accuse you of raiding?"
"Why, it's as obvious as the scales on a bass. He accuses me to cover his own ghastly crimes. Surely someone of your vast experience and knowledge understands that."
He might have been a spy lurking in her wardrobe, she eyed him with such suspicion. He almost chuckled, for that's exactly what he intended to become.
Sunlight turned her irises to sparkling gems of blue and gray, and her hair to golden fire. She powdered her face, he decided, for he could discern a faint spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. How adorable. Perhaps he should powder his face too, or ask her what cosmetics she preferred. The carriage hit a bump. He turned his attention to driving the team and playing the fool.
"Where shall we visit first?" she asked.
Pretending spontaneity seemed a good tactic. "You've seen the MacLarens' croft—or what's left of it. Do you truly want to see the other farms Sinclair has burned? You'll muss your dress and dirty your hands."
"No. But I should like to meet a few of the farmers. Not, of course, that I don't believe you, Lord Duncan."
He should have expected the request. Considering her reputation for composing detailed trade agreements, Lady Miriam wouldn't take the pope's word for the date of Easter. Ah, but she was newly introduced to Duncan Kerr.
He almost laughed. "I should be flattered that you think me capable of subterfuge. Do you speak Scottish?"
"Aye. I'll be able to converse with the people." In his language, she said, "You hesitated before answering me. What were you really going to say?"
He loved playing verbal hide-and-seek with her. In English he said, "Oh, Lady Miriam. I fear you already think me foolish."
"If you don't tell me, I might think you're hiding something."
Duncan snatched an outrageous topic. "If you must know… I was wondering if dogs could be taught to fish."
She looked like a child tasting a lemon for the first time.
To keep from laughing, Duncan said, "I told you 'twas foolish. You'll forgive me, I'm sure. It's just that fishing is such a marvelous pastime. I'm always inspired to improve upon my technique. I'm a very progressive thinker, you know."
Skepticism lent an angelic quality to her features. God, did the woman never laugh?
"I'm sure," she murmured.
They visited two cattle farms and three shepherds. At every croft they were met first with cheers and then straight faces. Angus had done his job well. The women wailed of crimes committed by the baron. The men knotted their fists and called Sinclair names that would have made a lesser diplomat than Lady Miriam blush. Goodwives fawned over Duncan as if he were incapable of caring for himself. Everyone spoke of the dreadful twist of fate that required him to wear spectacles. He was proclaimed a saint, a savior, and a gentleman among men.
Blessed Scotland, his people were magnificent.
Except for Lettie Melville.
Later in the afternoon, they had stopped at the croft belonging to the Melvilles. Duncan had been pulled aside by Finlay, a wiry shepherd who had lost a hand while protecting his flock from Sinclair's raiders. As he listened to Finlay praise the sleuthhound, Duncan watched Miriam. She chatted amiably with Finlay's wife, Lettie, but her attention and her bewitching gray eyes constantly strayed to him.
"Oh yes," said Lady Miriam, as charming as Malcolm on the day before his birthday. "I understand Lord Duncan's lures are all the rage."
"Sure as the good Catholics eat fish on Friday, milady," said Lettie, bouncing her son on her knee. "Ladies come from as far as Aberdeen to get a taste of his 'lure.'"
"I beg your pardon," said Lady Miriam. "You mean they come to fish with him?"
Finlay burst out laughing.
Lettie huffed and said, "Oh, he's been known to hook a few ladies all right. All they suffers is a broken heart."
Miriam turned so fast that her shock of hair swung over her shoulder. The look she shot Duncan said, "You, a heartbreaker?"
If she were as easy to bed as she
"Why, it's as obvious as the scales on a bass. He accuses me to cover his own ghastly crimes. Surely someone of your vast experience and knowledge understands that."
He might have been a spy lurking in her wardrobe, she eyed him with such suspicion. He almost chuckled, for that's exactly what he intended to become.
Sunlight turned her irises to sparkling gems of blue and gray, and her hair to golden fire. She powdered her face, he decided, for he could discern a faint spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. How adorable. Perhaps he should powder his face too, or ask her what cosmetics she preferred. The carriage hit a bump. He turned his attention to driving the team and playing the fool.
"Where shall we visit first?" she asked.
Pretending spontaneity seemed a good tactic. "You've seen the MacLarens' croft—or what's left of it. Do you truly want to see the other farms Sinclair has burned? You'll muss your dress and dirty your hands."
"No. But I should like to meet a few of the farmers. Not, of course, that I don't believe you, Lord Duncan."
He should have expected the request. Considering her reputation for composing detailed trade agreements, Lady Miriam wouldn't take the pope's word for the date of Easter. Ah, but she was newly introduced to Duncan Kerr.
He almost laughed. "I should be flattered that you think me capable of subterfuge. Do you speak Scottish?"
"Aye. I'll be able to converse with the people." In his language, she said, "You hesitated before answering me. What were you really going to say?"
He loved playing verbal hide-and-seek with her. In English he said, "Oh, Lady Miriam. I fear you already think me foolish."
"If you don't tell me, I might think you're hiding something."
Duncan snatched an outrageous topic. "If you must know… I was wondering if dogs could be taught to fish."
She looked like a child tasting a lemon for the first time.
To keep from laughing, Duncan said, "I told you 'twas foolish. You'll forgive me, I'm sure. It's just that fishing is such a marvelous pastime. I'm always inspired to improve upon my technique. I'm a very progressive thinker, you know."
Skepticism lent an angelic quality to her features. God, did the woman never laugh?
"I'm sure," she murmured.
They visited two cattle farms and three shepherds. At every croft they were met first with cheers and then straight faces. Angus had done his job well. The women wailed of crimes committed by the baron. The men knotted their fists and called Sinclair names that would have made a lesser diplomat than Lady Miriam blush. Goodwives fawned over Duncan as if he were incapable of caring for himself. Everyone spoke of the dreadful twist of fate that required him to wear spectacles. He was proclaimed a saint, a savior, and a gentleman among men.
Blessed Scotland, his people were magnificent.
Except for Lettie Melville.
Later in the afternoon, they had stopped at the croft belonging to the Melvilles. Duncan had been pulled aside by Finlay, a wiry shepherd who had lost a hand while protecting his flock from Sinclair's raiders. As he listened to Finlay praise the sleuthhound, Duncan watched Miriam. She chatted amiably with Finlay's wife, Lettie, but her attention and her bewitching gray eyes constantly strayed to him.
"Oh yes," said Lady Miriam, as charming as Malcolm on the day before his birthday. "I understand Lord Duncan's lures are all the rage."
"Sure as the good Catholics eat fish on Friday, milady," said Lettie, bouncing her son on her knee. "Ladies come from as far as Aberdeen to get a taste of his 'lure.'"
"I beg your pardon," said Lady Miriam. "You mean they come to fish with him?"
Finlay burst out laughing.
Lettie huffed and said, "Oh, he's been known to hook a few ladies all right. All they suffers is a broken heart."
Miriam turned so fast that her shock of hair swung over her shoulder. The look she shot Duncan said, "You, a heartbreaker?"
If she were as easy to bed as she
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