Flora woke to a soft pressure on her belly. She opened her eyes to the golden rays of sun shining through the window and glanced over to see Isaac nestled beside her, then knew the pressure was his hand sprawled across her stomach. His face was peaceful, and his hair unkempt and wild as if she’d run her fingers through it and scattered the strands in all directions. Maybe she had, the second time they had been together during the night.
Last night had been perfect—well, except for finding out that Isaac’s box of jewels was all his family had. As she watched him slumber serenely, she remembered their conversation from the wee hours of the evening. Dread invaded, twisting her core in knots. She wasn’t sure she could sacrifice the well-being of his family for that of hers. What was she to do now? Maybe she could split the contents in half and save both, but what if that weren’t enough for either of them and both families were destroyed? She had no idea how to judge the worth of the baubles in the box.
Although sunlight peeked into the room, she could tell the quiet of the early morning still kept the rest of the house wrapped in its slumbering embrace. This was a perfect tick in time, and she wanted to breathe in every part of it. She closed her eyes and just felt . . . the soft weight of his arm around her, the heat of his side next to hers, the sweet sound of his even breathing. She had to cherish this because she may never have anything like it again.
A light rap sounded. Her heart ached, knowing her moment was already gone, and the stolen time could not be returned. As her pulse pounded, it dawned on her where she truly lay. Her gaze darted toward the door. She didn’t know why it mattered that someone might find her here. Glancing back to Isaac, she marveled that his eyes remained shut.
A clink, then a click, sounded just before the door inched in. Fredrick peered from behind the wood, then gave her a slight smile. “Pardon me, my lady.” She wasn’t sure why he’d resorted to calling her that. He continued, “Your maid is waiting for you. When you are ready to cross the hall, please knock once, and I’ll open the door if it’s safe to do so.”
The door was shut before she had a chance to reply.
Drawing back from the man in the bed was what finally woke him. “Where are you off to?” The sleepy, sated sound of his voice had shivers spiraling to her core, reminding her of what he’d made her feel last night. His arm shot out, attempting to pull her back in, but he missed his mark as she skirted from beneath the covers.
“I believe Fredrick thinks ’tis time I return to my room.” The frown on Isaac’s face sent a small thrill through her. “’Tis nearly time to break our fast.”
He moaned as she gathered the shift that lay discarded on the floor and drew it over her head. Rushing for the door, she left the rest of her clothing, certain that Isobel would be stuffing her into something else this morning and realizing Fredrick would not have disturbed them had haste not been necessary.
She glanced back to see Isaac was sitting up, his bare chest exposed as the blankets fell to his waist. Her pulsed thudded as she remembered running her fingers along the hard ridges and valleys.
His gaze traveled from her mussed hair to her bare toes. “You are a beautiful sight to wake to.”
Her hand shot to her hair and tried to straighten the messy nest of curls, which never looked good first thing in the morning.
She smiled at him, but as he moved to throw the covers from the lean form which had held her securely during the night, she swiveled and rapped on the barrier between her and the hall. Seeing the rest of him bared to her might tempt her to turn around and stay, forcing him to ignore the rules he liked to live by. How was it her body already cried out at the absence of his arms around her?
The door swung in to show Fredrick waiting, and she caught a glimpse of Isobel’s hands hastily waving her toward her open door on the other side of the hall. A bite of sadness invaded her breast as it dawned on her that the pair of them might be embarrassed that Isaac had shared his room, and his body, with her. Pushing down that humiliation, she sprinted for her chamber, and Isobel quickly closed the door behind her.
Isobel once again changed her into a person she wasn’t so that she would be presentable to Isaac's friends, and the time dragged on like it had when she’d attempted to learn some basics of math and employed a tutor to teach her. Like those swirling numbers, she doubted she would ever grasp the concept of what was deemed appropriate for English society. It was a good thing she’d be leaving on the next day, Monday, to deliver Isaac’s jewels to Drostan.
A familiar solid knock rent through the room.
