To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)
He was a changed man, no longer radiating tension like a horse in a summer
storm. No, now he looked tired and almost happy. Jeannie blinked. Surely he hadn't. . .
Oh, he was already edging toward the front door, that sneaky dog. She pushed away from the column she'd been supporting for the past hour and glided toward him. He didn't see her coming, didn't give a thought to her until she slid her arm through his and steered him toward the next set of doors. A hallway. Perfect.
He drew back when she released him, pulling in his chin to watch her with wary eyes. She took her time looking him over, noting every button undone and every hair out of place.
"Collin Blackburn, are those lilac petals in your hair?" "What?" Both his hands flew up as if to cover the evidence.
"Been doing a bit of gardening this fine even'?"
"Now, Jeannie—"
"I am verra, verra surprised at ye, me fine lad." She imitated the thick burr of her incorrigible grandmother, a woman who'd buried three husbands and claimed to have ridden them all to their deaths. "And ye, such an upstanding citizen, sae right in all ye do. Ach, 'tis a shock to me puir wee heart."
"Jeannie—"
"My God, Collin. Tell me everything. Who is she?"
"Who is she? She's your friend, isn't she?"
"Oh, give over. Is she still out there? I should tell you, Collin, that when you have an assignation with a lady in the garden, you are supposed to let her return first, then you follow a few minutes later. It's rude to leave her skulking about outside in the—"
"Your brother is right. You do read too much."
"'Your brother' he says, as if I didn't have eight. And never mind them. Where is she?"
"She's gone."
"Gone? Gone where?" Jeannie clapped a hand over her mouth in shock, then leaned up toward his blushing face. "Is she to meet you in your rooms then?"
"Jeannie Kirkland, you should be ashamed of yourself."
"Not as ashamed as you, I'd say. Your coat is all askew."
"What?" He drew back again, running hands over buttons and lapels. "What's wrong with it?"
"Well, it's misbuttoned for one. And it's dusted with flower petals just like your hair."
Grinning, she watched him refasten his coat and brush at it with violent strokes. When he'd finished, he glanced about the bright hallway before pulling her into the broad recess of a doorway. "You smell pretty," she crooned.
"You must not speak of this to anyone, Jeannie. She's a fine lady and I'll not have her name bandied about."
"Bah. Do you think me an idiot as well as a gossip?"
"No, I. . . No, of course not."
"I think she's very nice and I would love for a woman like her to live nearby. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a woman friend at hand?"
He stared blankly, reminding her of her brothers.
"A wife, Collin. It's plain you're in love with the girl. I've never seen you so bothered."
His blankness hardened quickly into outrage. "I am certainly not in love. She's a friend, is all."
"I am a friend, and I daresay you've never dragged me into a dark garden to make love. And you've certainly never worn diamonds for me." She poked a finger at his cravat.
"Listen to me," he whispered harshly, taking her wrist in a firm grip. "She is the sister of a duke. I did not make love to her in the garden and I am certainly not going to ask for her hand." He glared until she shrugged, then huffed, "A wife."