TO KISS A GOVERNESSA HIGHLAND CHRISTMAS NOVELLA

EMMA PRINCE

To Kiss a Governess (A Highland Christmas Novella) Copyright © 2017 by Emma Prince

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means,or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of briefquotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information, contact emmaprincebooks@gmail.com.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the products of the author’simagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Updated 1/17/18

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“H

C H A P T E R 1

The Highlands of ScotlandNovember, 1838

ave you made a decision yet?”Edmund MacLainn, Earl of Kinfallon, clenched his teeth at the question. Bloody hell,

they hadn’t even reached his study yet and already Perry Selfridge was badgering him foran answer.

Edmund cleared his throat, keeping his pace steady as he strode toward the stairsleading to the north tower. He could feel the Lowland esquire’s eyes on his back, but herefused to respond just yet.

As he began trudging up the narrow spiral stairs, Edmund silently cursed himself. Heought to have been sitting in his study for Selfridge’s arrival. He could’ve been waitingbehind the enormous oak desk when Mrs. MacDuffy showed the man in. It would haveasserted Edmund’s position—he was an earl and the keeper of the Kinfallon estate, not tobe brow-beaten by some English-educated Lowland auditor into selling off his ancestrallands.

But Selfridge had caught Edmund just as he’d been about to ride out to a few of thecrofters’ farms. It had been far too long since he’d seen to his people. It very well mightalready be too late, but Edmund at least had to try to save the Kinfallon legacy.

As he shoved open the wooden door to his study, Edmund cursed himself again. Nay,he shouldn’t have been positioned behind the desk, waiting for the esquire. He shouldn’thave brought Selfridge here at all, for the combination of dust and stacked paperscovering every flat surface in the study only played into Selfridge’s hand. Edmund hadbeen neglecting his duties. He’d let the management of the estate get away from himthese last two years, and now he was so far behind that he feared his only option wouldbe to acquiesce to Selfridge’s scheme.

Nay, he had one more option.Edmund crossed the study and came to a halt before the narrow window carved into

the ancient stone wall. The opening was little more than an arrow slit, once used by long-dead men to defend this place. All the windows in Kinfallon Castle had been glassedmany years ago, but that touch of modernity only highlighted the age of the medieval

keep. The castle was from another time, a reminder of Edmund’s responsibility.“Well?” Selfridge prodded.Edmund eyed the sloping, golden-brown hillsides through the glass. Rain had been

falling intermittently all day, and now a thick mist was settling over the tops of the Scotspines and winter-bare oaks in the distance.

“I havenae decided yet,” he said at last.Selfridge moved behind the desk to stand next to Edmund at the window. “But just

think of it, my lord,” he urged. “Your land could be producing double—perhaps triple—what you currently make in rents from your crofters.” He swept his hand across the littlesquare of rugged landscape framed by the window. “Sheep can graze far more hours eachday than a farmer can work. Your income would—”

“I have no need to squeeze more coin from the land,” Edmund cut in, his voice comingout sharper than he’d intended. He drew a breath before continuing. “I dinnae keep ahouse in London, nor do I feel the urge to stay abreast of the latest trends, as ye cansee.”

Edmund meant the dark, outdated condition of this ancient castle, but Selfridge’s gazeflicked over his clothes. Edmund’s lips compressed. He’d donned a kilt, riding boots, and asimple woolen coat for his trip to the crofts. The crofters were more welcoming when hewas dressed like a Highlander rather than an Englishman. And besides, it was damncomfortable.

Still, he looked like a barbarian compared to Selfridge, who wore a smart burgundyfrock coat, charcoal trousers, and pristinely polished black shoes. The man’s snowy-whitecravat bobbed as he coughed.

“Indeed,” Selfridge said vaguely. “But…” He cast his gaze about, clearly searching foranother angle to approach the topic. “But surely you will need funds if you are to keepthis castle in working order.”

The list of repairs was never-ending—crumbling stones here, leaky roof there, and anear-constant effort to seal out the drafts. But Selfridge didn’t need to gain yet anotheradvantage with that knowledge. “We get by,” Edmund said simply.

Selfridge’s blue eyes lit up at that, and belatedly, Edmund realized his mistake. We.It was all the opening Selfridge needed.“Ah,” he said, tilting his dark blond head in a show of sympathy. “Yes. I passed

through the village on my way from the Sutherland estate. There is talk that you havehad to let your sister’s latest companion go. Lady Clarissa’s wellbeing certainly mustweigh heavily on your mind, my lord.”

In that moment, Edmund hated Selfridge. He hated the man for the faux concernshining in his keen eyes, hated the sound of his posh, put-on English accent. But most ofall, he hated him for the subtle threat in his words. He was letting Edmund know that thegossips were already hard at work spreading tales about his mad sister and Edmund’slatest failure in securing help for her. And he was reminding Edmund just how precarioushis position was.

Edmund had been so preoccupied with Clarissa’s health that the notices, inquiries, andaccounts on the estate soon piled up. The embarrassing truth was, Edmund had no idea

where things stood. He—and Kinfallon—might be in dire straits for all he knew. Selfridge’sconstant urgings for Edmund to clear his lands of farmers and replace them with sheepwas no doubt aimed at exploiting that distraction.

Selfridge had accomplished such clearances for the Countess of Sutherland severalyears ago when he’d served as her factor, the manager of her lands. The move had linedboth the Countess and Selfridge’s pockets heavily—and displaced thousands of farmerswho’d worked the land for generations.

When some of the families refused to be carted off to the coast to become fishers andkelp collectors, crofts had been set on fire, a few with their residents still inside.

Edmund clenched his fists, his thoughts drifting up to his sister, who was in herchamber at the top of the north tower. Many had suffered. Innocents had died. All wereeventually broken into submission. Cheviot sheep now covered the Sutherland estate.

Edmund would be damned before he saw that happen on the MacLainn ancestrallands. But with Clarissa’s mind in pieces and no one able to help, Edmund had let hisduties to his people and the estate go unattended. If Edmund failed again in findingsomeone to look after his sister, he would never be able to work through the stacks ofpaper covering his desk. And he might just have to accept Selfridge’s proposal to clearKinfallon of its people and replace them with sheep.

Winter was nearly upon them. The fields were fallow now, and would remain so untilthe spring. If he was forced to displace his people and follow Selfridge’s scheme of sheepgrazing, Edmund refused to do it in as cruel a way as the Sutherlands had. They wouldneed a few months to move, to adjust to their new lives before spring came. Whichmeant that Edmund was running out of time to make a decision.

He had one last hope—for Clarissa, for his people, for all of Kinfallon. And that hopewas to arrive any day now.

“As I said, I havenae reached a decision yet,” he said, turning away from the window.He let his hands rest on the edge of the cluttered oak desk. Bloody hell, how was he evergoing to make this right? His thumb rubbed along a nick in the wood, its edges worn darkand smooth by generations of MacLainns worrying the same spot.

“One month,” Edmund murmured as he absently slid his thumb over the divot. Onemonth was enough time to know if the woman he’d sent for would be up to the task ofaiding Clarissa. Hell, most of the others he’d hired hadn’t lasted a fortnight. And onemonth would buy him time to go through these papers and determine if the estate wasstill solvent.

Edmund looked up to find a slow smile breaking on Selfridge’s face.“Very well, my lord.”“I’m sure ye can see yerself out,” Edmund said, straightening. Though the mist had

grown heavier over the course of their conversation, Edmund longed to begin the ridethat the Lowlander’s visit had delayed. He needed to clear his head—and get to work. Hispeople—and all those who’d come before them—were counting on him.

T

C H A P T E R 2

hea clutched the seat of the otherwise empty coach, but her shoulder still bangedinto the coach’s side as one of the wheels dropped into yet another gouge in the

road. Could it even be called a road anymore? She drew back the curtain on the squarewindow and took in the darkening landscape.

The rain had ceased several hours ago, but the path they traveled was clearly sodden,for flecks of mud kicked up from the wheels and dotted the window, obscuring her viewsomewhat. The softly rolling hills and moorlands of northern England and the ScottishLowlands had given way to craggy mountains, which emerged around them like ghoststhrough the mist as they lurched on. Clumps of dark trees lay in the hollows betweenpeaks, some even daring to cling to the lighter-colored rocky outcroppings along theslopes.

The flat light of the fading day cast everything in blues, grays, and browns. Theascanned for anything familiar, anything inviting, but all she saw was this desolate, grimlandscape.

Just then, the coach’s wheel slammed into another divot. Thea’s head smackedagainst the side of the coach. With a sharp intake of breath, she brought her hand up.There was no blood, of course, only a rapidly forming lump on the side of her head.Pressing her lips together, she squeezed her reticule with her other hand, comfortingherself with the sound of crinkling paper.

Yes, she had been sent for. Yes, there was a position waiting for her here in theHighlands. The missive signed by the Earl of Kinfallon himself was proof of that. She ranover the details of her new assignment to give her mind something to do while her bodyfought not to be flung across the coach as they made a sharp turn.

The earl had contacted her directly several weeks ago. Thea had no idea how he’dfound her, but she was grateful, for her previous post as governess to the Braxtons inYork was about to end. Gertrude, her charge, had turned thirteen and was in need of afinishing governess to teach her the ways of society before her debut in a few years’ time.

In his note of inquiry, the earl had mentioned that his younger sister was in need ofThea’s abilities and asked if Thea was willing to travel to the Highlands for the job.

That had given her pause. Weren’t there governesses in Scotland for the young sistersof earls? She’d shelved that question, though, for the offer held a…particular appeal. She

knew not a soul in Scotland, and the Highlands were about as far away from London asshe could get without boarding a ship. York had been a good start, but the more distancethat separated her from her past, the better.

Besides, she would have had to arrange employment for herself in a matter of monthsanyway. It was rare for a governess to be sought out by an employer and not the otherway around—perhaps Thea was finally making strides toward the type of positivereputation that would keep her employed for years to come.

The coach suddenly creaked to a halt. Thea let a relieved breath go. Not only was thisrough ride finally at an end, but they must have reached Kinfallon Castle, for the driverhad told her they would make it there before nightfall.

The coach door popped open and she accepted the driver’s hand down, but as sheglanced up, instead of a keep fit for an earl, she was met with a two-storey wooden inn.

“This isn’t…”“Beg pardon, miss,” the driver said, moving to the back of the coach for her single

trunk. “This is as far as I can go tonight. The fog will make the passage difficult, and Ifear I’ll break an axle on these roads.”

Thea stood, stunned. “But we were to reach the castle today.”“Apologies, miss. Ye can stay at the inn for the night, I’m sure.” The driver hoisted her

trunk onto his shoulder and began making his way toward the inn’s door without waitingfor her.

She bit her lip against both her sharp disappointment and the dull aches in her body.Gingerly lifting her skirts a few inches above the mud, she hurried after the driver. He’dalready entered the inn by the time she reached the door.

Lantern light made her squint as she stepped inside. The few patrons in the inn’scommon room fell silent, turning to her with assessing eyes. The driver was just settingdown her trunk next to a high counter behind which a man, presumably the innkeeper,stood wiping a mug.

“The lass is headed to the castle,” he said, jerking his thumb back at her withoutlooking.

“Another one?” the innkeeper muttered, fixing her with a scrutinizing stare.A few of the others in the inn’s main room began to murmur, still watching her.Thea swallowed but straightened her spine and stepped before the innkeeper. “I am

Miss Reynolds, here to serve as governess to the Earl of Kinfallon’s sister.”The muttering around her rose. She caught the words “madwoman in the tower”

passing between two men at a nearby table.“Governess?” The innkeeper snorted. “I dinnae ken what the earl’s sister needs a

governess for, but that is none of my business. Ye are welcome to stay for the night, lass.Tam here will no doubt be able to get ye up to the castle tomorrow morning.” He noddedtoward the driver.

Uncertainty niggled at her. The inn was clean and safe enough, but she’d spent thelast fortnight on the road, rattling around in coaches by day and sleeping in a different inneach night. She hadn’t realized just how eager she was to reach her post until now. Shelonged to get settled, to ease the aches and bruises with a bath, to meet her new charge

—and her mysterious employer.“How far is the castle?” she asked.The innkeeper looked at her quizzically. “Only a few miles up the road,” he said,

waving vaguely with the rag in his hand.That decided it. A walk and some fresh air would do her good after being cooped up in

coaches for the last fortnight. Besides, it might help her clear her head and settle herstomach after the rough ride today.

“If you’re able to keep my trunk for the night, I’ll walk,” she said.Now both the innkeeper and the driver were giving her skeptical stares.“I’ll be grateful for the air and exercise,” she went on, growing uneasy under their

looks. “And I’ll send for the trunk first thing tomorrow.”“Are ye sure, miss?” the driver asked.Resolved, she nodded. “Yes, very. Thank you both for your assistance.”Before their puzzled gazes could make her question her decision, she tilted her head

and turned to leave.Outside, she pulled her cloak closed at the front against the cold fog. Though narrow

and pocked with holes, the road was easy enough to make out. She knew which waythey’d come, so she continued on as it wound away from the little inn.

Thea swung her gaze as she walked, for her modest bonnet cut off her peripheralvision. There wasn’t much to see, though. A few huts emerged from the mist closer to theinn, but within moments, they fell away, leaving only the darkening trees and the muddypath ahead.

Soon the road grew narrower—and steep. She understood now why the driver hadn’twanted to risk this trek. Sharp turns materialized from the fog only a few feet in front ofher. The path was not only rutted and holey from the rain, but occasionally a large rockor even a tree branch lay across the way. She picked her footing carefully, her breathgrowing short as she ascended.

Perhaps she’d been rash to leave the inn and make her way on foot to the earl’scastle. This was no stroll through the English countryside, after all. Night was fallingswiftly, making the gloomy fog all the more difficult to navigate. Yes, her limbs relishedthe exertion, but her head still throbbed faintly where she’d hit it against the coach’s wall.Her cloak had already grown heavy with the cold mist, and her boots—her only pair—were now caked with mud.

A noise in the distance made her still, her breath puffing white in front of her. Shestrained to hear over the hammering of her own heart. Had that been a branch snapping?The fog muted the sound, making her uncertain where the noise had come from.

Silly, she chided herself. Now was no time for gothic fancies. Thea prided herself onbeing practical—and strong, though she knew she didn’t look it to others. She was petite,true, but there were many different kinds of strength. It was not in her nature to becaught in a mental flight of over-imagination.

She trudged on, but another noise made her freeze a moment later. A low rumbling—no, not so much a noise as a feeling. The ground vibrated beneath her boots.

Thea whirled just in time to see an enormous horse emerge from the mist directly

behind her—an enormous horse bearing a kilted rider on its back.Panic spiked hard in her stomach. They were barreling toward her at a gallop. The few

meager feet separating them were being eaten away by the horse’s powerful hooveseven as she stood frozen with shock.

A scream rose in her throat. She couldn’t seem to move fast enough—as if her limbswere suspended in molasses.

The rider at last seemed to notice her. “Whoa!” He yanked hard on the reins, makingthe horse skid in the mud. The animal reared wildly, whinnying in fright.

Thea flung herself to the side just as the horse’s hooves carved the air where she’dbeen standing. She landed hard on her side, the air slamming from her lungs.

A string of curses filled her ringing ears as the rider thumped to the ground next toher.

“What the bloody hell—”Suddenly big, warm hands latched around her shoulders and dragged her up to sitting.

She blinked into the rugged face of the angry rider.Dark stubble covered the angular lines of his jaw. His firm mouth was turned down,

and the low-drawn angle of his black eyebrows made his scowl even fiercer. Unbound,near-black hair rested on his broad shoulders, one lock curling damply against hisforehead.

