To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

Collin adjusted the girth of Thor's saddle and patted the stallion's shoulder. He tried to quiet his mind to match the silence of the dawning day, the peace of the deserted stable. Only the soft shift and snort of horses disturbed the morning.

He'd slept badly last night and woke before dawn, rest­less and edgy with a need he refused to acknowledge. Even as he pushed the thought of that woman from his mind, Thor's ears pricked, warning of an intruder.

"Collin!"

A heartfelt curse lurched to the tip of his tongue. He froze to gather his self-control, bit back the curse, and turned to look at her. "Lady Alexandra."

"Just Alexandra, please. May I join you for a ride this morning?"

He tried to wither her with his glare, but her pretty face smiled back, undaunted. "I'm not out for a leisurely ride. Thor needs a good run today."

"Wonderful."

"You'll have to keep up."

Her eyes glinted, but she nodded and smiled.

Collin wracked his mind for a better excuse to leave her behind, but a drowsy stable boy hurried in, no doubt awak­ened by their voices, and led Alexandra's mare from her stall.

He really couldn't avoid riding with her without being un­conscionably rude. He didn't want to hurt her, he just wanted to avoid the temptation of being around her. Still, she would leave the next day—he'd announced as much at dinner with a sly look in his direction. Surely he was mature enough to spend one day with her without succumbing to his lust.

He led Thor out and mounted, then made sure to look impatient as he waited. She ignored his show, chatting with the now-lively stable hand and sending Collin only the occasional glance.

She looked like a dream in the early morning light. Fresh and lovely and impossibly young. Her dark, unruly hair had been tamed into a shiny black braid that fell nearly to her waist. Still, nothing could keep the curls com­pletely under control. Several strands had already escaped to float against her cheeks, teasing the dimples that were nearly always in evidence.

She wore a royal blue riding habit that mirrored the color of her eyes. Her tiny hat seemed constructed only of net and ribbon; it reminded him of the freckles on her nose and how different she was from other women, never wor­rying over keeping her skin fair and perfect. Perhaps she was too rich to worry over white skin.

The boy led her horse to the block and she mounted her mare as she did everything—with grace and ease. The way she moved through the world pulled at him and he couldn't keep his eyes from watching her.

She would leave tomorrow, he reminded himself, and the gods be praised.

"Ready?" he grumbled.

In answer, she urged her horse out of the yard at a trot. Collin smiled at the beauty of the mare's gait and followed.

He rode behind her for a long while but found it tortur­ous to watch her small body move so fluidly in the saddle. Worse, she kept turning to flash him a delighted smile that caught at his breath. So when they came to a wide, grassy meadow, he urged Thor to his full speed and quickly passed her by.

He stayed just ahead of her and they rode for miles in si­lence. They cut over to the coast and followed it, some­times at a run and sometimes at a more gentle pace, until the sun shone bright and hot above them. The sea wind whipped salt air over their skin until he could taste it on his lips, and the water glinted blue and white as far as he could see. When Thor slowed to a walk, Alexandra pulled Brinn next to him.

Collin looked unwillingly in her direction. "There's a copse of trees just ahead. Would you like to stop? Have a drink?"

Her eyes beamed as she nodded, the bright blue soaking in the sparkle of the water's shine.

Thor snorted and nudged the mare roughly. "I'll need to tether him a good distance away. I think he's gotten her scent."

She looked at Thor and then up at him. "Yes, I think he has," she said simply, but heat crept into his face and Collin was relieved when she pulled away to ride toward the small grove of trees. Collin led Thor a good thirty yards away before he walked back to join her.

"Water?" He held out the skin and looked over the sea as she drank her fill. "You're a fine rider," he finally said, uncomfortable with the silence.

"Thank you." She smiled and gave no hint of false mod­esty. He looked back to the glinting waves.

"Collin." She touched his arm.

He cringed at the soft sound of his name on her lips and took the water from her. But as he reached for it, their fin­gers brushed and his eyes traveled inexorably to her mouth. A tiny drop of moisture clung to her bottom lip and he had the overwhelming urge to lean down and brush it away with a kiss. A moment passed, then two. The flick of her pink tongue licked the drop away and set fire to Collin's blood.

With a muttered curse and a few sharp, silent words for himself, he tipped the skin up to his mouth, praying the cold, sweet water would tamp the heat in his body. He swallowed and swallowed, desperate to ignore her. But she refused to be ignored, damn her, and her warm fingers were suddenly on him, stroking down his neck.

He jerked from the caress, choking, and bent over at the waist to cough, strangling on shock and water. She started to slap his back, but he stood and stepped away from her as soon as her palm hit his body.