Page 4 of The Scot is Hers
He seemed stunned by her admission. “Book?”
“Aye. I was just getting to the good part when I had to set it aside to dress for this.” She waved her hand in the air, absent-mindedly dismissing the soiree held in his honor.
“I’m dying to know, Miss...what was your name?”
Well, that she didn’t feel like sharing. Not so he could tell someone he’d been alone with her in the garden and ruin all of her plans to remain unattached. “My name is no’ important as ye’ll no’ need to know it going forward. Probably safer. Now, what are ye dying to know?”
“Well, now, I’m intrigued by your lack of name. But before, it was the title of the book.”
“Do ye read, sir?” She somehow doubted it, him being a military man, and as handsome as he was. Most of the men she’d met who enjoyed books were not as appealing as Alec Hay.
“I have been known to pick up a book now and then.”
Giselle had searched the house when she first left the ballroom and found no library. And so she assumed he must be lying.
“Well, if ye must be enlightened, I was readingSense and Sensibility.”
“I’ve no’ heard of that.”
“I’m no’ surprised. It’s quite new. It is also a novel with romantic notions, and being ye are…”
“A dullard?” There was laughter in his words as if he expected her to agree.
Giselle tried to keep the frown from her face, as her mother had advised that frowning aged a woman dramatically, and she’d been frowning quite a bit in his presence. “A man. I’d no’ have expected ye to be interested.”
“Perhaps I am.”
What was he up to? “Then ye should get yourself a copy.”
“Perhaps I will. Who is the author?”
“A lady.”
“And her name?” Again his green eyes raked over her with interest, sending heat scurrying up her spine to wrap around her throat, making it hard to form words.
“She is anonymous, sir,” Giselle finally managed to say.
“Ah, as ye are. The two of ye have much in common. Perhaps she isye.”
Giselle shook her head, swiping at a blonde curl that tapped against her cheek. “Nay, she is no’. I like to read, but I have no’ the talent for storytelling.”
“Have ye ever tried?”
“I have no’.”
“Then how do ye know?”
This conversation had gone on long enough. If she didn’t extricate herself soon, she’d be in trouble, for every moment that passed with her in his presence unchaperoned was another moment they could be discovered, and her future ruined.
“I need to go, sir.”
“Home so soon? But there is more of the ball to be had.”
Oh, what did he care? He too was avoiding it. “If ye must know, I’ve had it with these ridiculous balls. I’m tired. I’m bored. And I’ve no intention of getting married any time soon, so going to them and flirting and hoping to catch the eye of an eligible bachelor is silly at best. Now, if ye’ll excuse me, I must go back inside before anyone sees us together out here.”
“Why’s that? Ye do no’ want to be seen with me?”
“Well, sir, if we are seen together out here, likely we will be forced to be seen together for the rest of our lives.”
