My Fair Lily (13 page)

A delightful heat welled within her as Ewan deepened the kiss. Or was she the one doing all the kissing? Then something less delightful welled within her... rather, it heaved upward from the
bowels of her stomach. She heaved again.

Ewan unlocked his lips from hers. “Och, lass.” He reached for one of the duke’s priceless Chinese urns that stood beside the hearth and stuck it under her chin at the same instant she gave a third and final heave that thrust everything she’d eaten since the day she was born—nineteen years worth of digested food and stomach juices—in
a perfect arc into that urn.

“HOW IS SHE?”
Ewan rose as Lily’s uncle George entered the Farthingale salon where Ewan had been waiting—mostly pacing for the better part of an hour—and quietly shut the door behind him.

“She’ll recover. Her shoulder’s bruised, and she’s still feeling a bit queasy, but that’s all.”

Ewan ran a hand roughly through his hair. “All? Isn’t it enough?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“It’s all my fault,” Ewan started to say, but George cut him off
with a short, rumbling laugh.

“Lily warned me you’d say that, but she claims you had nothing to do with it. She insists you happened to be passing by the dress shop in time to save her and Meggie. She likes your sister, by the way. Says
she’s quite delightful, but cries a lot. Not that Lily blames her. She says that she would cry too if her cousins were that odious.” George motioned
to several crystal decanters filled with liquids in varying shades of scarlet
and amber standing atop an ornate bureau. “Care
for a drink? Make yourself comfortable while we talk.”

Comfortable was not possible, for Ewan was still as angry as a wild boar.

“What’s your poison? Whiskey? Sherry? This one’s a delightful Madeira.”

He nodded to the Madeira, though his throat was so parched, he could drain every one of those bottles in a single gulp. Lord, the girl had given him a scare. “Thank you.”

While George raised a glass and poured, Ewan thought about
Lily. Not only that his cousin had attacked her, injured her badly enough to make her ill. No, he was thinking about the kiss they’d shared, the sweet caress of her lips against his own, the mere touch rousing such a hot ache in him that he’d almost lost control.

When had he ever been driven mindless by a simple kiss? Never. And the girl was an innocent—her kiss hadn’t even qualified as a real kiss, more of a give-your-aunt-a-peck-on-the-cheek-goodbye sort of kiss. Soft, tentative, closed mouth, yet every damned organ in his body had exploded with the force of a hundred cannons going off at once. All aimed straight at his heart. Their aim, dead on.

Had she not been busy tossing the contents of her stomach into his grandfather’s treasured urn, she would have noticed the wild heat in his eyes and the painful hardness of his rod straining against his trousers.

He was more or less under control now, though he couldn’t be sure how his treacherous body would respond the next time he saw
Lily.
Great, just great. First the little bluestocking claimed Jasper’s heart,
and now she was threatening to claim his.

No, his heart wasn’t at risk.

It sure as hell had better not be. Lily was a
Sassenach
. He meant to marry a Scottish girl, just as his father had. No English girls for him.

He drained his drink, finished his discussion with Lily’s uncle, and returned to Lotheil Court to look in on Meggie. Fortunately, she was sleeping. He descended the stairs and headed for the library, wondering whether Jergens had taken care of Lily’s... er, little mishap.

Apparently he had.

He must have also reported it to his grandfather, for the old man
walked in shortly after him, closed the door, and took a seat behind his enormous writing desk. “Well, Ewan, are you going to tell me what happened?”

“What for? Haven’t your spies told you all you need to know?”

“I want to hear it from you. Is it true? Did Desmond strike that girl?”

Ewan nodded. “She was protecting Meggie. And
that girl
is called Lily.”

His grandfather dismissed his rebuke. “But you arrived in time to save her. Isn’t that convenient. Who knows what Desmond would have done had you not been there?”

