Bloody English witch. Most people found him a perfect gentleman.
Most people give you your own way, simply for the asking.
The nasty little voice in his head spoke with Emily Baylor’s crisp consonants and ironic intonation. He ignored the jibe and tightened his grip on her arm. "I promise I won’t shout."
The angle of her fine dark brown eyebrows indicated skepticism, but after a pause, she nodded. "All right, I’ll meet you there. But the moment you raise your voice, I’m leaving."
He ground his teeth to restrain a blistering response. "There’s an anteroom down the corridor." Those curious glances worried him. He didn’t want to continue this discussion in public. "I’ll meet you there in five minutes."
"Very well," she said in a clipped tone.
She didn’t ask for more directions than that, reminding him that she belonged to the London scientific establishment in a way he never had. She’d been born to this world. He’d had to fight his way into it. Emily had been a regular visitor to this luxurious house since she was a toddler. Lord Pascoe’s estate was only a few miles from the Royal Observatory, and he often hosted intellectual gatherings.
She paused to pick up a pamphlet from the table. As if he chose a dueling pistol, Hamish did, too.
It took him slightly longer than five minutes to find her in the side room. A couple of his friends came over to congratulate him, and he needed to extricate himself from their good wishes.
He wasn’t sure she’d still be waiting, but she was there. She was a remarkably headstrong lass, inclined to go her own way. She was so headstrong, she could almost be Scottish. Most well-bred English girls were brought up to do what they were told.
It was no surprise that Emily Baylor was still on the shelf at twenty-four. What man would want to take on such a hellcat? She’d be more likely to argue philosophy with him over breakfast than smile sweetly and wish him good morrow as she refilled his coffee cup.
Except…
Except the most annoying aspect out of Emily’s multitude of annoying aspects was that she was so damned pretty.
For years, her shining, changeable eyes and her fine-boned face with its pointed chin had inspired a host of forbidden dreams that had Hamish waking hard and ready. In the dark, Emily wasn’t annoying because she tried to put him in his place. No, she was annoying because she was a mere figment of his fevered imagination, instead of real and warm and lying in his arms.
Even now, when she was even more annoying than usual, he couldn’t help admiring the way she looked, standing under the small chandelier. His gaze fixed on the luxuriant sable hair caught up in loose curls. What man wouldn’t burn to sink his hands into that glossy tumble? Nor could any red-blooded male ignore how her deep blue gown clung to her magnificent bosom and lissome figure.
When she turned a hostile gaze in his direction, he battled to ignore what a diamond she was. As usual, he didn’t quite succeed. Even though he told himself that diamonds didn’t just glitter, they cut.
"You should have got me to check the calculations."
Definitely annoying. His lips tightened as he stepped into the room. "You have a high opinion of yourself, miss."
"I’m good at the details. You know that."
He did. Despite their combative relationship, he’d always felt sorry that Emily was born a woman. If she’d been a man, a brilliant scientific career would have beckoned.
He bristled with awareness of the risks he and Emily took, sneaking away like this. The corridor behind him was empty. He couldn’t be sure it was going to stay that way. There was no reason for any of the guests to venture into this small room, but if they heard voices, they just might. "Come out to the garden and tell me what you think is the problem," he said wearily.
She stiffened. "It’s freezing out there."
It was. Winter had come early this year. "We can’t stay in here. If anyone finds us, there will be gossip."
She greeted that with a scornful snort. "Nobody in their right mind would imagine you and I are carrying on a flirtation."
He closed the door to the corridor and marched across to stand in front of the doors leading onto the dark terrace. "Nevertheless, I’d rather have a little more privacy." He took off his coat and held it out between his hands. "Emily?"
She didn’t shift. "Do we have time before the presentation?"
"I think so."
He could see she wanted to argue. Arguing with him was natural to her. But with another of those sighs that always made him bristle, she let him help her into his coat.
Hamish stepped back. She should look silly with his evening coat draped over that spectacular gown with its filmy midnight blue skirts and pretty pattern of spangles. The dress reminded him of the night sky.
Even when Emily was annoying him, which was most of the time, he couldn’t deny her effortless elegance. Topping her stylish ensemble with a masculine coat did nothing to lessen that. The coat was miles too big, of course. It fell to past her knees, and the shoulder seams drooped down her arms.