She stared unseeing into the mirror until a flash of movement blocked the increasing light of the sun and pulled her away as strong, reassuring fingers caressed her shoulder. She reached up and held his hand, savoring the sensation, even as she thought of escaping and saving her family.
It was all such a contradiction. She wanted to save her brother. She wanted to return Isaac’s belongings. She needed him to leave because she didn’t belong in his world, but the last thing she wanted was to see the rear of his carriage as he made his way back to England. This attachment she’d formed to him was going to rip her to shreds, no matter what she chose. And she wasn’t even counting the problem she had with the crime lord from Edinburgh.
“You’re lovely.” When she focused on the looking glass, she was greeted by sapphire eyes that studied her with what she thought might be something a little more than lust. Could he be as conflicted as she?
“Thank ye.” She took a deep breath and stood.
Isaac’s hand slid down her arm, clinging to her hand. It was felt reassuring and right.
“I see ye’re wearing yer ruffles again. That can’t be comfortable.”
His free hand rose to the lace, and he cleared his throat. So, she was correct—he most likely hated them as much as she did.
Leaning in, he lowered his voice so only she could hear. “I’ll let you take them off anytime you wish.”
A blush stole to her cheeks, but not before a thrill shot through her limbs. “With pleasure,” she purred back quietly, attempting to keep his consideration and those mesmerizing eyes on her without letting Isobel overhear the play between them. The banter felt freeing because it was the first time she’d tried to catch a man’s attention with only the intention of pleasure.
Right now, the last thing on her mind was going down to mingle with strangers and break her fast. She wanted to stay here with Isaac. But, when he released her hand and threaded his arm through hers, she followed as he strode toward the door. Opening it, he peeked out to see if they could abscond from the room without gaining anyone’s notice. How embarrassed was he to be seen with her?
Pushing the unwanted thought away, she focused on enjoying her remaining time in Isaac’s company.
They were only halfway down the stairs when a boisterous sound blasted up at them. “Nate Hamilton. Finally, a friendly face.”
Och, she kept forgetting to ask why everyone was calling him Nate and how he knew so many people here when he was from England?
“Archie, I was wondering where you were.”
“I took advantage of my family’s preparations to sneak away for a bit.” They landed at the base of the stairs, where the newest Sassenach lay in wait.
Archie was of a similar age to Isaac but didn’t have the reserved quality of the man at her side. His clothes were slightly wrinkled as if he’d been out in them all evening, and he’d just returned from somewhere. His smile was warm and genuine, reminding her of her brother Bran, the one who was the cause of all this mess. Archie even had the same curly brown hair as her brother, only slightly darker, and his eyes were hazel instead of the chocolate color of Bran’s.
Archie scanned their surroundings to be certain there was no one else about, then whispered, “I needed a break from my cousin.”
Isaac released her arm, and the two hugged, indicating they were well acquainted. It was an embrace almost like what happened when Will had seen one of their brothers who had moved to Edinburgh a few years ago—like they’d shared many secrets that others would never be privy to.
“Well, I’m glad you’ve made an appearance.”
“And who is this lovely lady?” Archie’s gaze penetrated hers and held, as if trying to impart some forbidden wisdom with only his bold regard, as he tipped his head to her.
“This is Flora MacGregor.” Isaac’s hand landed on her arm again and seemed to pull her a little closer than he had held her before.
Something flashed in Archie’s eyes, then he glanced toward Isaac, and a slight smirk only barely appeared on his lips. “A pleasure, Miss MacGregor.”
“’Tis lovely to meet ye, Mr. . . .” She left it open-ended, not quite sure how to address the newcomer.
“Archie Clarke. And you have the voice of an angel. Nate, where’d you find this bonny Scottish lass?”
“In Aberdeen,” he deadpanned, choosing not to elaborate but continuing, “We are about to break our fast. Would you like to join us?”
“Nothing would please me more.”
