Page 9 of Almost a Countess

Finn eyed her, impressed by herfearlessness in standing up to a stranger. Her jaw, whilepleasingly rounded, still had a granite set to it. And her eyes methis with a no-nonsense stare. He returned her grin. “In that, mylady, ye are correct.”

“I’m not ‘my lady.’” Sheset the tray on the bed, and the smell of a hearty broth replacedthe noisome stench of the smelling salts handily.

“That smells good enoughtae eat.”

“You have me to thank forthat.” The woman handed him a napkin, and when he’d settled thatunder his chin, gave him a large spoon. “Cook was adamant youshould be put on an invalid diet of water toast andtea.”

Finn grimaced, although even thatmeagre fare sounded a feast to him.

“But I told her I believedyou needed some good food and plenty of it.” She laughed and edgedthe tray closer. “So instead, you have beef broth, bread, andcheese. I may have told her that her broth could bring a man backfrom the dead, just for good measure.”

“I am forever in yerdebt.” He dipped the spoon in and took a cautious sip. It was hotand meaty and shot straight to his empty stomach, which growled inappreciation. The savory broth was the first food he’d had in threedays. The last morsel to pass his lips had been a pie he’d filchedfrom a farmhouse as it sat cooling on a windowsill. He’d enjoyedthe gooseberries, although he’d wished it had been a meat pieinstead. Still, he’d been truly grateful to the housewife who’dfilled his belly for two days.

Finn groaned in pleasure and gulpeddown another spoonful of his present feast. And another.

“Wait! You’ll makeyourself sick if you take it so fast.” The woman grabbed his handand stilled the spoon.

Reluctantly, Finn allowed her to takeit. She was right. If he ate too quickly, he’d simply embarrasshimself by casting up his accounts in front of his savior. No wayto repay a kindness. He met her gaze and smiled. “Ye may havespoken truth at that. That broth has brought me back taelife.”

“I’ll convey your thanksto Cook.” She shoved a piece of the country bread into his hand.“Dip this into the broth before you eat it. You’ll go slower thatway, I think.”

Finn gazed into her face and, findinggenuine concern there—something he’d had precious little of fromEnglish faces recently—nodded. “Thank ye…” Och, she’d given him hername, but it escaped him. “Miss…?”

“Miss Harper. DoraHarper.”

“Miss Harper.” Finn madean awkward attempt at a bow. “I am truly in yer debt.”

He dutifully dipped the slice of breadinto the bowl and shoved the dripping end into his mouth. Theflavor exploded on his tongue once more, and he paused briefly tosavor it before dunking the rest of the bread in to sop up as muchbroth as possible. When the bowl was empty, he lay back on thepillows, exhausted but sated for the first time since his nightmarehad begun. “Ye’ve saved my life twice noo, Miss Harper. Andalthough I dinna think I’ll be able tae repay yer kindnesssufficiently in the present, rest assured I will dae sae as soon aspossible.”

Miss Harper’s brows dipped down towardthe bridge of her nose. “I wouldn’t dream of holding you to such anobligation.” She looked at him earnestly. “I couldn’t let a fellowhuman being die in a ditch or have him starve to death before myeyes.” Her smile was warm, gentle, with the right corner of hermouth lifting a little higher than the left. “I am truly glad youseem to be on the way to recovering, Mr.…uh?”

Her question put Finn in a quandary.Dare he tell her his true name? There was peril for her either way,especially as the British soldiers would likely be calling on hershortly. If he embroiled her further in his troubles, he’d berisking her life even more. Still, she had taken him in, and heowed her honesty, at the very least. And deep down, for reasonshe’d rather not admit, he wanted her to know who he actually was.“I am Phineas, a member o’ Clan Macdonald, and the Earl o’Aberfoyle.” He bowed his head. “At yer service, MissHarper.”

His hostess’s eyes widened thennarrowed. “Lord Aberfoyle, is it?” She took up the tray and set iton a nearby table. “A rather distinctive title, is it not? One ayoung lady would surely remember had she heard it in Society. Yet Ihave been out for over a year and have not heard a word about you,my lord.”

Finn crossed his arms over his chest.“I have no’ had occasion tae travel t’ England in several years,Miss Harper. I have remained on my estate near Aberfoyle tendingtae it and my other properties. I’ve had nae need for thefrivolities o’ London Society.” He fixed her with a keen eye. “Noo,had ye traveled t’ Edinburgh in search o’ a husband then we surelywould have met.” He looked her up and down. “A woman o’ yer beautyand intellect would no’ have gone unnoticed by any red-bloodedScotsman within fifty miles.” As he stared into her round blueeyes, Finn’s stomach did a strange flip. “Especially not byme.”

Her cheeks pinkened, like the sun hadsuddenly come out and kissed them. The thought of kissing herflashed though Finn’s mind, and he had to hold hisbreath.

His gaze must’ve spoken volumes toher, for Miss Harper staggered back. “You’re a Scottish laird,then?”

Finn gave a sharp shake of his head.“I’m the thirteenth Earl o’ Aberfoyle, which is a title in thePeerage of Scotland, created in 1603 by the then newly crownedJames I o’ England. Sae I am Lord Aberfoyle, no’ a laird o’ a clan.They’re different, ye may be assured.”

“I see.” With her mouth ina straight line, Miss Harper looked as though what she did seewasn’t at all to her liking. “You are an earl by English decree,yet you eschew English society?”

“As I am no’ one o’ thesixteen Scottish representative peers o’ the House o’ Lords, I havenae good reason tae spend time in London, Miss Harper. The Britishhaving done my family little good in the past and absolutely nonein the present.”

Her brows puckered, making her faceeven more charming. “What do you mean?”

Finn sighed, weighing his options oncemore. Would explaining his family history make Miss Harper moresympathetic to him? She was English through and through, it seemed.Still, he’d chance it. “My father was killed in 1745, during theJacobite Rebellion at the Battle o’ Prestonpans.”

“He was a Jacobite?” Shehad stilled, eyes wide as she glanced at the door.

“Nae. Well, no’ really.”Finn sighed. The family politics had always been complicated.“Being Scots, the Macdonalds o’ Sleat were sympathetic tae theJacobite cause, but my father and many o’ the clan members chosetae join a Highland regiment that fought for the British army.That’s why, when he died, I was able tae inherit his titles andproperties. His loyalty tae the king was rewarded that much. Allthe Scots who fought against England lost everything. Sae I becamethe Earl o’ Aberfoyle at the age o’ eight.” Finn looked at MissHarper, whose very expressive face had softened. “My uncle was myguardian until I reached my majority four years ago and life hasbeen quite pleasant, almost dull, until recently.”

“When, according to you,you were arrested for wearing a kilt.” Suspicion had reappeared inMiss Harper’s eyes. “They certainly can’t arrest you simply forwearing a piece of clothing.”

He smiled ruefully. “Actually, MissHarper, they can.”