Introductions

W hen Willow's brothers invited army chums to Rochevaux Abbey, she was happy to keep to her suite of rooms. She had no wish to spend time with raucous young men who boasted of their heroics, all the while smoking and drinking into the wee hours. The morning after they left, the house stank of cigars and spirits.

Fortunately, there'd been no sign of these rowdy friends since her father's return. She doubted he approved of them, and her brothers knew it.

Few other visitors came to call, so Willow had no experience playing the hostess. When her brothers sailed to Spain in the later stages of the Peninsular War, she was left alone to manage the Abbey. However, her father had specifically asked her to make sure their imminent guests were welcomed and entertained, so the Three Trees had no choice but to allow her to be present in the drawing room while they waited for their noble visitors.

Worried about the poor impression they were about to convey, she said, "Papa told me that whenever he has occasion to visit another noble house, he's welcomed outside by all the members of the household, and the servants."

"Outside?" Rowan exclaimed.

"Surely not," Ash and Hawthorne chimed together.

She ignored them and spoke to Rowan. "When you become the Duke of Withenshawe, will you not expect such signs of respect?"

"Well, I suppose," he allowed.

"Of course," Ash said.

"It would only be right," Hawthorne declared.

"The Duke and Duchess of Ramsay will arrive at any moment. Kenneth Hawkins is more than a friend of Papa's. Should we not…"

To her astonishment, her brothers were on their feet before she could finish the sentence.

"Well, come on," Ash urged as he followed the other two out the door.

The ladies' carriage pulled up in front of the main door of the mansion. Niven chuckled when Kenneth was out of the second carriage before it came to a halt. His cousin shouldered the footman out of the way and leaned into the carriage to take his son. Bairn cradled in one arm, he assisted Cat to alight, then his mother. The man was besotted, but Niven didn't fault him for it.

Daisy was left to fend for herself and Niven wasn't about to rush to her rescue, though it was probably the gentlemanly thing to do. Daisy brought out his worst instincts, confirming his belief that entanglements with women should be avoided. His brief liaison with Kenneth's sister had left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Dinna fash, laddie," Jock said as he disembarked from the carriage. "She's nay the lass for ye."

"As I said…"

"Aye. I ken what ye keep sayin'."

Niven stepped down from the carriage. He and Jock stared at the tableau in front of the house. It was to be expected such a huge stately home would have staff. Kenneth had many servants. However, an army of at least a hundred stood to attention outside the Withenshawe mansion.

"Seems like a lot o' folk to take care o' the three men who usually live here," Niven said.

"Three men and a lass by the looks of it," Jock replied, nodding to the formal group welcoming Kenneth, Cat and Lady Maureen.

Niven vaguely recalled being told there was a daughter named after a tree. He scanned the receiving line as he walked toward them. One tall fellow looked remarkably like his father. Probably the heir. The other two were of similar build, but younger. Then…

Historians claimed that ancient cavemen simply slung the women they desired over their shoulders and carried them off. Niven clenched his fists, the rational side of his brain arguing that he wouldn't be allowed to carry off the alluring daughter of a noble house and make her his, no matter how strong the temptation.

Willow had been apprehensive about meeting their guests, but the Duchess of Ramsay's friendly manner put her at ease. She'd previously heard her brothers agree with gossip that Ramsay had been a fool to marry a commoner from the Highlands of Scotland. It was evident the duke doted on his beautiful wife and adorable son. After the wide-eyed babe was thrust into her arms, Willow found herself envious of the pair. She suddenly wanted what they had.

The dowager duchess was another surprise. "If you must be formal," she told Willow after being addressed as Your Grace . "Please call me Lady Maureen."

"And I'm Lady Daisy Hawkins, the duke's sister," the last member of that family informed her haughtily.

It was perhaps wise to reserve judgment on Lady Daisy. She came across as cold and aloof but perhaps she'd often been overlooked. Willow knew how that felt.

Basking in the friendly chatter, but nervous about holding a baby for the first time, Willow glanced over at her stern-faced brothers. They'd already been introduced to the Hawkins family and hadn't managed to smile or relax their rigid posture. They were shaking hands with two men, one older, the other…

Good grief.

She was trembling by the time the newcomers introduced themselves to her. It barely registered that the older man, a Scot, was husband to the dowager duchess.

"Niven King," the fair-haired god rumbled. "I help yer father. Weel, and I work for my family business, the Kingdom Distillery, ye ken?"

His brogue charmed her, but Willow had no idea what he was talking about. If his bold eyes didn't stop staring at her, she might swoon and drop the wriggling babe.

Heaven intervened when the duke took the baby from her and announced. "Niven's my cousin, Lady Willow. He and his brothers operate a famous whisky distillery in Scotland. Niven's been taking care of shipping the product from Dundee to London. Your father and I are heavily invested in the distillery."

It was rumored babies were often a source of illness. That was surely the only explanation for the tingling in Willow's nipples and the sudden gush of moisture from an unmentionable place when Niven King bestowed a courtly kiss on her knuckles.

She shouldn't have been surprised to see the Three Trees scowling at her.

Gazing into Willow Halstead's hazel eyes, Niven suddenly realized the absurdity of his determination to be a lifelong bachelor. If his brain hadn't perceived it, his male urges certainly had.

He'd always been the quiet brother in the family, never motivated to compete with Tavish's brilliance and Payton's larger than life personality. Now, he wished he was more outgoing, but thoughts of what to say eluded him. "I tried to guess yer name," he admitted. "I thought mayhap Olive or Magnolia. Then Hazel occurred to me and that would have fit given the color o' yer eyes. I ne'er thought o' Willow, but it suits ye. Ye are willowy."

Balaich ! Could he have said anything more inappropriate?

The three Withenshawe sons scowled at him.

Daisy snorted. Kenneth, Lady Maureen and Jock gaped.

Lady Willow blushed fiercely and fiddled with a stray lock of her light brown hair. He'd embarrassed her, though he might have seen a glint of amusement in those intriguing eyes.

Only Cat smiled.

It wasn't a good beginning. He compounded the problem by asking, "Is yer Da up and about yet?"

Tears welled in Lady Willow's eyes. She shook her head, averted her gaze and bade her guests enter the house with her.

Niven hung back to enter last. The Withenshawe brothers' haughty glares convinced him he'd better remember his place and forget any thoughts of dallying with Lady Willow. They were probably already wishing they could organize a dawn execution by firing squad.