Page 49 of Return of the Scot
“Oh, indeed.” He grinned with an air of mischief that made heat flood her cheeks. “What can I do for ye, Miss Andrewson?”
So many things… Naughty, wicked things. “I saw ye today. At the docks.”
“Why did ye no’ say hello?”
That was a good question. “Because it was more fun to spy on ye. What were ye doing there?”
“Questioning captains and crews.”
“About?”
Lorne grinned and crossed his arms, emphasizing his muscular physique. “Am I under investigation, Miss Andrewson?”
“Maybe.”
His grin widened, and his gaze roved over her from head to toe, heating her in all the places a man like him shouldn’t be allowed to touch.
“I like it when ye investigate me.” The duke’s tone was not playful anymore but rather…sensual.
Jaime waved away his wicked insinuation in hopes of fending off her desire. “Truly, Your Grace, ye are a pain in the—”
“Och, I can see we’ve been spending entirely too much time together. Ye’ve picked up my vulgar tongue.” The way he drawled out the last word only had her remembering what he could do with that tongue.
“I’ll ask again, what were ye doing?” she demanded, trying to be authoritative, but the way her gaze kept landing on his mouth, she was undermining herself.
“I’ll fight ye for the challenge,” he dared.
Fight? There was that word again. “Honestly, duke, I’m exhausted.”
He frowned, disappointed, letting out a sigh. “And here I thought ye’d come all this way for a little fun.”
“What’s taking ye so long?” Another sweaty man came from the corridor behind the grand staircase and stopped when he saw her. “Ah, I see.”
“Cousin, Miss Andrewson would like to challenge me.”
“I would no’,” she countered, crossing her arms over her chest, and backing toward the door.
“This, I’d like to see.” His cousin grinned, looking nearly as handsome as Lorne. “I’ve never seen a female pugilist.”
Ah, so they were discussing boxing. Goodness, but if he expected her to raise her fists? Nay. Just nay.
“I’m Malcolm Gordon, Earl of Dunlyon, by the way.” The newcomer bowed. She thought she recognized him from the ball and today from the docks.
She affected a curtsey. “I’m Jaime Andrewson, daughter of the late Viscount Whittleburn.”
“A pleasure to meet ye, miss, and my condolences on your father.”
“Thank ye.” She shook her head. “Now I confess I’m no’ a pugilist, and so must be going.”
Lorne made a dissatisfied noise. “Ye mean to tell me ye’ve no’ learned a thing or two at the docks?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Well, as a matter of fact, I have learned some things.”
“Show me, then. Come on, Miss Andrewson, I dare ye.”
Jaime pursed her lips. “If I show ye, then ye’ll tell me what ye were doing at the docks today?”
“Aye.”
