Fascinating.
He glanced pointedly at her whiskey. Then pointedly took a sip of his own. When she didn’t take his cue, he just came right out and asked. “Aren’t you going to drink?”
“Your Grace, are you trying to get me drunk?”
Edward blanched. He’d never had a woman call him on his seductive maneuverings.
And then he gaped. Because she picked up the cut crystal filled with forty-year-old Wyeth whiskey and tossed it back in one gulp.
She didn’t wheeze. She didn’t tear up. She didn’t cough or choke.
In fact, she belched. It was a dainty little belch, but a belch nonetheless.
“Because if you are trying to get me drunk, my lord, it won’t work.” She leaned closer and whispered, in that charming lilting brogue, “I was weaned on whiskey. All good Scotts are.” Then she stood and shook out her nightgown, though it hardly needed shaking out, and gave him a little curtsey. He suspected it was offered as a travesty of respect, but he hardly cared. Because the bow was low enough for him to get a glimpse of her breasts.
Disappointment lashed him as she turned to leave. “W-where are you going?”
“To bed, Your Grace.” Dimples blossomed on her cheek as she grinned. Lord, she was lovely when she grinned. “Alone.”
“Wait!” He jumped to his feet. He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay. He wanted— “You forgot your book.”
“Ah. My book.” She turned to the shelves and tapped her lip with a finger.
Of a sudden, he was possessed of the urge to taste those lips.
But she would never allow it. Not this feisty girl.
Oh, how he had misjudged her. Perhaps having his cousins staying here wasn’t quite the dismal disaster it seemed on the face of it.
She tipped her head and surveyed him. “Were you going to make a recommendation?”
Was he. He sprinted to the shelves and pulled out a particular book. “You will find this one interesting.”
“Will I?” She took it from him and began to open it.
He snapped it shut, caging her hands in his. Her skin was warm and soft. He stroked her with his thumb. “Not until you’re alone.” A whisper.
She wriggled her hands free and peered up at him through her spectacles, her eyes wide. “Alone?”
“Yes, my dear. And when you read it, think of me.” He leaned closer. Her lips parted. In that moment, he noticed she had one slightly crooked tooth. An adorable tooth. Ah. So sweet. He was but a breath away from that kiss—
Something sharp pricked his side. He looked down and froze.
She held a knife to his ribs.
His gaze snapped to her face. He opened his mouth but no words came out. In the whole of his life, no one had ever poked him with a knife.
Her lips curled in a slow smile. Again, those fiendish dimples blossomed. Slowly, she backed away. “Good night, Your Grace,” she said. “Thank you for the whiskey. And thank you for the book.”
She was gone before he could even marshal his legendary charm to call her back.
In something of a stupor, he sank into his chair and tossed back his drink.
What a woman. He’d never met the like.
He had no inkling in which of his many rooms she was housed, so he could hardly hunt for her tonight. But by God, he’d have her.
And he’d have her soon.
Chapter Two
Kaitlin MacAllister clutched the book to her chest as she made her way back to her chamber. Though she had fought to hide it from his Grace, she shook with reaction.
He had been about to kiss her.
She was certain of it.
She knew the look.
Thank God she’d thought to slip her dirk into the pocket of her nightgown. She didn’t fancy herself the type of woman who carried a dirk around a duke’s mansion in the middle of the night, but experience had taught her that dirks were handy things to have. Bringing it with her wherever she went had become something of a habit.
And thank God. Because if she hadn’t had it, he would have kissed her. He would definitely have kissed her. And that would have been…
Oh. That would have been.
Her face flushed. Nay, her entire body. She felt it from her toes to the tips of her breasts. A damp heat. A softness.
Damn and blast. She was done with that. Never again, she’d vowed. Never again. Still, a cloying regret over that missed kiss sat heavy in her chest.
Annoyed with herself, she shook her head to dislodge the unwanted thought. She was not doing that again. Ever. No matter how alluring the man might be.
And Violet’s cousin was. Alluring.
So handsome and tall. Broad and braw. Manly. The features of his face were rough-hewn. His cheekbones high. His brow wide, patrician. His nose was a thick, strong blade. And his eyes were like warm chocolate on a cold morning. The tantalizing mole on his cheek—so like the family mark on Ned’s cheek. And Malcolm’s. And Sean’s and Dennis’ and Hamish’s and Tay’s. Yet so…different. He had a presence. And he smelled…wonderful.