Page 55 of What a Scot Wants
Her mother eyed her shrewdly, one elegant eyebrow arching, and Imogen quailed beneath it. Perhaps she’d laid it on a little too thickly. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been up front with how she felt about love and marriage over the years, and her mother wasn’t stupid or forgetful.
“I thought you didn’t believe in love?”
Imogen opened her mouth and closed it. “I don’t, but I’d like to at least befriendswith the man I’m supposed to marry. Have you seen that Highlander? He couldn’t be friends with a goat!”
“You’re exaggerating, Imogen.”
“I am not. He’s a boor.” She jammed her spoon into her flute of creamy ice with violence.
A sudden smile spread over her mother’s face, making Imogen’s eyes narrow. “You meanthatboor?”
Imogen turned and bit her lip. What atrocious timing! The man striding toward their table and making ladies’ heads turn in his wake was so far from a boor that it was ludicrous. Tall, polished, and impeccably dressed in a charcoal coat, embroidered waistcoat, trousers, and shiny Hessians, the man exuded ducal poise. Everyone else thought so, too, from the dazed and covetous looks on their faces. Every female instinct in her wanted to stake her claim, but Imogen sat still until he came to a stop at their table.
“Lady Kincaid, I’m so sorry I wasnae here to welcome ye earlier to Dunrannoch House. I had some urgent business to attend to.” Gray-blue eyes fastened on Imogen next, the heat in them making her body react abominably. “My lady, dunnae ye look lovely.”
“Thank you. Er, we’ve been shopping.” Good God, could she be any more inane? “For wedding things.” She wanted to slide beneath the table.
A smirk played about his lips. “I have a surprise outing planned.”
Imogen blinked. “A surprise?”
“Yes, for both of ye.”
Lady Kincaid shook her head, ignoring Imogen’s daggered glare. “Not for me. I’m exhausted after my journey and wish to rest. You two young people run along and have fun.”
“I’m tired as well,” Imogen said weakly.
“Nonsense,” her traitorous mother insisted. “You’ve been sitting around all afternoon and bored to tears with all of this. Go, have fun.”
After their bill had been settled and her mother sent home in the carriage, Imogen joined Ronan in his waiting coach. She tried to forget when they’d been in there last, her scandalous position on his lap with her dress pulled down to her waist, but it was a wasted effort. Especially because the way Ronan was looking at her made it clear thathehadn’t forgotten. Heat scorched her cheeks.
“Where are we going?” she asked brusquely to cover it up.
“I told ye. It’s a surprise.”
She scowled. “I don’t like surprises.”
“Ye dunnae like feeling out of control,” he shot back.
That, too.
Imogen chose not to respond. Settling herself back against the squabs, she resolved to be silent. To her shock, he did as well, and after a while she relaxed, letting her gaze wander the changing landscape beyond the windows. Buildings gave way to countryside as they left the city, and though she was curious, she refused to ask. They came upon the start of a huge meadow, and the coach finally rolled to a stop. When she descended, a large, basket-like contraption lay a distance away with a huge pool of what look like multicolored silk lying beside it along with a handful of men standing about.
“Surprise!” Ronan said, taking her arm and steering her toward it. “It’s a hot air balloon.”
“We arenotgoing up in that thing.”
The daft man laughed at her. “Why no’? I thought ye werenae afraid of anything?”
“Not when it involves me dying a horrible and painful death.”
“I willnae let anything happen to ye, Imogen.”
Something in his voice tugged at her, but when she looked up at him, his attention was on the balloon that was slowly being inflated. Imogen followed his stare, her heart racing with no small amount of fear, exhilaration, and anticipation.
Ronan stared down at her, a hint of challenge in those brilliant eyes. “It’s up to ye. I promise ye will love it.”
Why not go?
