A Rose in the Highlands Page 10

  Evelyn kept his stare without blinking. He’d never met a more determined female. Despite her soft, womanly form and sweet smell, the lass was as sharp and forceful with her dictates as a hardened warrior was with his sword.

  “Aye,” he finally said, weary of the battle. She smiled and nodded. “Don’t forget your slipper.” He snatched it off the ground.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, taking it to then slip out the door, giving him one last smile. The woman was happy, because she didn’t realize something that Grey knew. He may have let her win this skirmish, but the war was far from over.

  Chapter Nine

  “Have you ever seen a man naked before?” Evelyn asked. She stood opposite Scarlet in what was becoming the school library as they continued to uncrate books.

  Scarlet’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

  Evelyn glanced around the empty room and lowered her voice. “Sculpture, certainly, but the massive form of David didn’t have him…aroused.” She said the word as a hushed whisper. “Compared to the rest of his size, his member is rather small.”

  “Why, in heavens, are you thinking about aroused men?” Scarlet asked, her brow rising as it did whenever she made some indiscreet remark.

  Evelyn felt her face warm, and she indicated the space around them. “This was Grey’s room. He said that he slept naked.” She shrugged. “And I saw him wrapped in a loose plaid last night on his way back from bathing, I suppose.”

  “Was he aroused?”

  “Scar,” Evelyn said, feeling the redness of her face rage until she was certain her skin had turned purple and blistered. She placed her cool palm on one cheek. “How would I know? I’m just saying, I don’t think Michelangelo sculpted a man in…well, all his grandness.” She thought of the dream she’d had of Grey when she’d first arrived. He’d sported a small male member like that of Michelangelo’s sculpture, but in reality, Grey’s male organ was much more.

  Laughter exploded out of Scarlet, the first Evelyn had heard in weeks, not since they’d left London. “All his grandness?”

  Evelyn couldn’t help but smile, firstly because the whole conversation was uproarious, and secondly because her sister seemed like her old self for the moment.

  “I think,” Scarlet said as she laid the book she’d been dusting on a stack to be shelved. “If artists were to paint and sculpt men in all their grandness, it would likely make women swoon.”

  Swoon? That hadn’t been what Evelyn had felt at all when Grey dropped his plaid to scare her out of his new room. She’d felt hot, with a giddy stomach, and an ache had blossomed within her body that had made her nipples harden and her pulse fly.

  “Perhaps it wouldn’t be good to show it in public,” Evelyn said. Even if women didn’t swoon, it would be obscene to make women feel such fire before everyone.

  Scarlet pressed against her stomach as she laughed. “Ladies dropping all over the place.”

  “Or growing hot with passion,” Evelyn said, smiling.

  “Who is growing hot with passion?” Alana asked at the doorway. She stood with Kirstin, both of them wide-eyed.

  Evelyn spun toward them. “No one.”

  “Every female,” Scarlet said. “If Michelangelo would have sculpted David as inflamed and passionate.” She held up a sketched picture of David in one of the art tomes that their father had commissioned.

  The ladies walked in to study the sketch. “This man is seen like this?” Kirstin asked, apparently not familiar with the famous sculpture.

  “Yes,” Evelyn answered. “He is sculpted out of six tons of marble to represent David from the Bible. He stands seventeen feet tall at the entrance of Piazza della Signoria in Florence, Italy.”

  “But he has such a wee member,” Alana said.

  Kirstin held her hands before her as if measuring the length of a newborn baby. “But if the statue is seventeen feet tall, his jack must be at least this big.”

  Alana tittered. “Still, it’s mighty wee for the poor fellow. The artist captured the man in marble at his weakest.”

  “I don’t know of any classical sculptures with erect penises,” Scarlet said. All four of them bent over the book.

  Alana turned her face to Kirstin. “Maybe this Michelangelo had a tiny frigger, so he gave David one.”

  “Surely, that would be a sin to give King David, from the bible, a wee jack,” Kirstin said.

  Alana tsked. “He may have gone straight to hell for doing it, if King David was a man after God’s own heart. That’s what the priest in Edinburgh told me. So, it would be like giving God a small one.”

