Page 4 of One Forbidden Kiss with the Laird (The Cinderella Shepherd Sisters #2)

Throughout the journey they had stayed at reputable inns, but Selina’s comfort was not anyone’s priority.

Sometimes she was assigned to a small truckle bed normally used by a lady’s maid so she could be on hand for her mistress.

At other times she and Catherine shared a bed and, although the mattress was thicker and the bedding was of better quality, Selina found it difficult to sleep with her spiteful half-sister flailing about in the night and stealing all of the bedsheets.

Once they had arrived in Ballachulish Selina had been surprised to find she was allocated a room to herself.

As part of the ruse that she was a distant relative she had been given her own bedchamber.

It was small and plainly decorated, but she did not care, it was a space of her own.

The grander bedrooms were in the west wing of the house, which had been added on about fifty years earlier, but Selina’s room was in the centre, part of the old fortress.

She bowed her head and hurried up the main stairs, hoping she did not see anyone else this evening. All she wanted was to slip out of her sodden clothes, warm herself by the fire in her bedroom and perhaps allow herself to daydream a little about the stoic but handsome Mr Thomson.

‘You look terrible,’ Catherine said as Selina came round the turn in the staircase.

Catherine was twenty-one years old, tall and willowy, with a long face which might have been pretty if she didn’t wear such a sour expression all the time.

Right now she was perched on a cushioned window seat that was built into a little alcove next to Selina’s bedroom.

She must have been waiting for Selina, there was no other reason for her to be in this part of the house.

‘I was caught in the rain,’ Selina said, planning on brushing past Catherine and quickly slipping into her bedroom.

It was times like this she missed her sister Sarah acutely.

Back home if she ever returned in such a state Sarah would gather her up and insist she sit in the kitchen by the fire while she heated hot water.

Only once Selina was warm and dry would she push her to reveal what had happened.

Selina felt the tears spring to her eyes, unbidden.

She had not seen Sarah for months. Her sister was a faithful correspondent, but with the journey north Selina had not been in one place long enough to send a note with her address, so she could not even console herself with letters.

Shaking her head she thought again what a fool she had been.

All this time wasted on her father, a man who clearly did not want anything to do with her, when she could have been spending it with someone who actually cared about her.

Her sister was newly married, but Selina did not doubt Sarah would have made space for her in her new life.

‘What were you doing in the rain?’ Catherine asked, her interest momentarily piqued and then she shook her head as if remembering she did not wish to interact normally with Selina. ‘ Everyone knows you do not go wandering around the Scottish countryside at night.’

Selina remained quiet, reaching for her door handle. She’d learned it was best not to engage with Catherine when she was in a combative mood.

Catherine’s hand shot out and gripped Selina’s shoulder, grasping at the material of her cloak. To Selina’s dismay the heavy material parted and revealed the ripped dress underneath, and her exposed chemise and stays.

‘Take your hands off me, Catherine,’ Selina said, her voice low and tremulous.

She pulled the edges of the cloak back together, but it was too late, the state of her clothes had already been revealed.

Quickly Selina pushed open her door, thinking she would dart inside and lock it before Catherine could follow.

No doubt her half-sister would run straight to her parents to inform them of what Selina had been trying to hide, but Selina found she no longer cared.

Earlier today she had finally decided that she’d had enough.

These last few months had been torture, wishing for some connection with her father that she was now realising was never going to materialise.

She craved home, the comfort of her sister, the support of her friends.

If Sir William thought it best to send her back to England, then she would welcome the decision.

Catherine moved swiftly, following Selina in through her bedroom door before Selina had a chance to close it and turn the key in the lock.

‘This is my room, Catherine. Please leave.’

‘It’s not your room though, is it? This is my father’s house. He is just letting you stay here for a while.’

‘He is my father, too.’

Catherine snorted. ‘So you say. No doubt there are a number of candidates who could be your true father.’

Selina had to take a breath to steady herself. Catherine’s jibes were not new. In polite society Catherine spoke with tact and grace, but when she and Selina were alone she turned, like a cornered alley cat, becoming vicious.

If she reacted, showed how much the comment about her mother hurt, then Catherine would get a triumphant look on her face and would press harder and harder on the weakness she had just revealed until Selina cracked.

It had happened before, especially in the early days when Sir William had reluctantly invited Selina to live with his family, when she had not learned how to control herself around her cruel half-sister.

‘What do you want, Catherine?’ Selina said instead, trying to act nonchalant as she moved away from the door, all the while fantasising about grabbing the young woman and forcibly propelling her from the room.