As they approached the door to the breakfast room, her gaze landed on the tall, dark Highlander near the sideboard. Kate wasn’t yet in the room to capture the man’s attention, so the constable’s glower was pinned to her, calculating and almost malicious. What could the man have against her? She swallowed, and her steps faltered.
Isaac stopped their progress and leaned over to Mr. Clarke to whisper something she couldn’t hear. He needn’t have bothered because the constable’s presence so unnerved her that she could only hear the pounding of her own heart. Isaac’s friend nodded, then the man holding her arm turned to her.
“I forgot to show you the one in the drawing room,” Isaac articulated loud enough for anyone within range to hear.
She blinked, trying to decipher what he could be referring to as he swiveled around and pulled her from the room. Once in the hall, he leaned down, so close his warm breath tickled her neck as he reassured, “Archie’s going to help me keep him occupied and away from you.”
She nodded, relief settling in at the knowledge Isaac had sensed her distress. But then an unsettling thought emerged. What if Isaac were just afraid of her being carted off to prison before he could get his belongings back? Needing to pull her mind from the wayward thoughts, she asked, “Why is everyone calling you Nate?”
“It’s what my family and friends have always called me.”
“I’m so sorry. I thought yer name was Isaac.” But he didn’t feel like a Nate to her. She’d rather go back to calling him Ruffles.
“No.” The immediate visceral response startled her. He smiled, his shoulders relaxing as his gaze met hers. “I prefer Isaac. It’s what my father called me.”
Her heart beat faster because his words felt like a confession, like she occupied a part of his heart that had only belonged to one other. Something about being on this estate had her emotions flitting all over the place.
Nae, ’tis no’ this place, ’tis him.
As they continued away from the breakfast room, and they both became silent. She needed to vanquish her confusing feelings before her earl left her, so she focused on their surroundings.
As they strolled toward the foyer, pretending to look at the magnificent portraits on the wall, a jovial man with gray hair landed at the base of the steps. He held the arm of a tall, thin woman with dark ebony tresses. Her locks were sprinkled with silver, and it made the lady appear worldly instead of old. They were probably just a few years younger than the Stonehavens. Although she had seen them sitting near Isaac’s end of the table the previous evening, she’d not yet met the couple. The woman was elegant, but at the same time gave off an aura of approachability as she cast a genuine smile her way.
“Good morning,” the gentleman said to Isaac, then let his cheerful cheeks turn her direction.
“Ah, good morning. Allow me to introduce you. This is Flora MacGregor.” He glanced to her. “And this is Charles and Irene Bartrom.”
“’Tis so nice to meet ye.”
“The pleasure is ours, dear girl,” Charles Bartrom intoned.
“I’m famished. Would you like to join us in the dining hall?” Irene rubbed her midsection.
“We would love to,” Isaac volunteered and gently pivoted her back to the room they had been fleeing. He probably assumed with the additional company, the constable wouldn’t have the opportunity to interrogate her.
“Flora MacGregor, your name is so familiar. I’m certain I’ve heard it before.”
Isaac stiffened and tightened his grip on her arm. “I’m sure ’tis a common name. Do you visit Scotland often?”
“No. Believe it or not, this is our first time here. Charles is always so busy with the theatre that we don’t often have the chance to travel. After thirty years of marriage, I only now convinced him to visit some distant family from the area, and the Stonehavens extended the invitation for us to pay a visit along the way.”
“What does he do that keeps him so busy?”
“He manages a theatre in London.”
“That sounds like fun. I’ve never been to the theatre.”
“Well, next time you are in London, we will remedy that. I would be happy to have you visit our box.”
“That is so kind of you.” Something caught her in its grip then. A happiness she’d not felt in the company of anyone outside her family— a sense of belonging as Irene offered her a sincere friendship without expecting a favor in return, and after only a short time of knowing her. She wanted to hug the older woman.
Strolling into the room, Flora was happy to see Constable Davidson was occupied with Mr. Clarke and already seated at the far end of the room. She filled her plate and followed her companions to the table, taking a seat several away from the constable's prying questions and glares.
