The Highlander And The Governess

‘Are you not required to take your seat in Parliament?’

‘My father was no’ one of the landowners who had a seat, by the grace of God.’ He was thankful for that, for he had no wish to be part of government.

Lachlan sat back for a moment, still aware that she was stealing glances at him while pretending to search for more papers. Was she concerned about his scar? After the fire, he rarely looked at himself any more. He knew it could frighten Lady Regina, but there was naught he could do about it. Or was there another reason Miss Goodson was staring?

She handed him two more papers. ‘These are 1804.’ Then she bit her lip and blurted out, ‘Whether or not you allow me to stay, there is one thing you ought to consider.’

He waited for her to finish, and she added, ‘Before you travel to London, we should have you fitted for new clothing. Do you have a tailor you prefer?’

Lachlan frowned at that. He had no need of new clothes. What he had suited him well enough. ‘Nay, I am fine as I am.’

‘You cannot wear such clothing in London.’

‘Why not?’ He needed to save his coins, not spend them on wasteful attire.

‘Because it will draw too much attention to you. It’s quite different from what the other gentlemen wear.’

He knew that, but he hardly cared about what anyone else thought. The last time he’d been in London, he had remained out of the public eye, as a guest in the Worthingstone household. They hadn’t cared what he wore, and it bothered him to think that he would be judged on his attire.

The truth was, he saw no reason to spend money on himself. He had no right to worry about clothes—not when his people could go hungry this winter because of his father’s debts. And it wasn’t as if he intended to hide his Scottish heritage. What did it matter if he wore a tartan to a gathering?

Miss Goodson’s expression turned soft with sympathy. ‘Some of the men will be unkind to you, because you are courting Lady Regina. They will look for any excuse to make you into a laughingstock. I don’t want that to happen.’

Lachlan shrugged. He squeezed his fists together and said, ‘Then I’ll be having words with them. What I wear is my business.’

‘You’re wrong.’ She stiffened and lifted her chin. ‘In Scotland, I suppose your tartan is common enough. But for a shy lady such as Regina, you must try to blend in among the other gentlemen.’

Why should he care about that? Lachlan crossed his arms and glared at her. ‘I’m no’ going to blend in. I am a Scot, and there’s nae need for me to pretend to be anything else.’ He was already taller and stronger than most men. Blending in was impossible, given his size—or even the vicious scar on his cheek.

Miss Goodson’s face softened with sympathy. ‘Forgive me. I was not implying that you should try to be someone you’re not. It’s only that, Lady Regina is very shy, and she may feel uncomfortable if everyone is…staring at you.’

He shielded his thoughts, for her opinion was clear. She did not like his clothing at all, and it irritated him to think that he would have to be fitted for attire he wouldn’t need. He had better ways of spending that money.

Miss Goodson offered, ‘I can send for a tailor to take your measurements. It shouldn’t take more than a week or two to have an appropriate wardrobe.’

‘I see no reason for spending good coins when I already own clothes.’ He set down another paper and leaned back. ‘It seems you’re wanting me to spend money I canna spare in order to wear what the other gentlemen do.’

‘As you’ve said, there are twenty thousand pounds at stake. Is that not worth a new jacket and breeches, if it means winning Lady Regina’s hand in marriage?’

He hesitated, pondering the matter. She did have a good point that there was a great deal to consider. It wasn’t worth the risk of displeasing Lady Regina over something as trivial as clothing.

‘Try it,’ she insisted. ‘I will hire a tailor, and you need only buy one set of clothes. Consider it an investment.’

He set down the papers and regarded Miss Goodson with all seriousness. ‘It may be an investment, but once I have wedded Lady Regina, she must accept my family’s traditions. I wear the tartan to show my clan that I will support them until the day I die. She must ken that and accept it.’

Miss Goodson smiled. ‘Of course. But know that when you go to London, you are also supporting your clan. You are winning a wealthy heiress as your wife and bringing back twenty thousand pounds to them.’ She took a step closer and pleaded, ‘Set aside your pride for a few weeks, and Lady Regina will not mind if you wear the tartan when you return home.’