At first Catherine did not answer. Instead she wandered around the room, making a critical inspection before sitting down on the bed, rumpling the bedsheets.

‘It has been a long evening and I am tired. Either tell me why you were sitting outside my room waiting for me or leave me in peace.’

For a moment Selina thought Catherine was going to press the issue of her ripped dress.

She certainly seemed to pause, her eyes flicking over the cloak that was still firmly in place despite the fire that was crackling in the grate, but after a few seconds she lost interest and returned her attention back to her primary reason for being there.

‘I don’t like you,’ Catherine said, her lip curling slightly. ‘I don’t like you and I don’t want you here, but for some unfathomable reason my father thinks it is better to keep you around. Hopefully one day he will regain his sense…’

‘Why are you here, Catherine?’ Selina asked a little more forcefully.

‘Tomorrow I am going to meet the man I am going to marry. You would not understand, but this is what I have been preparing for the last ten years.’

‘Since you were eleven years old?’

‘The legitimate daughters of the titled and wealthy are thinking about marriage as soon as they start to head towards womanhood. Not that I would expect you to know that.’

‘What does your impending marriage have to do with me?’

‘My future husband is from a long line of Scottish nobility. He will expect things to be done in a certain way and for moral standards to be upheld at all times. Of course, all families have their dirty little secrets, but he will expect discretion.’

‘I have no interest in jeopardising your marriage,’ Selina said.

It was the truth. If Catherine married this Scottish lord she would set up home here in Ballachulish.

Selina planned to return first to London and then perhaps to the south coast where she had spent her childhood.

You could not get any further from Scotland and that suited her very well indeed.

‘Sometimes I can see you think I am unkind towards you, unreasonable in my dislike of you,’ Catherine said, her eyes boring into Selina. ‘But understand this. If you do even the tiniest little thing that could upset my future husband, I will not rest until I have destroyed you.’

Selina sighed, suddenly feeling very weary. ‘You have my word that I will be as absent as possible and, when my presence is required, I will do nothing scandalous, nothing to draw attention to myself. I doubt your future husband will even know I am there.’

Catherine looked a little mollified and to Selina’s relief she rose from the bed, brushing past Selina on her way to the door. Before she left the room she paused, looking back over her shoulder.

‘You never know, perhaps he has a stableboy or gardener who might stoop to marry you.’

She was gone before Selina could respond, gliding away down the corridor as if she was on her way to meet the Queen.

Only once the door was shut and locked did Selina begin to relax.

She peeled off the sodden cloak, revealing the extent of the damage done to her dress.

Grimacing, she carefully stripped off the ripped garment and laid it over a chair.

She would look at it with fresh eyes in the morning, but it did not look to be salvageable.

What she wanted right now was a warm basin of water, or even better a steaming bath in front of the fire, but to ring for the servants to heat water at this time of night would only invite further scrutiny from her stepmother.

Once she had undressed to her chemise she moved closer to the fire, screwing up her nose as the wet hem of the thin cotton undergarment brushed against her legs. Ensuring the curtains were tightly pulled and the door locked, she gripped the hem of the chemise and lifted it over her head.

The fire in the grate warmed her skin and, after a few minutes, she felt more like herself and less like a drowned rat.

She crossed her arms over her body and ran her fingers over the soft skin of her shoulders, enjoying the caress.

She missed being touched, not that anyone had ever touched her in a romantic way, but she missed the heartfelt embraces from her sister and her mother, she missed the way her friends would take her by the hand as they strolled along the promenade in St Leonards.

Her thoughts skipped to the man she had met tonight and for a moment she wondered what it would feel like to have his fingers caressing her skin. His hands had been rough and he was undoubtably strong, but she imagined him as gentle when he touched her.

She took a shuddering breath in and stepped away from the fire.

Always she had been prone to indulging in wild flights of imagination.

She would get caught up in an idea and allow her thoughts to run away from her.

Selina was not stupid, she was aware of what was realistic in her life and what was not, but often she drifted off into fantasy anyway.

It was what had got her into this mess with her father.

Most people would accept that the man wanted nothing to do with the daughters he had abandoned before their birth, but Selina had pursued the dream that he would one day welcome her into his family and secure for her a happy future.

‘You are an air-headed fool, Selina Shepherd,’ she murmured, stalking over to the bed and pulling on her nightclothes.

Tomorrow she would begin planning how to escape from the mess she had got herself into and return to England as soon as possible.