Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

“Kindly sheath your sarcasm, Bella. If you don’t mind, I’m in no mood for verbal fencing,” he muttered. “I’ve fought enough opponents for one evening without having you, too, cut up at me.”

Isobel fixed him with a speculative stare, which lasted for an interlude of awkward silence. He would have poured himself another drink, but the decanter was now empty.

“By the by,” she finally said. “Since Caro confirmed that the two of you are not strangers, I can’t help but be curious as to how you met, given your reclusive habits and your dislike… that is…” Her words trailed off.

“My dislike for the English,” he finished for her. “Given my history, I don’t consider that an unreasonable sentiment. Do you?”

When Isobel didn’t reply, he chuffed a sigh. “If you must know, it was at Dunbar Castle last autumn, during Cousin Miriam’s hunting party.”

“Good heavens, the one where the French jewel thieves made off with her diamond necklace?”

“Yes,” he answered tersely. That was the official explanation given out for the skullduggery that had led to a wild chase through the castle’s dungeons and subterranean tunnels. The truth was far more… complicated. Intrigue and deception had swirled around the invited guests, heavy as the Scottish mists rising from the moors. Caro’s older sister and the gentleman who was now her husband had been involved in the thick of the action.

As for Caro…

There was no denying that she had helped pull his cods out of the fire. And he still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“My goodness, how very exciting,” murmured Isobel.

“You’ve been reading too many novels,” said Alec, hoping to discourage any further questions. “Like most gatherings of rich, overfed aristocrats, it was for the most part a tedious, boring affair.”

The comment caused her lips to twitch. “I daresay you shocked most of them with your outspoken political opinions on virtues of hereditary monarchy versus democracy.”

“As a courtesy to Cousin Miriam, I refrained from expressing my views.” With a few notable exceptions. To his surprise, Caro Sloane had proved to be unexpectedly radical in her own ideas. On a number of subjects.

“That must have cost you dear,” quipped Isobel.

“She is a very generous benefactor of my efforts to see that the Highland crofters have schools for their children. So muzzling my radical ideas was a paltry price to pay.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Speaking of radical ideas…”

Alec silently cursed himself for mentioning the subject, hoping she would not pursue the matter of his involvement in the clandestine political movement that sought independence for Scotland. The less she knew, the better.

“Caro has some very interesting thoughts on Lord Byron and his epic poetry.”

He exhaled in relief—a fraction too soon.

“She wonders whether passion and sex—”

“Sex!” sputtered Alec.

Isobel raised her brows. “Good heavens, shall I fetch Aunt Adelaide’s bottle of vinaigrette? You look on the verge of swooning.”

“And with good reason,” he retorted. “My baby sister ought not… ought not be exposed to…” He paused for a fraction, wondering how he had managed to lose control of the conversation.

“Why is it that men assume we ladies are completely ignorant of the ways of the world?”

“Because,” he said through gritted teeth, “Gently reared ladies of delicate sensibilities should be protected from the grim realities—”

“Sex is grim?” Isobel’s brows rose a notch higher. “Strange, that’s not the impression I get from the books and poetry I read.”

“You are,” he snapped, “banned from the library as of this moment.”

“Ha!” she answered. “That’s a bit like closing the barn door after the horses—or rather, the stallions—have bolted free.”

Alec was sorely tempted to make a run for the Scottish border.

“Oh, don’t look so queasy,” she added. “Having some knowledge of the world is not a bad thing for a lady. Ignorance can make one vulnerable.”