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My heart is pounding in my chest. He is magnificent. His glossy black hair is pulled back, leaving his remarkable face on full display as his turquoise eyes truly glow against the distinct frame of his dark lashes and sun-burnished skin. It is a stunning presentation of uncommon perfection.
His focus is on me and nothing else, pushing my heart to beat faster and grow louder in my ears.
Just breathe, Ella.
The intensity of his stare feels inappropriate as it makes my skin flush with wanton desire. I have a terrible urge to touch him, to inhale the intoxicating scent floating around him and invite his whispering words of sensual promise in my ear. My lips part involuntarily—then he douses everything with cold water as a sly smirk raises one side of his full mouth. The urge to turn and walk out of the room overwhelms me as I realize his games persist. But I rein it in when his attention shifts to my mother.
“Good afternoon, Admiral, Lady Seymour,” he says as he reaches for my mother’s hand to kiss it properly. If his arrogance didn’t so perturb me so, I would have laughed at her response to him. She is completely mesmerized as she struggles to find her voice.
“Welcome, Lord Stewart. I…ah….it is wonderful to meet you. Thank you for joining us this afternoon.” Turning to me, she finishes with a proper introduction. “You remember my daughter, Lady Ella Seymour.”
I curtsy as perfectly as if I’m being presented to the king. But when I finish, I make sure the look in my eyes is glacial enough to freeze his apparent confidence at ignoring my request to stay away. In an equally cold tone, I say, “Lord Stewart.”
His eyes flash as he straightens for a bow that he performs as perfectly as my curtsy. Upon finishing, he keeps one hand behind his back as the other reaches forward in a silent request. “Lady Ella.” I have no choice but to offer him my hand; else I will never hear the end of it from Mother about my rudeness.
When his lips gently kiss the tops of my fingers, a tingling sensation travels up my arm, and I have the urge to pull my hand away. He must sense it because his grip tightens, and he doesn’t let go as he stands up straight. It is making me terribly nervous that he will make us appear more familiar than I have led my mother to believe we are. Still holding my hand, he looks me in the eyes and says, “Words can’na describe how happy I am to see ye again.” A tightness wraps around my chest as my body and mind battle against each other. I fear my body will win as it heats up simply from his touch, his delicious scent, and that accented voice that makes me want to rest my head against his broad chest and listen to him read to me about the mythical creatures that fascinated him as a child. Thankfully, he releases his hold on me and turns to my father. “Yer Grace. It is good to see ye again.” He bows before taking his hand in a firm shake.
“Stewart. It is good to see you as well. You haven’t been home more than a week, have you?” Father asks in a friendly tone.
“Aye, it will be a week tomorrow. ’Tis good to be home, sir. This last trip was extended a bit. That nuisance in France stirs up more trouble by the day,” he responds with ease and familiarity. They appear to know each other quite well.
“That he does, Captain, that he does,” my father agrees and places his hand on Lord Stewart’s shoulder, gives him a friendly pat, and directs him to one of the two chairs across from the sofa where Mother and I will be seated. “Let us sit and relax, my friend.”
Lord Stewart gestures for Mother and me to go first. “Ladies.” But his turquoise eyes are locked on mine, and in this light, I see there are streaks of lighter blue close to the black center, and though they are piercing in their sharp focus, they are stunning, so I take the liberty of staring a few seconds too long. Moving toward the sofa, I notice that the room seems warmer than usual, and I am disappointed I forgot to bring a fan.
Once I am comfortable, I glance over at my mother and imagine hearing her voice saying,Oh my!Thankfully, she has provided the humor I was looking for to ease my trepidation. Unfortunately, it’s so funny that I cannot help but laugh. I try to hold it in, but the pressure of the moment seems to have somehow added to my mirth, and I feel a fit of laughter building up in my chest. I thank God at that moment that my cousin, Mary, is not here, for I would surely have to excuse myself from the room. My mother’s foot gently kicks mine underneath my skirts. Apparently, I have become obvious and as I swallow down the burst of laughter that keeps trying to escape, I bring my head up, only to find Lord Stewart staring at me intently once again.
After a few awkward seconds, his deep voice swallows the silence that has blanketed the room, “Lady Ella, although I fear yer humor may be directed toward me, I will admit it does’na matter. For it has lit yer lovely face with a smile that ’tis brighter than the sun.” He turns to my father as the smile I didn’t realize was stretched across my face disappears and says, “Yer daughter’s beauty is beyond compare, yer Grace, if I may be so bold.”
My father quickly responds with a smirk and chuckle. “Yes, Captain. She is quite lovely, just like her mother.” His eyes turn soft as he glances her way. “But there is more than what you see on the surface. She has a mind of her own, and it is a sharp one.”
“Sheis also sitting in the room, listening to you talk about her as if she were not.” My annoyance is undisguised.
My father’s deep laugh echoes around us. “See what I mean?” he says, almost with pride.
I expect Lord Stewart to take this opportunity to play with me again, yet instead, I find a tender look in his eyes that makes my stomach hurt, almost as if I am falling from a great height. I see kindness, perhaps even affection, and it makes me wish that this was our first introduction. Before I can get lost in this unexpected exchange, Donovan enters with our tea. Distracted, I turn to him and let go of the breath I was holding, breaking the spell of the moment.
A half-hour of forced conversation passes before my father finally gives up his attempt at enjoying afternoon tea and invites Lord Stewart to join him on the other side of the parlor for a drink “that has a bit more character.” This is my mother’s opportunity to ask the most obvious question.
“Ella! Why did you not mention how handsome he is? My goodness! I fear I was left speechless! A little warning would have had me better prepared.”
I laugh as her expression tells me she truly is upset with me. “Mother, I do recall telling you that Lord Stewart is handsome. I believe I told you that he isquitehandsome even. Do you not remember that part of the conversation?”
“No, I do not. I only recall your lack of interest in him because he is a Scotsman with an unrefined accent, which is entirely inaccurate! He may be from Scotland, but nothing isunrefinedabout his speech. Gracious, Ella! Surely you findhimappealing enough to allow him to court you?”
Feeling uncomfortable with the pressure closing in on me, I snap at her, “I cannot determine that by looks and title alone, Mother!” The look of shock on her face at the anger in my tone has me apologizing before I can take another breath. “Please forgive me. I fear my patience is a bit frayed by his visit today.”
“You are forgiven, my love. I am somewhat frayed myself,” she says with a laugh. “My word, that man is handsome! And his interest in you is quite keen. Are you sure the other night was the first time you met him?”
I knew his forward behavior wouldn’t go unnoticed. “Yes, of course. I would have told you otherwise,” I say as the guilt washes over me at the thought of that singular encounter. The hair on my neck stands as, once again, I contemplate if Alasdair Stewart can read my mind. His eyes are on me from across the room, and I could swear that he knows what I’m thinking simply by looking at him.
Before my prayer can be answered, he turns to my father for a brief exchange, pats him on the shoulder with a genuine smile, and begins walking toward me. It seems to take him only a few strides before he stands in front of my mother. With all the courtesy and refinement of a young prince, he asks her if he may take me for a short stroll through the garden.
As Mother fumbles through her approval, I decide that I shall go to the altar this evening and pray for forgiveness. It is clear my penance has just begun.
