Page 10 of A Dash of Scot
If she’d had a crystal ball and knew the path of her future, she would have surely turned her back on him before it was too late, and they wouldn’t find themselves in the current situation.
But she supposed she had the man sitting across from her to blame for that. Poppy frowned, leaning into her censure.
Dougal Mackay had been first introduced to her about five years prior when she was merely sixteen. And she thought it might have been love at first sight if such a thing existed.
He’d been dressed impeccably in a suit at her brother’s wedding. And the moment he’d bent over her hand to kiss her palm, she’d practically swooned. He’d offered her one dance, and the feel of his hand on hers, the touch of his fingers at her waist, had her losing her breath faster than a too-tight corset.
The rest of the wedding ball, she’d wished for him to ask her to dance again, but he had not. Devastating really to a young lass like her, mooning over her first real crush. Of course, looking back now, she was a little embarrassed to have wished for a second dance. After all, he’d been twenty-two at the time, not interested in a fresh-faced adolescent girl who’d yet to come out in society. The only reason she was even allowed at the wedding ball was because the groom was her brother.
Otherwise, she would have been tucked up on the nursery with the rest of the children. Even Anise had been allowed one short dance, though she’d been fourteen. Anise’s dance partner had been in uniform, not the colonel who rode beside them now, but another dashing hero. Anise had followed him around like a puppy until their mother sent them both upstairs for bed.
Then last year, when Poppy had come face-to-face with Dougal at the ball in London, she’d been shocked to see him. And shocked even more so by how her body reacted to being in his vicinity. All heartbeats and sweaty palms. Even her knees had knocked together a little bit, and she needed to get air.
Time had only made him more handsome. And apparently, it had only made her interest in him grow from a spark to a sizzling flame that ended in that devastating kiss.
But he’d expressed about as much interest in her last year as he had when she was sixteen—except his lips had roved from kissing the back of her hand to her mouth. Surely a hint that he’d loved her. And what now?
Oh, Poppy, you were so naïve.
“Are ye hungry?” Dougal’s question jarred her, and Poppy worked to unwrinkle the frown on her forehead, the pinch of her lips, until she hoped she resembled someone more…or less.
Poppy shook her head, though really, she could eat. All the time. Her appetite was ravenous, likely given how active she was, pacing constantly, dancing when no one was looking and riding when she could. But her mother had warned her early and often that ladies—proper ladies—didn’t have appetites and that she needed to rein in her desire for sustenance.
“What are you offering?” Anise asked, earning her an elbow from Poppy. “Ouch,” she muttered.
“There’s a delicious creamery just ahead. I thought the two of ye might like some iced cream.”
Poppy’s stomach growled in acceptance, and she hoped that no one heard it.
“Ah, do let me join ye,” the colonel said jovially. “Their iced creams are to die for.”
“I’d love to try one. Poppy?” Anise asked.
As much as she wanted to say no to keep up the appearance of being a lady, she also wanted to try it.
Relenting, Poppy said, “All right, but just a small bite.”
“Ye’re going to want more than a small bite after one taste,” Dougal said.
“Indeed,” the colonel agreed.
Poppy bit her tongue because his words resonated more deeply than for just a bowl of iced cream. One taste of his lips, and she’d been ready to sign over her life to him. Oh, what a scourge that kiss had been.
The carriage pulled to the side, and Dougal hopped down first, offering his hand to Poppy while the colonel waited to assist Anise.
“Feeling better?” Dougal leaned toward her, asking the question as if it were in confidence.
She hated how close they were. How the look in his eyes appeared so genuine. How her gaze accidentally moved to the corner of his mouth, where his lips curved into a smile that would surely melt all the creams inside.
Poppy shifted her gaze to the door of the creamery, cleared her throat, and hoped she sounded less than intrigued. “Yes, thank you.”
Dougal didn’t notice that she’d stiffened, his voice a caress as he said, “My pleasure.”
Cad.
Why should it be his pleasure? By God, was he taunting her on purpose? Wanting her to fall in love with him all over again? Well, she refused. There was no time for her to be toyed with by Dougal Mackay all over again. Not when she needed to find a husband to save her mother from destitution and save her sister from making a mistake in an early marriage she wasn’t ready for.
The inside of the creamery smelled like sugar and vanilla and chocolate decadence. Small round marble tables were in the shop with wrought iron chairs, mostly filled by ladies and gentlemen enjoying bowls of iced cream. Poppy’s mouth watered, and she was fairly certain she was going to want to come back here and that she was going to eat more than one bite.
