To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

"Good God," Collin breathed, or perhaps just thought, he couldn't be sure. His brain had stuttered at the unex­pected sight of her. He watched his cousin hug her, coo over her, then made himself walk down the rest of the stairs. "Lady Alexandra," he murmured when he reached the first floor.

She snapped around with a sharp gasp. "Blackburn!"

"But. . . You know each other?" Lucy asked, wariness tightening her voice.

"Aye," Collin said just as Alexandra shook her head.

She shot a hot look in his direction. "I think 'know' is too strong a word."

Lucy frowned, but before she could question them fur­ther, George walked in and swept Alexandra into his arms to twirl her about the hall.

"Put me down!" she ordered, though a hint of laughter bubbled through.

"Sorry. Forgot the wife was here," George said, leering comically as he set her on her feet.

"Ha! You say that very convincingly for a man who hasn't noticed another woman in ten years."

George winked just before he spied Collin. A narrow look of worry descended over his face as he cleared his throat and turned Alexandra around.

"Lady Alexandra, may I present Collin Blackburn? He is Lucy's cousin by marriage."

"We've met," she said evenly, then, "I didn't mean to intrude."

"Oh, no, no, no," Lucy chattered, plump cheeks redden­ing. "You're both family. Why shouldn't you have a nice visit? Um . . . There's no reason . . ."

George smiled a sick smile and took his wife's hand. "Alexandra is my second cousin, Collin."

"Ah." What else could he say?

George cleared his throat, obviously aware of the ten­sion in the room and the reason for it. He'd sent a deeply sympathetic letter at John's death, but he'd never told Collin of his connection to Alexandra. Of course, there'd been no mention of her role in the incident, not in polite company.

"Yes, well," George boomed with a clap of his thin hands. "We were about to take Collin out for a ride to the village. Will you accompany us, Alex?"

Her eyes flitted from face to face and she looked so mis­erable that even Collin wanted to grimace.

"I do believe I'd rather stay and catch up with Alex," Lucy said breezily. "You two go talk about manly things like fields and horses and fishing. We'll get her settled and rested before dinner."

George, nodding vigorously, had turned to the door before his wife had finished speaking.

Collin tried to catch Alexandra's eye, though he didn't know why. Only to read her, he told himself, not to reas­sure her. He owed her nothing.

She did not look at him, just let Lucy take her arm and guide her away without a glance in his direction. The set of her jaw bespoke anger, at him or the situation or both.

Collin glared at her back as she walked away, resenting the guilt that burned his gut. He'd done nothing wrong, certainly hadn't known she'd be coming here. And now he would have to speak with her, try to make peace because they were both guests in George's home. He didn't want to make friends with the woman. He wanted to shake her.

"Collin?" George stuck his head back inside.

> "Coming," he muttered and followed his miserable host out to the waiting horses.

"Well, then. That was a little tense." Lucy closed the door of the bedchamber with a soft click.

Alex groaned and threw herself face down on the bed. "What is he doing here?"

"Oh, Alex, he's my cousin! Or not really. His aunt mar­ried my uncle . .."

"I know. I mean, that is. . . I didn't know. Lucy, why didn't you ever tell me you were related to John?" She pushed her­self up, miserable and fighting tears of frustration.

"I'm not. He and Collin were half brothers. I never even met John."