To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

"Well, it's a bit cold in here, but I think if we built in some smaller rooms we could decrease the draft. Other­wise, it's perfectly lovely, isn't it? Will you show me the bedchambers?"

Damn, the man could be intimidating when he wished to. He stared down at her, studying her as if she were a snake that might strike.

"This is my new home, Collin. I should like to see the whole of it."

"Get it over with as quickly as possible?"

"Are you determined to be dark then? Let me guess . . . You were expecting me to gasp in horror at the primitiveness and run back to my life of luxury? If I'd wanted luxury I would have married the earl who proposed at my coming out."

"Primitive?"

"Well, it is primitive, isn't it? It needs a woman's touch. Luckily, you've brought one home with you." Collin grunted.

"There is no reason that rooms cannot be added to this space. And windows too. And I think a suit of armor would be a nice touch." She winced when her joke fell on humor­less ears.

"And where will I get the money for all these improve­ments?"

Oh. A sticky subject. Alex cleared her throat. She could afford to gut the whole place herself, but the man was as proud as a peacock and certainly more difficult.

A throat cleared behind her, rescuing her from an answer that would surely get her in trouble. "Mr. MacLean!" she cried too loudly as she turned toward him.

"Oh, 'Fergus,' if it pleases ye, milady."

She laughed at the teasing spark in his eye. "Fergus then, and you must call me Alex. It is not at all proper, of course, but neither am I."

Something rumbled in her ear, making her jump. Not an animal growling, though she'd thought to turn and find a giant wolfhound at her side. Just her husband.

Fergus gave her one last smile before shooting a frown at Collin. She saw the jerking shake of Collin's head before he took her arm and wondered what the men were glaring at each other about. There was some undercurrent there, but she forgot it immediately when she turned to find a short line of women stretching out from the kitchen door. The servants.

The first thing she noticed was the young woman at the left of the rest. She stood tall and straight and her smile could have cut glass. The housekeeper. She was far too young for the job, but there was no question who she was. The heavy ring of keys at her waist advertised her status.

"Rebecca Burnside," Collin stated as soon as they drew near. "My housekeeper."

"Mrs. Burnside," Alex offered, hoping the woman simply had a stiff smile.

"My lady," she crooned, curtsying deeply and still con­veying a message of disrespect. She would be trouble, Alex could see that much immediately. And a new bride did not need that kind of trouble from the first day of her marriage.

"Mrs. Cook," Collin continued, needlessly adding, "the cook," as a sturdy, round woman curtsied.

They worked their way down the line—Bridey, the chambermaid; Jess, the kitchen maid; Nan, the little scullery maid who wasn't more than twelve. There were others too, Collin explained. Bridey had a son and daugh­ter who often came to help. And several young men were about to help with the heavier chores.

Alex smiled and nodded to each of them, studying their faces for hostility or resentment. But they all seemed simply curious and a little hesitant. All except Rebecca Burnside.

The housekeeper kept smiling, smiled her damndest, as she ushered the others back into the kitchen. She turned back to face them when she stood alone in the archway, and the smile warmed when she met Collin's eyes.

"It's good to see you home, milord."

"It's good to be home, Rebecca."

Rebecca, was it? Alex's spine stiffened.

Fergus strolled around to stand at Collin's side. "Perhaps you should show her ladyship upstairs, Rebecca. I'm sure she's weary from her long journey."

The look she shot at Fergus was murderous. His smile widened. "Of course," she finally chirped, and slid past them all to lead the way. She did not acknowledge Alex except to call out "this way" as she hurried across the hall.

Hiding a sigh, Alex followed, then stopped to wait for Collin, but when she glanced back to him he was already turned to Fergus and deep in conversation. She frowned, hesitated, unsure if she should proceed or not.

Fergus met her eyes and frowned just as fiercely before nudging Collin with an elbow. Her husband spared her naught more than a quick look before he waved her on, and even his manager seemed displeased with the dis­missal, his mouth twisting to a sneer. Collin