Irene cut into her thoughts. “You look so familiar too. It will come to me where I know you from soon.”
“I’ve never been out of Scotland, so I’m fairly certain ye must be thinking of someone else.”
“Tell me what ye’ve seen of the Highlands so far and where ye’re off to next.” Flora encouraged the conversation.
Just then, Kate glided into the room.
Flora’s gaze traveled back to the large man she’d avoided this morning to discover his regard was riveted to her friend. So was Mr. Clarke’s. Glancing back to her sister, she noticed Kate wore the look of her true self today, the girl with a genuine smile who could talk to anyone and charm them with her attention and conversation skills.
She swallowed. These were not men Kate needed to garner the devotion of. Perhaps Flora could talk her out of whatever foolish plan she’d devised to warrant being in the company of all these threats.
Turning back to Irene, she listened to the woman’s tale of long-ago family connections farther to the north of Aberdeen. Relief washed over her as she decided the woman couldn’t know of her reputation in the city since Irene had never been there.
A whiff of overly sweet roses reached her nose as a whoosh of air moved across her. She glanced over to see Miss Clarke slink into the seat next to Isaac, who sat directly opposite her. The woman didn’t bother looking her way as her sights were set fully on gaining the earl’s consideration. Isaac turned the lady’s way and gave her a reserved smile, not the real one she’d seen on his face during the night. Flora sat a little straighter.
She’d almost let the stab of jealousy she felt be known, but he had shared something with her that the English lass wasn’t allowed to see. Although it had been obvious that Lady Stonehaven was seeking to unite the pair of them. Would Isaac marry this woman? He would have to take a wife, and it couldn’t be Flora.
The confidence she’d felt vanished, replaced by dread and something that robbed her breath.
As Isaac and Miss Clarke carried on a conversation, she tried to focus on the grounding presence of the genuine woman beside her. Thankfully, the conversation flowed, and the meal was over before she realized it.
As they rose to head out of the dining room, Miss Clarke’s voice carried to her. “Oh, you must go riding with us today. The grounds are lovely, and I need to show you the waterfall we found this week. It’s so lovely.”
Instead of answering the lass, Isaac’s gaze turned to her. Before he could say anything, Miss Clarke cut back in. “Flora, I’ll bring a book for you to the drawing room. The sun promises to be strong today, and I fear your skin would suffer from the effects.”
What did that mean? Was there something wrong with her skin? She couldn’t ride, but she also couldn’t spend the whole day stuck in a room staring at a novel that she’d never be able to understand and pretend to enjoy it.
Irene seemed to straighten, and for a moment, she was afraid her new friend might echo Miss Clarke’s sentiments, but she chimed in, “Nonsense. Flora’s skin is a beautiful sun-kissed shade.”
The English lass retorted, “Perhaps, but if she gets too much more, that scar on her temple will be amplified. She does such a great job of hiding it. It would be a shame to emphasize the mark.”
Flora didn’t know what to say. No one had ever spoken of her scar, and she’d long ago stopped worrying with it. She reached to let her fingertips lightly touch the spot as she noticed the creamy smoothness of Miss Clarke’s pale skin.
Irene’s gaze darkened, and she appeared to be on the verge of scolding Miss Clarke. But the lady remained quiet, possibly to avoid offending their host’s family. Isaac had not even heard the slight because he was engrossed in conversation with Charles.
As the group moved toward the exit, the English wench turned her attention back to Isaac. “Will you consider joining us?”
“No, I regret that I have some other matters to see to.”
Miss Clarke frowned, her entire body turned tense as waves of anger followed the girl’s gaze in Flora’s direction. “Well then, Flora, you must join me. I don’t think the reins will worsen those calluses on your hands, and I’d be happy to give you some lessons on how to behave in London, should you ever visit.”
“That was uncalled for,” Irene snapped.
Flora wanted to say thank you to the woman but didn’t want to cause any more problems. “Nae, ’tis all right.” She scooted to the side, extricating herself from the group. “My head is aching, so I think I’ll spend the morning in my room. You should all go and enjoy the day.”
