Page 38 of The Scottish Duke
She had to remember that he hadn’t truly seen her, not in the two years she’d worked at Blackhall. She had to recall that he was the Duke of Kinross. She had to call to mind their stations in life, so different that one should never touch the other.
But they had, hadn’t they? On a magical night that shouldn’t have been but was, and one that extracted a heavy price for both of them.
Alex wondered if he was wise taking Lorna back to Blackhall. Probably not, but at least he’d be able to protect her there.
Also, he would see her every day.
She would be a constant reminder of his flaws of character, of his failings. She’d be an object lesson of sorts or a human hair shirt. Perhaps he’d simply wonder about his insanity on that far-off night. He’d see her as she was, just another woman. Any fascination that lingered in his mind would be blown away by the winds of rational thought.
She wouldn’t be an enigma to him. She wouldn’t occupy space in his mind. She would fade away.
He would stop thinking about her and be about his work.
As it was now, each time it stormed, she entered his mind. Every dark cloud summoned her.
What kind of fool was he?
The kind of fool who brings a woman heavy with child into his home. He could just imagine the reaction from the other residents of Blackhall. A damn good thing he was the titular head of the family. Everyone would simply have to accept Lorna’s presence there.
“Who wrote the letter to my mother?” he asked. “It wasn’t you, was it?”
She looked directly at him.
“No, it wasn’t. I would much rather you had been left in ignorance. If you hadn’t come to Wittan, I wouldn’t have had to go through Reverend McGill’s trial by shouting.”
He couldn’t argue with her. An irritant, that.
“Who was it?”
She closed her eyes. “Does it matter?”
“A friend, then? Someone who disapproved of your decision to live at Wittan?”
She smiled slightly. “Yes, she most definitely disapproved.”
The carriage had only gone a short distance before Lorna made a curious sigh, settled into the corner, and fell asleep.
Her bonnet, an ugly blue thing with a single squished fabric rose, looked uncomfortable. So, too, the bow beneath her chin. He wanted to take it off, smooth his knuckles over her flushed cheek and procure a pillow for her.
He watched her for several moments. Her head rocked a little with the movement of the carriage and her eyelids fluttered.
At first he thought it was a trick of the light, but her complexion possessed a radiance it hadn’t had before. Her lashes were long, hiding her deep brown eyes, her lips full. Her cheeks were still flushed. She had an attractive neck, and he’d never noticed such a thing on a woman before. His gaze traveled to her bosom before he forced himself to look away.
As they turned into the grounds of Blackhall, she blinked open her eyes.
“I fell asleep,” she said softly, her lips curving a little as if she ridiculed herself.
He nodded. “You needed your rest.”
She only continued to smile at him, her gaze warm. What was she thinking?
He should have focused on the approach to Blackhall, or come up with the right words to explain his actions to the inhabitants of the castle. Instead, he found himself staring into her eyes, trying to remember if he’d ever seen that color of brown before, lightened with gold but with a dark circle around the cornea. They fascinated him with their curious tilt.
Or maybe it wasn’t her eyes that intrigued him as much as her smile.
She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but there was something about her that drew his eyes to her again and again.
She sat there enduring his stare, only patting her skirt with the tips of her fingers.