  Evelyn glanced at her sister. Scarlet held a finger tightly over her lips as if trying to cage wild laughter. Scarlet’s eyes sparked with merriment as she opened her mouth. “Does God even have a penis?”

  Evelyn rolled her eyes heavenward. “I don’t think Michelangelo would have carved his own size,” Evelyn said, a hand to her forehead. This wasn’t how she envisioned teaching about classical sculpture. “And I’m sure God wouldn’t send a man to hell for such a thing.”

  “Oh look,” Kirstin said, turning the page. She pointed to a carving representing a cloven-footed beast with an exceedingly tall member. Its caption named it a hated god in Greek mythology, whom Hera cursed with impotence but an always erect penis.

  “Good God,” Scarlet said.

  “What do the words underneath call him?” Alana asked.

  This would be an opportunity for Evelyn to point out the importance of being able to read, but the topic had steered so off course that she didn’t feel up to proving the worth of education.

  “He’s certainly fierce and strong,” Alana said.

  “And he has the proud jack of a randy stallion,” Kirstin said.

  “I don’t know what picture has ye all enthralled, but I’d say it’s obviously that of a Highlander,” said a deep, familiar voice at the doorway. Alana yelped as all four women snapped upright, turning to see Grey standing there next to his main man, Hamish. Grey’s sideways grin was directed at Evelyn.

  “Didn’t mean to startle ye ladies,” Hamish said and snorted on a laugh. “What are ye studying so intently?”

  Evelyn slammed the book shut. “Art. ’Tis one of the subjects to which women should be exposed.” Kirstin and Alana nodded quickly to back up her statement. Without thought, Evelyn’s gaze dropped to the front of Grey’s kilt. A vivid memory of him standing bare before her brought a flush to her cheeks, and she raised her glance up immediately.

  “I’m not certain I want my sister learning about naked Scotsmen,” Grey said, though his voice held a note of teasing. Had he seen her downward glance?

  Evelyn cleared her throat, looking at the other women. Kirstin’s gaze seemed to be aimed quite a bit lower than Grey’s face, making Evelyn frown. “It was a piece of Greek sculpture depicting a hated god, not a Scotsman.” She tipped her head and stepped closer to him, blocking Kirstin’s improper view. “Did you want something?” she asked.

  “Aye,” Grey said, keeping her gaze. “Hamish and his men will be working on the top two floors today, so ye need to stay on this level or below.”

  Hamish pointed over his shoulder. “We will be fixing any problems with the rooms up there. To spruce them up for your students.” He nodded, his mouth in a full smile that was somewhat lost in the thick beard engulfing his lips, chin, and neck.

  Evelyn nodded, a lightness filling her. That Grey would order his men to help transform the castle into a school was a large gesture. “Thank you.” Her mouth relaxed into a sincere smile. “That would be wonderful.”

  Grey’s grin faded, and he gave a brief nod before turning on his heel to leave.

  “My room is fine,” Scarlet called after them.

  “As is mine,” Evelyn said.

  Grey raised his hand to indicate that he’d heard but didn’t turn around. Perhaps agreeing to help her with the school was hard on his masculine confidence as chief. Guilt tugged at her heart. A chief without a castle must feel
bereft. If she didn’t truly think that the Highland Roses School would be wonderful for the community, she’d consider writing to Nathaniel to ask him to give the castle back to Grey and his family. She’d seen no sign of treason within the Campbell clan. It truly was a mess.

  “Let’s finish setting up this room,” Evelyn said. “Then we can move on to a classroom.”

  “Like my old room?” Alana asked, a frown quickly turning her lips.

  “Thank you for moving,” Evelyn said.

  “I didn’t think I had a choice.”

  “Ye didn’t,” Kirstin chimed in, a shadow of mutiny crossing her face.

  Evelyn folded her hands before her and met Alana’s glare. “Students and teachers will sleep on the top two floors, leaving these larger rooms open for classrooms to benefit all.” She indicated the large room that was shaping up into a fine library. “Don’t you agree that this is better as a library for all to use than a bedchamber for one man?” She didn’t wait for the agreement that she may never get. “The same is for your old room, Alana. And, since it was yours, I thought you could decide what classes should be taught within its walls.”

