Page 8 of The Lady’s Reckless Abandon (Safely in Scotland #1)

L ily felt as if she were walking on air as they left the music room. It was well equipped with all the finest instruments. She looked forward to playing for the duke in the evenings.

It was clear His Grace enjoyed listening to her play. She was guilty of trying to impress him. She’d not played for anyone who so openly appreciated her skill.

Flattery and empty promises were the reason she was staying at Gealach Castle in the first place. She was more careful now to watch for such pretenses. But she felt the duke was sincere in his admiration of her playing. And she certainly wasn’t in danger of falling into bed with the man because he’d been swept away by her compositions.

She was well on guard now. No man would catch her unaware again.

But while she was here, waiting to hear back from her family and learn her fate, why couldn’t she enjoy her time here? If she was going to end up living at someone else’s estate as a governess, she might not get another opportunity to play simply for the fun of it.

A bit of worry turned in her stomach, but she pushed it away. There was no sense to start fretting over her future now. There was nothing to be done one way or the other. All she could do was wait.

Her father was rather absent most of the time. Either at his clubs or spending the nights elsewhere when her mother was not in residence. All the times her brothers had been caught up in mischief it had been brushed over with a few minor grumblings from the marquess and then it was done with.

But she had never done anything to earn his ire. She’d always made certain to be a model daughter. Especially after following in her sisters’ footsteps. They were the epitome of grace and deportment and Lily had tried to mimic them when she was younger.

Now she knew them to be harsh women. Matty called them shrews and while she hadn’t admitted to agreeing with him, she couldn’t say he was wrong. They spent most of their time gossiping about whichever sister was not in attendance. Usually it was Martha as she preferred to stay in the country even during the Season.

After hearing the way they greedily picked the flesh from any woman they deigned unworthy, Lily assumed she was the one being devoured when she wasn’t with them.

What a tasty morsel she would make for them now.

When the tour had concluded she’d made her way back to the room of violets. She sat on the wide window seat and looked down into the gardens where they’d spent the morning and remembered the morning before when she’d woken in the tavern and thought her life was about to bloom.

Everything looked different to her now. Especially herself. She was no longer a silly girl hoping for love with no sense as to where she and Reggie would have lived or what they would have done for funds. Now she thought of practical things. Like how she would provide for herself if her family were to cast her out.

Being a governess would provide a place for her to stay. But maybe after she’d saved up enough she could become a music instructor. That might make her happy.

If there was anything she’d learned from her colossal misjudgment it was that happiness was secondary. All that truly mattered was survival.

She would find a way to survive this.

*

After spending the afternoon in his study seeing to things and being distracted by thoughts of his houseguest, Finn went to the formal dining room for a late meal.

When Lily arrived, he assisted her into her seat as any gentleman would, but he found himself bending closer to catch the scent of oranges in her hair. No cloying rosewater for Lily. He wanted to ask her where she’d gotten such a lovely perfume, but it wasn’t his business. And it was much too personal.

A man did not ask about things that touched a woman’s body, whether it be a gown or an exotic smelling oil that he imagined had offered a cool kiss before warming on her skin.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the intoxicating scent, he woodenly found his way to his own seat and all but plopped into it. Fortunately, the footmen served their meal and the savory notes of lamb roast chased away the citrusy smell of temptation.

“Will you tell me more about your sister?” she requested.

It hadn’t been a subject change as they had not been speaking on any specific topic when she arrived in the dining room, but the topic was still an abrupt deviation from where his mind had been.

“Aye. What would you like to know.”

“Was she older or younger than you?”

“Older.” He hoped she wouldn’t ask how much older. He wasn’t ready to go into that. Not until he was certain Lady Lily wouldn’t cast any judgement. He didn’t think her the sort to bandy about words like bastard. If she were, she surely would have employed the use of the word when describing the fool who’d used her so callously and then abandoned her. But still, he wasn’t ready to expose this detail of his family.

While he’d never been ashamed of Juniper, many thought she should be hidden away as his father’s dark secret. The fact Finn’s mother so easily accepted Juniper in her home as one of her children was often the topic of gossip in the village.

Finn imagined it was also the reason Juniper never went to London, and had refused even the slightest suggestion of having a Season.

“Did she remind you often that she was oldest?” Lily asked with a smirk on her lips.

“I do believe they teach such things to older sisters the moment they are out of leading strings,” he said, making light of a conversation that had the potential to turn grim.

He understood the kindness Lily revealed in offering him the chance to speak of his sister. Many people, upon hearing of a loved one’s death, chose to talk about anything but the person who was lost. As if speaking of them would cause pain, and not speaking of them was a way to avoid that pain.

When, in fact, not speaking of them caused its own type of pain. And speaking of them eventually became easier and while not effortless, it was a comfort.

“My sister loved flowers as you have seen during our tour today. But she also loved animals. She had a few horses, two dogs, and a plethora of barn cats in her keeping.”

“Dogs? I love dogs. I have always wanted a dog, but my mother and father refused, saying they didn’t wish being stuck with the care of it. As if my parents would have personally cared for anything. They didn’t even care for their horde of children.” She frowned, and after wiping delicately at her mouth with her napkin, she looked up at him with a wince. “Forgive me. That was rude. I’m obviously still ruffled about not getting a dog.”

Finn laughed when her lips broke into a smile. It was all the sign he needed to know she was jesting and it was safe to break into laughter.

“Now that you mention it, Father refused to let me keep an injured squirrel I’d found and I’m quite miffed about it still,” he shared.

“How rude of him to stop you from catching some dreadful disease from a wild animal. Parents. So cruel. It’s a wonder we have made it to adulthood with any social graces.”