He blinked too, his dark green eyes clouding with confusion as if he were realizing shewas a woman for the first time.

“What the hell are ye doing on this road?” he demanded, the blunt words makingThea wonder if she’d misread the surprise in his eyes a heartbeat before.

“I am the governess,” she blurted. Perhaps she had bumped her head harder than shethought in the coach earlier, or else the fright from the rider’s sudden appearance hadscrambled her brains. She drew a deep, painful breath into her battered lungs.

“I am Miss Reynolds,” she tried again. “The Earl of Kinfallon sent for me to work withhis sister.”

Something flickered in the depths of those forest-colored eyes. “Is that so?”“Yes,” she said, reaching for the calm self-assurance that normally came so easily to

her. But something about the way this strange man was looking at her, as if he could seestraight through to her wildly beating heart, set her nerves on edge.

He swept her with his gaze. “Are ye all right? Ye took quite a fall.”“I am unhurt,” she breathed, acutely aware of his large hands, which still lingered on

her shoulders. “And you? Your horse?”“Unhurt,” he replied. He blinked again, as if coming out of a daze. “We need to get ye

out of this damned fog and to the castle.”Without waiting for a response from her, he slid one arm behind her back and the

other under her knees. She gasped as he rose to his feet, lifting her and holding her to hischest. Unbidden, her arms looped around his neck, her fingers curling in his unbound hair.

He set her atop his horse, which had calmed considerably, then smoothly swung intothe saddle behind her. To Thea’s shock, once he was settled, he pulled her across his lapso that she was firmly tucked against him, her legs dangling over one of his powerful

thighs.His arms looped around her as he took up the reins and urged the horse on, thankfully

only at a walk.At the edge of her bonnet, she could see the green and blue checked plaid he wore

around his waist. His coat looked to be made of coarse wool, and he wore no cravat, hisoff-white shirt open at the neck.

Thea tried to remain stiff, to put at least a hair’s breadth of respectable distancebetween their bodies. A governess was the moral center of a nobleman’s household. Howwould it look to arrive at her new employer’s doorstep in the arms of some strangeScotsman?

But the motion of the horse’s steps drove their bodies together time and again. Hershoulder bumped into the man’s broad, hard chest until she was sure she’d have a bruisethere tomorrow. And her bottom… Heaven help her, her bottom was perched on hissteely thigh, shifting ever so slightly against him with the horse’s hoof falls.

Ahead of them, two stone towers began to materialize from the fog like black slashesagainst the gray sky. Blessedly, the sight of the castle tore her thoughts away from theScotsman. Thea strained to make out more of the structure, but the combination ofdarkness and mist made it seem ghostly and ephemeral.

At last, they crested the rise they’d been climbing and Thea got her first full look atthe castle. She sucked in a breath at what she saw.

The main keep was low and squarish, with two round towers jutting up from it, one onthe north side and the other, closer one on the south. Each tower was perhaps fourstoreys high and capped with a crenelated battlement. Arrow slits made black tick marksin the gray stone. Surrounding both the keep and the towers was a circle of crumblingrock that once must have served as the castle’s curtain wall.

This was no luxurious residence for a pampered nobleman. This was a fortress—onethat looked to be four or five hundred years old.

The rider guided his horse through an opening in the disintegrating wall, then reinedthe animal to a halt a dozen paces from the enormous iron-banded wooden door leadinginto the keep.

As he dismounted, Thea scrambled for her wits.“Thank you for escorting me the rest of the way to the castle,” she said. “I’m sure my

employer will be grateful to you.”He cocked a dark eyebrow at her as he reached to pull her down. “I’m sure he will,”

he murmured, wrapping his hands around her waist and drawing her from the horse’sback.

Leaving one hand at her waist, he lifted two fingers to his mouth and whistled. Astable lad came scurrying from behind the keep, where Thea assumed the stables lay,and gathered up the man’s horse.

Strange. Was the rider some sort of acquaintance of the earl’s?Just then, the door creaked open and an older woman bustled out into the foggy

twilight.“Welcome back, my lord,” the woman said, then faltered. “And who are ye?” she

asked Thea.Unease coiling in her belly, Thea replied. “I am Miss Reynolds, the earl’s new

governess.”She turned slowly to the man who had almost run her down on the road, who had

lifted her as if she weighed no more than a leaf, and who had held her close as they’dridden to the castle.

“And I am Edmund MacLainn,” he said, watching her with inscrutable eyes. “Earl ofKinfallon.”

D

C H A P T E R 3

amn it all. The lass was looking at Edmund as if he’d grown two heads.“Inside,” he said gruffly, making it sound more of a command than a suggestion.

He frowned at himself as he motioned for the governess to follow Mrs. MacDuffy. The lassstood rooted for a moment, but finally she dropped her wide eyes and hurried after hishousekeeper.

His frown deepened as he realized that for the second time in one day, his choice ofclothing had degraded him in the eyes of a guest. He was not a man prone to vanity orconcerned with fashion, yet he could not deny the pinch in his chest at the way the lasshad looked at him, as if he were the savage everyone took Highlanders to be.

It was too bloody late now, at any rate. He refused to feel ashamed for dressing like—or being—a Scotsman. The sooner this new English governess realized that, the better.And there was no point wasting time changing—he had too many questions for MissReynolds.

As he stepped into the keep’s great hall, he said, “Tea for Miss Reynolds, please, Mrs.MacDuffy. And something warm to eat.”

Mrs. MacDuffy bobbed her graying head and hurried toward the kitchens attached tothe back of the hall. Miss Reynolds came to a halt and watched her go, her face hidden byher bonnet but her shoulders and slim back unnaturally stiff.

Edmund strode by her toward the hearth that spanned nearly half of one of the hall’swalls. Blessedly, his housekeeper had the foresight to lay and light a fire already.

“Come,” he said curtly. “Warm yerself.”Miss Reynolds started slightly, then did as he bid, head lowered. As she passed him,

he noticed the wet mud clinging to her cloak where she’d fallen earlier.“Take off yer outerthings so that they can be cleaned and dried.” He was certainly

playing the part of barbarian well, he thought sourly. Everything seemed to be comingout a sharply spoken order this eve. A headache was beginning to form behind his eyes.Aye, it had been a long day, even before Miss Reynolds had startled his horse, nearlythrowing him from the saddle.

With a slight bob of her head, Miss Reynolds unfastened her cloak and slid it from hershoulders.

She wore a plain, dark-colored gown underneath that was cut well enough to display

her gently swelling breasts, narrow waist, and the enticing flare of her hips withouthaving any extra trimmings or frills he’d expect to find on an Englishwoman. Her sleevesfit with snug practicality to her arms without those ridiculous puffs and billows of fabric instyle at the moment. And though her skirts were obviously lifted by petticoatsunderneath, her silhouette was surprisingly natural.

Her hands went to her bonnet. She carefully untied the plain ribbon under her chin,then lifted the stiff material away from her head.

Unbidden, his eyes keenly took in the sight of her hair. It was in a neat, simple bun atthe base of her neck, but for some reason, it felt intimate to see her bare head, even withher hair bound.

The color was pale brown. In fact, everything about Miss Reynolds was pale—her hair,her skin, and especially her eyes, which were the shade of ice formed over a Highlandloch.

Edmund could only pray that her constitution wasn’t as weak as her coloring. She wasin the Highlands now, alone and with a difficult task ahead of her. A surprising surge ofhope stole over him that she was up to the task, for he would very much like to knowwhat sort of woman she was.

She stood awkwardly holding her cloak and bonnet, yet she kept her back straight andher chin up as she swung her gaze to him, a question in her eyes. He took both itemsfrom her just as Mrs. MacDuffy bustled back into the great hall with a tray.

Instead of guiding her to the long dining table on the other side of the great hall,Edmund directed the housekeeper to set the tray on an end table near the hearth, thenhanded her Miss Reynolds’s damp things with quiet instructions to clean and dry them.

He turned back to Miss Reynolds to find her still standing stiffly where he’d left her.“Sit. Please,” he said, motioning toward a tall-backed, upholstered chair.But when she took her seat, he realized the chair was too far away from the hearth

for the fire to warm her and dry her skirts. Without thinking, he moved before her andplaced a hand on each of the chair’s arms. Just as her gaze locked with his, he pulled,dragging both her and the chair across the carpet.

She gasped, a soft, feminine sound that did something strange to his insides. Aye, hewas every bit the Highland savage this eve, it seemed.

When he’d moved close enough to the hearth that the warmth from the fire blastedthe backs of his bare knees, he released the chair and moved the end table with the trayto her side.

He motioned toward the steaming pot of tea and the bowl of stew Mrs. MacDuffy hadprepared, fearing that if he spoke again, his words would come out as another gruffcommand.

Fortunately, she took his nonverbal cue and poured herself some tea. Once she’dsipped it and turned her attention to the stew, he moved to a large wooden cabinet onthe adjacent wall where he kept his whisky. He poured a generous glass, then positionedhimself before the fire, listening to the soft clatter of dishes as Miss Reynolds ate behindhim.

When he’d drank half his glass and the room fell silent, he turned to find Miss

Reynolds watching him intently.It was time he had a few answers from his new governess.“What were ye doing walking alone in the fog, and so late?” he asked bluntly.She blinked, but remained motionless otherwise. “My coach driver told me that we

were to reach Kinfallon Castle this evening. He stopped at the inn just down the road butsaid we could go no farther because of the conditions.”

“So ye set out, alone and at nightfall, across unfamiliar terrain?”She lifted one shoulder. The motion was slight, but it belied a defiance he found

surprising coming from such a petite young woman. “I longed to stretch my legs, and Iwas eager to begin my post,” she said.

Edmund swept her with his gaze once more. “Where are yer things?”“I left them at the inn. I can retrieve them first thing tomorrow if you’ll allow me to—”He waved a hand, cutting her off. “I’ll fetch them. Ye neednae fash.”She nodded slowly. “Thank you, my lord.”Edmund took a long sip of whisky, priming himself for his next line of questioning. This

was his last chance to help his sister and save Kinfallon. He needed to be sure he hadn’tmisplaced his hopes in Miss Reynolds.

“Ye are a good deal younger than I expected.” And far more bonny. Edmund shovedthe thought aside and forced himself to focus.

Her cheeks now held a faint tinge of pink, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the fire orhis brusque words.

“I thought ye’d be older, what with yer experience and the reference I received fromyer former employers in York,” he went on, watching her.

Aye, she was definitely blushing now. It made her look even bonnier still.The lass couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three, yet she’d been with the

Braxton family for nearly four years, and before that, she’d come to them with what theirletter of reference had called “several years of experience.”

“You have looked into me.” It wasn’t a question, but an evenly spoken statement.“Of course,” he replied.Her voice dropped to a soft murmur. “And what did you find?”Was it his imagination, or had her lips gone white around the edges?“That ye are quite accomplished—and now I realize ye are even more so for being so

young,” he said.She lifted her gaze to him then, and her eyes shone with something resembling relief.

Or perhaps she was simply proud at the praise, but from what he’d heard from theBraxtons, she’d earned every word.

“If I may ask, my lord, how did you find me?”“Yer reputation preceded ye.”At that, she stiffened. He watched her, fascinated by this woman’s every subtle move,

every flicker of emotion and thought behind her eyes. “Oh?” she said faintly.“Aye. I have been looking for someone with no’ only experience, but also a certain

ability to…innovate. Someone who isnae afraid to be unconventional in her methods.” Heshrugged. “When I expanded my search to England, yer name came up.”

She shifted slightly but remained silent, so he went on. “From what I’ve heard, yedinnae strike yer charges, yet ye’ve had success where others have failed. Ye’ve workedwith difficult children. Ye’ve brought them out of their shells.” From all accounts, she wasjust the kind of woman he was looking for.

“I do my best to meet my charges where they are, to guide them toward learningwithout forcing them to it,” she replied.

“That is good,” he said, holding her gaze, “because Clarissa promises to be yer mostdifficult charge yet.”

Miss Reynolds straightened in her chair. “Though I may be young, and though I maynot look it, I am stronger than you might think, my lord.”

“God, I hope so,” he murmured into his whisky before taking another sip.“Am I to meet her tonight, then?” she asked.“Nay,” he replied. “It is late, and she has already…retired for the evening.” The words

tasted sour on his tongue, ruining the warm, sweet burn of his whisky. Could Clarissa besaid to retire for the evening if she never left her chamber in the first place most days?

“May I ask how old your sister is, my lord? You didn’t specify in your missive. I haveworked with children from ages four through fourteen, and I’m sure I could give yoursister some training beyond fourteen if a finishing governess is not readily available,but—”

Edmund pulled in a slow breath. “My sister is twenty-nine.”

The hall fell completely silent except for the crackle of the fire. Even Thea’s heart seemedto stop for one long moment before hitching with a hard thump.

“She is…I beg your pardon?”“She is twenty-nine,” Lord Kinfallon repeated.“There has…there has been a mistake.” Thea rose on unsteady legs.“Nay,” Lord Kinfallon said, his eyes keen on her. “No mistake. I sought ye out. I hired

ye. I want ye.”The words, blunt as they were, sent a coil of heat through her. Her skin tingled at the

memory of their bodies touching, his hands on her waist, his legs beneath her bottom.“You…” Thea took a breath and willed her tongue to work. “You said you wished me

to attend to your younger sister.”“She is younger. A year younger than I,” he replied.She shook her head. Now he was toying with her. “I am a governess, my lord. I work

with children, not grown adults.”“Ye will recall that in my missive I said that I required yer skills—no’ that I required a

governess.” He took a step closer to her, and her rebellious knees wobbled.“Perhaps you wish to secure a companion for your sister,” she tried again. “Someone

to keep her company, to be a friend rather than a—”“I’ve hired companions,” he said, taking another slow step forward. “None has been

up to the task. As I said, I want ye. Nay, no’ to serve as Clarissa’s governess, for she has

been educated. But to…help her in whatever way ye can.”Unease snaked up Thea’s spine. “What do you mean, help her?”“My sister is…unwell,” he replied. She didn’t miss the way his lips tightened at the

corners as he spoke. He brought a hand up to cup his eyes and massage his temples for amoment. When at last he dropped his hand, he looked suddenly weary.

“It has been a long day—for both of us, I’m sure,” he said. “We can discuss yerassignment further in the morning—if ye wish to remain.”

Thea stilled. Of course she wouldn’t set out from the castle tonight. It would be fullydark by now, and she had no desire to trudge back to the inn on that muddy, unevenroad.

But would she wish to stay in the light of day? Something about this situation—thecastle, her charge, and most especially the man standing before her—made her burn withcuriosity. Why did the earl’s sister require her “skills,” as Lord Kinfallon had called them?And what emotion did she see simmering behind the earl’s dark green eyes?Desperation? Longing?

“Very well,” she said at last. “Tomorrow, then.”He let a breath go and called to Mrs. MacDuffy. The housekeeper shuffled in from the

kitchens and took the earl’s instructions to see her to a guest room in the south tower.Thea followed Mrs. MacDuffy up one of the two spiraling staircases leading from the greathall, then paused as the housekeeper pushed open a heavy wooden door.

The room was sparse yet clean. A large four-poster bed was nudged against thecircular wall between two slitted windows. The brazier in front of one of the windowsglowed cheerily. A wooden armoire and a table with a basin, pitcher, and mirror placedatop it completed the furnishings.

As the door closed softly behind Mrs. MacDuffy, Thea moved to the bed and sankdown onto the thick quilts.