Swiveling, Flora practically ran away, as she bit back all the angry retorts she wished to fling at Miss Eleanor Clarke. She was thankful she’d held her tongue because the last thing she wished to do was embarrass Isaac further. He had an image to uphold, and she couldn’t allow herself to tarnish his reputation.
She’d taken enough from him already.
Rushing away, she heard voices behind her, but she continued. She rounded the stair landing, then sprinted up the steps. In no time, she was flinging the door open and turning back to close it when the heavy wooden plank stopped short.
Isaac was there. His hand was braced on the barrier she wished to put between her and the world she couldn’t be a part of. She’d not heard him follow, and she couldn’t read the gaze that had darkened to the color of the sky just before a storm. He must hate her for forcing him into this farce. She hadn’t fooled anyone, but why did it matter? She was only here to keep her distance from Alastair.
She should have just stayed in that hotel in Aberdeen. Coming here had been a mistake. She should have run when she’d had the chance, and before she’d come to care for Isaac. She rushed across the room, taking a peek out the window to remind herself she didn’t belong here—this world wasn’t hers.
He wasn’t hers.
Wrapping herself in her arms, she shivered and then turned to face the English earl. She might have pinched his jewels, but he had taken her heart, and would steal it away with him when he left. She straightened her shoulders and let her arms fall. She would not let her emotions reign free. She had to think of her family.
Isaac stalked in, shutting the door behind him, and locking it. His steady gaze scanned the room. She assumed he checked to make sure Isobel wasn’t present, and she couldn’t witness the humiliation she’d put him through. Perhaps he would take her back and hand her over to either the authorities or Alastair now.
His silence reminded her of the fear she’d felt as she’d huddled in that alley all those years ago, alone and unwanted, the gash on her head throbbing from the injury. The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them, but she had to remind him who she was, and she couldn’t go on pretending that her heart wasn’t tangled up in the mess she’d made.
“I cannae give ye back the box.”
Isaac stiffened, his gaze darkening and focusing in on her. “Why?” was clipped from his throat like the guttural growl of a hurt animal.
“I need it to save my brother. There is a man on the docks he owes money to. If I don’t help, Bran will be a slave to the man for the rest of his life. And if I’m forced to go to Edinburgh, the coin that Bran and I bring in will not be there to help support the family. Will cannae do it alone. He and the others will be evicted from Camelot.”
Isaac said nothing.
Och, how she wished he would yell, berate her, call her out for the uncaring arse she was—anything but the silence. It would make it easier.
Fighting back the flood that threatened to break free, she continued, “I shouldn’t have let you bring me here. It wasn’t right, and I, I can’t continue, knowing that I’m deceiving you.” Her voice cracked, but she kept the tears at bay. “You don’t deserve this. I’m sorry, and I wish I could change it, but I can’t. It’s your family or mine, and I can no longer pretend to be something I’m not. Once ’tis done, I swear I’ll find a way to pay ye back. I willnae send yer family to the streets, but I cannae watch mine be forced into servitude and become destitute.”
Isaac remained still. The silence clawed at her nerves as his gaze stayed fixated on her. She couldn’t tell if it was angry or sympathetic, but she knew her heart raced like the wind being broken by the sails of mighty ships, erratic and off pace.
She swallowed. “Say something.” He had to speak, or she’d crumble.
“Flora.” It was the wrong word because it sounded as if he was pleading with her or as if she had a chance at redemption. A tear escaped even as she tried to choke it back, her throat so thick she couldn’t swallow. Turning, she glanced back out the window. She saw nothing.
Arms circled her. Isaac’s head nestled against hers. “Thank you.”
She was stunned. Despite wanting to melt into his embrace, she knew she couldn’t, shouldn’t—oh, but how she wanted to. “There is no reason to thank me.” She held the rest in but wanted to weep for what she was doing to this man.
