To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

The new house. The one her husband had neglected to mention. The fine new house they would move into next year. The house that everyone knew about but her.

Oh, she did not try to tell herself that it was a surprise. Her husband was not a man to plan surprises. She knew immediately what this was. A trial. A test of her charac­ter. He had not wanted her to see Westmore with the knowledge that it was but a temporary home. He'd wanted to see if she would be willing to live in a dark, cold cave of a home as befits the wife of a bastard. He had wanted to see if she would stomp her foot and complain and reveal herself for the spoiled bitch he'd once called her.

She should call his bluff, she thought, shoving her feet into the black leather slippers that Danielle held for her. She should march down to his stable and demand to be housed as befits the daughter of a duke. But she was in no mood to play games with him. She would sooner slap him than counter his move.

Danielle reached to run a brush through her curls, but Alex pushed her hand away. "It's fine."

By the time she'd gotten out the door and down the stairs, her breath was jumping from her chest, her heart trying to beat its way out. She flew past a young boy who watched her from his perch atop the second step.

A lovely day greeted her through the open door of the keep, but the golden smell of turning leaves only tightened her throat today. How could he begin things this way? How could he?

There was no one at the blacksmith stall and she doubted he would be hanging about the storage shed, so Alex stalked down the hill to the endless stables below. She spied him immediately, his wide shoulders straining at the worn seams of an old shirt. His movement was al­ready so familiar despite that his back was turned. She could pick him out in the darkest of shadows as long as she could see him move, heartless bastard.

Fergus was with him and spied her first, raised a hand in greeting and smiled wide. The smile faded when she drew near.

"Um, Collin, my friend."

"What?" His voice floated from the darkness and pricked her rage. "Ye've a visitor."

Alex stuttered to a stop as Fergus stepped far to the side.

"Alex?" His face turned toward her in the shadows of the stall. "I'll show you the stock after dinner." He had al­ready looked away, already dismissed her.

"Um. Collin." Fergus inched farther away.

"What?"

"Ye may want to . .."

"I think your friend is trying to warn you that I did not come about the damned horses."

He straightened, his head swung so that he could really look at her this time.

"I'm sorry I did not wake you last night, wife. You needed your sleep."

A warm flush of embarrassment crept up her neck to join the blood that was already hot with anger. "I am glad I was not awake to hear any more of your lies."

Quiet seemed to drop over the stable like a shroud. Her husband froze, eyes too deep in shadow to read. Alex won­dered belatedly how many others were about, knew she should care, and yet she could not muster the sentiment. If Danielle had not told her, if she had gone chattering about her plans to Rebecca or Bridey. . . Fresh anger flooded her veins.

"My maid informed me that we are to have a new home next year. My maid."

The muffled sound of Fergus's boot against the dirt re­vealed his retreat. Collin set down whatever tool he held in his hand and stepped into the light.

Alex had expected fury or at least self-righteousness, but she saw only weariness in the lines of his face. "I meant to tell you."

"What does that mean, 'meant to'? We've been alone these six days."

He turned back toward the stable and jerked his head, prompting a young boy to scamper out and run down the road, grateful to be away from the fight.

Wonderful. He would likely repeat it all to his mother before the hour was out.

"Even the new house is not grand, Alex. I did not want to present it to you as such."

"Do not try to make it sound anything better than it is. You meant this as a trial. To see if I could be the wife of a poor man, a farmer. Well, let me make something clear to you, MacTibbenham Collin Blackburn, I am the wife of a farmer. And whatever regrets or doubts you have about me come too late."

"It is not that I doubt you," he lied.

"If you care to drown this marriage in falsehoods, I cannot stop you, but I will not stand here and listen to them."