London’s high society, and Matilda was only too happy to answer them, especially since Harry didn’t seem inclined to do so himself.
Meanwhile, Carstairs had retired to his room in the servants’ quarters almost immediately upon their arrival, saying that he was exhausted and required some time to recover before he’d be able to help Harry get ready for bed later on.
Cora hoped he would be able to refresh himself; he’d had as difficult a time during their journey as Harry had, and he’d borne it with far more grace and aplomb than her brother.
Despite how fussy and snide he could be, Cora found that she was developing a growing appreciation for the valet.
He’d been saddled with an extremely difficult job in helping Cameron present himself to London society as a proper gentleman and eligible bachelor.
She had no doubt that he’d have an even more trying time in looking after Harry’s needs, particularly in a setting that was likely to be so strange to the both of them.
Cora spent most of the meal in silence. She tried to coax herself to speak (and so did Cameron, for that matter, who seemed concerned that she might feel excluded from the conversation), but finding herself in such an unfamiliar place and surrounded by these people whose customs and accents were so different from her own overwhelmed her.
“So Cora,” Edwina spoke up with a smirk, “does everyone in London wear dresses like the one you have on?”
“You ought to rightly address her as Lady Cora,” Cameron informed the girl, “out of respect for her title and position.”
Edwina’s eyebrows went up, and for a moment, it seemed as though she might utter some rude remark in response.
“It’s perfectly all right,” Cora interjected quickly, in an attempt to keep the peace at the table (“peace” being a rather relative term, given Harry’s appalling lack of civility). “We needn’t stand on formality.”
“Especially since we all might be related soon enough, eh?” Fionna observed with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows.
Cora wasn’t entirely sure how to take such remarks. Were they genuinely curious and interested in her, or were they making sport of her?
“Er, yes, I suppose all the proper ladies are wearing styles similar to this one this season,” Cora affirmed.
“This season?” Ella asked. The youngest, she also seemed the most sincere and inquisitive of the lot. “Do you mean that they will dress in warmer clothes when winter comes?”
“They will, yes,” Cora explained, “but I also mean that noblewomen replenish their wardrobes with each new season, depending on the style which happens to be in fashion at a given moment. To be caught wearing a previous season’s styles simply would not do.”
“Do you mean to tell me,” Fionna inquired, sounding aghast, “that you get entirely new clothes every few months, just so you can all look more or less the same?”
“Well, not precisely the same,” Cora elaborated, clearing her throat. Suddenly, her collar was beginning to feel quite tight, and the room felt too warm for her comfort. “Certain colors and fabrics, however, do tend to prevail overall.”
“How incredibly bizarre!” Edwina laughed.
“Why, I have had this dress for years, and I adore it! I wouldn’t dream of discarding it so casually while it was still wearable!
And doing so in order to be seen as mimicking another lady’s style of dress?
It seems ludicrous to me, not to mention decidedly wasteful! ”
Cora could feel her face turning red.
“And do all the English ladies wear their hair up like that as well?” Edwina went on mockingly. “So tightly that it appears as though the skin may be torn free from the tops of your heads? I’d have a dreadful headache if I went around like that!”
“Now, now!” Cameron spoke up gruffly. “That’s quite enough of that! I did not bring her here to be teased by you!”
“What happens to the old dresses?” Ella asked.
There was a moment of awkward silence at the table. “What do you mean?” Cora replied uneasily.
“When you get the new clothes, where do the old ones go?” the younger girl went on reasonably. “Do you give them to poor people who don’t have any nice things of their own?”
At this, Harry laughed so harshly and indignantly that he choked on a piece of food. “Give them to poor people? Can you imagine how ridiculous that would look, eh? Chimney sweeps and washerwomen gadding about in last season’s satins and silks? Preposterous! Absurd!”
Cora’s embarrassment kept coming in aggressive waves until she found that she felt like running out of the room as she had previously at the soiree and the opera.
But where would she go? Not home this time, for that was a far greater distance than her feet or a carriage would easily take her.
She was stuck in this place. At the mercy of these people and their odd humor.
“The older clothes are stored away,” Cora admitted, “even though there is little to no chance that they will ever be worn again, given how outdated they are. The process does seem a trifle silly, I suppose, now that you come to mention it.”
“Here in our lands, resources can become scarce for peasants and commoners at times,” Ella said in her calm and informative tone.