Heaven help her—what had she gotten herself into?

A

C H A P T E R 4

s was her habit, Thea rose before the sun. By the blue pre-dawn light coming inthrough the chamber’s two arrow slits, she moved to the basin and splashed water

over her face.She reached for the gown she’d worn yesterday, which she’d draped across the foot of

the bed on the side with the now-cool brazier, hoping to dry it, but something gave herpause. In only her chemise, she padded softly to the chamber door and pulled it open aninch.

On the little stone landing before her door, there sat her trunk.Had Lord Kinfallon sent for it last night? Or well before dawn this morning? Or…or had

he fetched it himself, as he’d implied he might down in the great hall?The thought sent heat into her cheeks, despite the chill in the air and the cold stones

underfoot. An earl shouldn’t have attended to her as Lord Kinfallon had last night.Then again, an earl shouldn’t have been riding through the mist at dusk, wearing a

green and blue checked kilt and a workman’s coat. An earl shouldn’t have let her mistakehim for some hired man or strange passerby. And he certainly shouldn’t have scooped herinto his arms and placed her across his lap.

Why would such a man seek her out, hire her, and bring her all the way from York tothis remote corner of the Highlands to look after his grown sister?

The only way Thea would have answers was to stop dawdling and get on with herday. She dragged her trunk into the chamber and quickly selected her only other gownfrom inside. She didn’t bother unpacking her few additional garments and personaleffects, but only because she was eager for answers, she told herself, not because shestill might decide to flee this foreboding, mysterious place like a coward.

Smoothing her plain, dark skirts, she stepped from the chamber and made her wayback down the spiral stairs toward the great hall.

The hall was empty when she arrived, but light edged the door to the kitchens.Nudging the door open, Thea found Mrs. MacDuffy and a young scullery maid movingabout the kitchen.

“Ah, Miss Reynolds!” Mrs. MacDuffy breathed. The housekeeper bobbed her grayinghead at Thea. Though the woman’s face was lined with age and a bit thin and drawn, shebore a soft fullness in her body that she carried with assured, brisk steps.

Without being prompted, Mrs. MacDuffy set a bowl of porridge with milk on thecounter for Thea.

“Thank you,” Thea murmured. As a governess, she was used to eating where andwhen she could—usually alone. She was neither a member of the family, nor a servantexactly. Thea didn’t mind the solitude, nor the interstitial nature of a governess’s role. Infact, her childhood had made her perfectly suited for balancing between two worlds. Itfelt normal to have to forge her own path, even while adhering to the rules of respectablesociety.

It seemed that things wouldn’t follow the normal way at Kinfallon, though. Theconstruction of the castle alone would make proper decorum difficult. The refinements ofa wealthy home in town were obviously lacking here. No doubt there was less rigidseparation between the earl and his household staff. Thea had yet to see servants’quarters—or many servants, come to think of it.

“It is very…quiet at this hour in the castle,” she commented, taking a bite of porridgeas she watched Mrs. MacDuffy and the scullery maid prepare a tray of food.

“It is quiet all the time, miss,” Mrs. MacDuffy replied, placing another bowl of porridgeon the tray. “I hope ye dinnae mind, for we are a small household without much in theway of diversion or excitement.” The housekeeper’s face tightened as she faltered, aglass of milk poised in her hand over the tray. “We have our hands full with—”

Mrs. MacDuffy stopped herself, but after a pause, tried again. “Lord Kinfallon sentmost of the staff away a year or so back. He didnae like all the prying eyes, ye see, orthe wagging tongues.”

“Oh?” Thea said, trying to keep her voice light. This must have to do with the earl’smysterious sister.

Mrs. MacDuffy leaned forward, dropping her voice. “Ye must understand, miss. He isverra protective of—”

Just then, the kitchen door swung open, and there stood the earl. Thea sucked in abreath. He looked like a different man than the one who’d whisked her to the castle lastnight.

He still wore tall riding boots, but these were clean of mud and polished to a dullshine. Gone was the kilt, and in its place, he wore tight-fitting buff trousers that weretucked into the boots. A coat of dark blue brushed his thighs, and a crisp white shirtpoked out around his loosely tied cravat. The dark, wavy hair that had rested on hisshoulders last night was pulled back into a queue at his neck.

Thea met his eyes and barely managed to repress another gasp. No, this was thesame man who’d pinned her with his gaze all evening. Those searching, forest-green eyeswere unmistakable.

Even more than that, there was an air of wildness about him that matched the ruggedlandscape of the Highlands, even dressed as he was now. True, his clothes would beacceptable in any English nobleman’s drawing room, yet something about the way LordKinfallon wore them made them seem almost a costume. Though it was well-fitted to hisbroad shoulders and tall frame, he seemed close to bursting from his coat’s confines. Andthough it was only just after dawn, he looked to have already pulled on his cravat to

loosen it.His gaze held her for another long heartbeat before flicking over to Mrs. MacDuffy. “Is

it ready?”Mrs. MacDuffy quickly placed a spoon on the tray, then nodded. “Aye. Here ye are, my

lord.”Once the housekeeper had passed him the tray, he fixed his gaze on Thea once more.

“Are ye ready to meet yer charge, Miss Reynolds?”Thea pulled in a deep breath, her ribs straining against her corset. “Yes, my lord.”He stepped backward through the swinging kitchen door, then held it open as Thea

passed through. He took the lead, striding purposefully toward the stairs opposite theones Thea had taken last night.

Thea hurried to keep up with his long legs as he scaled the spiraling stairs two at atime. They passed two doors set back by stone landings as they continued up, but LordKinfallon didn’t slow until the stairs came to an abrupt halt at what must have been thetop. A single wooden door spanned the width of the dim spiral staircase.

Lord Kinfallon gently pushed open the door and stepped inside. Thea followed, forcingherself to brave whatever lay on the other side.

The chamber was similar to her own. Two arrow slits let in paltry light, and no fireburned in the brazier to warm the cool air. A large four-poster bed jutted in the middle ofthe circular room, but the mattress had been pulled from the wooden frame and layaskew on the floor.

As Thea scanned the room, more and more signs of disarray met her eyes. Thearmoire doors were open and gowns hung crooked or lay in piles at its base. The chairthat was meant for the dressing table rested on its side on the floor.

Thea’s gaze landed on a huddled form on the other side of the table. The top of awoman’s dark head and her bare feet were visible from where Thea stood.

“Clarissa,” Lord Kinfallon said gently. “I have breakfast. And someone I’d like ye tomeet.”

The woman remained motionless, her hair, the same rich, dark chestnut as the earl’s,spilling over her bent knees. But Thea thought she heard the woman murmuring.

Lord Kinfallon set the full tray on the dressing table, exchanging it for a picked-overone with the remains of what looked like the same stew Thea had eaten last night. Goodheavens, did the earl’s sister always eat up here—alone?

Steeling her spine, Thea stepped forward.“Hello, Lady Clarissa,” she said evenly. “I am Miss Reynolds—Thea, if you prefer. I am

to be your—” She faltered, glancing back at Lord Kinfallon. He didn’t return her gaze,however, for he was staring at his sister’s huddled form, his eyes tight. “I am to assistyou in whatever way I can,” Thea finished awkwardly.

Just then, Lady Clarissa lifted her head, and for a split second, her dark brown eyesflicked to Thea’s. Thea saw intelligence in them—and unfathomable pain. Lady Clarissa’seyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her face drawn and ghostly white. Indeed, the womanseemed lucid, at least for the moment, but also haunted by something that had clearlybroken her.

The men’s whispered words from the inn the evening before came back to Thea then.The madwoman in the tower. They’d been speaking of Lady Clarissa, no doubt. LordKinfallon had hired others before her, he’d said. All had failed. And now Thea, agoverness by training, was to—what? Cure this woman? Tend to her like a nurse? Act asher companion? She needed answers—answers that it seemed only Lord Kinfallon couldgive.

She turned back to him and tilted her head, indicating that he should follow her as shecrossed to the far side of the room. The earl set the used tray by the door and moved toher side, all the while keeping his eyes on his sister.

“I’m sure ye have many questions,” Lord Kinfallon said, saving Thea from fumbling forthe words to open what would undoubtedly be a difficult conversation. “Let me explain.”Yet his jaw worked for several moments before he went on. “Clarissa hasnae alwaysbeen this way. We had a happy childhood here at Kinfallon Castle. Our parents bothpassed several years back, but we had each other. And then Clarissa got married to akind man—John.”

“John.”Thea started at the clearly spoken word from Lady Clarissa. But when she looked at

the earl’s sister, she was focused on some sort of figurine or doll, which she lifted in bothher hands. It was a painted nutcracker, Thea realized.

“He was a commoner,” Lord Kinfallon went on, as if Lady Clarissa hadn’t spoken. “Itwas a great scandal at the time—the daughter and sister of an earl, marrying a farmer—and a Sutherland, no less. But they loved each other. Margaret, their daughter, was proofof that love.”

“Margaret.” Lady Clarissa’s voice pinched. From the folds of her skirts, she produced awooden doll, holding it alongside the nutcracker.

“Two years past,” Lord Kinfallon said, dropping his voice, “John’s farm was to becleared to make way for sheep. He was one of the last hold-outs against the clearances.When he wouldnae go quietly…” The earl cleared his throat. “His croft was burned—withthe family inside.”

Thea clapped a hand over her mouth, but her gasp still slipped out.“Clarissa escaped, but John and Margaret werenae so lucky. When she’d recovered

enough to receive the news, Clarissa…well, something in her mind went off.” LordKinfallon shifted, clutching one hand in the other behind his back. “I’ve had a doctor lookat her, of course,” he said. “There is nothing physically wrong with her. He called it amental disorder, yet he didnae believe she was a danger to anyone. My position as earlhas allowed me to keep her out of an asylum, but…”

“But she needs more care than you can give her,” Thea said quietly, watching LadyClarissa cradle the doll and the nutcracker to her chest.

“Aye,” Lord Kinfallon responded. “I have been neglecting my duties to the estate.Each time one of the nurses or companions I’ve hired has failed, I am left to pick up thepieces—and seek a suitable replacement.”

“And why have the others failed?” Thea asked, fearful of the answer. Was this taskimpossible?

She glanced up at the earl to find his jaw clenched so tight that a muscle jumped inhis cheek. “Some treated her like an invalid, spooning her soup and insisting that she stayin bed. Others acted as though she was a simpleton, a dullard with no understanding ofthe world around her. And a few were…cruel.”

A loud series of pops sounded behind the earl’s back, and Thea jumped. She realizedbelatedly that he’d squeezed his hands so tight that his knuckles had cracked.

Lord Kinfallon rounded on her, pinning her with a fierce look. “Clarissa isnae asimpleton, Miss Reynolds, nor will I abide her being beaten in an attempt to bring herback to sanity.”

Thea nodded swiftly. “I would never do such a thing.”The earl let a slow breath go, some of the tension in his broad shoulders easing. “Aye,

I ken that, which is why I wanted ye for the task. Mark me well, Clarissa isnae a child.She knows her numbers and letters, music, art—all the accomplishments an earl’sdaughter would be taught. Ye neednae serve as a governess. But yer reputation led meto hope that ye would ken how to reach her somehow…to meet her where she’s at, as yesay.”

“I…I understand.” Did she? Thea had never encountered anything like this before.Yes, she’d dealt with unruly children before. In London, Harriet could never seem to

sit still for more than a few minutes at a time, and William had been a painfully slowreader, for the letters appeared jumbled to him. Thea had helped them—at Miss Milton’sside, of course. They’d found innovative ways to help William with his letters, and Harrietwas much better when she could move freely—or take her lessons while they walkedoutside.

Her assignment with the Braxtons had been easier, though the fever that had takenmuch of Gertrude’s hearing had meant that Thea had needed to be creative in her musiclessons—this time without Miss Milton’s help.

Could she do this? She watched Lady Clarissa whisper in the ear of the nutcracker,then smile down on it, sadness shimmering in her dark eyes. Though Thea could onlyimagine what lurked in the dark corners of Lady Clarissa’s mind, there was no mistakingthe intelligence she’d seen earlier—or the pain.

Thea drew in a deep breath. She may not be able to help Clarissa, but she was willingto try.

“I’m ready to begin,” she said to Lord Kinfallon.Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, perhaps? Or gratitude? He nodded, then

motioned her toward Lady Clarissa.“I’m going to leave the two of ye now,” he said, more to his sister than to Thea. “Do

ye hear me, Clarissa?”The woman’s head remained bent over her dolls. She began rocking back and forth,

murmuring again.Lord Kinfallon knelt in front of her and laid a hand over hers where it clutched the

nutcracker. “Clarissa,” he said, his voice still gentle, but firmer this time. “They arenaehere. John and Margaret are dead. These toys arenae them. Please, try to concentrate onMiss Reynolds instead.”

Just as Lady Clarissa recoiled from her brother’s soft words with a moan, Thea hurriedforward and knelt at his side. She dropped a hand to his forearm. “Forgive me, my lord,but I don’t think that’s the way to proceed.”

Lord Kinfallon lifted his gaze to her, then let his dark, forest-colored eyes drop to herhand, which still lay atop his arm.

Realizing her blunder, Thea snatched her hand back. What had she been thinking,reprimanding the earl and touching him in the same instant? “Forgive me,” she breathedagain.

Still, if she was going to take on this assignment, she had to do it her way. Steelingherself, she forged onward. “I hope you will allow me some…leeway, my lord. As yousaid, the reason you sought me out was because you wanted someone who wasn’t afraidto be unconventional. I would ask your permission to proceed as I see fit with LadyClarissa—which may mean that I’ll ask you to make some changes as well.”

To Thea’s surprise, instead of a swift denial or a sharp word to put her back in herplace, Lord Kinfallon merely studied her for a long moment, his gaze keen. Heat creptinto her face, but Thea refused to back down.

If she had been surprised before, utter shock filled her as Lord Kinfallon slowlyreached for the hand she’d just snatched from his arm and lifted it to his mouth. Hebrushed her knuckles with his lips, soft and warm.

“I am yers to command, Miss Reynolds,” he murmured.Before she could unscramble her wits, Lord Kinfallon rose, scooping up last night’s tray

as he strode through the door without a word. Leaving Thea alone with Lady Clarissa.Thea turned to Lady Clarissa, putting a kind smile on her face. “Would you mind

introducing me, Lady Clarissa?” she asked, motioning toward the two dolls the womanclutched defensively to her chest.

To Thea’s amazement, something resembling surprise—followed by pleasure—flashedin Lady Clarissa’s dark eyes.

“Mr. John Sutherland,” Clarissa said hesitantly, holding up the nutcracker, then thewooden doll. “And our daughter, Margaret.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Thea replied. “Now, Lady Clarissa.” She fixedthe woman with an attentive gaze. “How shall we spend our day?”

E

C H A P T E R 5

dmund pinched the bridge of his nose and let his eyelids lower. A day spent poringover ledgers and scraps of paper wasn’t exactly his idea of fun. A string of days like

this one for the last fortnight was downright eye-melting, yet he was grateful all thesame.

In the two weeks since Miss Reynolds had arrived, Edmund had managed to plowthrough nearly half of the papers piled on his desk.

To his relief and amazement, the accounts revealed that the estate was remarkablystable. Of course, he’d begun chronologically, and he was still several months behind, soit was possible that Kinfallon had fallen into trouble in the last six months or so, but whathe’d discovered so far was promising.

Assuming Miss Reynolds continued to make progress with Clarissa, Edmund wouldhave enough time before the month he’d bought with Selfridge was up—and he wascautiously hopeful that he would be able to tell the esquire once and for all that hisclearance scheme would never be allowed on Kinfallon lands.