Ewan ignored the dry remark, instead stemming his anger by folding his arms across his chest. He’d known where Meggie was to spend the afternoon and had stopped by to look in on her before meeting with his father’s solicitors. Thank goodness he had. He’d
send his apologies and
reschedule the solicitors for another day. “Fortunately, we didn’t
have to find out.”

“This time. What’s to stop him from succeeding next time?”

“Nothing, other than he knows I’ll kill him if he dares come near Meggie or Lily again.”

“My boy, I think you’re serious.” He cast him an approving nod.

“I am. Deadly serious.”

“Would you have told me about the incident if I hadn’t learned about it from... my other sources?”

“No. Meggie is my concern, not yours.”

The old man gripped the sides of his desk as he rose to face Ewan. “She’s my granddaughter as well as your sister. She’s my concern, too.”

“Granddaughter in name only. She wants nothing to do with you.”

“Is that the way it’s to be? You and me at odds for the next three months? I won’t have it. My blood runs through you, Ewan. We’re family, whether or not you like it. We’re more alike than you’ll ever
admit, though you try to hide it in every way possible.”

“I’m not a bit like you.”

“Aren’t you? Why do you think Desmond is trembling in his boots? He’s afraid we’ll reconcile. He thinks I will restore you as my heir.” He stood up and opened his arms to encompass the grandeur of the library. “Do you want it? You can have the dukedom of
Lotheil and all its benefits. Here it is. I’m offering it to you.”

“In exchange for what? My soul?”

“Desmond would gladly sell his to me. But I don’t want him,” he said, and Ewan shuddered at the casual dismissal of his other grandson.
Though he detested Desmond, they were blood relations, for their fathers were brothers. Desmond’s father had died young. No wonder Desmond had turned out weak and lacking in honor. He’d
only known
coldness and manipulation from this old man. “I want you, Ewan.
Your loyalty. Your affections.”

“Sorry, those aren’t for sale.”

His grandfather threw back his head and let out a long, hard laugh. The malicious sound resonated off the soaring, beamed
ceiling, crawled into Ewan’s skin, and penetrated his bones. He felt as though he’d just stepped in a stinking pile of manure.

“Everyone has a price. Even you, my boy. Even that Farthingale girl who seems to have blinded you to her true nature. Mark my
words. She can be bought, and cheap, too.”

Ewan wanted to leap across the desk and pound the old man’s face until it was unrecognizable, but he wouldn’t give the old man the satisfaction of knowing he’d struck a raw nerve. Not that he cared what the old bastard said about him, but he did care what was said about Lily. She was a rare gem, sparkling in her kindness, her honesty, and her refreshing innocence.

That he was tainted by Cameron blood couldn’t be helped, but
he’d
never let his odious family taint her. Which meant he couldn’t see
her
again. Not ever. Not him. Not Meggie. Eloise would have to find
another companion for Meggie.

For her own protection, Lily could have no further contact with
him or his family.

***

The only problem with Ewan’s decision was that none of the women
would agree to it. Not Meggie, who burst into tears the moment he dared
broach the subject with her the next morning. Not Eloise, who later that afternoon yanked the heavenly plum cake off his plate, rose indignantly, and asked him to leave her home and not
return until he’d regained his senses.

And not Lily, who gazed at him as though he’d grown three heads...
no, make that four heads... when he’d intercepted her on the way into the
duke’s library two days after her incident with Desmond. “You mean I can’t use the library? How am I to help Ashton Mortimer finish his monograph on the evolution of lemur colonies in Madagascar if I can’t use your grandfather’s books? You see, as the continental plates shifted and land masses broke apart to
form islands, the animal populations on those islands became quite insular—”

Bloody hell.
“Lily, that’s all well and good, but I’m only thinking
of your safety.”

“Nonsense. The evolutionary development of these lemurs is far
more important. So is your sister’s new wardrobe. We had to
reschedule
our appointment with Madame de Bressard until tomorrow. Dillie and I will take her there. Our cousin William has agreed to come
along, but you may join us if you’re still concerned. I doubt your cousins will dare threaten us again, not with Dillie and William with us. Oh, and I had Madame de Bressard send the invoice for the broken table to your grandfather.”

