The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3) - Page 127

He swallowed the first cup so fast, he burned his mouth. Trust Fergus to make sure his guests had hot coffee. Still feeling disgruntled, he poured another cup and crossed to take the chair opposite Elspeth.

He drank this cup with more care, using the opportunity to take stock of his companion. Family gatherings tended to be chaotic, and crowded, and full of large personalities jostling for space. While he’d always

known this girl was there, he’d never paid much attention to her.

She was surprisingly pleasant to look at, now he took the time to find out. A touch of the Madonna, with her oval face and deep brown hair drawn back in a simple knot. Creamy skin, and a nice, generous figure. A bonny bosom, too, although that mold-green dress with its collar fastened up to her chin did nothing to show it off.

Brody wasn’t in favour of overly skinny girls. He liked a soft armful of a lassie to keep him warm. If a laddie got young Miss Douglas into his bed, she’d offer him a good, comfortable landing.

Which was not a thought he should have about his friend’s sister.

When her mouth flattened under his inspection, he saw she was aware of his scrutiny and didn’t like it. Apart from that luscious bosom, her mouth was her best feature. Full and expressive, and offering an intriguing hint of unawakened passion.

With a glare, she set down her spoon. “It’s rude to stare.”

In his experience, girls liked him looking at them. Actively encouraged it, in fact. It seemed he needed to file Elspeth Douglas under a different category from the females he knew.

“I was just thinking that I’ve known ye for years, yet this must be the first time we’ve spoken alone.”

Large brown eyes turned larger with surprise and focused on him. A brown deep enough to drown in. Eyes brilliant with intelligence and surrounded with thick, dark lashes. He found himself wondering if her eyes might be her best feature after all.

“We’re…we’re not exactly speaking.” Her voice was unsteady.

“I apologize for my lack of address.” Two cups of coffee made him feel almost human. He managed to scrape up a smile. “I’m not used to being up at this ungodly hour.”

“No,” she said, without smiling back. “I’ve never seen you at breakfast before.”

“Perhaps I’ll get up early more often, now I ken what charming company awaits me.”

It was the kind of gallant remark he made without thinking and which always elicited a flurry of feminine fluttering from the recipient. Elspeth merely sent him an unimpressed glance and rose to serve herself some bacon and scrambled eggs.

He must be feeling better. The sight of the food on her plate made him hungry instead of ill.

“Do ye ride, Elspeth?” he asked, after he’d got himself some breakfast. “Fergus and Marina have suggested going out on the hills, if the weather doesn’t worsen.”

He didn’t know why he tried to make conversation. Every time he spoke, the girl stiffened up as if she feared he set out to lure her into some wickedness. Perhaps she’d heard about his reputation as a Lothario.

Perhaps? Of course she had. Brody was under no illusion about the way the members of his circle gossiped about each other.

Was she afraid that he meant to flirt with her? That wasn’t his impression. Instead he felt like she considered him a damned nuisance, and she’d rather he went away.

The surprise was that he was in no mood to cooperate. The world was full of pliable-minded lassies. Why on earth was he so curious about this wee tabby kitten all of a sudden?

She took her time examining his question for hidden meanings, then responded warily. “Yes, I ride.”

He smiled again. Again she didn’t smile back. “Perhaps we can ride together.”

And wondered why the image flooding his mind depicted riding of a very different sort. She wasn’t at all his style, if one disregarded that voluptuous, yet too modestly covered figure. He tended to chase much more obvious—and obviously available—quarry.

Which is why you’re bored stiff with your conquests, said the horrid, persistent voice.

Go away, he said back, without any hope that it would listen.

Another small delay, then the girl said, “Perhaps.”

He was gearing up to push for something more definite—and enthusiastic—when a maid came in with fresh coffee. He bent his head and began to eat, surprised at how famished he was.

By the time they were alone again, he had another cup of coffee on the table before him, while Elspeth sipped her tea. “How long are ye staying at Achnasheen?” he asked, not sure why he persevered, but persevering anyway.

Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical
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