The first few days after Miss Reynolds’s arrival, Edmund had lingered in the great halleach morning before settling down to his work in the study. Miss Reynolds had taken tocarrying Clarissa’s morning, midday, and evening meals to her, leaving Edmund with noexcuse to see how things were going between them.

In truth, a part of him had feared that after a few days, Miss Reynolds would comestorming down the north tower stairs, proclaiming that nothing could be done for hissister and that she was through with the assignment.

Yet no such scene had occurred. He knew little of what the Englishwoman was doingin his sister’s chamber, only that neither one had run shrieking from the arrangement.

Edmund eased himself back in his chair. Curiosity niggled at him. Which of her“unconventional methods” might Miss Thea Reynolds be employing now? Nothing couldhave surprised him more than when she’d halted him from attempting to coax his sisterinto reality that first day—except for the feel of her slim, warm hand on his arm.

Even a fortnight later, his skin tingled where she’d touched him, as if she’d brandedhis forearm with her mark. I am yers to command. Bloody hell, his thoughts had beenaddled when he’d said that, but he couldn’t deny, even now, the strong desire to pleaseMiss Reynolds—please her with his lips, his hands, his—

Edmund jerked to his feet, nearly knocking his chair backward even as his kneesbumped painfully against the wooden desk.

Shite. He scrubbed a hand over his face. When he’d been searching for a woman withboth experience and an established positive reputation to recommend her, he’d expectedsomeone far older, not a young woman in the bloom of life.

Aye, Miss Reynolds was bonny. Her soulful gaze pierced him straight through his ribsand into his heart. The faint pink blush that came over her pale skin sent his own bloodrushing to a few very particular regions of his body. And her curves, though delicate,could surely fill his hands—they’d certainly been filling his mind this past fortnight.

He cursed himself again. Miss Reynolds was there for Clarissa’s benefit, not to beogled and salivated over by him. It was time he reminded himself of that.

He’d seen little of the Englishwoman since that first full day. Other than watching hercross the great hall to the north tower stairs each morning, and returning to her ownchamber in the south tower each night, her back always straight and her steps even, shehad been elusive.

Of course, it was the custom for a governess to remain separate, to spend her timeeither with her charge or alone, yet this was not some stuffy, proper English household.This was a medieval castle in the Highlands of Scotland. Edmund had never boundhimself to the overly rigid rules of society in the past. No need to keep such a strictbarrier between himself and Miss Reynolds’s work with Clarissa.

Besides, he told himself as he strode out of the study and up the stairs, seeing her inthe role of Clarissa’s companion would help cool his blood and remind him of her place inthe castle—and his own. He had more important things to do than fantasize about thegoverness. The sooner he could rid himself of this fascination with her, the better.

When he reached Clarissa’s door, he knocked softly before entering. As he steppedinside, he took in the altered appearance of the chamber.

Somehow, Miss Reynolds—perhaps with Clarissa’s help—had managed to shift themattress back onto the bed’s wooden frame. The clothes and personal items that hadonce been strewn across the floor had been packed away, presumably into the closedarmoire.

Clarissa lay on her stomach on the bed, her chin propped on the heels of her palms.Miss Reynolds sat a few feet away on the dressing table’s matching wooden chair, a bookpoised before her.

“…‘Emily was sunk into that kind of stupor, with which sudden and irremediablemisfortune sometimes overwhelms the mind. Loving Valancourt with the tenderestaffection, and having long been accustomed to consider him as the friend and companionof all her future days, she had no ideas of happiness that were not connected with him.’”

Neither Miss Reynolds nor Clarissa even looked up at Edmund as he quietly entered,so enrapt in Miss Reynolds’s reading were they both.

“‘What, then, must have been her suffering, when thus suddenly they were to beseparated, perhaps forever, certainly to be thrown into distant parts of the world, wherethey could scarcely hear of each other's existence,’” she continued, infusing her voice withdesperate emotion. “‘It was in vain that she endeavored to subdue her grief and resign

herself to an event which she could not avoid.’”As he listened, recognition of the story dawned. A ripple of surprise stole over him, but

he dared not interrupt Miss Reynolds’s dramatic reading.“‘Having reached these steps, she paused a moment to look round, for her distance

from the chateau now increased the fear, which the stillness and obscurity of the hourhad awakened,’” she continued breathlessly, now leaning forward from her chair intently.“‘Her tears were suddenly stopped by terror—a voice spoke near her in the pavilion; sheshrieked—it spoke again, and she distinguished the well-known tones of Valancourt. Itwas indeed Valancourt who supported her in his arms!’”

Abruptly, Miss Reynolds lifted her head and snapped the book closed. A satisfied smileplayed at the corners of her pink lips. “And there we shall resume tomorrow,” she said toClarissa.

Clarissa blinked, the spell of the story beginning to fade. She sighed, dropping herhands from her chin and pushing herself back to sitting. As she reached for her doll andnutcracker, Miss Reynolds turned to look up at Edmund.

“Lord Kinfallon,” she said. “May I help you with something?”Edmund shifted on his feet, suddenly regretting his decision to check in on Miss

Reynolds. Not only had it failed to lessen his fascination with her—nay, in fact he foundhimself more drawn to her than ever after hearing her read so passionately—but now hewas curious to learn more about what she’d been up to with Clarissa.

“I…I wished to discuss yer progress,” he said stiffly.Miss Reynolds glanced at Clarissa, who seemed insensible to their presence now. Yet

the governess rose, nodding toward the door. “Perhaps we can speak outside.”He motioned for her to precede him, then followed her, closing the door quietly

behind them. So as not to tower over her, he took up the same step she stood on, but itmeant that only a hand-span separated them in the narrow confines of the stairwell.

“Ye are reading The Mysteries of Udolpho to my sister,” he said without preamble.“Yes,” Miss Reynolds said, that little smile returning to her mouth. Damn, but her lips

were enticing. “I hope you aren’t terribly shocked, my lord, but we’ve already readanother of Mrs. Radcliff’s books—The Romance of the Forest.”

Edmund felt one of his brows lift. “I am no’ shocked, exactly, but surprised. I thoughtye proper English governesses considered such gothic tales highly inappropriate for theminds of young ladies.”

She tilted her head. “You do disapprove?”“Nay,” he replied. “I promised to give ye leeway in yer dealings with Clarissa. I am

only…intrigued by yer methods.”Miss Reynolds lifted one shoulder, the smile lingering on her lips. “I brought a few

primers with me, but they are for children. I thought it would insult Lady Clarissa topresent them to her. But I brought a few novels as well, and found that she enjoys them.She seems more lucid and engaged when I read. Or rather, when I read such…entertaining works.”

“So those salacious books are yers?” he murmured, taking a half-step forward. It wasall the small space would allow—unless he wished to feel the brush of her breasts against

his chest. Damn it all, he did. “I never took ye for a romantic, Miss Reynolds.”To his satisfaction, she did not move away from him. Instead, she gazed into his eyes,

the smile fading and her lips separating on a breathy exhale. “Everyone is entitled to a bitof pleasure, Lord Kinfallon—even a ‘proper English governess,’ as you call me.”

The air suddenly felt hot and thick between them. Edmund had no idea if she’d meantfor her words to be as suggestive as they sounded to him, but regardless, his bloodhammered insistently through his veins, coils of desire knotting in his stomach—andlower.

“True enough,” he murmured.“May I ask you a question, Lord Kinfallon?”“Edmund,” he blurted. She blinked in confusion. “Ye are welcome to call me Edmund

when we are alone, Miss Reynolds,” he clarified.“Edmund,” she said slowly, as if tasting his name.His manhood surged against his trousers. Bloody hell. So much for quashing his desire

for this Englishwoman.“Ye told Clarissa that she may call ye Thea if she liked—does that offer extend to me

as well?” he asked, searching her pale eyes.“Yes,” she replied. “When we are alone.”Edmund’s mind immediately began concocting a wild list of scenarios in which they

could be alone so that he could hear his name on her lips once more. In the stairwell. Inhis study. In his bedchamber.

“What was your question?” he managed through a tight throat.She drew a deep breath, which nearly caused them to touch. “Why doesn’t your sister

dine in the great hall with you?”That caught him off-guard. It helped cool his blood enough for him to remember

himself.“When she wishes to, she joins me, but mostly she prefers to remain in her chamber.”“And you haven’t established it as part of her routine to come down for meals?”The question gave him pause. Clearly, Miss Reynolds—Thea—had an opinion about

how he’d handled his sister.“Nay,” he said slowly. “The doctor who saw Clarissa two years past said that she

needed a great deal of rest and quiet. Besides, I dinnae wish to force her to come downwhen she doesnae want to.”

Thea’s blue eyes softened. “You have indulged her because you love her. It is a nobleimpulse, but I think it may be misplaced. And as for the doctor’s advice—the prescribedsolitude hasn’t worked yet, has it?”

“Nay, it hasnae.”“I believe Lady Clarissa would benefit from a bit more structure,” Thea said,

straightening her back. “Routines and habits will anchor her, and I think being aroundpeople may help as well. Of course, if she is ill, she should be allowed to rest in herchamber, but on days like today, there is no reason she shouldn’t join you for supper.”

Edmund considered this. “Would ye join us as well?”Thea’s light brown lashes fluttered in surprise. “I…yes, I could, if you wish me to.”

“Aye, I do.”“Very well,” she said, a pink flush stealing over her cheeks. “This evening, then.”

Two hours later, Edmund sat alone at the head of the enormous dining table,contemplating the bottom of his whisky glass.

What a fool he was. He’d thought of nothing but Thea since descending from the northtower stairs, his body humming with desire and his head spinning with hope.

Hope for Clarissa. And hope for himself, that what he felt for Thea might be returned.But he’d been waiting for over an hour with no sign that either his sister or Thea

would come down for supper.Had Clarissa resisted? Had she screamed and cried hysterically, as she sometimes did

in her darkest moments, refusing to come down?Or had Thea thought better of dining with her employer? Had he misread her blushes

and breathy words, interpreting them as desire when in fact they represented discomfort—or fear?

At a noise in the north tower stairwell, he jerked to his feet, his chair sliding with amuffled protest over the carpet.

Thea appeared, placid and assured as ever, yet she hesitated at the base of thestairs, waiting for something.

A long moment later, Clarissa stepped into the great hall, her doll and nutcrackerclutched to her chest.

Edmund felt a twinge of disappointment at that. Clarissa’s reliance on the toysdisturbed him. Then again, all the previous companions and nurses had tried to ridClarissa of the dependence, some even attempting to take the dolls from her, but asThea had pointed out, none of those others’ efforts had worked thus far.

Clarissa’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. No doubt there had been a sceneabovestairs, yet it seemed as though Thea had held steadfast.

The two women walked to the table, and Thea gave Edmund a little tilt of the headthat was both apology for their lateness and thanks for his patience.

Clarissa sank into the seat to Edmund’s left, still cradling the doll and nutcracker.“Now Lady Clarissa,” Thea chastised gently. “You know very well it isn’t proper for

husband and wife to sit next to each other for supper.”Edmund felt his brows shoot up. To his surprise, Clarissa reluctantly handed the

nutcracker to Thea, who walked it around to the other side of the table. She sat down toEdmund’s right, then placed the toy in the chair on her other side.

Clarissa set the wooden doll on its own chair next to her. “There you go, Margaret,”she murmured.

Edmund frowned. This had gone too far. “Miss Reynolds, I do not think it wise toindulge in Clarissa’s fancies to such an extent.”

Thea glanced at him as she spread her napkin over her lap. But instead of replyingdirectly to him, she turned to Clarissa. “Lady Clarissa, what do you think of what your

brother has just said?”At Thea’s simple question, realization hit Edmund like a punch to the chest. He sank

slowly into his chair. How long had he been talking about Clarissa instead of to her, evenwhen she was directly before him? He’d always been fiercely protective of her, even moreso since the fire and her mental break. But how much better was he, truly, than theothers who had been callous or even cruel to her in an attempt to bring her back tosanity?

He stared at Thea. In the fortnight he’d known her, it felt as though she’d tilted hiswhole world—and Clarissa’s—on its side. But instead of feeling off-kilter now, he feltgrounded, righted, as if his life had been perched at a precarious angle until she camealong.

Clarissa lifted her dark head and met first Thea’s gaze and then Edmund’s.“I think he is a numpty,” she said, her voice slow and measured. Then her lips

twitched. “And a dunderhead.”Thea’s eyes rounded, but then her lips, too, began to tremble as she fought a smile.

She coughed delicately into her hand, obviously trying not to laugh.Relief, cool and refreshing as loch water the color of Thea’s eyes, washed over

Edmund. How wrong he had been—and how right Thea made everything. Unbidden, abark of laughter broke from his throat.

“Aye, well, I have never claimed to be otherwise,” he shot back at Clarissa. Heartswelling against his ribs, he pulled his napkin onto his lap. “Now, let’s eat.”

T

C H A P T E R 6

he next afternoon, Thea walked beside Lady Clarissa, their arms linked.Thea had managed to coax the earl’s sister outside for some fresh air and

exercise. With any luck, she’d be able to make this part of Lady Clarissa’s routine—forThea’s part, she always felt refreshed and clear-headed after exerting herself out ofdoors. Perhaps Lady Clarissa would feel the same.

They’d remained close to the castle, for Thea wasn’t familiar with the surroundingwinter-brown hillsides or clumps of forest, nor did she have any desire to return to the inndown the road, and she wasn’t sure if Lady Clarissa could be counted on for directions. Sothey had made several loops of the castle inside the crumbling remains of the wall, whichgave Thea a chance to admire its stark lines in the overcast light of day.

It was something out of one of Ann Radcliff’s gothic novels. The round towers andbattlements, built for defense more than comfortable living, were reminders of a farharsher time. The castle’s imposing presence stirred something in her. It seemed wellsuited to the rugged landscape of the Highlands—as did Edmund MacLainn.

Thea silently chastised herself as they rounded the east side of the castle in silence.She shouldn’t be thinking of the earl in such familiar terms. She shouldn’t be thinking ofhim at all, yet her mind refused to behave itself.

The man was undeniably handsome, in an untamed way that made the nobility ofEngland seem foppish. He was so rangy and big, every line as imposing and chiseled asthis stone castle.

Yet there was a certain gentleness to him as well. He was loving and protectivetoward his sister, and his evergreen eyes were undeniably intelligent, even when theypierced her with an intensity that sent her stomach tilting and her heart racing.

Thea swallowed hard. Before she’d realized what was happening, some seed offascination with Edmund had planted itself in her heart. Now it had taken root, but shedared not give a name to the emotion that was beginning to bloom inside her.

She and Lady Clarissa strolled past the tidy stables at the back of the castle, thenmade their way around the west edge of the keep. As the front of the castle came intoview, Lady Clarissa murmured something to the dolls she clutched, then unlooped herarm from Thea’s and knelt to refasten the laces on one boot.

Just then, a smartly dressed man rode up the path leading to the front of the castle.

He dismounted smoothly, but before he could reach the keep’s large door, Edmundemerged. Even from more than a dozen paces away, Thea could see surprise flash on hisfeatures when his gaze landed on the newcomer. Neither man had noticed Lady Clarissaand her at the corner of the castle.

“What are ye doing here, Selfridge?” Edmund demanded. “I told ye I needed a monthbefore I would have my final decision on yer scheme.”

