To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

Collin trudged back up to the cottage with a scowl, wishing he were anywhere else. He was clean and clear­headed, but he still did not want to talk to Alexandra, didn't know what he would say to her. Anger prickled his nerves, though he felt more angry at himself than he had the night before. He'd known better than to come here. He'd known the first time he met the woman that she would cause him immeasurable amounts of trouble. Then he'd walked right into it with a smile. And a cockstand.

He tossed his bag back into the stable where he'd left it last night, relieved to see her horse still gone. She'd be home soon though, and likely as hungry as he. May as well set out breakfast. They couldn't speak if they were chewing.

The counter was clean again, the offending pie removed and replaced with meat pasties and fruit. Collin laid out plates and added a jug of fresh milk he found in a cold box. He sliced bread and cheese, put out the platter of meat pies and the bowl of cherries. When the work-smoothed table overflowed with food, Collin hovered over it, uncertain what to do with himself, refusing to pace to the window and watch for her. He strained his ears though, until the si­lence of the house roared. Just as he cursed, as he took a step toward the window, a horse whinnied. Not Samson.

The door cracked open and there she stood, a shadow against the light. Seconds passed and Collin's heart raced, anger and anxiety fighting to rule him. When he couldn't take the silence any longer, he gestured with a jerk toward the table. "Are you hungry?"

She didn't move, didn't answer, and Collin felt nervous­ness join the mix of bad humor in his blood.

"Alex?"

"Yes," she finally said. "I am hungry."

Moving inside with rough speed, she went straight to the table, sat in the closest chair. When he joined her, she blinked in surprise.

"This is lovely. Thank you."

The first thing he noticed was her riding habit—the same one she'd worn at her cousin's. Had she brought it to remind him of that day? Thinking how close she'd come to losing her virginity in a seaside meadow to a virtual stranger, Collin scowled. Alex didn't notice, she stared hard at the jug of milk as she ate.

Her face was pale, the freckles on her nose stark against unnaturally white skin. Dark circles of exhaustion bruised the delicate flesh beneath her eyes. Collin swallowed his curse.

He hadn't given her feelings much thought the night before. He'd been wounded and raging and had needed to be away from her. But now, looking at her, he was sud­denly reminded that she had lain with a man for the first time and then spent the night absolutely alone.

And she was young. Younger than he'd realized.

"Alex." She jumped at his voice. "I'm sorry for leaving. I needed to be alone."

"Of course. I must apologize too. I did deceive you and I'm sorry for it." Her eyes never left the piece of buttered bread she held.

"Sorry you deceived me, but not sorry you arranged this?" Collin watched her jaw edge out, watched her pink mouth tighten.

"No," she answered, meeting his eyes at last. "No, I'm not sorry about that. Were you sorry when you lost your virginity?"

"Alexandra. . ."

She raised her arching brows high, waiting in vicious anticipation for whatever he had to offer. Collin retreated, shaking his head.

"I truly don't want to marry, Collin. It has nothing to do with you. I knew my whole life that my future lay in mar­riage, as every woman does, but I never thought about it, never dreamed of who my husband would be. And my Season . . ." She shrugged, a weary movement. "I just wanted to live. It felt like a short reprieve before execution. I wanted to experience everything—drink and cigars, Covent Gardens and gambling, illicit love."

Collin cringed, and she smiled in real amusement before her face sobered again. "When I was caught, I had to wonder if that was the outcome I'd hoped for."

"But don't you want children? A home?"

"Don't you?"

"I—" He choked in surprise. "I. . . Of course. Someday."

"Exactly. Perhaps someday I will too. I'm not nearly as old as you, you know."

With a roll of his eyes, he leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out in front of him. "Are you trying to tell me you're no different than I?"

"Do you think you could bear to marry a woman who expected you to do nothing more than ride and shop and visit with friends?"

"Of course not."

"Of course not. I am never happier than when I am help­ing run my brother's estate. How can I go from that to wife?"

"You would have a household to run."