“Yes.” His heat moved from her back as he twirled her around. He pinned her with his regard. “You told me the truth.”
Flora’s breath caught as her gaze locked on his, and she recognized something there that scared her more than any other emotion could.
She saw trust.
Elation and relief were the heady sensations running through Isaac as Flora finally opened to him. He’d believed her motives were pure, but now he knew for sure. She’d not taken from him just because she could, but out of duty to her family. He couldn’t fault her that, even respected her commitment and loyalty to those she loved.
Would she feel the same for him when he insisted that she return his ships?
“How much does he owe?”
She took a step back, putting space between them yet again, seemingly afraid that he’d take advantage of her now that he knew the truth. “Five hundred pounds.” Her gaze met his, and he could swear he saw her tremble.
He nearly choked. “What the hell did he do?”
“I dinnae ken. But it gets worse. If the debt isnae paid, the ship captain will force Bran to do his bidding until ’tis satisfied.”
She opened her mouth to say something else but then stopped. Flora’s regard shifted as if avoiding him. She pursed her lips and turned, for some reason unable to meet his gaze. Maybe she was ashamed of what this Bran had done. But instinct told him there was something left unsaid.
Dread lodged in his gut, but he couldn’t say why. “Is that all?”
She nodded, and he closed the gap between them, coiling his arms around her waist as he drew her back into his chest.
What had her brother done to become so indebted? But now wasn’t the time for questions—it was his chance to reassure Flora that he would take care of her. Once she and her family were safe, he would ask her to come to England with him. He was becoming attached to her and didn’t want to leave her behind.
Now that he’d finally gotten the answers that he needed from her, he knew he could easily afford the payment. He cleared his throat before saying, “When we get back to Aberdeen, I’ll visit this man with you and pay the debt.”
Then she’d have no reason to hold onto his belongings. They could get past what was holding them apart and could come to some kind of understanding. She had tensed in his arms, but he couldn’t see how helping her was any worse than her holding on to his stolen goods.
He nuzzled his head against hers and discovered himself in a field of strawberries and lavender. He was lost in Flora. But at the same time, he was found, and he knew holding her in his arms was right.
His head dipped, and his lips landed on the sweet curve of her neck. A soft inhalation of breath was his reward as her head lulled back into his chest, encouraging his attentions. Closing his mouth around her soft flesh, he kissed gently over and over, trying to cover each spot, worshiping her to let her know she was worth it.
The branches of a tree outside the window swayed with a breeze, catching his attention. He was taken to his home, his bedchamber, and he knew he’d never again look out a window without thinking of Flora, without wanting her. The arms he held at her waist split apart, one lowering to Flora’s hip and pulling her closer, the other skimming up to her breast, his hand cupping the gentle weight of the globe through the soft material of her gown. It wasn’t enough.
He wanted closer, her skin bare and exposed to him.
He shifted and let his mouth land on the lobe of Flora’s ear, kissing, then nibbling, before whispering, “I will always take care of you. You have nothing to fear.”
Her hands grasped onto his arms, clutching him as her slight weight rested against his chest. Releasing his hold, he turned her to face him. Taking her hand, he guided her toward the bed. They stopped just short, only long enough to remove their clothing, which happened in a hurried blur.
As she spread out on the bed, he stared at her bare body, and all he could think of was burying himself inside her, claiming her for himself. She was his.
He followed her onto the plush mattress and entered her. Setting a slow pace, he never wanted their connection to end. He lingered within her, moving in and out, deliberately drawing out their ecstasy. Flora cried out as she reached her peak, and her muscles tightened around him.
The world ceased to exist.
Need pulled him under, and he rode the waves as an ecstasy he’d never known enveloped him, over and over. Raw emotions mingled with fulfillment and a sense of belonging. Pure pleasure, peace, and love, a feeling no other had ever given him, and he knew no other would. Only Flora, his thief—she’d stolen everything now, including his soul.
And he knew then that he loved her and would go to the ends of the earth to protect her.