The man, Selfridge, lifted the black silk hat from his dark blond head and gaveEdmund a slight bow. “I’m only here for a visit, my lord,” he said with a smile. “I thoughtto inquire how your decision-making process was going—and to see if the rumors in thevillage were true.”

“What rumors?” Edmund snapped.“That your newest employee has cast some sort of spell over Kinfallon,” Selfridge

replied.Thea stiffened. The man was referring to her. People were already gossiping about

her in the village? Certainly she’d drawn attention at the inn when she’d decided to walkto the castle alone, but what could they possibly find interesting about her work withLady Clarissa?

Or was it her interactions with Edmund that had whispers circulating? Walls had eyes.Even with a skeletal staff at the castle, perhaps someone had noticed a lingering look, ablush or smile, something that gave away her feelings—

Thea compressed her lips. She was being foolish. Worse, she was eavesdropping.“Come, Lady Clarissa,” she said, extending her hand and helping the woman rise.

Linking their arms, Thea walked briskly to where Edmund and Selfridge stood.Both men turned, Edmund with a dark scowl on his face, and Selfridge wearing a

startled expression.Selfridge blinked. “Lady Clarissa,” he said with a crisp bow. “And you must be the new

companion.”The man’s put-on English accent was jarring to Thea’s ears after a fortnight among

Scots. Still, she plastered a smile on her face and bobbed her head at Selfridge.“Miss Reynolds, this is Mr. Perry Selfridge,” Edmund said, still scowling. “Selfridge, Miss

Reynolds.”As Selfridge came up from a far shallower bow, his dark blue eyes locked on her, keen

and assessing. “You clearly have a way with Lord Kinfallon’s sister,” he said, as if LadyClarissa weren’t standing there. He waved at their linked arms. “You’ve already lastedlonger than most of the others.”

The polite smile threatened to slide from Thea’s lips at the rude comment. Shenoticed a muscle ticking in Edmund’s jaw.

“Miss Reynolds has been most helpful,” Edmund said, fixing Selfridge with a hard look.“In fact, her assistance has allowed me to make a great deal of headway on myassessment of the estate—so much so that I am confident I’ll have a decision for ye inanother fortnight, as agreed, though I cannae promise that it will be the answer ye arehoping for.”

Selfridge’s mouth thinned. “Is that so, my lord?”

“Aye.”“Well, then. I wish you a continuation of your good fortune, my lord.” The last was

said tightly as Selfridge’s gaze swung back to Thea. His eyes were decidedly colder now.“I’m sure ye do,” Edmund replied frostily.Selfridge continued to stare at her for another long moment. Thea forced herself to

remain motionless, but she longed to move behind Edmund and let his tall, strong frameshield her from Selfridge’s cutting gaze.

“I have matters to attend to, Selfridge. Thank ye for yer visit,” Edmund said in abrusque dismissal.

Selfridge bowed, slowly replacing his hat and striding back to his horse. Edmundremained rooted, his eyes fixed on the man’s back until he’d ridden down the road andout of sight. At last, he let out a long breath, some of the tension easing from his broadshoulders.

“Forgive us for interrupting,” Thea said, breaking the awkward silence. “We’ll let youreturn to whatever matters require your attention.”

She began guiding Lady Clarissa back toward the keep’s door, but Edmund halted herwith a big hand on her arm.

“I was actually on my way out to see ye—both of ye,” he corrected quickly. He turnedto Clarissa. “It is a joy to see ye walking the grounds as we did in our childhood, Sister.”

Clarissa nodded, but her head drooped. “Margaret is tired. I think I’ll take her to mychamber for a rest.” She disentangled her arm from Thea’s and slipped into the keep,holding her dolls close.

“I may have overextended her,” Thea said, watching the door close behind LadyClarissa.

“Nay, dinnae doubt yerself,” Edmund replied. “Ye are challenging her, aye, as I havefailed to do these last two years, but I see now how much good ye’ve done for Clarissa. Imeant what I said to Selfridge.” His voice dropped to a low rumble. “I’m verra grateful tohave ye here.”

Heat began to creep into Thea’s cheeks. Needing to change the subject, she said, “Icouldn’t help overhearing Mr. Selfridge mention me. May I ask what manner of businessyou were discussing?”

A frown stole over Edmund’s face for a moment. “He had no place bringing up gossipabout ye,” he said. For a moment, Thea thought he would put an abrupt end to that lineof conversation.

But then he met her gaze and his eyes softened. “As to the business he has with me—I would love to show ye.”

“Show me?”“Aye—if ye dinnae mind walking a wee bit more.”Thea drew in a lungful of the fresh, cold early-December air. “Not at all. Now?”She already wore her cloak and bonnet, and she was eager to discover what Edmund

had in mind, but he had neither overcoat nor hat with him. He’d stepped from the keep injust a dark green frock coat, gray trousers, and his usual tall black boots. His head wasbare, his dark hair unbound around his shoulders, and his cravat characteristically loose.

“Aye, now,” he replied, extending his arm to her.She looped her arm through his, resting her hand on his forearm. Even through the

wool of his coat, she could feel the corded strength beneath her fingers. He pulled hiselbow to his side, effectively drawing her closer until her shoulder brushed his arm andher skirts rested against his leg.

Before she had time to blush at the intimacy of such nearness, he set out at an easypace, guiding her toward the rolling hills to the west of the castle.

“This land has belonged to the MacLainn clan for centuries,” he said as they cut acrossthe brown landscape. “When the Jacobite uprising failed, some clans were disbanded, butmy family was allowed to retain Kinfallon Castle and the estate surrounding it.”

As they walked on, he continued to explain the history of the castle, the lands, andthe MacLainns. When they crested a particularly rocky rise, Edmund paused, his eyesfixed in the distance.

Thea followed his gaze to a whitewashed croft nestled between two hills. She noticedseveral more small crofts dotting the landscape nearby.

“My people have worked this land through wars, famines, and other hardships toomany to name.” Edmund glanced sideways at her, and she was surprised to find a playfulsmile lifting one side of his mouth. “Ye ken that Highlanders are a stubborn lot, dinnaeye?”

“I’ve heard something of that,” she replied, matching his grin.He returned his gaze to the crofts in the distance, growing sober. “This land is these

peoples’ home, yet it is also meant to produce money—for the maintenance of KinfallonCastle, and for the Crown. Selfridge has been trying to convince me that I should displacethe farmers and turn the land into grazing range for sheep. It is more profitable,apparently.”

Thea drew in a breath. Something Edmund had said when she’d first arrived cameback to her. “The clearances—Lady Clarissa’s family. They were forced off their land—killed—for that very reason.”

“By Selfridge.” When her mouth fell open, he clarified. “Nay, he wasnae the one to putthe torch to their home, but it was his scheme that killed John and Margaret. The sheep—and Countess Sutherland’s profit—were more important. When Selfridge approached mewith a similar offer a year past, I flat-out refused. But then with Clarissa requiring care,and so many failed attempts to find someone up to the task…I neglected the ledgers. Ithas only been in the last fortnight that I have been able to assess just where the estatestands—thanks to ye.”

He turned to her, and her breath caught at the look in his eyes.“I am only one link in the chain of keepers of Kinfallon,” he murmured. “But until ye

came, I feared that I would be the one to break that chain, to destroy the legacy myancestors worked so hard to build. Ye have given me hope that no’ all is lost, though—that I am no’ at an ending, but rather a beginning.”

A knot of tangled emotions rose to Thea’s throat. At the same time her heart soaredat his words, dread and shame dragged her down. Edmund was a man of honor, a manwith a legacy to protect. And Thea—she had no past, or at least she pretended she didn’t.

What would Edmund say if he found out the truth about her? Would he still look at herwith such unguarded longing in his eyes? Or would he turn away, repulsed by herdeception?

“Edmund…” she murmured, her voice low and tight.Just then, a slew of fat, cold raindrops dropped on them. An angry peal of thunder

sounded in the distance. Even before its last rumbles faded, the skies had opened andnow torrents of rain fell.

Muttering a curse, Edmund took her hand and bolted for the nearest cover. Shescrambled over the uneven ground, trying to keep up with his long strides as he made hisway toward a copse of Scots pines. Amazingly, she managed to keep her footing over therocks and rain-slicked brown grasses—until her boot hit a patch of mud only a few pacesfrom the trees.

With a startled cry, she slid, landing hard on her bottom.“Shite,” Edmund bit out, dropping to his knees beside her. “Are ye all right, lass?”“Yes,” she replied. Suddenly a bubble of laughter rose in her throat.A month ago, if someone had told her that she would be running from a rainstorm

with a breathtakingly handsome Highland earl, she would have scoffed. If they’d told hershe’d embarrass herself by falling in the mud like an ungraceful foal—well, sometimes allone could do was laugh.

Without preamble, Edmund scooped her up in his arms, just as he’d done the nightshe’d met him. He dashed the remaining distance to the trees, where the heavy pineboughs shielded them from most of the rain. Yet he held her close for a long momentbefore setting her on her feet.

“Ye are sure ye’re all right?” He lifted a thumb to her cheek and dragged it slowlyacross her skin. “Ye have some mud just here.”

Thea’s heart stuttered painfully. She stared up into Edmund’s eyes, so dark andexpressive. The whole world came to a standstill. Even the raindrops seemed to slow intheir descent toward earth as Thea lost herself in forest green.

Slowly, slowly, Edmund tilted his head toward hers.“I have wanted to do this since the moment I first saw ye,” he murmured, his warm

breath fanning her lips.And then he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

T

C H A P T E R 7

hrough the raging storm of desire breaking inside Edmund, some distant voice ofsanity called to him.

Gentle.Her lips were so soft under his, so yielding and sweet. God, he wanted more, yet he

checked himself for fear of frightening her.He cupped the nape of her neck and let himself relish the feel of the damp tendrils of

hair clinging there. When he drew her bottom lip gently into his mouth, he was rewardedwith a shiver and the ripple of gooseflesh under his palm.

Looping his other arm around her waist, he slowly pulled her closer until he could feelher soft breasts against his chest, her ribs straining against the rigidity of her corset witheach of her ragged breaths.

When he flicked his tongue along her lip, asking entrance, she opened with one of herlittle gasps. Their tongues met in the damp heat of her mouth, and the pleasure hit himso hard that he actually jerked slightly. He willed his body to cool, to slow in its spiraltoward the point of no return, but then she laid her hands on his shoulders, and he fearedhe would never be able to stop.

He deepened their kiss, tilting his head to claim more of her mouth. She moaned, andthe vibrations shot straight to his manhood. For all that Thea was everything a properEnglish governess should be—calm, decisive, composed—he sensed a deep well ofuntamed desire within her. She read gothic novels. She met his gaze boldly. And aye, shemoaned at his kiss.

Abruptly, she pulled back. Panting in confusion, Edmund tried to focus his gaze on herface. Had he misread her?

Nay, for her dewy skin glowed pinkly and her pale blue eyes were glazed withpleasure and unfulfilled desire.

“We shouldn’t,” she breathed.He carefully untangled his fingers from the hair at her nape and stepped back, but

only enough to create a sliver of cold air between them. “Why no’?”She faltered. “Because I am a governess.”“Is it propriety ye are worried about then?” he asked. “Because ye shouldnae. This is

the Highlands, no’ London—or York, for that matter. Besides, nothing we could do would

cause a greater scandal than when my sister married a farmer. I assume yer family hasfallen out of fortune, otherwise ye wouldnae need to work as a governess, but ye arenaea commoner.”

Edmund winced once the words had tumbled out. Bloody hell, what was he thinking,mentioning marriage, her family’s wealth—or lack thereof—and creating a scandal, all inone breath? If he meant to soothe her nerves, he’d no doubt just done the opposite.

Sure enough, Thea blanched a ghostly white. “What…what do you know of myfamily?”

Edmund felt his brows draw down. That was what disturbed her most out ofeverything he’d said?

“Nothing,” he replied, puzzled. “Only that governesses usually come from families ofnoble origin that have fallen on hard times.”

Why was he blathering on about her family and their status when he could be kissingher instead—or telling her what she meant to him?

Slowly, he took her hand in his and lifted it between them. “If ye are worried that thisis some dalliance for me, the lord of the house chasing the governess’s skirts or somesuch, ye neednae fear on that score. I…I care about ye, Thea. A great deal.”

She met his gaze. “I care about you, too. A great deal.”His heart lurched against his ribs at her words. “We cannae run from this, or deny it.”“No,” Thea said, shaking her head slowly. “We can’t. But…”“But ye are still afraid,” he murmured. “Of what, sweeting?”He watched as distress, then sadness crossed her bonny features. She opened her

mouth, but no words came out.Edmund raised her hand to his mouth to halt her struggles. “Speak on it only when—

or if—ye are ready,” he breathed against her knuckles, then placed a kiss there. He liftedhis head, capturing her troubled gaze. “I would only ask that ye listen to yer heart andgive this a chance. Dinnae leave, lass. No’ when we’ve only just found each other.”

At last, Thea’s brow smoothed and her eyes softened. “I promise,” she said.When the rain ebbed at last, Edmund took her arm under his and guided her back to

the castle, his heart expanding with hope for what could lay ahead.

O

C H A P T E R 8

ver the next week and a half, the rains turned to snow, and Thea could no longertake Lady Clarissa out for walks.

Thea should have been discontent at being cooped up. She should have been frettingover what had passed between her and Edmund—and the ever-growing emotion she feltfor him, but still refused to name.

Yet they were some of the happiest days of her life. The blanket of white snow restingon the landscape made everything dazzlingly bright. The castle seemed cheerier,softened somehow by a coating of snow.

One morning after a particularly heavy snowfall, inspiration struck Thea. Perhaps itwas the nip in the air, or the coziness inside the castle when Lady Clarissa, Edmund, andshe sat in the great hall, a fire roaring in the hearth. Or perhaps it was a longing to enjoythe season with Edmund and Lady Clarissa as a family did. Whatever the case, Theaproposed that they organize a proper Christmas celebration.

Thea arranged for the stable lad to bring her several clumps of mistletoe and clippingsfrom pine boughs.

“How downright pagan of ye,” Edmund had commented as she’d arranged the boughsover the hearth and hung the mistletoe over all the doorways. He spoke with one darkeyebrow arched and a smile playing on his mouth, his eyes following her intently enoughto send heat into her cheeks.

As she worked, he told her of the season’s traditions here in the Highlands—ofHogmanay and the first-footing, of the singing of Robert Burns’s poem “Auld Lang Syne,”and of Yule and its carolers and the special porridge breakfast called sowens.

They hadn’t spoken of their kiss, yet the mere memory of it knotted Thea’s stomachwith longing. It was too good to be true—it must be. Edmund didn’t know the truth abouther. If he did, he wouldn’t desire her so. In fact, he would probably throw her out ofKinfallon Castle for her deception.

Some small, selfish part of her wanted to pretend that she was who she said, though,to pretend that she, a governess, could capture the heart of a man like Edmund—andgive him her heart in return.

So she carried on, spending time with Lady Clarissa, dining with Edmund, anddistracting herself from the aching desire twisting her insides by preparing for Christmas.

She worked with Mrs. MacDuffy and the remaining kitchen maid to plan a Christmassupper menu. They would have goose, plum pudding, and an iced cake for dessert. Sheeven dashed off a missive to her former employers the Braxtons in York, letting themknow that all was well and sending them the season’s greetings.

Over breakfast one morning, Edmund turned to Thea and said, “I am off to visit a fewof the crofts now that some of the snow has melted, but I have an idea that might helpye with this Christmas scheme of yers, Miss Reynolds.” His green eyes flashed teasingly,and Thea couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh?”“One of the chambers below Clarissa’s is used for storage,” Edmund said. “If memory

serves, we have a few decorations—paper chains and such—left over from our childhoodtucked in that room. I believe there is a fine set of silver fit for a Christmas feastsomewhere in there as well.”

