Page 5 of A Scottish Lord for Christmas
Ivy and Leo paused when they noticed him standing beside the windows.
“Forres! How the devil are you?” Leo beamed and strode over to Quinn, Ivy at his side.
“Good, Hampton. And you?” They’d only had a brief moment at dinner the previous evening to exchange greetings.
“Good.” Leo smiled. “I’m delighted Mother thought to invite you down to the house for a few weeks before you travel to London.”
Quinn nodded. “Aye, ’twas good of her to think of me.” Leo’s mother, the dowager countess, was a distant cousin of his. The convoluted bloodlines of the English and the Scots left him well connected to many of London’s titled elite, including the Grahams.
“Well, seems like it will be just us for lunch. Mother isn’t feeling too well, and the Pepperwirths are going home early. Hadley’s leaving too; apparently we’re to congratulate him on a wedding he needs to plan.” Leo’s lips twitched and Quinn sensed there was more to this situation than was being revealed, but he knew better than to pry.
“Oh, but, Leo, don’t forget, Rowena is staying.” Ivy nudged Leo in the ribs, her eyes darting between him and Quinn suggestively.
Leo’s eyes widened as if finally reading his fiancée’s thoughts, and then he coughed. “Er…yes, Rowena. You’ve met Miss Rowena, haven’t you, Forres?”
Quinn nodded, amused that the couple in front of him seemed to be planning some attempt at matchmaking. Despite his heartache, he was finding the general hunt for a wife to be humorous. It was either laugh at his situation or cry, and he was not going to cry. He had shed his tears and was now determined to do what he needed to do for Blair.
As a Scot, he was a fair outsider to the English aristocracy’s eccentricities with regard to courtship and marriage. Last night during dinner he’d watched the women in the room eye him appraisingly, and rather than be offended, he was surprised at how much it entertained him. The language of soft smiles and suggestive questions they posed to him, as though assessing his prospects for themselves or their daughters, had been amusing. And he had been just as interested in them for the same reason, attempting to see if any might prove a good match. But none at dinner had truly attracted him in the end. None except Rowena.
He couldn’t help but rub his bare finger again as he thought of Rowena rescuing Blair from falling into the fountain. She’d saved his child and he wasn’t going to forget that any time soon.
“Why don’t you fetch her for luncheon, Lord Forres,” Ivy suggested to him.
“I’d be happy to.” Quinn nodded at them both. They were an attractive couple, Leo with his fair features and Ivy with her dark hair and olive skin. Like the sun and moon.
“Pardon me.” Quinn left the dining room and walked down the corridor until he reached the main hall, where he froze, arrested by the sight of a woman alone by the stairs.
Rowena Pepperwirth stood directly in the path of a wide beam of sunlight coming through the high windows. Her pale gold hair glinted and shimmered like silk in the light. Her elaborate coiffure, with its coiled lengths done up in an artfully messy style, was so unlike the way Maura had worn her reddish brown hair. Quinn shook his head, banishing the comparison. They were different women and he should not compare her to his wife. He did not want a woman to replace Maura; he wanted someone new, someone who was her own woman.
“Oh, Milly.” The young woman sighed. “I wish you were here; you’d know exactly what to do.” Her voice was soft, a little husky, more womanly than girlish. She was young, a new debutante, but Rowena was a lovely woman coming into her own.
A little smiled curved Quinn’s mouth up. She was more than lovely; she was exquisite. Her body was small in stature but with healthy curves. Rowena, at only eighteen, was perhaps naïve of the world, but she had been good with Blair. Natural mothering instincts. She’d make any man a fine wife…Quinn suddenly tensed as that thought occurred to him. That was not something he could just ignore, being as he was on the hunt for exactly that.
Leaning his shoulder against the wall, he studied her more closely. The white lace day gown she wore was dotted with smudges of dirt near her knees…where she’d leaned over the stone fountain to catch his daughter. A pink blush heightened the color in her cheeks as she wrung her hands, still talking to herself under her breath.
A few wisps of her hair came loose from the coiffure and dangled down her neck. An unexpected heated interest flooded his body as he pictured himself standing directly behind her, hands on her hips as he bent to nibble and kiss that neck. She would smell sweet, like rosewater, and her laugh as he kissed her would be breathless and husky. She would turn and curl her arms around his neck…Quinn blinked, shocked that he’d been lost in such thoughts. He hadn’t felt attraction to any woman since Maura.
A moment later guilt followed and he ducked his head, drew a steadying breath, and focused on Rowena again. His primary hunt for a wife so far had been to study women with regard to their ability to be good mothers, but seeing Rowena now…it reminded him that any wife he took would also be his lover, not merely a mother to his children. It was a truth he could not ignore. He had been celibate since Maura died, but if he married again, especially if he took a woman like Rowena to wife, he would need to—would want to—consummate the marriage. Again that sense of guilt crawled beneath his skin.
Maura is gone,he reminded himself. Many widowers moved on to new wives, but Quinn was finding it hard to imagine loving any other woman ever again.
I don’t have to love her, but I can have an affection for her, enjoy her in my bed, can’t I?
He regained his control and cleared his throat. Rowena jumped and whirled to face him.
“Lord Forres!” she gasped. “You startled me!”
He tried to calm her with a wave of his hand. The panic in her cornflower-blue eyes was something he regretted causing. He left the doorway to come over to her.
“I’m sorry, Miss Rowena. I came to fetch you for luncheon if you’re ready.” He crooked his arm, and, as he had in the garden earlier, after a brief hesitation, she placed her hand through it. It was a simple touch, nothing at all romantic in it—it wasn’t as though he were pinning her against the wall and kissing her—yet he felt a forbidden thrill each time his and Rowena’s bodies came into contact, even as innocently as this.
A strange stirring filled his chest. It was a curious sensation, one he had not felt since…since Blair had been born. Only then did Quinn recognize what it was: a nervous excitement. How odd that this young woman he barely knew could make him feel as such. It had been months since he’d felt much of anything. Only Blair brought him any joy.
“Do we…er…” Rowena nibbled her plump bottom lip as though embarrassed to speak. He tried not to focus on her lips or how he had the sudden urge to nip them.
“What I meant to say is, do we have plans this afternoon?” Rowena ducked her head as she added, “This is my first house party and with my parents gone, I’m a little…”
“Out of your depth?” Quinn smiled. “I know exactly how you feel. A Scotsman doesn’t always feel he is on steady ground once he crosses the border into England.” He kept his tone light, teasing, and it earned a laugh from Rowena. The sound was musical, full of joy and relief. This fair English rose was an open creature, emotions plain upon her delicate features, and her eyes, such blue eyes that made a man thirsty to gaze upon, hid nothing of what was in her mind and heart.