As she leaned into him, he caught the scent of her warm skin, roses delicately kissed by the evening dew. “He won’t dare ignore it,” she continued. “After all, it was your grandfather who instigated the whole affair, and everyone knows it. Now, are you going to let
me get back to Ashton’s lemurs?”

She gave him a smug, adorable smile that left him momentarily
speechless. It suddenly occurred to him that she’d said nothing about the kiss they’d shared. Had she forgotten it? Found him
lacking? Bollix, what did the girl know about such things?

She was the one lacking in that particular regard. He’d only held
back to protect her honor. That, and the fact that she was a sickly green and nauseated at the time. She looked healthy now. Dark, silken hair. Pink cheeks, creamy complexion. Dazzling blue eyes, as exquisitely blue as the loch waters on a gentle summer’s day. He dared not glance lower. It wouldn’t do to be caught gawking at her breasts, which were achingly perfect, if she wanted his opinion, though she didn’t seem to be asking anything of him other than to leave her the hell alone and let her get back to those blasted lemurs.

She placed her hands on his chest. Och, her hands felt good.
Warm and gentle against his heart. “Did you ever think of that?”

He shook out of his thoughts. “What?”

“Haven’t you been listening to me?”

Apparently not. “Sorry, I was distracted.”

She nodded knowingly. “The upcoming sale at Tattersalls. I know how you must feel. Laurel can’t contain herself either. All
she’s been
talking about these past few weeks is the horse auction. Oh, Uncle George said to tell you that he’ll come around Saturday at half past
ten
to pick you up. He’ll stop at Laurel’s first. I can’t wait for you to
meet her. I wish I could go with you. It’s going to be such fun.”

“Why can’t you?” Not that he wanted to spend more time in her company than was necessary.

Her eyes rounded in surprise. “May I? I’d love to, but I don’t wish to be in the way. I’m almost finished with the lemur research, and the Royal Society is threatening to burn my monograph on African swamp baboons, so there’s no point in my continuing that line of research. Too
bad Sir William Maitland isn’t in London. He’d set those old fossils
straight. Did you know that baboons are a monarchical society, their king constantly keeping vigil against usurpers to his crown? Much like the turmoil in England’s early years when William the Conqueror defeated the Saxons and the Danes. The battle of Hastings was—”

“Fascinating, lass. About Tattersalls, it isn’t up to me to decide. I
have no objection to bringing you along, assuming Laurel and your uncle don’t mind.”

“I’ll ask their permission.” She was about to say something more, but they were both distracted by a crash, then the patter of
heavy dog paws running along the upstairs hall.

Ewan heard Jergens’ frantic cries. Another crash as Jasper knocked into one of the delicate hall tables, no doubt breaking a valuable vase.

“Miss Lily, look out!” Jergens cried as he followed Jasper into the library.

Wrooolf! Wroooolf!

“Jasper! My sweetheart, I’ve missed you.” Lily stuffed the lemur papers in Ewan’s hands and turned to invite Jasper into her open arms. A mistake, Ewan realized at once, for the impact of the lumpy beast against Lily’s slight—but delightfully curved—body would not resolve pleasantly. Ewan set himself behind her to prevent her from falling when the dog leaped on her. Which is how Eloise happened
to come
upon them, Jasper in Lily’s arms and Lily laughing in Ewan’s arms, her back unmistakably plastered to his chest. That his arms were solidly around her body was of no moment. He was simply trying to shield her from Jasper’s dangling tongue and enormous paws, but he doubted Eloise or her companion would see it that way.

Bollix.

Who was the lady with Eloise? What were they doing here at
Lotheil
Court? Oh, right, they were here to plan his grandfather’s blasted birthday party. Lily had been helping with those arrangements, even though the old man had yet to show her any courtesy. Lily, the
sweet-natured girl, hadn’t uttered a word of complaint.