Landing a Laird (9 page)

Oh, if only it were Ainsely.  But, he didn’t have a Scottish accent or brogue, and his title was neither Scottish, nor did his last name have a Scottish ring.  If it were McBaxter or MacBaxter, or McAnything, it would be different.  It was a shame too.  Moira could see herself with Ainsely for the rest of her life. Though on second thought, she could easily fall in love with him. So it was best he wasn’t a Scot. After all, her mother warned that love led to emptiness and if one’s heart remained protected, it couldn’t be disappointed.  Though her mother was wrong about most things, Moira could not dismiss this warning. Not when it was something she would have to live with for the rest of her life.

 

If he were wise, Gideon would have gone to Hearne.  Instead, he found himself on the stoop outside the Hearne home. Oddly, this was the family residence, so why didn’t the earl live here?

It was none of his concern.  Gideon lifted his cane and knocked on the door.  A stodgy butler opened and peered down at him.  Rather intimidating, given Gideon was not a small man.  He handed his card over to the servant. “Is Lady Moira receiving callers today?”

The man took the card, squinted to read the writing, and opened the door further.  Gideon stepped inside the quiet, empty foyer.  

“
One moment please.”

Gideon was left standing while the butler disappeared down the hall.  
What am I doing here?
 

The butler returned a moment later. “Lady Moira will see you.” He turned. “If you will follow me.”

Gideon did as he was bade, clutching the cane in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.  Why such nervousness? This wasn’t the first lady he’d ever called upon in his life, though it may be the last.

He stopped the thought before it could form any further and followed the butler into a blue salon as his name was announced.

Lady Moira rose from the settee and nodded a greeting. “Lord Ainsely. This is a lovely surprise.”

If anyone were surprised, it should be he. What had she done to her once lovely hair?  

“
Calico.”

“
Pardon?” He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“
Calico.”

He looked around and then down toward his ankles for a cat.

“
My hair,” Lady Moira clarified. “I am sure it will soon be all the rage.”

Gideon’s face burned with embarrassment, which had
never
happened to him before.  He should have never shown a reaction to her appearance, but how could he not when faced with such a shocking display?  Gone were the sunrise tresses, replaced by patches of blond, red, and brown. And Lady Moira was correct. Her hair did resemble the calico kitten he once owned as a child.

He cleared his throat. “I do not doubt it for a moment.”  What was he to say?  Was she serious?  Why had she done such a horrible thing to her hair?

Lady Moira giggled.  “You are far too polite, Lord Ainsely.”

He resisted the urge to loosen his cravat.

“
Thankfully the coloring is temporary,” she continued. “I’ve vowed to wash my hair no less than five times a day until my natural color is restored.

Thank goodness
.

A maid entered, followed by a footman who set the set a tea service on the table.  While the footman retreated, the other servant settled into a chair at the back of the room and picked up her sewing.  

“
Please, do sit.” Lady Moira’s smile was radiant as she resumed her seat and reached for the teapot.  Gideon took the seat across from her.

“
Milk, sugar?”

“
Neither, please.”

She poured and handed him a cup before preparing her own, to which she added two spoons of sugar.  After a quick glance at the maid, she added a third.

Her position across from him gave Gideon an ample view of her breasts, or what he could see of them. Since they were no longer as abundant as they were a few days ago, her dress gapped when she leaned forward, yet he couldn’t see what was real and what may have been enhanced at one time.   Why did Lady Moira feel the need to change her appearance? So drastically and so often?

He glanced back up at her face before she caught him looking where he should not.  Though a few remnants of her rash remained, her face didn’t appear to be in the painful state it had been last night.  “You are looking, um, better.”

She graced him with another smile.  “That is one remedy I will not try again.”

“
Remedy?”  He took a sip of his tea.

“
To rid myself of the freckles.”

He choked on the tea and sputtered.  “My pardon.”

Lady Moira handed him a napkin. “Are you quite all right, Lord Ainsely?”

He dabbed at his mouth and set the cup and saucer back on the table.  “Why would you wish to make your freckles disappear?”

“
The same reason my red hair needs to go, and why my bre...mother has assured me that gentlemen don't wish their wives to have such endow...blemishes and coloring.”

Gideon straightened.  He had never heard such rubbish before in his life. Where was Hearne, and why wasn’t he taking the situation in hand?  “Please, Lady Moira, do not change a thing.  You are quite a bonny lass.”

 

Moira paused with the teacup halfway to her lips. Did he just refer to her as a
bonny lass
?  Her eyes narrowed and she placed the cup back in the saucer.  “Lord Ainsely, where is your estate?”