Lady Clarissa lifted her dark head, her gaze bright. “Aye,” she said. “I remember.”Edmund rose and excused himself with a smile for his sister and a warm, lingering

look for Thea. Lady Clarissa rose as well, already eagerly hurrying toward the north towerstairs. Thea followed, her steps light as she looked forward to the day’s activities.

By midday, both Thea and Lady Clarissa were covered in dust and half-buried amongstthe storage chamber’s contents. Several pieces of furniture, including a three-legged chairand a divan that needed to be reupholstered, took up one side of the room. A half-dozentrunks filled most of the remaining space. The contents of four of the trunks lay spread onthe floor.

They’d already uncovered the silver. Trays, cutlery, and even ornate goblets thatlooked more than a century old glinted dully in the chamber’s dusty, dim light. Now Theaand Lady Clarissa continued on for the fun of it, like two explorers discovering a new landinside each trunk.

“Let’s try this one,” Thea said, turning to the second to last trunk. She wiped a wisp ofhair out of her face with the back of her dust-covered hand.

Clarissa settled before the trunk in a pool of blue skirts. Just as she reached for thelid, a soft cough came from the doorway.

Thea looked up to find Edmund leaning against the doorframe, his muscular armscrossed over his chest and an easy smile on his face. He was dressed as he’d been thatfirst night, presumably because he’d just returned from his ride to the crofts.

Thea’s breath hitched and stuck in her throat. She adored him most this way, notconfined by his English-style clothes, but looking part-wild and all male confidence in hisScottish garb.

She couldn’t stop her gaze from sliding over him. His boots still bore a few clumps ofrapidly melting snow. The gap between the tops of his boots and the hem of his greenand blue kilt revealed a fascinating glimpse of his bare knees and the scantest view ofthe corded muscle of his lower thigh.

He wore a wide leather belt from which a bag—a sporran, she thought it was called—dangled. Above that, his simple dark coat lay unbuttoned over an off-white shirt, whichwas open at the neck.

When she at last met his gaze, heat flooded her face, for the keen look in his forest-colored eyes told her he knew exactly what she felt when she looked at him—and that hefelt the same.

“I thought I’d come see what trouble the two of ye have gotten into,” he said, shiftingto lean on the other side of the doorframe.

“Was all well at the crofts?” Thea said, willing her voice to be even and polite despitethe desire tightening her throat and melting her insides.

“Aye,” Edmund replied. “Better than well. I’ve met with all the families now. Seeingthem only confirms what I’ve found so far in the papers on my desk. Relocating thepeople of Kinfallon is no’ only cruel, but it is also—blessedly—unnecessary. The estatehas gotten by, even without my attention. There are still a few more matters of businessto attend to, but I am more confident than ever that I can reject Selfridge’s scheme.”

“Oh,” Thea breathed. “That is wonderful ne—”The moment was shattered by a sharp cry from Lady Clarissa.Thea spun to find the woman leaning over the now-open trunk, her dark eyes wide

and fixed on what lay inside.As one, Thea and Edmund went to her side and knelt.“What is it, Lady Clarissa?” Thea asked gently, but when her eyes followed the

woman’s gaze, she had her answer.Inside the trunk lay a few childish attempts at cross-stitch, several folded girls’ dresses

—and a dozen figurines. Some were rag dolls, their eyes sewn-on buttons. Others werewooden, like the one lying at Lady Clarissa’s side. And there were a few paintednutcrackers as well, all slightly different, but made in the same style as the one LadyClarissa called John.

“Margaret,” Lady Clarissa breathed, reaching out a shaky hand toward one of thedolls. Her voice broke on another moan.

Abruptly, she jerked to her feet and bolted from the room, her sobs echoing throughthe stone stairwell as she fled to her chamber.

Thea sat stunned, her heart twisting painfully.“Do these…do these belong to Margaret?” she whispered, tilting her head toward the

dresses and dolls.“Nay,” Edmund replied, his voice low and tight. “All of Margaret’s things burned. These

were Clarissa’s, when she was a wee bairn. She was saving them for Margaret until thelass was old enough. But…but Margaret was only a babe of one year when she died in thefire.”

Tears burned up Thea’s throat and into her eyes. “I had no idea she was so young.”“Aye. She would be three now—likely already playing with one of these dolls or

nutcrackers. They always pleased Clarissa as a young lass. She loved to collect them, andour parents indulged her.”

Edmund let his dark head sink into one of his hands, his eyes sheened with emotion

as he stared blankly into the trunk.“I’ll go to her and see what comfort I can give,” Thea said, scooping up the doll and

nutcracker that Lady Clarissa had left behind.“Thank ye,” Edmund murmured.Thea hurried out of the storage chamber and up the spiraling stairs toward Lady

Clarissa’s room. A rhythmic thumping and an unbroken low wail grew louder as Theareached the door.

She pushed into the chamber to find the mattress once again dragged from thebedframe. Lady Clarissa sat in the middle of the empty frame, clutching one of thewooden posters and slowly banging her head into it. Her eyes were wide and unseeing,her mouth slack as she moaned.

“Lady Clarissa,” Thea said gently. “Please, do not harm yourself.” She crouchedopposite the woman and slid a hand between the poster and her forehead. Lady Clarissadrove her forehead into the back of Thea’s hand a few times before she slowed in herrocking.

“I w-want Margaret,” she whimpered. “I want Margaret. And John. I want John.”Thea lifted the two figurines in her hand and extended them to Lady Clarissa.But when the woman’s gaze focused on them, her eyes filled with agony and rage.

“Nay!” she screamed, snatching both the doll and the nutcracker. She raised them overher head. “I want the real Margaret! I want the real John!”

Lady Clarissa flung both figurines away. The doll landed harmlessly on the mattresslying askew on the floor, but the nutcracker hit the stone wall with a crack beforebouncing to the ground, his jaw lying splintered beside him.

Realizing what she’d just done, Lady Clarissa sucked in a sharp breath, then crumpledto the floor as if she, too, were a broken doll. Hard sobs racked her body, making herhunched shoulders lurch and shake.

“Clarissa,” Thea murmured, placing a gentle hand on her back.Lady Clarissa tensed and shied away from Thea’s touch. “Dinnae say it is all right,”

she mumbled through her tear-thickened throat. “Dinnae say that I’ll be fine, that I mustlet go.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Thea replied, “because everything is not all right.”Lady Clarissa stilled, lifting her head and fixing Thea with a guarded look.“At least at the moment things are not all right,” Thea went on. “You are in pain.

You’ve experienced a terrible loss. And anyone who tells you that you must let it go—thatyou must let them go—”

Realization hit Thea like a blow to the chest. Good God, the others—the doctor, thecompanions, the nursemaids Edmund had hired…they likely had told Lady Clarissa justthat. Get over it. All will be well. You must simply let go—of your sadness, of the dolls, ofyour husband, of your child.

Thea pulled in a breath, holding her tears of outrage and grief on Lady Clarissa’sbehalf at bay. The woman needed her to be strong now.

“Has no one ever told you that it is all right to simply hurt?” she asked, slowly circlingher hand over Clarissa’s taut back. “That you are allowed to feel?”

Lady Clarissa didn’t speak, but the wave of tears that broke over her was answerenough.

They sat like that for a long time—long enough for the light to fade in the chamberand for Lady Clarissa’s voice to turn ragged with her sobs. All the while, Thea stayed withher, rubbing her back and murmuring nonsense in an attempt to comfort her.

When at last Lady Clarissa’s weeping turned to hiccups, Thea lifted her head androlled the stiffness from her neck. Her gaze landed on Edmund, who stood like a statue inthe doorway, his eyes glazed with emotion.

As if hesitant to break the spell cast over the chamber, he cautiously stepped inside.But instead of going straight for his sister, he moved to where the nutcracker and itssmall wooden jaw lay.

“I can fix it,” he said, lifting the nutcracker and the broken jaw piece. “Make him goodas new. Would ye like that, Clarissa?”

Lady Clarissa blinked bleary red eyes at him, then slowly nodded.“Aye,” she rasped, her voice thin and raw. Slowly, she crawled over the wooden

bedframe and onto the mattress. She curled up, pulling a blanket over herself as she did,and fell asleep almost immediately.

“She’s exhausted,” Thea whispered to Edmund, longing to seek her own bed.Edmund nodded, then tilted his head toward the door, indicating that they should

leave her to sleep.They made their way in silence down the stairs, but Thea hesitated at the bottom.“Can you really fix the nutcracker?”“Aye,” Edmund said, lifting the broken jaw and inspecting it for a moment. He tucked

the little piece of wood in his coat pocket, clutching the broken nutcracker in one hand.When his eyes captured hers, she saw a cavernous well of sadness in their green

depths.“Will she be all right?”Thea knew he didn’t just mean tonight. He was asking if his sister would always suffer

so greatly.“I cannae help but fear,” he continued quietly, “that I have made things worse for her.

If I hadnae hired all those bloody fools who were so cruel and callous toward her,perhaps Clarissa—”

“Edmund,” Thea interrupted. “You hired them because you hoped they’d help yoursister. And when they didn’t, you sent them away.”

“Aye, but even I was a damned fool at times. I kept trying to push her out of her grief,instead of letting her feel it.”

“You did all that you knew how to. She knows you love her.” Thea drew in a breath.“And as to her wellbeing…I don’t know if she will get any better,” she said honestly, “but Ithink she will be all right, even still.”

“Thanks to ye,” Edmund murmured.She looked up into his eyes, but something above his head caught her attention. She

nearly giggled with a mixture of delirium and exhausted astonishment at what she saw.When Edmund followed her gaze, he gave a weak chuckle. They stood directly under

one of the clumps of mistletoe she’d hung earlier in the week.He raised a dark eyebrow at her in a silent question. She nodded, feeling a foolish grin

curving her lips. But Edmund’s mirth fell away as he stared down at her. His eyes turnedliquid and dark with hunger—hunger for her.

This time when he kissed her, it wasn’t the gentle, slow brushing of lips they’d sharedunder the pine tree. No, this kiss was demanding, urgent—and sent warmth instantlypooling low in her belly.

His body connected with hers, but he didn’t stop there. He continued to move forwarduntil he pinned her against the stones lining the stairwell entrance.

When his tongue found hers, a soft moan rose in her throat at the velvet heat. Shelooped her arms around his neck, savoring his silky hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

Abruptly, he jerked back, his breath ragged and his eyes clouded with lust.“Go on,” he rasped, nodding toward the south tower stairs where her chamber lay.

“Before I forget myself. I’ll see ye tomorrow morning.”Slowly, he took a step back, freeing her from the wall. Thea’s face was hot—her whole

body felt as if it were aflame—but she didn’t care. She met his scorching gaze for a longmoment, letting him see just how he affected her, before turning at last and walking onquiet feet toward the opposite stairs.

Thea let a private smile touch her lips as she went. She could no longer deny whatgrew in her heart. Love. Love for this place, love for Edmund’s family—and love for him.

As she took the stairs to her chamber, that thought warmed her even more thanEdmund’s kiss.

T

C H A P T E R 9

he next morning, Thea dressed hurriedly, eager to see Edmund again. Once she’dtightened her front-lacing corset, arranged her petticoats, and buttoned the nicer of

her two dark, plain gowns, she coiled her hair in a simple plaited bun and set out fromher chamber.

The great hall was empty. Perhaps Edmund had already broken his fast? She crossedto the north tower stairs and headed for his study, supposing that was the next mostlikely place to find him, even this early. He’d been working so hard in the near-monthsince Thea’s arrival. Now that she understood just how harmful the clearances would be—had already been, especially to Lady Clarissa—she knew why he spent so much timeporing over his papers.

Thea swung open the study door, her heart already leaping in anticipation of seeinghis handsome face.

“Edmund, I thought today Lady Clarissa and I could—”She pulled up short. The man sitting behind the large oak desk wasn’t Edmund—it was

Selfridge.“Ah, Miss Reynolds,” Selfridge said, leaning back in Edmund’s chair. “I’m afraid Lord

Kinfallon—or Edmund, as you so familiarly call him—had to see to a small matter at oneof the crofts early this morning. Mrs. MacDuffy showed me in here to wait.” His dark blueeyes grew sharp. “Perhaps we can wait together.”

Unease rippled through her. What was it about Selfridge that reminded her of asnake? He bore no forked tongue, no unblinking, vertically slitted eyes, yet he seemed toslither as he rose from Edmund’s chair and moved around the desk.

“You see, I have something very particular to inform Lord Kinfallon,” he said, steppingcloser. “But now that I think on it, perhaps you are the person I should speak to regardingthis…matter.”

Thea’s mouth went dry. Cold foreboding swept through her. She turned to exit thestudy, but Selfridge darted forward, closing the door with one hand even as he loomed infront of her, effectively trapping her between his body and the door.

“It might be less messy this way,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Less of ascene.” He looked down at her, his gaze frostily assessing. “Yes, I think this will be farcleaner. You see, Miss Reynolds, the particular matter I came to discuss with Lord

Kinfallon is actually regarding you.”“Me?” Thea murmured. Her mind screamed at her to move, to find her spine, to put

Selfridge in his place, yet a terrible sense of dread seemed to weigh her limbs.A sly smile that didn’t touch his eyes lifted his thin lips. “Yes, indeed. I had a friend in

London look into you, Miss Reynolds—or should I say, Miss Tynham?”Thea’s stomach plummeted. Before she could speak, though, Selfridge went on.“But that isn’t quite right, is it? Your father didn’t give you his name, since you were

bastard-born. Lord Tynham’s name carries a fair bit of weight in London, but it wouldn’tdo to give it to a child borne of a whore.”

The study seemed to tilt on its side. Thea’s vision clouded as she felt herselfbeginning to fall. Selfridge’s bony fingers suddenly dug into her upper arm, holding her upand giving her a shake.

“Now, let’s see if I remember this right. Reynolds was a distant cousin’s name. No,that’s not it.” He snapped the fingers of his free hand, drawing her partially out of herstunned torpor. “An aunt. Yes, that’s right. A childless aunt’s name, which you took togive yourself enough respectability to pass yourself off as a governess.”

“I…I am a governess,” Thea mumbled, willing her eyes to focus on Selfridge. Think!her mind screamed, but everything was happening too fast.

“You are a bastard,” Selfridge sneered, “and the daughter of a whore and a noblemanwho couldn’t keep his trousers fastened. Yet you presented yourself as a respectableyoung lady, inserted yourself into noblemen’s homes.” He paused for effect. “Taughtthose noblemen’s children. You see how this looks, don’t you?”

Yes, she did. She knew exactly how it looked, and what would happen to her ifanyone ever found out. She would never find work again. No one would hire a governess,who was supposed to be a model of propriety to young children, if she was bastard-bornand had lied about her pedigree.

Her mind skittered back to what Selfridge had said earlier.“And,” she said, swallowing hard, “you plan to tell Lord Kinfallon this?”“It is my duty as his friend to look after his wellbeing,” Selfridge said. “I cannot stand

by knowing that a deceiver, a liar, and a woman of immoral character is living under hisroof, spending time with his sister.” He let his gaze sweep slowly over her, making herskin prick with revulsion. “Especially not when that woman has clearly used her charms tocloud the earl’s judgment. What must you have done to earn the right to call him by hisChristian name? Dropped to your knees before him? Spread your legs like your whoremother?”