She seemed tremendously serious-minded for such a young girl.
“We do all we can to ensure that everyone has enough by keeping taxes and tributes low and encouraging responsible farming. Even so, during lean times or difficult winters, sometimes people go without things they need. We would never dream of locking away old clothes when they might be able to do a family some good.”
Cora felt thoroughly ashamed and had no idea what to say to that. She remained quiet for the rest of the meal.
After dinner, Cameron took Cora for a walk in the gardens. The air was cool and dry, the scent of the blossoms surrounded them, and the stars were only just beginning to appear in the dark blue sky. The setting was tranquil and soothing, yet it did little to calm her nerves.
“You seem upset,” Cameron commented gently. “I hope my family did not behave poorly in your eyes.”
“Actually, I am far more concerned with how I appear in their eyes,” she retorted, a bit more sharply than she’d intended to.
He blinked, confused. “What on earth do you mean?”
“Edwina mocked me relentlessly!” she moaned. “She seems to positively despise me! So does Fionna! And the youngest, Ella…she made me feel like some sort of selfish and entitled hag!”
“You mustn’t take such things personally,” Cameron told her.
“Their words do not reflect any contempt for you on their part, you must believe me. It is simply their way. They are curious, and sometimes their manners tend to run away with them. You must remember that we were raised differently than you, with less emphasis on strict decorum and far fewer restrictions on our conduct. Perhaps a bit of English discipline would serve us in good stead, now that I come to think of it,” he finished with a chuckle.
“I have come here to decide whether I shall marry you, not to become some stuffy English nursemaid to your family!” she huffed.
“I meant it as a joke,” he explained, “and I see now that it was a poor one indeed. I know you feel out of place here, Cora, but you must remember that this is only your first day here. You must allow yourself to adjust to it a bit before making any rash decisions. It’s a wonderful place, truly, if only you will give it a chance.
” He thought for a moment, then said, “Here, what if we travel tomorrow into one of my favorite places after breakfast, eh? And the day after that, we can go and meet the tenants of the estate in the nearby village. That way, you can become better acquainted with the sights and the people, and you will see it’s not nearly as bad as all that. ”
“Very well,” she acquiesced, hoping it would go better than supper had.
The next morning, Cora woke up with an excitement about the place that Cameron had in mind.
She wanted to be with him. She was thinking of him all night—his big torso, his huge hands and muscles, his wild green eyes.
She liked him a lot but still was afraid of everything.
She needed time, and she believed that today she would discover something new, something that made her want to stay there. With him.
“My lady,” Cameron said as he looked at Cora, “I was thinking if you want to join me at a nearby loch. It is magnificent, and the legends say that fairies and elves were living there.”
“Oh, you Scots with your legends. Yes, I want to see that loch!” she said, and smiled at him.
When they arrived, Cora’s mouth dropped because of the beauty of the loch. They sat together and were admiring the crystal waters, the green trees, and the butterflies that were flying all over their heads.
Cameron touched Cora’s hand gently and leaned on her. His lips touched hers, and both of them surrendered to the pleasure of their tongues. His hand moved inside her shirt and untied her laces, and her magnificent breasts were revealed.
“Oh, lass,” Cameron whispered as he placed his tongue on her nipples, making Cora utter a moan of pleasure.
His hand ran down to her private area, and Cora’s moanings became deeper and more intense.
“Oh, Cameron... I want you, please,” she said to him, and her eyes were glistening. She touched his erect manhood and placed her hand inside of his kilt, feeling everything, every pulse of his erection. She bent over and started licking him, making Cameron scream with pleasure.
“Lass, how do you know all that?” he asked her.
Cora was just looking at him with a smirk on her face.
“Now it’s your turn, Scot,” she said, and Cameron placed his lips and his tongue to her private area.
After a while, Cora was trembling from pleasure, screaming Cameron’s name, and, after moaning, screaming, and waves of pleasure, she reached her climax—her first climax ever—in the most beautiful place, with the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
After their walk, Cameron and Cora went to their separate rooms to recuperate after their long ride.
The bed felt tremendously welcoming to Cora, but she still found that she had difficulty getting to sleep as memories from their time in the loch came to her mind, and the heavy weight of the responsibilities appeared in her thoughts as well.
The people in the village were kind and generous, but being a lady of a Scottish clan? That thought was terrifying.
Would she find her footing in this strange new place?
Or would she end up returning to England?