Page 5 of Married to the Highland Devil
“It is,” she agreed. “But I prefer other things. I like books… I like to walk around the gardens and even garden myself. And I play the pianoforte. Hopefully, you don’t have any strong objections against it.” She smiled, and the other girl stifled a laugh too.
Ah, another joke between them.
“My maither gardens,” he told her.
“She does?”
“Aye… She has this little corner in my castle; she calls it her heaven. In there, she has many herbs, and she helps out the people whenever she can.”
“I like your mother already.” She laughed again, and this time, Duncan could not hold back his own light chuckle. He could get used to this.
Her eyes were still on him, and that strange feeling came over him again. She had not blinked since he had walked into this room.
“Maybe she would have even accepted a cup of tea.”
He could only imagine what thoughts went through her mind.
Are they like mine?
Duncan thought of her lips briefly. They were slightly parted, and her skin was pale.
If I draw close to her, can she see me? Or sense me?
Duncan knew thinking of her this way was wrong and impulsive, but he couldn’t help it.
So, this lady had a sense of humor.
“I usually prefer whiskey,” he told her without thinking. “It’s more solid, fierier.”
“I see.”
The other lady moved to the table then, and she returned with a cup of tea for him.
“Please,” she said. “I brewed this myself. It is not English tea, I promise you.” Then, with mischief in her eyes, she added, “I hate English tea too. Ever since I tasted tea brewed by an Indian housekeeper once, I knew I would never stop loving it.”
Duncan took the cup from the lady, and she curtsied before walking back to her corner.
He sipped the tea, savored the rich taste of mint in it, then looked at her when Amelia asked with enthusiasm, “How does it taste?”
“Amazing, My Lady,” he said. “I love the mint.”
“You know your herbs, My Laird,” she replied and chuckled. “You should call me by my name.” She paused then added, “Amelia Milton. I am tired of being calledMy Lady.”
“Duncan Russell,” he returned. “It is only right that you use my name too.”
Amelia was tapping her foot on the ground now, and Duncan chose to associate the move with nerves. He could only imagine how nervous she was.
Meeting a strange man and discussing marriage.
At least he had the liberty of choosing to walk away. It was different for her. If it was not him, then she would wed one of the other gentlemen of the ton anyway. Some of which might not have the purest of intentions.
What do you know about pure intentions?
Duncan questioned himself as the thought entered his mind. If it was not for her dowry, he would not be here either.
“Tell me, My Laird, what is the craziest story you have ever heard?” Her question tore into his thoughts, and his attention returned to her.
She was still grinning, and her eyes were expectant as if she needed him to answer this question. Duncan thought of telling her the story of the mistress that his married best friend had met when he was here. His best friend had been caught in a brothel with her, and his wife had proceeded to write a journal publication in the English gossip paper.