Selfridge’s cruel words were like a splash of ice water over Thea’s face.“Why are you doing this?” she ground out, glaring at Selfridge. “And do not say

friendship for Edmund, for we both know that is a lie.”He stepped back at last, tilting his sandy head. “I suppose it can’t hurt to tell you. I

have been angling for the earl to take up a business venture with me.”“I know about your business,” Thea practically spat. “What does that have to do with

my past?”“The earl was close to agreeing to my plan,” Selfridge replied. “Until you arrived. You

have created quite the problem for me.”So that was it. Selfridge sought to drive her away so that Edmund would sink once

more under the weight of caring for his sister while also trying to manage the estate.Selfridge was counting on being able to destroy Edmund—by destroying her.

And he could—or at least he could ruin Thea forever, obliterating her ability to everfind paying work as a governess again. She would be forced to go to the workhouse. Thatreality loomed before her. Some women could work in factories or mills for years,managing through careful effort to walk the knife’s edge between respectable living anddestitute poverty. Others, however, became sick and lost their position, or their wageswere lowered until they could not afford enough food to fill their bellies. Some even diedin accidents or from the diseases that tore through the workhouses like flames over drykindling.

As if his sharp eyes could read the frantic inner workings of her mind, Selfridge rubbedhis chin. “Of course, it need not be the end for you. Go quietly from Kinfallon and I see noreason to make your origins known beyond this keep. You could return to England, findanother position—just not here.”

Thea’s stomach turned over even as her heart squeezed painfully. If she left, shewould be abandoning Lady Clarissa—and deserting Edmund knowing that he might beforced to bend under Selfridge’s clearance scheme.

But Clarissa was far more stable than when Thea had arrived. And Edmund hadcaught up on all the estate matters he’d left unattended for so long. Perhaps evenwithout Thea, Clarissa would carry on with her new routines, and Edmund could attend tohis responsibilities. Did they even need her anymore?

She swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. Whether or not theyneeded her, she had begun to let herself hope that they wanted her—that Edmundwanted her, and for more than a few stolen kisses. Yes, he’d told her he was coming tocare deeply for her.

Yet whom did he truly care for—Miss Thea Reynolds, proper English governess, orThea, bastard child of Lord Henry Tynham, liar and deceiver?

“Go,” Selfridge urged, interrupting her swirling thoughts. “It will be far easier this way—for both you and Lord Kinfallon. You needn’t face him and explain how you deceivedhim.”

Something cracked inside Thea’s chest. She’d been a fool to hope that she couldescape the truth, a fool to hope that this fairytale could last.

“Go,” Selfridge said again, more insistently this time. “My carriage is waiting at theinn. You can take it as far south as Inverness. Start over, Miss Reynolds, and forget thatyou ever came to Kinfallon.”

Tears burning in her eyes, Thea gave Selfridge one swift nod before spinning on herheels and rushing from the study. Head down, she hurried up the south tower stairs toher chamber. The sight of her paltry possessions stilled her for a moment.

She would have to send for her trunk. Or would she? She possessed nothing of value.That was the truth of it—she was valueless.

Snatching up her cloak and bonnet, she turned her back on the rest. Clarissa could

keep her gothic novels. Her other dress and the few assorted items she had were worthnext to nothing. Heart throbbing against her ribs, she quit the chamber and hurried downthe stairs.

As she crossed the great hall toward the keep’s large door, Mrs. MacDuffy called fromthe kitchen.

“Miss Reynolds! Where are ye going?”Thea ducked her head, hiding her face, which was hot with shame, behind her bonnet.

Without slowing, she pushed her way through the door and out into the cold air.Good Heavens. It was snowing. Hard. Thea had been in such a giddy rush this

morning that she hadn’t even bothered to look out one of her narrow windows.She gripped the front of her cloak closed and bowed her head against the driving

flakes, then began trudging through the snow on what she hoped was the road back tothe inn.

As she walked, her mind swirled wildly.Oh, God, what was she doing? How could she abandon Clarissa and Edmund like this

—like a coward?They will be fine without me. The thought broke her heart, yet it was the only thing

that kept her lifting one foot through the snow and then the other. They will be betterwithout me. If she left quietly, she would not bring shame on Edmund and Kinfallon, norwould she give the village any more to gossip about. She would simply be another failedemployee of Lord Kinfallon’s. Nothing more.

When she reached England, she would write to the Braxtons again and ask for a letterof reference. She wouldn’t be able to get one from Edmund. How would she explain themonth-long gap after she left the Braxtons to a future employer, though? Perhaps shecould claim an extended illness, or a visit to distant family in Scotland. As if none of thishad ever happened.

The path before her blurred as tears filled her eyes. Selfridge’s cold words came backto her. Forget that you ever came to Kinfallon.

Yes, she would run away like a coward to protect her future and save Edmund from ascandal.

But she would never forget this place—or the love she felt for Edmund.

E

C H A P T E R 1 0

dmund urged his horse across the last of the hills separating him from the castle—from Thea.

He’d gotten word before dawn that one of the nearby crofts’ rooves was in danger ofcaving in under the weight of all this heavily falling snow, but by the time he’d reachedthe croft, the men had already managed to clear the snow and save the roof.

Thea had no doubt already woken—somewhere behind the thick, heavy cloudsoverhead, the sun had risen not long ago. Edmund wanted to be the first thing she sawthis morning—for he had come to a decision after a long, sleepless night.

He loved her. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. And he wanted to marry her.Now that he’d decided to ask for her hand in marriage, time seemed to stretch cruelly,

separating him from her. Edmund silently cursed the snow, the last few hundred yards tothe castle, even his strong, steady horse for not having wings to carry him straight toThea.

When he reached the castle, he hastily tossed the reins to the stable lad and pushedhis way into the keep.

“My lord,” Mrs. MacDuffy greeted him breathlessly. “Mr. Selfridge awaits ye in yerstudy.”

Like a plucked flower left out in the sun, Edmund’s good mood withered. “Bloody hell,”he muttered. It seemed the whole world was conspiring to put him on pins and needlesbefore he could speak with Thea.

“And there is another matter, my lord, regarding—”“No’ now,” he called over his shoulder. He’d put out this fire before turning to the next

one.He barged into the study to find Selfridge sitting at his desk, a private, pleased smile

on his face.The man jerked to his feet at Edmund’s abrupt arrival, but the sly grin remained.“Ah, there you are, Lord Kinfallon.”Edmund’s mood soured further. “What do ye want, Selfridge?”Selfridge stepped around the desk. “As you know, the month we agreed upon is

almost up.”“Aye,” Edmund replied. “Do ye want yer answer now?”

“No, my lord,” Selfridge said quickly. “In fact, I came to tell you that if you wish totake more time to consider, to assess your situation further, I will happily grant it to you.”

Edmund felt his eyes narrow. What was the weasel esquire up to?“Why would I need more time to ‘assess my situation,’ as ye say?”Selfridge furrowed his brow in a faux display of concern, though his lips still twitched

with glee.“Just this morning I learned that your governess has chosen to leave your employ.”“What?”“I am sorry to say, my lord, that I have discovered some most…unsavory details about

the woman.”In two steps, Edmund closed the distance between them. “Explain yerself before I rip

out yer tongue for slandering Miss Reynolds.”At last, that damned smile slipped from Selfridge’s lips.“I…I was concerned for your wellbeing, my lord, and the wellbeing of your sister. I had

a man in London look into Miss Reynolds. She is not what she says, my lord.” Selfridgeshied back from Edmund’s glare, his words coming faster now. “She is the bastard child ofLord Henry Tynham and a whore. Reynolds was a distant childless aunt of hers, whosename she took to move in respectable society as a governess.”

Shock jolted through Edmund, but it was quickly burned away by rage. He grabbed afistful of the front of Selfridge’s finely tailored frock coat. “How dare ye make such aninquiry?” he snarled. “And under the pretense of Clarissa and my interests?”

“Think of the scandal, my lord,” Selfridge replied, trying to lean back out of Edmund’sgrasp. “You don’t want even more rumors about this place—and your sister—circulating,do you? I thought it best for Miss Reynolds to excuse herself without causing a sce—”

“So ye told her to leave?”“She has clouded your judgment,” Selfridge said. “You were so close to seeing the

right of my plan, but then she came along and changed your mind.”Fury so fierce that it blurred Edmund’s vision flooded him at that. He strode forward,

driving Selfridge back by the front of his coat until Selfridge bumped into the stone wall.“I understand now,” Edmund said, his voice deadly soft. “Ye wanted to be rid of Miss

Reynolds so that I would fall so behind on running the estate that I’d be forced to clearmy lands for sheep. But ye have the wrong of Miss Reynolds. She didnae convince me no’to go along with yer scheme. I have always found it the most detestable, black-hearted,vile idea. I am only glad that I can tell ye once and for all that I will never accept yerploy. Now ye willnae have any further reason to visit Kinfallon Castle.”

“But Lord Kinfallon,” Selfridge protested, flushing pink, “it is a good plan. Think of allthe money to be made. And by all accounts, it is a benevolent act to move thesebarbarous crofters off the land. It civilizes them. They actually prefer it once they—”

Edmund cocked his fist and drove it into Selfridge’s face with all his strength.“How dare ye!” he roared again. “Ye think my sister prefers her life now? Thanks to

ye, innocents have died, and all to line yer pockets. I willnae let ye destroy Thea as well.”Selfridge lifted a hand to his bleeding nose and stared at his reddened fingertips,

stunned. “You would pass up all this land’s potential just for your mad sister and that

lying tart?”It took all of Edmund’s strength, but he forced himself to step back from Selfridge

instead of beating him to porridge with his bare hands.“Get. Out.” He pointed to the study door. “And if ye ever set foot on Kinfallon lands

again, I swear I’ll kill ye for trespassing.”Selfridge slid from the wall and scuttled around Edmund, giving him a wide berth.

Edmund followed him out of the study and watched as he crossed the great hall and tothe keep’s door. Selfridge stood awkwardly in the snow for a moment as his horse wasbrought from the stables, then he mounted, but instead of taking the winding roadleading back to the village, he cut due east in the most direct path off Kinfallon lands.

When the swirling snow at last swallowed the repulsive sight of the man, Edmundturned back into the keep. “Mrs. MacDuffy!” he bellowed.

The housekeeper scurried out from the kitchens, her hands balled in her apron.“Where is Miss Reynolds?”Mrs. MacDuffy’s gray-brown eyebrows drew together and up. “That was the other

matter I wished to tell ye of, my lord. She left.”“When?” he demanded. “And in which direction did she go?”“Only a quarter of an hour before ye returned, my lord,” the housekeeper replied

hurriedly. “She headed down the road toward the village—on foot.”Cursing, he spun away and charged for the door. Thea had been out in this snowstorm

for more than a half an hour now, accounting for the time he’d spent with Selfridge.He plowed toward the stables and ordered his horse saddled once more, all the while

praying that he would not be too late.

“Thea!” Edmund swung his head back and forth, searching for any sign of her through thethick, dense swirls of snowflakes. “Thea!” he called again, but the snow seemed toswallow his voice.

The deep banks and drifts covering the road forced him to go slow or risk laming hishorse. Still, the wild urge to gallop head-first into the storm clutched at his heart. Shewas out here somewhere. She must be.

Ahead, he spotted a black smudge against the sea of white. He spurred his horse untilthe dark-clad figure was only a few yards away. Then he leapt from the saddle, sinkingnearly to his knees in the snow.

“Thea!”She turned then, and his breath left him. Aye, she was alive, but her nose was tipped

red, as were her eyes. She’d been crying, he realized.He plowed to her side. “Are ye well, lass?”“Y-yes,” she mumbled through chattering teeth. Then she dipped her head so that her

bonnet blocked her face. “I am s-sorry to have given you cause to ride out in the storm,my lord. The inn isn’t far now. I’ll make it just fine.”

“Ye arenae going anywhere.”

When her head snapped up and she fixed him with wide, confused eyes, he realizedhis blunt words made him sound like a bloody barbarian, as he had the first night he’dmet her.

“I spoke with Selfridge,” he began again.Her pale eyes seemed to contract with pain. “Then you know the truth about me.”“Nay,” he replied, “I imagine there is still a great deal more to learn about ye.”She must have mistook his softly spoken words for an indictment, for her brows drew

together and up in desperation. “My father would not acknowledge me as his legitimatechild, but he allowed me to grow up in his household—as a servant. I worked in thekitchens, then as an assistant to the nursemaid who looked after my legitimate half-siblings. I began sitting in with them once they were old enough for a nursery governess.Ostensibly, I was there to assist the governess, Miss Milton, with whatever she mightneed—I had three half-siblings born within a year of each other, and they were a handful.But all the while I helped her, I was gaining my own education as well.”

She pulled in a breath and let it go slowly in a white puff of mist. “I learned not onlymy numbers and figures, geography, natural history, and more from Miss Milton, but alsohow to be a governess. When I turned eighteen, my father’s wife wished for me to besent away from the household, but because she was grateful for all my care with herchildren, she provided a letter of reference that made it seem as though I had been thefamily’s governess for several years—which I had, at Miss Milton’s side. That letter helpedme secure employment with the Braxtons—and leave London, where rumors had begunspreading about me.”

Realization dawned as Edmund took in Thea’s words. “That explains why ye had somuch experience for one so young,” he said.

“Yes,” she murmured, dropping her gaze. “Though I earned that experience, it wasstill a deception of sorts, along with my name. I…I hope Mr. Selfridge keeps his word anddoesn’t mention any of this beyond Kinfallon’s walls. He promised that if I went quietly,he would not bring scandal to you or Lady Clarissa.”

Involuntarily, Edmund’s hands clenched at his sides. “I sent Selfridge off my land witha broken nose and a promise to kill him if he ever returned.”

Thea’s eyes flew up to his. “You what?”“Thea.” He stepped closer, until the frosty puffs of their breaths mingled. “Selfridge

told me a wee sliver about your origins, aye, but he didnae tell me anything of yercharacter, or yer strength, or yer heart. I dinnae give a damn about yer past. It has madeye the woman ye are—the woman I love.”

She pulled in a sharp breath, her eyes sheening with confused emotion. Gently, hecupped her hands in his and drew them to his mouth, blowing warmth onto them. Thenhe lowered himself to one knee in the snow, still holding both her hands in his.

“I spoke to ye of a chain earlier, of being one link between the past and the future. Ionce feared I would destroy everything that had come before—until ye. Ye savedeverything my ancestors fought for, and now I want us to build the future—together. Iwant to give the stewardship of this place to our children, and our children’s children. Willye join yer heart, yer life, yer future, with mine, Thea? Will ye marry me?”

Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks as she gazed down at him, yet her eyeswere bright and sure. “Yes,” she whispered. “Forever yes.”

T

E P I L O G U E

Yule, January 6, 1839

hea’s Christmas feast was much enjoyed at the castle, as was the celebration ofHogmanay. Just as Edmund had said, he, his sister, Thea, and even Mrs. MacDuffy

and the other members of the staff joined together for a rousing singing of “Auld LangSyne,” all of them standing cross-armed in a circle in the great hall. Edmund performedthe first-footing ceremony, which Thea found fascinating. As a handsome, dark-headedman, his crossing over the castle’s threshold at midnight of the new year promised tobring a year full of luck and plentitude. The ancient custom seemed suited to themedieval castle and the simple yet bold way of life here in the Highlands.

This morning, Thea was getting yet another education in the holiday traditions of theScots.

She’d been kept up all night so that at the stroke of midnight, she and the otherscould dine first thing on sowens, a porridge sweetened with treacle, by candlelight.