He liked the way she’d lumped them together in her remark. We.

“Speak for yourself. I’m a Scot after all. Most Londoners find us barbaric.”

She casually waved her hand. “I do not mind the way you eat with your hands and snarl over your meal, Your Grace.”

He found himself laughing again as he used his fork and knife to cut into his food and place the tiniest bit into his mouth, as was proper when dining with company.

“You jest, but if you were not here, I would have devoured this by now.” He pointed to his plate with his knife. “I still would have used cutlery, but I would have taken much bigger bites instead of nibbling my meal to death.”

She covered her mouth as she laughed.

“It does seem to take forever to finish a meal with such small pieces. I often worry I will fall asleep before I am done.”

“I beg you not to fall asleep tonight, for I’m very much looking forward to hearing you play after our meal.”

Her cheeks turned a lovely rose and she nodded before taking a sip of wine.

“Do you have any requests?”

“Nay. Only that it be something you’ve created. Anything would be welcome.”

“It is easier to play something I’ve made up, no one can accuse me of playing it incorrectly.”

He chuckled but wondered if Lily had ever played anything incorrectly in her life. She seemed at one with the instrument when her fingers were moving across the keys, or strings for that matter.

When the meal was over, he assisted her from her chair.

“Do you take port with the men after your meal, Your Grace?”

He chuckled, not only because there were no other men in their party tonight.

“Port? We are in Scotland, lass. We drink whisky here.”

“I see. So barbaric.” She was teasing him. Nay, as he looked down into her sharp, gray eyes, he saw she was flirting with him. Probably something that came as easily to Lady Lily as playing the pianoforte.

When had their pleasant banter turned into something else? Something so dangerous?

He guessed there was a fine line between the two. Perhaps no difference at all really, except for the look in one’s eye when a phrase was delivered.

There was definitely a look in her eyes.

He should have backed down and turned the conversation to safer topics. He could have not returned her jests. He could have even left, so not to encourage any future pursuits. What he shouldn’t have done was deliver a response in a low voice with a flirtatious look in his own eyes.

“Do you wish to be barbaric with me, Lady Lily?”

“Yes,” she whispered, and he felt the word melt through his body, warming every chilly corner of him. He leaned closer to her, before realizing he was on the path to kissing her, and abruptly pulled back. Something that seemed to take not a little bit of effort for his body resisted his mind.

Clearing his throat, he looked away and bid his blood to cool. With a nod, he led her to the music room, where he poured them each a glass of amber liquid, hers slightly less than his own for he didn’t want to turn the girl tipsy.

They were already playing a dangerous game, it was best to keep one’s wits about them.

Sitting at the pianoforte, Lily began a happy tune that turned slower and eventually grew in depth of both note and feeling. She played for nearly an hour, ending with a piece that made his throat tighten and his eyes burn with unshed emotions yet again. How did she do such a thing to him? It wasn’t sadness. But a passion so deep he felt he had been irrevocably changed.

She finished the song and emptied the last sip of whisky from her glass. He saw the concentration it took for her to set the glass back where it had been.

He’d not wanted her drunk, so he’d only served one glass, but of course, she wouldn’t have been accustomed to such strong spirits. Her slight body must have drawn it up like a sponge. Not to mention she didn’t have the inherent constitution for whisky because she wasn’t Scottish.

“I do believe I must beg a reprieve. My fing-hers are not working quite right,” she said with a giggle.

“Oh, dear,” he muttered, though he couldn’t help but smile at her slight slurring of the word “fingers.”

He helped her up from the bench and supported some of her weight as she swayed.

“My apologies, Lady Lily. It was not my intention to set you in your cups. I’ll help you to your bed.” He nearly froze when he realized what he’d said. Lily simply giggled again. “What I mean to say, is that I will provide escort to your room and you shall go inside on your own.”

“On my own,” she repeated as if saying the words again would help them penetrate the cloud of whisky surrounding her brain.

What had he done?

By the time he got her up the stairs, after some bit of stumbling and leaning, and to the door of her room, he realized he would not be able to leave her at the door. Not unless he wished for her to spend the rest of the night out in the hall.

Opening the door, he quickly took her inside and put her in bed. Actually, gravity did that, for he just stood her next to the bed and she fell over on top of the pale lavender bedding.

He’d been right when he’d envisioned her the night before. Her dark hair did provide an enthralling contrast against the fabric.

Shaking his head, he turned to leave, but realized her legs and feet still hung over the bed in what he assumed would be an uncomfortable angle after a few hours.

He picked up her legs, noticing how his large hands wrapped around her dainty ankles as he turned her to fit on the bed. Looking down at the slippers on her feet, he decided he should remove those. For the purpose of comfort, of course.

He gave them a slight tug of her heel and the first shoe slid off. Her stockinged feet were so tiny in his big hands. He couldn’t help himself from giving the first a squeeze before turning to the other.

With her shoes removed and her now sleeping completely and soundly atop the bed, he backed away toward the door, feeling as if turning away from the sight of her would cause him some great amount of pain.

In the corridor he breathed in deep, the air seemed to release him from the spell.

“Good God,” he muttered and wiped a hand over his face.

She was too beautiful, too funny, too talented, too intelligent, and too beautiful. Christ, he’d already thought that.

He was growing much too comfortable with Lady Lily. He’d hoped to provide safety as he would have done for his sister, but in less than a day, he’d abandoned any brotherly feelings for her. He was already being tempted.

His blood heated in the presence of her smiles and laughter, and when she’d played for him, he felt the intense stirrings of passion.

He’d wanted to offer safety, but now it seemed, he was becoming the danger instead of the champion.

A chaperone could not be found quickly enough.