  Alana’s frown relaxed into a blank expression. “I can choose?”

  Evelyn nodded and hurried to the other table. She held up a leaflet that she’d had printed in Lincoln, explaining the types of learning her school would teach. She cleared her throat. “Reading, writing, mathematical figuring, etiquette, embroidery, music—”

  “And art,” Scarlet said, making Kirstin snort on a laugh.

  “Yes, art and trades.” Evelyn set the paper down. “Such as tapestry making, weaving, concocting herbal cures, or performing midwifery.”

  “You forgot our addition,” Scarlet said, snatching up a pen that was filled with ink. She walked over to the leaflet and scratched across the bottom. “How to geld a man in ten seconds.”

  “Scarlet,” Evelyn said, snatching the paper. She frowned at her grinning sister but couldn’t keep it. It had been too long since Scarlet joked. She glanced down at her script and laughed. “She wrote self-defense.”

  “If self-defense means learning how to geld a man who’s bent on evil things,” Kirstin said, “then I’ll be your first student.”

  “And me,” Alana said. “I think I’d like my room to be for that self-defense, gelding class.”

  “No one is going to learn to geld a man,” Evelyn said with a sigh. “But we will learn how to defend ourselves.”

  “To the death,” Scarlet said.

  “Whose death?” Kirstin asked. “My death or the evil fellow’s death?”

  “I suppose either when it comes to combat,” Alana said.

  Evelyn held out her arms as if trying to hold off a flood. She raised her voice to stop all the fast-flying comments and questions. “Grey will come up with a course description,” she said. “And it won’t contain combat for ladies.” All three women looked disappointed. “But,” Evelyn said, meeting Scarlet’s suddenly haunted eyes. “If it comes down to kill or be killed, the goal is for all of my students to survive.”

  …

  Grey climbed the stairs, Hamish chattering behind him. “I swear, the three of them, not your sister, mind ye, but the other three all looked down as if to see your jack through your kilt.” He laughed heartily. “I have a mind to go see what was in that book.”

  Ignoring the man, Grey climbed past the third floor. The anger at being evicted first from his castle and then from the chief’s room felt heavy in his chest, but something else mixed with it, making his gut feel a bit hollow. Guilt? Bloody hell not!

  “Even modest and reserved Lady Evelyn peeked,” Hamish said.

  He cut his gaze to Hamish as they reached the top, where four of his warriors were working down at his room. “Ye think Evelyn Worthington is prudish?” He thought of the way she’d leaped onto his bed in her sleeping smock and didn’t hide her lush breasts, how her ankles twisted in his sheets, her smock rising to her knees. How she’d viewed his hard, naked self without swooning or screaming.

  “Well, now.” Hamish tugged his beard. “I didn’t say prudish, just modest. And och, bloody lovely, for certain. If she stays in the Highlands, and doesn’t scare off the lads, one will marry her soon enough.”

  Marry her? Grey frowned. “Have any of the men said they wanted to wed a Sassenach?” Grey asked.

  “Wed?” Hamish screwed up his mouth. “Nay. But bed? Aye, plenty of talk about that.”

  Grey turned on Hamish, his jaw rigid. “Ye will put an end to those comments. Is that clear?”

  He gave a slow nod and pinched his lips into a tight line. “Mayhap, the lads should move her things into your room up here. Your bed is certainly big enough for two.” Hamish was a friend from childhood, more like a brother than a cousin. The close connection was currently saving the man’s nose.

  Grey’s brows lowered, but he ignored the comment. “And if she asks any of the men to do something for her to help the school, tell them to…look helpful but have them do whatever she asks wrong.”

  “Wrong?”

  “Aye, the more difficult things are for her, the quicker she will head back to England.”

  For Grey certainly didn’t need the complication of bedding a straitlaced Sassenach, no matter how sweet she’d left his sheets smelling last night after rolling within them.