The laird drew closer, and Frances tried to calm the stutter of her heartbeat. His masculine scent reminded her of pine trees and rain. Careful, she warned herself. She was on borrowed time as the laird’s governess, and she could not let her admiration lead her down the wrong path. Even so, her heartbeat only quickened at his nearness.

‘Was there something else you wanted, Locharr?’

‘Aye.’ He took another step closer, causing her to lean back to look at him. ‘There was indeed something I wanted.’

Her brain turned into cotton while her pulse pounded beneath her skin. ‘W-what was it?’ Her face was burning as her imagination conjured up the vision of him pressing her against the bookshelves, kissing her until she could no longer stand. And she had no doubt that his husky innuendo had been spoken on purpose, simply to ruffle her feathers.

A slow smile curved across his mouth. ‘I’m wanting more food.’

Oh, he was enjoying this, wasn’t he? She knew he had teased her to get under her skin. And yet, for a moment, his eyes had stared at her as if he desired her. The very thought unravelled her composure, and she struggled to shore up her weakening defences.

As a distraction, Frances chose a slice of bread, delicately smearing it with raspberry jam. ‘H-here you are.’ She held it out to him, well aware that for a man of his size, there wasn’t nearly enough food on the tray. He could have devoured everything by himself.

The laird broke off a piece and ate it. Frances tried not to stare, but as she watched him, she grew transfixed by the sight of his mouth.

Stop it, she warned herself. Right now, she ought to knock her head against the wall if that would bring back common sense. She already knew what would happen if she let a handsome man turn her head. It would only result in heartache.

Locharr reached for another slice of bread and this time broke off a small piece before he buttered it. ‘What would you have chosen as your forfeit, if you’d won the game?’

‘Dancing,’ she confessed. ‘It is a necessary skill that you must learn, whether you want to or not.’

He suppressed a grimace. ‘I ken how to dance. I’ve no need for instruction.’

She wondered if he felt clumsy or awkward. Or worse, if anyone had ever teased him. ‘If you are engaged to Lady Regina, dancing will be expected of you.’

‘I dinna care what they expect.’

‘No, but it will make it easier on her if you behave as other gentlemen do.’ Frances took a sip of the tea she didn’t want and studied him, her mood softening. ‘In time, she may even fall in love with you.’

‘Love isna necessary,’ he pointed out.

‘No, but it will convince her to marry you. If a woman loves a man, she is glad to follow him anywhere.’ Once, she had been willing to do just that. A bitter pain caught her heart, and she locked it away.

The expression on his face was knowing, but he didn’t ask. She had come to Scotland to forget the past, and there was no sense in talking over matters that were over and done with. The price had been paid ten times over for her folly, and she found it easier to bury the devastating memories.

‘Did you ever love someone?’ he asked quietly.

The air in the room seemed to grow stifling, and she felt a tightness expand in her chest. Yes, she had loved someone, more than life itself. Emotion gathered up inside her, threatening to spill into tears. But she held it back and answered, ‘A long time ago I did. But it’s over now.’ She had no desire to even think of the past, much less converse about it. Instead, she rang for Alban to take the tray away.

‘Locharr, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a walk around the grounds. By myself, that is.’

‘Are you wanting an escort?’

‘No, I will remain in the gardens for a time, that’s all. I don’t think any of your servants will harm me, and I will be visible from the windows, should I need help.’ She had met his staff and thus far, she felt quite safe.

‘I must caution you about London, though. Do not ever be alone with a young lady at a gathering without a suitable chaperon,’ she warned. ‘You would be forced to wed her.’ He might know that already, but she felt compelled to warn him.

‘And what of Lady Regina?’ he suggested. ‘Is that no’ the point? Her father wishes us to marry.’

‘True, but she would be ruined in the sight of her friends and would resent you for it.’ Frances knew from personal experience, exactly what that was like. Even now, years later, it still stung to realise that her friends had turned their backs on her. Which meant they had never truly been her friends.