Page 35 of Sinful Scottish Laird
Daisy’s eyes widened. Mr. Murray had indeed mentioned that his older brother might like to see Auchenard.
Arrandale moved closer. “And I know Somerled, aye? We attended Saint Andrews together. He’s the son of an important Scotch statesman and barrister, a man whose fortune rose in defense of the king when Scotsmen raised complaints against the Crown, and whose fortunes fell with the rise of the Jacobites. Rumor has it that Somerled has significant gambling debts that his family can no longer cover.”
Daisy gaped at him. Her blood was heating with rage. It was humiliating—the Highlands had sent their men running to Auchenard with the hope of catching her, the pot at the end of their rainbow.
She tossed down the flower. “I am weary of talk,” she said. “Someone is always talking, always advising me what they think I am too blind to see.”
“I donna mean to offend you, on my word I do no’. But I canna stand idly by while a woman as bonny as you are is pursued by gentlemen who donna honor you.”
“I am well aware what they honor,” she said hotly.
“Aye, I know that you are. Does Captain Spivey honor you, then?”
Daisy’s heart stopped beating. “How do you know about him?”
Arrandale said nothing.
Belinda,of course. Daisy whirled away from him. “It is none of your concern.None.”
When he didn’t speak or move, she whirled back to him. His gaze bored into her. “Aye, it is no’,” he agreed. “But if he does honor you... I’d no’ like to see you harm him.”
Her anger soared. How dare he tell her how to behave? She walked up to him, pushed his chest. “I don’t need your advice, ofallpeople. Perhaps I ought to giveyousome advice.”
“By all means,” he said, casting his arms wide.
“Don’t smuggle,” she snapped. She’d meant it to shock him, to put the shoe on the other foot. Arrandale’s brows lifted with surprise. And then he laughed.
“Excellent advice,” he said jovially. “But donna think you can intimidate me. I’m no’ ashamed of it,” he said and abruptly caught her face in his hand. “When the Crown’s tariffs make it impossible for our clan to thrive?” He shrugged. “I will take that risk.”
“Neither am I ashamed,” she said angrily. “By the same token, when a husband’s edict makes it impossible for me to live my life as I please, then I, too, will take some risks.”
She glared at him. But then he tenderly stroked her cheek. “I understand,” he said quietly, acquiescing.
“Do you?” she asked angrily. Her skin was tingling where he’d touched her.
“Aye, I do.” He slipped his hand around to the nape of her neck, then bent so they were eye level. “You donna want my advice, then. But if you should ever decide you want it, you need only ask. I will always be truthful with you, on my word.”
She was suddenly swimming in a pool of desire, the longing there again, pressing against her edges, threatening to erupt at the seams. What had happened to her? When had she become so lustful? When had she needed a man’s pledge of honesty as desperately as she seemed to need it today? When had she begun to throw all caution to the wind in pursuit of her own pleasure?
This could not be her. As much as she wanted it to be, she had a son to think of. Daisy slowly reached up and wrapped her hand around his wrist. “I will keep my own counsel,” she said evenly and pulled his hand from her neck. She knew a moment of indecision, when she thought that she might perhaps kiss him again. But his admonishment of her behavior still stung, and she dropped his hand.
Arrandale stepped back. He bowed. “As you wish,” he said, strolling out of the garden with such insouciance that it was a wonder he didn’t whistle as he went.
“Where are you going?” Daisy asked.
“To teach a lad how to toss a caber,” he called over his shoulder. “Go see to your guests, Lady Chatwick.”
“Thank you foradvisingme on how I might host my guests!” she called irritably after him.
She heard his chuckle as he went out the gate.
* * *
MR. SOMERLEDFOUNDDaisy again, on the shores of Lochcarron, where she was watching Mr. Murray row his wife and Miss Mackenzie about. Miss Mackenzie was having a grand time of it, shrieking with laughter every time the boat dipped to one side or the other.
Somerled handed her a parasol. “Miss Hainsworth is concerned about your complexion,” he said, his eyes shining with amusement.
Daisy smiled. “I think she counts my freckles daily.” She and Somerled sat on a bench that someone had installed quite some time ago—the wood was weathered and splintering, and he’d very gallantly put down a handkerchief for her.
