Page 1 of A Dash of Scot
PROLOGUE
Moonlight lit the path as they ran, hand in hand, giggling like adolescents through the garden maze.
Miss Poppy Featherstone had never done anything like this before. And if her mother or father knew she was doing it now, they would grab her by the other hand and yank her back to reality.
But fortunately, she and Dougal Mackay, the Earl of Reay, had been discreet when they’d gone out onto the balcony for fresh air. Discreet as they slipped into the shadows of said balcony. Discreet as they sneaked down the stairs to find the elusive statue in the garden that had supposedly been made in their host’s great-grandfather’s likeness, including the protruding codpiece he insisted on wearing.
The entire adventure was scandalous.
If discovered, she’d be banished from society—that was for certain. But Poppy didn’t care. What Poppy wanted was to be alone with Dougal Mackay. To listen to his jests and tease him back. To hear him whisper about things no one ever told a lady, like the statue.
Her friends were so preoccupied with finding husbands that they wouldn’t notice she was gone. Her sister was home tucked up in bed, pouting at being a year too young to attend a ball. Mama was off gossiping with her friends, and Papa was drinking brandy with his Parliament cronies in a corner.
That meant Poppy wasn’t likely to be missed, at least not for a little while, and if she needed to, she could always hail a hackney and disappear into the night with a footman letting her parents know she’d gone home due to some fictional ailment.
But for now, she wanted to concentrate on Dougal Mackay, the Earl of Reay, and his strong, firm hand holding hers. The crunch of the gravelly path beneath her slippers, the cool night air on her heated face.
“’Tis just around this corner, I swear it,” Lord Reay said.
“That’s what you said about the last corner.”
“It has been nearly a decade since I’ve seen it. Do ye suppose they’ve taken it down?”
“I dearly hope not. I was very much looking forward to seeing it.”
“Which part, my lady?”
Poppy laughed because his teasing was so raw, so real, so unfettered. Everyone in society was always tiptoeing around the right things to say. But not Dougal. He said what he was thinking and observing, and she liked that.
They’d known each other a couple of years, but it was only this season she’d caught his attention. Already they’d danced and danced at every ball they could.
Tonight was the first time he’d invited her onto the balcony for air, a place where most people went to receive a kiss. But he’d not kissed her. She’d thought he might, but he kept looking toward the garden maze. Enough so that she’d actually turned around to see what he found so fascinating, which was when he’d imparted to her that he’d witnessed firsthand the scandalous statue.
They came to another dead end, and Dougal stopped. He ran a hand through his dark hair, looking perplexed.
“All right, I’ll give ye a boost, and ye see if ye can see the statue’s head.”
“A boost?”
“Aye.” Dougal dropped to one knee and patted his other knee. “Step here, pretend I am a stool.”
She wanted to tell him he was a rather handsome stool. Impossibly tall with muscles she wanted to squeeze.
“All right, but if you drop me, we’ll have to come up with a proper excuse. My mother would become apoplectic to learn I’d stepped on you.”
Dougal chuckled. “I promise.” He slapped his thigh just above his knee. “Now step.”
Poppy pressed a hand into his thick shoulder and squeezed as she placed her foot on his strong thigh and hoisted herself up. She wavered slightly, and Dougal grasped her on the bum.
“Oh,” she gasped.
“Sorry,” he said with a chuckle. “I didna mean to grab ye there.”
Oh, but she didn’t mind. He resituated his hand at her calf, and even that was scandalous and delicious all at once.
“Do ye see anything?” he asked, pulling her back from all the thoughts swirling in her head from his touch.
Poppy peered over the garden hedge and wondered if anyone back on the balcony of the London manse would notice. She could certainly make out their shadows, but thankfully, she couldn’t discern any faces, which meant she was likely in the clear.
