Highland Rogue. Deborah Hale
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Ewan’s trunk. When she glanced back, she found him staring at her with an intense and somewhat puzzled look.
Immediately, she raised her hand to her hair. “I beg your pardon. Is something the matter?”
Ewan answered with a decisive shake of his head and a slow blossoming smile that might have made Claire’s knees grow weak if she’d let them. “Quite the opposite, Miss Talbot. I was only thinking it’s a lucky woman who can claim the passage of ten years has made her more bonny, not less.”
Powerful, contrary feelings collided within Claire. Sweet dizzy delight at finally receiving the kind of compliment she’d waited a decade to hear. A flicker of triumph that all her ridiculous preparations had not been in vain.
Poisoning both of those was the bitter certainty that Ewan Geddes only flattered her to further his own selfish ends, like so many unscrupulous men before him. Unlike those other men, he had one most distressing advantage—she wanted to believe him as she had never wanted to believe them.
That sense of vulnerability brought a sharp reply to the tip of her tongue, but Claire managed to imprison it behind a forced smile. It would not do to trade barbs with Ewan Geddes if she hoped to make him pursue her. But she had spent too many years fending off fortune hunters’ compliments to begin lapping them up now.
She affected a tone of breezy banter. “If you believe the past ten years have improved my looks, then you must have thought me very ill-favored when we were young!”
Averting her face, so his sharp scrutiny would not catch a glimpse of the pain her eyes might betray, Claire set off on a leisurely turn around the deck. She heard Ewan’s brisk footsteps following her.
“I can’t deny, Miss Talbot…” He gave a soft chuckle. “In those days, I only had eyes for yer sister.”
“Whereas you now notice other women?” Hard as she tried, Claire could not resist baiting him.
She braced for a sharp retort or a mocking return jab. His gust of laughter, as invigorating as a sea breeze, took her by surprise. “You find my remark amusing?” she asked.
“Aye, in a way.” His eyes sparkled with impudent glee, much better suited to a young Highland gillie than to a mature man of business in a well-tailored suit. “Ye took me back ten years, is all. To a time when the pair of us liked nothing better than going at each other hammer and tongs.”
His infectious camaraderie could seduce her more easily than other men’s passionate or sentimental lovemaking…if she did not resist.
“Are you saying there was something you liked better than making calves’ eyes at my sister, Ewan Geddes?”
“I reckon ye have me there, lass.” He gave a bark of wry laughter at his own expense. “Likely I’m counting myself too high in yer regard, as well. There must have been plenty of other things ye fancied more than trading friendly insults with a hired boy.”
He was wrong about that. There’d been nothing she liked better. At least when he’d answered her thinly veiled insults with comical quips that skirted the edge of outright insolence, she’d been assured of his attention, however fleeting. And she’d had a safe outlet for the futile fury that built up inside her when she’d watched the handsome young gillie showing off for the benefit of her sister.
Claire ignored his question, in case her tone or expression somehow communicated the truth. “Dear me! I wonder where Tessa and her mother can have gotten to?”
Where had Lady Lydiard’s messenger gotten to? Claire cast a nervous glance at the quayside. Someone should have been here by now. Timing was critical to her plan.
Ewan leaned against the deck railing, turning his top hat around and around by its brim. “Do ye reckon Lady Lydiard might be dragging her feet?”
His shrewd insight made Claire chuckle in spite of herself. “It is the sort of thing she might do to express her disapproval, I’ll grant you. In this case, I doubt it, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well…” She chose her words with care, so as not to rouse his suspicion. “I cannot pretend her ladyship is delighted with the prospect of having you as our guest at Strathandrew.”
“Now there’s an understatement if ever I heard one!” Ewan twisted his features into an exaggerated look of disapproval that aped Lady Lydiard’s to perfection.
Biting back a grin, Claire fought the false sense that he was on her side. “My stepmother may be toplofty, but she is no fool. The one thing she wants less than you wooing Tessa at Strathandrew is you wooing her here in London under the noses of all the gossips.”
“So she’ll be here, come what may, looking all grim and disapproving and barely speaking a word.” Ewan tossed his hat in the air, then caught it again. “Would it be wicked of me to hope her ladyship might meet with a wee mishap that would prevent her from sailing with us?”
His suggestion so closely echoed her plan, it took Claire’s breath away. She reached for the deck railing to steady herself. When Ewan’s large brown hand closed over hers, she felt even less steady.
“Are ye all right, Miss Talbot?” The solicitous warmth of his voice and his touch wrapped around her. “I didn’t really mean any harm to yer stepmother, I swear!”
“Of course not.” Claire struggled to rally her composure—something Ewan Geddes had always taxed more than any other man. How would she ever explain her excessive reaction to his jest about Lady Lydiard?
Footsteps sounded behind her and a familiar masculine voice spoke. “Pardon me for interrupting, Miss Brancaster Talbot. I was told to bring you this.”
Claire spun around, barely resisting the urge to throw her arms around her secretary. She was so grateful for his well-timed interruption that she did not even remind him to call her by a single surname.
“Mr. Catchpole, what brings you here?” She took the paper he held out to her, as if she had no idea what message it might contain. “Some problem at Brancasters?”
She handed Catchpole her parasol to hold, so she would have both hands free to open the letter. “I told you, while I am on holiday in Scotland, Mr. Adams and Mr. Monteith will be in charge. If you encounter any serious difficulty…oh, dear!”
“What’s wrong, then?” Ewan leaned closer to read the note over Claire’s shoulder. Whatever it was, he didn’t much care for the sound of it.
When she glanced up at him, he backed away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look at your note.”
What must she think of him? First that thoughtless remark about her stepmother, now trying to read her private mail. In the past five minutes, he’d done precious little to dispel the doubts she must have about him as a potential member of her family. He must do better if he hoped to enlist her as an ally in his fight to wed Tessa.
To his surprise, she did not look the least offended. She held out the paper to him. “This concerns you, too. By all means read it.”
If the note concerned him, it could only be about one thing. In his haste to read the message, Ewan fairly tore the paper out of Claire Talbot’s hand. Manners and a good impression be hanged!
He scarcely needed to glance at the closing salutation to know the message had come from Tessa’s mother. The florid, swooping script was everything he would have expected from Lady Lydiard.
“‘My dear Claire…’” He muttered the words under his breath as he read, squinting to decipher the words. “‘I fear Tessa and I will not be able to join you and Mr. Geddes on the voyage to Strathandrew, after all.’”
In his mind, he could hear her ladyship speaking those words in a tone of cool, malicious triumph. Gritting his teeth, Ewan struggled through the rest of the note.
“It says Tessa’s ill.” He crumpled the paper in his fist, no longer