was to fool, they'd be buck naked and going at it like newlyweds. The image kindled a fire in Duncan. He pictured her languishing on his feather mattress, her glorious hair blanketing his pillow, her slender arms extended in invitation. His loins swelled with need.
It was time to get back to bamboozling her.
Once they returned to the carriage and headed toward Hadrian's Wall, she said, "You and Mr. Melville seemed to find much to whisper about."
As he had since the excursion began, Duncan discarded his natural response and thought of what a bumbling coward would do. He held his breath to make his face turn red.
"Don't be shy. Tell me about today's chat." That trouble line reappeared in her forehead. "Are you blushing?"
Tucking his cheek to his shoulder, Duncan did his best to look embarrassed. "Oh my. I couldn't possibly repeat it. 'Tisn't suitable conversation for a fine lady."
Her chin came up. "I'll be the judge of that."
Oh, she'd regret it, for Duncan relished her reaction. Would she blush in soft pink or red to match that enticing satin jerkin? Guilt stabbed him, for Duncan realized he liked her. Still, he had a role to play.
"Finlay wanted to send his bloodhound courting your Verbatim—when, uh, the time is right," Duncan blurted.
Surprise smoothed out her features, and her skin blossomed in an enchanting shade of pink. "I see."
A master actor in a play of his own creation, Duncan added, "I told you so. Now you'll think me crass, when I want more than anything to be cooperative." Almost more than anything; he wanted
her
cooperation in a very different matter.
She cleared her throat. "No, not at all. I did, as you say, ask for it. Thank you for your cooperation."
Duncan wondered if she ever had fun. He could make a vocation of entertaining her. But as diverting as the prospect might be, it was impossible, for he couldn't go on being the witless earl forever. Or could he?
Studying the landscape, she said, "Why are the farms smaller on your side of the wall?"
She recovered quickly, he'd give her that. Squinting, he peered over the rims of the spectacles. "A man can only work so much land—or so I'm told."
"But I've seen entire families working in the fields, both here and on the baron's land."
Were she truly knowledgeable about the baron, she wouldn't make such a statement. Unless, she'd only viewed his holdings from the London road. Those he kept prosperous, for show. Cautiously, Duncan said, "You know the man?"
She stared at the dog, who was chasing a hare. "He brought the complaint against you."
A hedge, if Duncan ever heard one. Could the renowned Lady Miriam of Her Majesty's diplomatic corps be so unprepared and uninformed? She hadn't known that the baron only arrived in the Border eight years ago; she'd asked if Duncan's father raided the baron. Duncan had to find out how much she knew. "Complaint?"
"I told you. Robbery, vandalism, kidnapping, and bodily injury."
Duncan decided to fish. He thought of Adrienne. "That's laughable. You do know that in June he offered one of his stepdaughters to the magistrate as an inducement to dismiss a charge I brought against him."
" 'Tis a father's obligation to arrange his daughter's marriage."
Happy thoughts of Adrienne carrying her first child made Duncan smile. "Unfortunately, the magistrate was already married at the time. A cruel trick to play on a well-bred girl."
Her eyes narrowed. A moment later, she said, "You were telling me what you know about the work ethic of the crofters."
What would it take to shock her? The Border Lord could find out. He tried to imagine the life she'd led, the experiences that could bring about such iron control. No wonder the queen praised and valued Miriam MacDonald. Why, then, had no one briefed her on the problems here? He'd find out, but he'd pick his time to ask, for Duncan had learned a thing or two about diplomacy himself.
"The crofters, my lord," she prompted.
The carriage clipped along at a brisk pace, wheels
It was time to get back to bamboozling her.
Once they returned to the carriage and headed toward Hadrian's Wall, she said, "You and Mr. Melville seemed to find much to whisper about."
As he had since the excursion began, Duncan discarded his natural response and thought of what a bumbling coward would do. He held his breath to make his face turn red.
"Don't be shy. Tell me about today's chat." That trouble line reappeared in her forehead. "Are you blushing?"
Tucking his cheek to his shoulder, Duncan did his best to look embarrassed. "Oh my. I couldn't possibly repeat it. 'Tisn't suitable conversation for a fine lady."
Her chin came up. "I'll be the judge of that."
Oh, she'd regret it, for Duncan relished her reaction. Would she blush in soft pink or red to match that enticing satin jerkin? Guilt stabbed him, for Duncan realized he liked her. Still, he had a role to play.
"Finlay wanted to send his bloodhound courting your Verbatim—when, uh, the time is right," Duncan blurted.
Surprise smoothed out her features, and her skin blossomed in an enchanting shade of pink. "I see."
A master actor in a play of his own creation, Duncan added, "I told you so. Now you'll think me crass, when I want more than anything to be cooperative." Almost more than anything; he wanted
her
cooperation in a very different matter.
She cleared her throat. "No, not at all. I did, as you say, ask for it. Thank you for your cooperation."
Duncan wondered if she ever had fun. He could make a vocation of entertaining her. But as diverting as the prospect might be, it was impossible, for he couldn't go on being the witless earl forever. Or could he?
Studying the landscape, she said, "Why are the farms smaller on your side of the wall?"
She recovered quickly, he'd give her that. Squinting, he peered over the rims of the spectacles. "A man can only work so much land—or so I'm told."
"But I've seen entire families working in the fields, both here and on the baron's land."
Were she truly knowledgeable about the baron, she wouldn't make such a statement. Unless, she'd only viewed his holdings from the London road. Those he kept prosperous, for show. Cautiously, Duncan said, "You know the man?"
She stared at the dog, who was chasing a hare. "He brought the complaint against you."
A hedge, if Duncan ever heard one. Could the renowned Lady Miriam of Her Majesty's diplomatic corps be so unprepared and uninformed? She hadn't known that the baron only arrived in the Border eight years ago; she'd asked if Duncan's father raided the baron. Duncan had to find out how much she knew. "Complaint?"
"I told you. Robbery, vandalism, kidnapping, and bodily injury."
Duncan decided to fish. He thought of Adrienne. "That's laughable. You do know that in June he offered one of his stepdaughters to the magistrate as an inducement to dismiss a charge I brought against him."
" 'Tis a father's obligation to arrange his daughter's marriage."
Happy thoughts of Adrienne carrying her first child made Duncan smile. "Unfortunately, the magistrate was already married at the time. A cruel trick to play on a well-bred girl."
Her eyes narrowed. A moment later, she said, "You were telling me what you know about the work ethic of the crofters."
What would it take to shock her? The Border Lord could find out. He tried to imagine the life she'd led, the experiences that could bring about such iron control. No wonder the queen praised and valued Miriam MacDonald. Why, then, had no one briefed her on the problems here? He'd find out, but he'd pick his time to ask, for Duncan had learned a thing or two about diplomacy himself.
"The crofters, my lord," she prompted.
The carriage clipped along at a brisk pace, wheels
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