Page 4 of Married to the Highland Devil
I came here to win her hand; I am nay leaving without it.
He took some time to look around the room they were in.
It was lavishly furnished with settees, rugs, and lovely artistic artifacts. He had aways thought the English wasted too many resources on decorations. His castle was much simpler than this Duke’s manor.
Back home in McLennan, he could have walked into the castle and found his way to the drawing room without the need for a footman.
He spotted the round table in a corner. That too was lavished with numerous delicacies. Duncan saw poundcake, fruits, and tarts. He also noticed a teapot and some saucers.
He hated English tea.
“Please, sit and have some tea with me.”
“I do not want tea,” he quickly replied, not sure he could handle supping from that tiny cup like they did. He neither had the taste nor the patience for it.
“All right, then.”
Her fingers were lean. He saw her twitch the fabric of her dress and purse her lips. When her tongue gently swept over the lower one, Duncan nearly groaned out loud because his body tightened in unimaginable ways.
“Are you sure you do not want something to drink?” she asked him again, slightly arching her right brow.
Duncan licked his lips. His palms had turned sweaty, and he smoothed them down his kilt. “All right,” he agreed. He was at a loss for words.
How can she make me this nervous?
He had fought many battles, and not once had he feared to look his opponent in the eye. Now, he could barely make eye contact with this lady.
He had thought she would be hideous. Maybe unable to secure a match herself.
Why else would a father want to marry his daughter off to a stranger?
Duncan knew now that she was far from hideous. She had high cheekbones and delicate features. Her lips were a rosy-pink shade, the kind that could beg any man for kisses.
Duncan imagined they would be as soft and moist as they looked then he damned himself for letting the thought slip into his mind.
“Have you traveled from Scotland, My Lord?” she asked.
“Laird,” he corrected again then cleared his throat. “Aye, My Lady. I have come from the Highlands.”
“Oh,” she gasped. “Is that not very far away? I have never traveled beyond the countryside, My Laird. I do wish to know what it would be like in the Highlands.”
“It is the most beautiful sight,” Duncan found himself answering with a smile in the next second. “The skies are just breathtaking. Nothing here in England compares, I am afraid.”
“And how well do you know England?”
“I have traveled too far and wide, My Lady. It does not compare.”
“Do you at least enjoy our music?” she asked. “The pianoforte? Or perhaps our fine love for balls and dinners?”
He paused when a tiny smile played out on her lips. “I hate balls,” he told her.
Her responding laugh was a shock. The unexpected riotous sound filled the air around them and drew a light chuckle from him. When she laughed, her eyes squinted at the corners, and her dimples flashed. She had a lovely smile.
Duncan felt his heartbeat pick up its pace, and his pulse began doing crazy things. There was also a flush deep inside him, one he had never felt before.
“I hate balls too. My goodness, they are ridiculous. And these dresses, can you believe it takes almost an hour to get into this corset?”
Duncan tried hard not to think how long it would take to get her out of it. “What do you do then, if you hate balls? Is it not what London is all about?”
