To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

Hart coughed, raising a ridiculous commotion.

"I'm not sure if my mother meant to honor the man or shame him, but it seems she was determined to give me his name."

"She certainly was." He watched her closely, but she did not even smirk, much less giggle. "I've never—"

"May I shorten it to Mac? I don't know if I can quite get my tongue around—"

"You may call me Collin."

"All right. Collin." Her lips twitched, lifted.

"I would suggest you hold your laughter or I will be tempted to give our first son his father's name."

She made a good show of feigning absolute terror, and even Collin felt his lips curl into a smile as she begged him not to curse their child with such an unspeakable burden.

"If you'd care to go up and dress yourself, Alex," Hart interjected, "I was about to ring for tea."

"Really? I could have sworn I smelled whisky in this room. I thought perhaps you'd begun teatime without me."

It was Collin's turn to snort this time. Hart simply wrapped a hand around her braid and tugged her toward the door. "Come along. If you can make yourself decent, I'll let you have a few minutes alone with your betrothed."

"How many?"

"Five."

"Fifteen!" came her reply as she was towed into the hall­way. Collin leaned his head back and smiled at the nearest cherub, wondering just what those fifteen minutes would entail and looking forward to every one.

"Wife." Alex tried the word just to feel it on her lips. "Mrs. Collin Blackburn."

Collin's smile flashed across the dim carriage.

"Mrs. Blackburn. Lady Westmore. Do you never use your title, Collin?"

"No, wife—"

She giggled.

"—I only use it when it comes in handy for selling horses. But if you'd prefer it—"

"No! I like Blackburn. It's so wonderfully Scottish."

"So it is." His teeth flashed again.

"So are you," she ventured, wondering at the way he kept his distance.

"Well." He added nothing more.

Alex slumped back into the deeply cushioned seat and pushed a curtain open with a petulant shove. She'd closed them all as soon as the carriage rolled away from Somer­hart, as soon as she'd waved her last good-bye to the small crowd of wedding guests. She had closed the curtains in anticipation, had waited impatiently to be taken by her groom.

A half hour had since passed in near silence. But she would not chase him this time; her chasing days were over. She—

"Oh, what is wrong?" she cried out.

Collin chuckled and shifted his knee to sink into her vo­luminous skirts. "Whatever do you mean, wife?"

Alex flashed him a quick smile, then let her lips fall back to pouting.

"Are you sitting there, thinking what you'd like me to do to you?"