Highland Rogue

And that, Ewan realized, was one thing he’d always liked about her. Oh, she’d taunted him, outright insulted him at times. Yet somehow she’d made him feel it was because she considered him an equal in character—a worthy opponent, not some poor soul she ought to patronize with gracious platitudes.

“I reckon there’s more than one kind of beauty, don’t ye?” he asked.

“What other kinds can there be?” She sounded dubious.

“Well…” Ewan scrambled for an example that would prove his point. “Plenty of folks think Surrey’s a beautiful place.”

“I am one of them.”

“Does that mean the Highlands aren’t beautiful, then?” He twirled her about so fast it made him a trifle dizzy. “Just because they don’t look like Surrey?”

“Well, of course not!”

The sincerity of her outrage touched him.

“There ye go, then. Perhaps Miss Tessa’s got a Surrey kind of beauty and ye’ve a Highland kind.”

“Harsh, rugged and cold?” Her eyes sparkled with triumph at having cornered him into a slight he hadn’t meant.

“If I didn’t know better, Miss Talbot, I’d swear ye were fishing for flattery.”

“You were once a gillie. Tell me, am I using the right bait?”

If he hadn’t known better, Ewan might have supposed she was trying to flirt with him. But Claire Talbot flirting? No, that was too outrageous.

“Ye shouldn’t have to speak ill of yerself to get folks to praise ye. I expect ye know yer own worth well enough, and I think ye know what I meant about Highland beauty, too.”

“Perhaps I do, Mr. Geddes.” She spoke in a soft voice, and for a moment, her face took on a pensive look. Then her guard went up again. “You’re a more skillful flatterer than most men of my acquaintance. You don’t make the mistake of laying it on too thick.”

Ewan laughed. “I think ye’ve given me an indirect answer to my question, Miss Talbot.”

“Pray, what question might that be?”

“The impertinent one about why ye hadn’t found a husband.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “With the equally impertinent reference to my advanced age?”

“Guilty as charged.” Ewan flashed her a rueful grin. “Dare I offer a humble apology and throw myself on the mercy of the court?”

“Anything is possible, though I doubt you have a humble bone in your body.” Her expression softened. “Very well, then, I accept your apology. I am not ashamed of my age, nor of being unwed.”

“No reason ye should be. I’d say ye’re not married because ye haven’t yet found a man who can give ye a good run for yer money.”

She considered his suggestion. “If one did present himself, I expect he’d be lost in the scrum of those anxious to chase my money.”

Again Ewan found himself laughing at one of her wry quips. He’d often thought something like that of himself.

That was why he’d decided not to reveal the full extent of his wealth until Tessa had formally accepted his proposal. Not that he had any fear she’d wed him for his fortune. How much sweeter his victory would be, though, if she had no idea how far he’d risen in the world, but agreed to wed him just the same.

The thought made Ewan anxious to get back to her as soon as this waltz ended. He nearly missed the words Claire Talbot murmured. Ones she might not have meant to speak aloud.

“I once thought I’d met a man who could give me a run for my money. It turned out I was wrong.”

Ewan forgot about not feeling sorry for her.

Little wonder she mistrusted his feelings for Tessa if she’d been sought after by fortune hunters and let down by the one man she’d cared for.

The music ended and once again the dancers applauded.

“Thank you, Mr. Geddes.” Claire Talbot backed away from him. “You’re a fine dancer.”

He bowed to acknowledge the compliment. “I’ve learned a thing or two in the past ten years. Including that I’m the one who should thank ye for the honor of yer company.”

When she started to turn away, Ewan caught her hand. “I expect we’ve both changed a good deal in the past ten years, Miss Talbot. Maybe we should stop treating each other as though we’re the same folk we were then, and make a new start. What do ye say?”

Her gaze seemed to search his face, weighing his sincerity.

Ewan found himself hanging on her reply with far more suspense than it merited.

Then her face blossomed into a smile as sudden and unexpectedly bonny as the blooming of the heather. “Very well, Mr. Geddes. What you say makes a great deal of sense.”

Her agreement and the modest compliment elated Ewan far more than they ought to have.

“But,” she added in a tone that brooked no contradiction, “that does not mean I will surrender my sister to you without a fight.”

Ewan considered for a moment. “It doesn’t mean I’ll give her up without a fight, either.”

Strangely, the prospect of such a battle of wits and wills with Claire Talbot fired his blood.

Chapter Three

“Come now, Tessa, be sensible, dearest,” Claire begged her sister. “You can’t mean to jilt poor Spencer over a man you barely know.”

A few days after the Fortescues’ ball, they sat in the morning room of Lydiard House. Claire occupied an armchair opposite a matching settee that held Tessa and her mother. A tea tray rested on the low table between them.

This was the first time in the three years since her father’s death that Claire had paid a call on Lydiard House.

“I wish you wouldn’t use an awful word like jilt!” Tessa thrust out her full lower lip in a pretty pout. “It sounds perfectly heartless!”

Lady Lydiard set down her cup of tea, for once in complete agreement with her stepdaughter. “It is a rather heartless thing to do, dear, no matter what you call it. Especially considering how long poor Spencer has waited for you.”

“That’s part of the problem, isn’t it?” Tessa’s splendid eyes flashed with more green than blue, a sure sign of rough sailing for anyone foolish enough to oppose her. “If Spencer had been truly eager to marry me, I cannot believe he would have stood for so many delays.”

After the forbearance he’d shown her sister, Claire would not tolerate hearing Spencer Stanton abused. Not even by his own fiancée.

“Delays that were your idea, may I remind you! Spencer has only wanted to give you time to be certain of your feelings. Would you rather he’d blustered and bullied you to get his own way, like some men?”

“Of course not.” Tessa sighed. “Spencer’s been perfectly sensible and selfless, as always, and I feel ghastly about—” she hesitated over the word, then steeled herself and spat it out “—jilting the dear fellow. But I cannot go through with the wedding when I’m head over heels in love with another man, now, can I?”