 “
I, um, well—“

“
Do you not know where you live?”  she interrupted.  Her heartbeat increased. Was it possible he was from Scotland?

“
Yorkshire,” he blurted out. “There is an estate in Yorkshire.”

Moira’s heart sank. “Englishmen do not usually refer to ladies as bonny lasses; only Scots. At least I’ve never heard an Englishman say such a thing.”  

“
Well, you, um see… I must have picked up a few of the phrases from my time in the country.”

“
I suppose,” she sighed.  

Ainsely glanced over his shoulder to Beatrice, who by all appearances was engrossed in her stitching.  Moira knew better.  Her maid had a knack for listening to and observing everything around her when others were convinced she wasn’t paying attention.

He turned back to Moira and leaned forward. She shifted toward the table and waited.

“
I have some rather disturbing news.”

Oh dear, what now?

“
There has been another bet,” he whispered.

Moira straightened and grimaced.  “About me?”

“
Yes.  Lord Struthers.”

“
Go on,” Moira encouraged.

“
His estate is in Shropshire.”

Her shoulders fell with the exhaling of her breath.  “We are a week past Easter, and my name has already been in that blasted book three times.”

Ainsely raised his eyebrows at her language.

“
Apologies.  I don’t always mind my tongue.”

The left side of his mouth quirked in half a smile.  At least he didn’t appear overly scandalized by her language.

“
It is quite all right.”  

“
I wonder if there is a record for how many times a lady’s name appears in the book in one Season.”

He grimaced.  “I am not sure that is a goal you should aim for. Most ladies are not listed for flattering reasons.”

“
I know.” Moira settled her hands on the settee on either side of her legs and pushed to stand.  She could have been more graceful, she supposed, but she was almost as comfortable around Ainsely as she was Pippa, Georgie, and Patience.  He was turning into a grand friend.  He didn’t need to come to her this morning and tell her of the bet. He could have gone to Nyle instead, and her brother would have delivered the news.  “I am still no closer to my goal, however.”

Ainsely stood as well, as any polite gentleman would.  “Please, you can be seated. I tend to pace when anxious, and it can be quite uncomfortable for any gentleman in the room.”

He sank back down and watched as she wore a path in the carpet between the settee and the table.

“
Perhaps you can help me?” It had been on her mind to ask, and she was going to suggest it when they next met. Now was as good a time as any, and he had come to her first.

“
How may I be of service?”

“
Help me find my husband.”

He choked. “Excuse me?”  

Moira turned suddenly to assure herself of his health.  In her momentum, her knee banged the table and sent her falling forward.  Ainsely reached out and grabbed her bare forearms to keep her from toppling onto him.  Her skin sizzled at the touch of his ungloved hands. The contact warmed her from the tip of his fingertips to the ends of her toes.  Their skin had never touched before and it was quite, well, not exactly disturbing, but her heart raced and her pulse pounded.  “Goodness!”

 

Goodness indeed
.  Gideon gently gripped Lady Moira’s forearms to keep her from falling on the table.  His fingers burned at the touch of her skin, and his pulse hummed, bringing to life sensations that had lain dormant for far too long. Their eyes locked, their faces merely inches apart. Her lips parted in surprise, eyes wide with shock.  She had to be feeling what he was. If he moved just a few inches, their lips would touch. Her tongue darted out, moistening the lower full, rosy bud.  The rest of his anatomy came alive.  Just one taste.  He leaned forward, a breath away.  She bent toward him.

“
Moira Kirkwood, what are you doing accosting that gentleman?”

Gideon pulled back and stood, supporting Lady Moira until she had her balance, and turned toward the woman who had just shrieked at them.

“
Mother, this is Lord Ainsely—” she focused on Gideon and gestured to her mother “—my lord, the Dowager Countless Hearne.”

“
I apologize for my daughter’s behavior.” The woman rushed toward him.

“
There is nothing to apologize for,” Gideon responded slowly. How much had the woman seen from her angle at the door, which had been to the left of his back?  “Your daughter tripped, and I simply caught her.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed.  “It looked as if she were...”

“
Yes?”  Gideon raised an eyebrow.

“
Never mind.” The woman threw up her hands. “I am sure I was mistaken.”  She slid a glance at her daughter. “At least I hope I was mistaken.”

“
You were, my lady,” the maid piped up from the back corner. “I saw Lady Moira trip, and would have ended up right in the tea service had Lord Ainsely not caught her.”

The dowager countess whipped around. “I will ask if I want your input.”

Gideon cringed at the woman’s tone. No wonder Lady Moira wanted to be far away from her mother.  Lady Moira wasn’t looking at him however, but at the maid and silently mouthing, “Thank you.”