  …

  Evelyn arched her back. Lord, she needed to stretch. The five of them: Evelyn, Scarlet, Alana, Molly, and Kirstin had worked alongside Thomas and James to finish shelving the books and setting up the tables for study in the library. They’d flattened Evelyn’s cherished map of the world and tacked it to a board to hang over the hearth. Carpets were brought from other rooms to replace those that had been ruined with smoke.

  Then they’d moved onto cleaning and planning what would be the gymnasium room where students would learn self-defense strategy and movements. She would work the teachings into health education, which many of the schools for gentlemen were incorporating. It was soundly believed that movement, to make the heart beat and blood flow quickly, was helpful for learning and increased overall health and longevity.

  The hearty crew had cleared out the remaining furniture, replacing it with a long bench to sit against a wall, two thick carpets, and two straw-filled ticks to cushion the oak floorboards. Since they weren’t supposed to interfere above, Scarlet and Evelyn would bring in the mirrors that had come wrapped with the books, tomorrow. She would ask Grey if they needed daggers or a sack of grain to play the villain.

  But right now all Evelyn wanted to do was bathe and sleep. Even the lumpy little mattress that she’d been using would be a comfort tonight. Her mind drifted to the plush, large bed that Grey possessed just on the other side of her wall. If her heart hadn’t been pounding with Scarlet at the doorway the night before, she’d surely have fallen asleep wrapped in such luxury.

  She sighed softly. Let the man have his comfort. After all, his home had been burned and taken from him. And he’d ordered his own men away from their constant training and work to make the students’ rooms more habitable. His bed would be his reward, and she would give it to him with a happy, non-envious heart, even as she tossed among her lumps.

  “But first my bath,” she said to the empty room while plucking at the dusty work dress that Kirstin had made. Evelyn frowned as she ran a finger under the high neck where sweat gathered. Neither Kirstin nor Alana had a similar, sack-like gown to work in. She gave a little grunt and washed quickly in the warm water of the wooden tub before the low kitchen fire. Without a lock for the door, she hastened, never fully relaxing, and rinsed the fragrant soap from her limbs and face. Evelyn stood, stepping out to wrap herself in a bathing sheet.

  “Blast,” she whispered as she realized that there was no clean smock left for her, only a thin linen robe. “I’m not putting that back on,” she said to the sack dress and shrugged into the robe, tying it around her waist. The dampness of her skin soaked into it, and she plucked at the fabr
ic so that it wouldn’t stick to her breasts. “Lord help me, I’m a lewd giglot,” she said with a huff, grabbing up the second, still dry, bathing sheet to use as a drape around her shoulders.

  Finlarig was silent as she climbed the fifty-three uneven steps to the fourth floor with her single candle in hand. She paused to catch her breath. Yes, the health education would be good for them all, building their endurance. All the sconces were doused for the night, and Evelyn padded in her slippers down the corridor to her room. As she’d always done at Hollings Estate, she counted out her footsteps. Knowing the measure of where needed places were in one’s home made moving around at night, without a candle, easier.

  “…Fourteen, fifteen…” Evelyn whispered her counts so softly that she barely heard herself. “Twenty-one, twenty—” She stopped, holding her candle up before her as she stared at the large, blank wall, the wall where her door used to sit.

  Chapter Ten

  “Good God,” she breathed and glanced behind her at the window that sat opposite where her door used to be. It was still there. The corridor was lined with opposing windows, yet her door was…missing. Reaching forward to touch the space that had contained her oaken door just that morning, Evelyn felt the dampness of fresh plaster. Someone had sealed up her room.

  “Blast it, Grey Campbell,” she said, raising her voice in a hissing whisper. Before she could formulate a plan of action, Grey’s door opened farther down.

  He leaned his head out. “Did I hear my name? Surely the matron of a lady’s school wouldn’t be cursing out in the hall at night.” His gaze dropped along her form, and his eyebrow rose. “In nothing but a damp sheet.”

  Anger exploded inside Evelyn, and it was all she could do not to stomp her way down to Grey. Instead she pressed her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth as she trod lightly toward him. “I am in my robe,” she said without parting her teeth. “And yes, I curse the one who apparently stole my door today while I worked below.”