Now, as they were finishing their tea, a rumbling of voices rose outside the keep.“The beggars!” Lady Clarissa cried, snatching up her doll and nutcracker from the

table and bolting from her chair to the door.Edmund grinned. “Come, sweeting,” he said, motioning Thea after his sister.As Clarissa pulled open the door, weak morning sunlight spilled into the great hall—

along with a booming chorus of male voices. They were singing a carol about an “auldwoman” in need of grain for the winter. Each strapping farmer or village lad wore acanvas sack draped over one shoulder.

Thea stood with Clarissa and Edmund in the doorway until the men concluded theirsong with a robust flourish. Several women, whom Thea realized belatedly had beenstanding behind the men, rushed forward and planted lusty kisses on the singers’ mouths.

“We dinnae even need yer English mistletoe in the Highlands,” Edmund murmuredinto her ear, causing a blush to rise to her cheeks.

Edmund stepped in amongst the crowd and a ripple of excitement spread throughthose gathered.

“Do ye have yer cups, men?”“Aye!” was the unanimous reply as they produced wooden cups from pockets and

sporrans.Thea watched as Edmund went to the cupboard inside and removed a large, full bottle

of whisky. Striding back to the doorway, he extended the bottle to her.“Ye are to be mistress of this keep,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “Which means

it is yer duty to dole out the whisky.”The gathered men stomped the frozen ground and murmured in anticipation.Hesitantly, Thea took the heavy bottle and approached the first man. She slowly filled

his cup nearly to the top.“The lass may be English,” the man said loudly over his shoulder to the others, “but

she isnae afraid to pour more than a wee dram on Yule!”This was met with roars of approval and laughter.“That lass is soon to be Lady Thea, Countess of Kinfallon to ye!” Edmund shouted

good-naturedly over the ruckus, only drawing more whoops and merriment. Edmund hadwished for the wedding to happen as soon as possible, but the snowstorms over the lastweek had delayed their plans. Now that the snow was melting at last, Thea hoped tomake Edmund’s words true within the fortnight.

Her cheeks warming at the thought, Thea moved amongst the men, filling their cupsand accepting their bobbing heads and bows of thanks.

When all the cups were full and the bottle nearly empty, she went back to the keep’swide doorway, where Edmund and Clarissa stood.

“And now,” Edmund said, motioning to one of the servants in the kitchen, “it is time tomake sure no ‘auld woman’ goes hungry this winter.”

The servant dragged out an enormous sack of grain, bringing it to the doorway. Thetop had already been opened and a large metal scoop rested inside.

Edmund bent to her ear and spoke softly. “As the lady of the household, ye are to putgrain in each man’s sack, then the farmers and villagers will redistribute it to those inneed so that no one will suffer in the cold months,” he said.

The men fell in line, lifting the canvas sacks from their shoulders and holding themopen to her with warm smiles on their faces.

Just as she had with the whisky, Thea doled out the grain, making sure to heap eachscoop high, much to the pleasure of those gathered.

When the last of the grain had been distributed, the men took up another merry tuneas they began to disperse to their homes, the women trailing after them.

“Ye did well, sweeting,” Edmund said as they closed the keep’s door against the chillyair and returned to the table.

“We havenae celebrated Yule since the fire,” Clarissa murmured, taking her seat. Shecarefully set both the doll and the nutcracker on the table, but then she turned herattention back to Thea and Edmund. “It was good.”

The nutcracker bore a small cloth bandage around his head where Edmund hadrepaired his jaw, yet Clarissa said he would not need it soon, for he would be healed.Clarissa, too, seemed to be healing, for though she continued to grieve, she was slowlyrejoining the world outside her chamber.

“Aye,” Edmund replied, squeezing his sister’s hand and giving her a soft smile.

“Are there to be more thirsty carolers and midnight porridges to eat, or might I steal abit of sleep?” Thea asked, stifling a contented yawn behind her hand.

“Nay, that was it—well, until next year,” Edmund said. “And the year after that, andthe year after that…”

Despite her sleepiness, Thea’s insides warmed and roused at that. Her future withEdmund lay bright and beautiful before her, just like the dazzling blankets of snowspreading out over the landscape surrounding the castle.

“Indeed,” she murmured, holding his gaze with hers and letting the love filling herheart shine in her eyes. “I cannot wait.”

The End

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A U T H O R ’ S N O T E

One of my favorite things about writing historical romance is getting to share a bit moreabout all the interesting historical tidbits I came across while doing research with you,lovely readers.

This story was inspired by the tale of The Nutcracker, both the original story writtenby E. T. A. Hoffmann (“The Nutcracker and the Mouse King,” written in 1816) and theballet, first performed in 1892. I wondered what would happen if Clara (Marie in theoriginal story) and her brother Fritz, who were seven and eight in the 1816 version,respectively, grew to adulthood. Clara falls in love with a nutcracker doll and is swept intoa world of imagination. But on the outside, might that be mistaken for the workings of anunwell mind? I aged Clara (Clarissa in my story) and Fritz (Edmund) twenty-two years, tothe year 1838, sent Edmund a governess to help with his sister, and set them all down inthe Scottish Highlands to see what would happen!

While portraying Clarissa’s mental state, I have tried to be both sensitive to the factthat mental health is an extremely personal and often challenging contemporary issue,while also attemping to fairly portray how mental illnesses were thought of and treated inthe nineteenth century. As understandings of the brain and psychology expanded duringthat time, a wide array of both diagnoses and treatments were promoted. Women werethought to be particularly susceptible to hysteria, which could cover everything from whatwe’d now call post-partum depression to bipolar disorder to reading too much. Often, acommon theme in the diagnosis of women with a mental disorder involved focusing onwomen who didn’t conform to society’s expectations of them—women who wereoutspoken, or not “motherly” enough, or who were simply struggling to cope withsociety’s pressures.

In my research, I came across a nineteenth-century document that listed the variedreasons a woman could suffer “mental disorder,” which included the climate of India,overworking, and the loss of a husband or child, among others (the last of which inspiredClarissa’s backstory for the purposes of this book). Some women were committed toasylums, where they were often abused with shock therapy, enemas, and isolation.Others would spend time in an asylum or sanatorium, receive treatment for severalweeks, months, or even years, and leave “cured” enough to rejoin their lives and families.You can imagine with such an incredibly broad definition of mental illness, a wide range

of symptoms demonstrated by patients, wildly varying treatments, and a gamut ofoutcomes for different women, mental health was a thorny issue in the nineteenthcentury, with some women being caused harm as well as others finding relief.

The MacLainn clan and Kinfallon Castle are fictitious, but the issues facing theHighlands at this time, particularly the Clearances, are another important historical pointthat provided context for my story. The Clearances, or the effort to remove farmers andreplace them with Blackface or Cheviot sheep, took place mainly in the first half of thenineteenth century. Because sheep grazing was more profitable than farming, landownerson many estates dislocated tenants from traditionally common lands and moved them topoor, unworkable regions. Many farmers were relocated to coastal lands, where theywere forced to become fishermen or kelpers (collecting kelp/seaweed to burn or sell).

One of the most egregious and damaging instances of the Clearances took place onSutherland lands. The Countess of Sutherland, looking to make a greater profit from herestate, hired a man named Patrick Sellar (whom I have reimagined as Perry Selfridge inthis story) to lead the scheme of clearance. Sellar was a lawyer who became the factor(estate manager) for the Countess of Sutherland, who controlled about 1.5 million acresof land in Scotland—the largest private estate in Europe at the time.

Under Sellar’s scheme and at the Countess’s urging, roughly fifteen thousand peoplewere dislocated from their homes between 1811 and 1821. Many of the farmers beingdisplaced were given no time to pack their things or even evacuate their crofts. One eye-witness recounts a night in 1816 when he observed two hundred and fifty houses aflameto force the farmers to leave, some with people still inside. He said the countrysideburned for six days, until nothing was left of either the land or the farmers’ homes.

On June 13, 1814, Sellar participated in the forced removal of a man named WilliamChisholm and his wife from their croft. The croft’s roof was set on fire, but William’smother-in-law was still inside. Her daughter rescued her, but she died five days later.Sellar was put on trial for arson and culpable homicide, but he was acquitted.

For their part, Sellar and the Countess of Sutherland (and many others) believed thatthe Clearances were a good thing. They argued that it was necessary to modernize theirland management techniques by shifting from farming to grazing. They also claimed thatby forcing farmers onto smaller and far inferior plots of land by the coast, they wouldbecome more industrious and frugal (ignoring the fact that most farmers already lived inabject poverty). Perhaps most disturbing was Sellar’s argument, which he gave in anaccount after the fact, that it was a “benevolent act” to displace the “barbarousHighlanders” from their land, claiming that they would be forced to “apply themselves toindustry, educate their children, and advance in civilisation.” Sadly, many sufferedbecause of the Countess and Sellar’s warped views on their own people.

On a slightly lighter note, I had great fun incorporating The Mysteries of Udolpho, thegreat gothic novel by Ann Radcliff, into this story. The quotes I used come directly fromthat novel, which is part of the public domain. Gothic and Romantic novels like Radcliff’swere wildly popular, yet they were thought to be terribly scandalous and inappropriate forproper young women to read (sound familiar, romance readers?).

Regarding Highland celebrations of Christmas (and Hogmanay and Yule) in the 1830s,

I found a wonderful account called “Christmas in Scotland” written in 1833 by AndrewHalliday. In it, he explains the traditions of New Year’s Day (Hogmanay) and Yule,observed on January 6th (or Twelfth-day), including carolling, eating sowens, and the ladyof the house handing out both whisky and grain to the “beggars” singing at her door. Itwas not the custom in England or Scotland to bring an entire tree into the house until the1840s (when Queen Victoria borrowed the tradition from her German husband, Albert),but pine boughs and holly decorations date all the way back to the Vikings’ arrival inScotland!

Thank you for journeying back in time with me for this romantic tale!

T H A N K Y O U !

Thank you for taking the time to read To Kiss a Governess (A Highland ChristmasNovella)!

And thank you in advance for sharing your enjoyment of this book (or my other books)with fellow readers by leaving a review on Amazon. Long or short, detailed or to thepoint, I read all reviews and greatly appreciate you for writing one!

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B O O K S B Y E M M A P R I N C E

Highland Bodyguards Series:

The Lady’s Protector (Book 1)

Heart’s Thief (Book 2)

A Warrior’s Pledge (Book 3)

Claimed by the Bounty Hunter (Book 4)

A Highland Betrothal (Novella, Book 4.5)

The Promise of a Highlander (Book 5)

The Bastard Laird’s Bride (Book 6)

Surrender to the Scot (Book 7)

Book 8 (Vivienne and Kieran’s story) coming mid-2018!

The Sinclair Brothers Trilogy:

Highlander’s Ransom (Book 1)

Highlander’s Redemption (Book 2)

Highlander’s Return (Bonus Novella, Book 2.5)

Highlander’s Reckoning (Book 3)

Viking Lore Series:

Enthralled (Viking Lore, Book 1)

Shieldmaiden’s Revenge (Viking Lore, Book 2)

The Bride Prize (Viking Lore, Book 2.5)

Desire’s Hostage (Viking Lore, Book 3)

Thor’s Wolf (Viking Lore, Book 3.5)—a Kindle Worlds novella

Other Books:

Wish upon a Winter Solstice (A Highland Holiday Novella)

To Kiss a Governess (A Highland Christmas Novella)

TEASERS FOR EMMA PRINCE’S BOOKS

The Sinclair Brothers Trilogy

Go back to where it all began—with Robert and Alwin’s story in Highlander’s Ransom,Book One of the Sinclair Brothers Trilogy. Available now on Amazon!

He was out for revenge…

Laird Robert Sinclair will stop at nothing to exact revenge on Lord Raef Warren, theEnglish scoundrel who brought war to his doorstep and razed his lands and people.Leaving his clan in the Highlands to conduct covert attacks in the Borderlands, Robertlives to be a thorn in Warren’s side. So when he finds a beautiful English lass on her way

to marry Warren, he whisks her away to the Highlands with a plan to ransom her back toher dastardly fiancé.

She would not be controlled…

Lady Alwin Hewett had no idea when she left her father’s manor to marry a man she’dnever met that she would instead be kidnapped by a Highland rogue out for vengeance.But she refuses to be a pawn in any man’s game. So when she learns that Robert has hadthem secretly wed, she will stop at nothing to regain her freedom. But her heart mayhave other plans…

Continue reading

Highland Bodyguards Series

The Lady’s Protector, the thrilling start to the Highland Bodyguards series, is availablenow on Amazon!

The Battle of Bannockburn may be over, but the war is far from won.

Her Protector…

Ansel Sutherland is charged with a mission from King Robert the Bruce to protect theillegitimate son of a powerful English Earl. Though Ansel bristles at aiding an Englishman,the nature of the war for Scottish independence is changing, and he is honor-bound toserve as a bodyguard. He arrives in England to fulfill his assignment, only to meet thebeautiful but secretive Lady Isolda, who refuses to tell him where his ward is. When amysterious attacker threatens Isolda’s life, Ansel realizes he is the only thing standingbetween her and deadly peril.

His Lady…

Lady Isolda harbors dark secrets—secrets she refuses to reveal to the rugged Highlandrogue who arrives at her castle demanding answers. But Ansel’s dark eyes cut through allher defenses, threatening to undo her resolve. To protect her past, she cannot submit tothe white-hot desire that burns between them. As the threat to her life spirals out ofcontrol, she has no choice but to trust Ansel to whisk her to safety deep in the heart ofthe Highlands…

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Viking Lore Series

Step into the lush, daring world of the Vikings with Enthralled (Viking Lore, Book 1)!

He is bound by honor…

Eirik is eager to plunder the treasures of the fabled lands to the west in order to securethe future of his village. The one thing he swears never to do is claim possession overanother human being. But when he journeys across the North Sea to raid the holy housesof Northumbria, he encounters a dark-haired beauty, Laurel, who stirs him like no other.

When his cruel cousin tries to take Laurel for himself, Eirik breaks his oath in an attemptto protect her. He claims her as his thrall. But can he claim her heart, or will Laurel fallprey to the devious schemes of his enemies?

She has the heart of a warrior…

Life as an orphan at Whitby Abbey hasn’t been easy, but Laurel refuses to be bested bythe backbreaking work and lecherous advances she must endure. When Viking raidersstorm the abbey and take her captive, her strength may finally fail her—especially whenshe must face her fear of water at every turn. But under Eirik’s gentle protection, shediscovers a deeper bravery within herself—and a yearning for her golden-haired captorthat she shouldn’t harbor. Torn between securing her freedom or giving herself to herViking master, will fate decide for her—and rip them apart forever?

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A B O U T T H E A U T H O R

Emma Prince is the Bestselling and Amazon All-Star Author of steamy historical romancesjam-packed with adventure, conflict, and of course love!

Emma grew up in drizzly Seattle, but traded her rain boots for sunglasses when sheand her husband moved to the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada. Emma spent severalyears in academia, both as a graduate student and an instructor of college-level Englishand Humanities courses. She always savored her “fun books”—normally historicalromances—on breaks or vacations. But as she began looking for the next chapter in her

life, she wondered if perhaps her passion could turn into a career. Ever since then, she'sbeen reading and writing books that celebrate happily ever afters!

Visit Emma's website, www.EmmaPrinceBooks.com, for updates on new books, futureprojects, her newsletter sign-up, book extras, and more!

You can follow Emma on Twitter at: @EmmaPrinceBooks.Or join her on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/EmmaPrinceBooks.