Page 16 of A Scot's Pride
Lord Lovat slid his gaze toward her. His lips crooked slightly on one side in a small, teasing smile. “I think we could abstain from the ‘my lords’ and ‘misses.’ After all, we are not in the company of the ton,” he suggested.
Freya wondered if her face could get any redder at his unseemly suggestion.
“I do apologize, my lord, but even though we aren’t in a social setting—although one could very well consider this to be—it wouldn’t do for us to address each other in anything other than an appropriate manner.” She glanced around, expecting to see her mother running up alongside them to box their ears.
“Ye English do things so oddly.” He shook his head in what seemed like exasperation.
“You’re telling me in Scotland, there is no formality?”
He shrugged but didn’t answer.
“I take it there is, then.” She pursed her lips. What was his aim? To knock down her defenses and then point his finger and say “ah-ha” when she acted out of accordance?
“Only when it is expected.” When he turned this time to look at her, she felt caught, mesmerized by the gray swirls in his eyes.
“And is it not expected now?” She raised her eyebrows at him in the same challenging way she might at an opponent playing chess.
“I apologize if I offended ye, miss, I merely meant to put you at ease.” Suddenly he flashed her a teasing grin that nearly had her unseating her horse. “Or maybe I was trying to take a chisel to the ice around your heart.”
Freya’s mouth dropped open. She wasn’t certain how to respond to that. On the one hand, if he spoke the truth in his initial statement, it showed a remarkably softer side to his character, which she was pretty convinced lurked underneath. On the other hand, he might be trying to lure her into an assignation with that incredibly appealing smile, teasing glint and talk of her cold heart. She was fairly certain such a tease was undeniably flirting, wasn’t it? Not that she had much experience with flirting.
Well, that might be leaping it a bridge too far. She narrowed her gaze at him as if that were going to help her decipher the strange things that he said to her. He’d barely looked at her all morning, and she shouldn’t flatter herself to think a man would ruin his reputation, and hers, for a few moments of pleasure—and that a little crooked grin meant he wanted to. Or did it?
Pleasure. That was the first word that came to mind when she looked at his face. Her face flamed even hotter at that thought. My, but she was wicked. If her mother had even an inkling about what was happening inside her brain, she’d be locked in her room for a decade.
What was the matter with her? She couldn’t stop thinking such inappropriate things when in his presence. Well, it was all his fault, obviously.
Everything about him was inappropriate.
But she knew she was wrong with one glance in his direction. The impeccable way he was dressed to the form he sat his horse and the perfect angles of his features. Not everything was inappropriate about him. Still, it was unfair that he should make her feel so out of place.
She glanced ahead, searching the interactions between Riley and Lord Ashbury to see if her sister was having the same sort of experience. But it seemed the affliction that had come over her since meeting Lord Lovat was an encounter she was not to share with her sister and best friend. Riley and Lord Ashbury chatted convivially, both of their backs ramrod straight with Riley’s parasol primly propped.
“As to your question about whether or not I like to read,” he interrupted her thoughts with his smooth burr, “Miss Freya, aye, verra much.”
Freya let out a long breath, ignoring the long, drawn-out miss. All right, they were back on common ground. What could go wrong with a discussion on reading?
“What do you like to read? Have you a favorite?” she asked.
He raised a brow and then tipped his hat to several ladies meandering by. She recognized all of them and was likely to hear the rumors of the Scot courting her and their engagement by afternoon. My goodness, but she could already imagine the fit her mother would have. Freya smiled down at her hands. Maybe her mother would have to take to her bed over it and give them all a welcome reprieve.
“I like to read books.” Lord Lovat’s vague answer was given with a humorous tone and clearly meant to ruffle her feathers.
Freya frowned, as that was the response he wanted, and retorted smartly, “I do apologize. I seem to be confused. Is it not books we were discussing?”
He let out a short laugh. “I assumed ye meant the papers.”
“The papers? As in gossip rags?”
He shrugged. “Is that no’ what most ladies read?” Another barb! Oh, he did like baiting her, didn’t he?
Freya scoffed. “I do not presume to know what other ladies are reading, my lord. And while I have on occasion enjoyed a good gossip column, I thought we were talking about something a little more serious.”
“I do no’ think we have the same taste in books,” he said, tipping his hat once more before tossing her a look that begged her to prove him wrong.
“You do an awful lot of presuming yourself, sir,” she said pertly.
“Enlighten me.”
