To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

Collin felt the hair on his nape rise at his cousin's suspi­cious look. A sudden memory of naked thighs assaulted him.

"Did you argue? Collin, were you bothering her about London again?"

"No. No, we did not argue. Absolutely not."

"Alex?"

"Of course not, Lucy. Perhaps we only went too far, after all. I'm exhausted."

Went too far. Oh, she was clever. So clever he wanted to shake her. My God, you'd think he'd ravished an innocent the way she treated him as if he had the plague. Hadn't he been admirably restrained? Hadn't he saved her from making a dire mistake?

Her words pierced the fog of his resentment. "I believe I shall retire now. I don't wish to be rude, but—"

"Oh, but it's your last night here!"

"I know, Lucy. I know. But I must leave early. I'd hoped to make it back to Somerhart by tomorrow evening."

"You can sleep in the carriage."

Alex laughed and shook her head. "No. I'm going to ride Brinn and have the carriage follow. I'll make better time."

"But—"

"Stop!" She cried out, laughing at Lucy's pout. "I'll see you in a month, after all, before your trip to the Continent."

Lucy sighed and let her shoulders slump in melodra­matic defeat. "All right. I suppose if you're tired, you're tired. But do not leave in the morning without saying good-bye."

"I promise." Alex quickly drained the dregs of her wine and stood. She kissed Lucy's cheek, hugged George, and spared Collin the barest nod before fleeing the room.

A violent jolt of anger shot through him. Did she think that she could just dismiss him, just walk away with nothing but a nod? By God, he wasn't one of her London playthings.

"Collin?"

Lucy and George had retaken their seats and now sat gaping up at him while he stood and stared at the empty doorway.

"Are you quite well? I don't know what's happened between you two, but—"

"Excuse me," he interrupted.

Lucy's laughter followed him when he stalked from the room.

Alex frowned when she spotted Danielle dozing on a chair by her open trunk. She couldn't help but wonder if her maid had also spent an exhausting morning being hu­miliated by a man.

"Danielle, darling, wake up and go get some dinner."

Her brown eyes popped wide in shock. "Merde, I'm sorry! The packing is finished."

"Thank you. Now go and feed yourself and don't forget to go to bed tonight."

The maid's sly smile answered her curiosity. Not an em­barrassing morning then, but an adventurous night. Danielle was so delightfully French. Only she had dismissed Alex's terrible scandal with a shrug and sniff. "Was it worth it?" had been all she'd asked. Her companionship had been just what Alex needed in the time since.

She closed the door on her maid's saucy grin and, with a deep sigh, leaned against the ancient wood. She felt so tired. She should not have had those extra glasses of wine with dinner. She should not have skipped luncheon either, but it had taken her all day just to screw up her courage and face him.

It wasn't just the rejection. It was the letter that had been waiting in her room when she'd returned from her unsuc­cessful tryst. If only Prescott had ignored her instructions to forward personal mail.

The sharp knock she'd been half-expecting rattled the door against her back.

"Good God," Alex muttered, pressing a hand to her stut­tering heart. She knew who it was. He'd glared daggers into her just moments before when she'd said her good­byes. What the hell did he want from her?