Page 18 of A Bonny Pretender
Chapter Five
Climbing Monkeys, Soaring Passions
A week later
Hyde Park, London
Frank had beentold by a little bird that he should take a ride along Rotten Row that afternoon. Since the theater, his mind had been consumed with the beautiful Miss MacNaughton. He realized the heaviness lifted whenever she was present. Something about her made him feel…
Bloody hell, he wished he knew. His dreams had taken a sensual turn. His body responded at just the sight of her. His heart thudded when she turned those knowing, blue eyes on him. He wanted her. He needed her. And he’d known her but a few short weeks.
Yet, he’d been waiting for her for a lifetime.
More and more of thetonflooded into London each week. His name would soon be on the tongues of hopeful mamas. They would cut into his time with Miss MacNaughton. Aside from working on his estate and enjoying the country life, there was nothing he enjoyed more than listening to her speak of Scotland and her clan.
At the musicale several nights ago, he’d finally learned of her three brothers. He wanted to wrap his arms around her when she’d told of her older brother’s death. Ian, the second eldest, had been at the political gathering in Manchester last summer. Peaceful workers and their families had gathered to hear the famous Henry Hunt speak on equality and workers’ rights. The cavalry and volunteers were called, pushed into the throng, and a massacre ensued. It had been dubbed the Peterloo Massacre.
Miss MacNaughton’s brother had been trampled and left behind a young widow.
She described her brother Brodie as her best friend and the younger version of her grandfather. He would be the next clan chief, after her grandfather stepped down or died. Frank asked if the MacNaughton maintained his health in his advanced years. She had laughed, wiped her eyes, then laughed some more.
“Grandda fills a room when he enters it. He’s a commanding presence, intimidating if his temper is roused. He could still outride and outhunt any English dandy or best one in a fair arm wrestle.”
The comment about dandies had stopped him from asking if her grandfather tolerated Englishmen. Her other brother Lachlan lived in Glasgow with Frank’s half-sister. The man loved his wife and family, good scotch, and a rowdy brawl. In that order, Brigid had admitted.
He imagined they were all protective over their bashful sister. To his delight, she was no longer tongue-tied around him. They had longer conversations, interrupted by Lady Brecken or Wilkens for propriety’s sake. Once again, he couldn’t have said what instruments or songs had been played.
The sound of laughter drew his attention back to his surroundings. Frank scanned the park and turned his head in the direction of a small wood. A group had left their carriage along the side of the road and were walking. The same throbbing that plagued him at night began as soon as he spotted her. Brigid wore the apricot pelisse over a sky-blue dress. He recognized Wilkens and Lady Brecken before a flash of orange disappeared into the copse.
He dismounted and joined his friends, acknowledging each with a greeting and nod. “Where did Miss MacNaughton go?”
“A governess was chasing her ward and asked for assistance. Miss MacNaughton offered to help since the elderly woman could barely catch her breath.” Wilkens grinned. “I remember a few pranks I played on my nanny. That boy may need a younger governess.”
Evie rolled her eyes and addressed Frank. “Lord Raines, I’d feel much better if you’d see if they need any help?”
He handed his reins off to Wilkens. “Would you mind tying him to your carriage?” He took off at a jog into the wood, barely hearing his friend’s reply.
Frank followed the sound of voices.
“Young man, your father will hear of this.” An unfamiliar voice.
“I didn’t mean to climb this high. I can’t look down.” Another slight, whiny voice confessed.
“Hold up, I’m coming for ye, lad.” A Scottish brogue.
She’s coming for him? Miss MacNaughton was going to climb a tree?
Fifty yards in front of him, he saw an older woman with dark hair, wearing a prim gray dress and pelisse. Her hat tipped precariously on her head as she glared up at the boy. More than half way up the great oak, a flurry of leaves revealed a navy-blue shape. His beautiful Brigid, as he’d begun to call her in his dreams, stood at the base of the tree. She untied her bonnet and handed it to the governess. Bending over to reveal a round bottom, she pulled her skirt up and tied a quick knot on one side. At her thigh.
What the devil?He forced his eyes from the stockings that clung to her calves.
With his jaw dropped to his knees, he watched the chestnut curls bounce as she jumped and caught the branch with her hands. She swung back and forth, her petticoats shining like a white flag of truce, until she hoisted herself up and onto the branch so that she perched on her stomach. One knee came up, and she pushed herself upright before reaching for the next branch. Using the trunk for balance and traction for her feet, Miss MacNaughton ascended two more sets of branches.
Frank wasn’t sure what appalled him the most: the little minx climbing the tree or the fact her legs were as shapely as he’d imagined.
“What’s yer name, lad?” asked Miss MacNaughton.
“George,” came the pitiful voice.
