Scandalous Passions by Nicola Davidson

Author:Nicola Davidson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction Short Stories; Historical Regency Fiction; Women's Historical Fiction; Two-Hour Romance Short Reads; Scottish Historical Literature; Women's Short Stories; Regency Romances; Duke; Bluestocking; Regencies; Marriage of Convenience; Wedding a Wilding; Cathleen Ross; Series Romance; Popular Romance; Category Romance; Entangled Publishing; Scandalous; Opposites Attract Romance; Scotland; Spring
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2020-04-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

After several days of biting winds and just enough rain to trap everyone inside the manor until they paced like caged animals, to see the clouds had cleared and naught more than a gentle breeze stirred the trees was a great relief.

Lachlan waited at the bottom of the stairs for Marjorie and Lady Janet, at his feet one basket with food and flagons of wine and small ale and another with an old woolen blanket and several cushions. They were all in need of some sunshine and fresh air after the foul weather, but more especially, time alone together. Lady Janet had been furious when she’d learned of Angus Campbell’s behavior in the garden and had forbidden the man from visiting the manor again. She had offered reassurance regarding her absence with Aileen Campbell, yet there remained an air of tension about her. He hoped in a less formal setting, she might confide what weighed on her mind.

“Do I see wine in that basket?”

He smiled as Lady Janet descended the staircase like an empress. Well. Empress of his world, at least. “Aye, lady. Enough for merriment.”

“Excellent,” said Marjorie, trailing just behind. “Where are you taking us, Lachlan? Are we riding?”

“No need. It’s a short distance. Half mile or so.”

Lady Janet nodded. “Lead on, then. If I’m trapped one more moment within these walls, I shall go mad. I always find a walk helps to clear my mind.”

It was tempting to press her further, but servants were bustling about, equally eager to make use of the fine weather and complete their tasks before chapel. Some had been given leave to visit their families for the afternoon and moved particularly swiftly with baskets of linens to be laundered, silver to be polished, and rugs to be beaten free of dust and dirt.

Instead, he, Lady Janet, and Marjorie made their way down the gravel path, past the flower garden and orchard, toward the hunting grounds. When they reached a large clump of shrubbery, he directed the ladies to the right, down a narrow way that had been gouged out of a bank to allow access to the stream below.

“Here,” said Lachlan, leading them to a small sand clearing about twenty feet wide and deep. “Thought this might do.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” said Marjorie, clasping her hands together.

Eager to serve, he unpacked the first basket, spreading out the rug and arranging the cushions in a half circle. Lady Janet sank onto the rug with a deep sigh, leaning back on a cushion and lifting her face to the sun.

“I’ll need all the lemon juice in Scotland for the freckles I shall gain this day, but it will be worth it. Hold your noses now, I’m removing my shoes and stockings.”

As soon as she did so, Marjorie began to cough and sway before pressing her hand to her forehead, swooning onto the cushion and twitching, then lying deathly still.

Lachlan applauded.

Lady Janet raised an eyebrow. “Saucy. Both of you.”

“Are you going to punish us, mistress?” said Marjorie, batting her lashes, and her guardian couldn’t help but smile.

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