Page 8 of The Texan Duke
He walked from the middle of the room to one of the long windows. As he reached it, feeling the cold from the outside, he couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t closed the curtains against the weather. The view was pretty, though, with the torches illuminating the falling snow.
He found it odd to be witnessing a blizzard and not having to be concerned about his men or his cattle.
Another reason why he shouldn’t be here. Winter was a treacherous season on the ranch. Still, he had a team of reliable and dedicated managers. He had to trust in them, just as his father had trusted him.
I’m not going to be here one day, Connor. I believe in you. I know you’ll do the right thing. You always have.
But had coming to Scotland been the right thing? According to his mother, yes. Even his sisters had been in agreement. Now, however, standing here and feeling the echo of the past push against his back, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.
He didn’t want to be here. He had to converse with people he didn’t know, over topics he didn’t care about, in a setting he didn’t like.
“Don’t you think so, Connor?” Sam said.
He knew, without turning, that Sam’s glance would be filled with admonition. He was being chided and he probably deserved it. He hadn’t been polite. In fact, he’d been borderline rude.
Or, as his sister Alison often said, “Connor, you can be unbearably terse sometimes.”
He didn’t think she used the word correctly, but he understood her meaning well enough. He needed to be more social, more outgoing, spend time acting inane and saying idiotic things.
Turning, he forced a half smile to his face.
The door opened and any thought of mouthing pleasantries flew from his mind when he sawher.
Chapter 4
As Elsbeth slid open the door to the Laird’s Hall, the new duke turned to look at her.
No one had told her that he was a man in his prime. Why had Mr. Glassey failed to mention that he was so tall, or that he could command a room, even one so large and impressive as the Laird’s Hall?
She felt her breath catch, which was ridiculous. She had never once lost her composure around a handsome man. Nor was she about to now, especially around a man who could have such a deleterious effect on her future.
She stepped aside as a parade of maids entered the room, carrying trays of heated refreshments that they placed on various tables. The hour was late, past the normal time for dinner, but they had provided the food in case the duke and his companion were hungry.
The new duke looked as if he wished to say something, an impression that lasted just a second before he turned his glance away from her and toward the duchess.
He hadn’t removed his coat. The majordomo was ill, but surely one of the footmen could have performed that most elementary of tasks?
Elsbeth walked to his side, extended her hands, and said, “Your Grace, if you’ll permit me, may I take your coat?”
He glanced at her.
Was he remarking on her gown? Unlike those dresses the McCraight sisters were wearing, there wasn’t a swath of tartan on it. Instead, her dress was a simple black silk that didn’t show wear or stains. Did he consider it too plain?
No, she was not going to be that foolish. What did she care what he thought of her dress?
Her feet were cold. Her shoes had not fared well in the snow. She wanted, like Felix, to go and stand in front of the fire. Or like Muira, serve herself to hot chocolate. Instead, she stood there like an upper servant waiting to take his coat in a simple gesture of hospitality.
“Thank you,” he said. He shrugged off his coat, folded it lengthwise, and handed it to her.
It was surprisingly heavy, more than she’d anticipated.
She glanced away to encounter Rhona’s look.
Evidently she’d done something wrong again, but she was too busy at the moment to worry about it. She’d given up trying to win the duchess’s approval years ago.
“It’s because you’re so much prettier than all of us,” Muira had once said.
She’d only stared at her friend.
