Page 3 of Trade of a Lifetime (Trade Wind 1)

Before she could slip the luscious fruit between her parted lips, James stepped forward, determined not to let her take the wind out of his sails.

“So preoccupied with your meal that ye fail to recognize the enemy at the gate?” Over the years, his Scottish accent had muted, but James emphasized it now.

Chadbourne startled, whipping his way and forgetting about the plate balanced on his leg. It tipped before he could right it, and a Scotch egg rolled off. The golden breadcrumbed-and-fried picnic treat wobbled across the blanket and onto the rich Turkish carpet, coming to a stop in a puddle of crumbs.

James savored the satisfaction of Chadbourne acting without his usual cold calculation.Perhaps he’s human, after all.

On the edges of his vision, James saw the woman on her knees again; this time, her hands covered her cheeks. The precious orange lay scattered on the blanket in front of her.

He refocused on Chadbourne until the periphery blurred again.

Chadbourne rose to his feet, eying James as if he was an insect.

“My lord, I tried to stop him. Shall I call forassistance?” The butler asked from behind him.

“I’ll leave when I’ve said what I came to say,” James said to Chadbourne.

“Had you bothered to knock, I would have informed you I am not receiving at the moment.”

Despite his words, Chadbourne shook his head at his butler, declining the man’s unsubtly coded inquiry. With a minute flick of his hand, Chadbourne sent him away. Next, he helped the woman stand, murmuring reassuringly as he offered his arm.

She rose, her green eyes moving between the two men with unhidden curiosity. She was uncommonly tall, and the long, pretty fingers he noticed earlier now pressed against the base of her throat. The protective gesture drew his attention to the square neckline of her dress, just low enough to expose the hollow of her throat and a hint of collarbone.

James and the woman stared. When her gaze broke from his, it lowered, taking all of him in.

Her hand pressed harder against her breastbone. He looked away before her eyes returned to his; he wasn’t granting her the opportunity to cut him down with a look.

“You are interrupting here, and I must ask you to depart now,” Chadbourne intoned.

“Aye, ye would like that, would ye not? But I have business to discuss with ye. Yer picnic and romantic interlude will have to wait.”

“Cease your crude speech! You may not be a gentleman, but comport yourself like one while in the presence of a lady!”

Clara gave a light laugh, drawing James’s gaze despite his efforts to refrain. Her hand dropped from her throat, and she raised an eyebrow. “My brother rarely consorts with a person of such manners. It appears you feel you have something of great importance to say. Perhaps you can gather yourself enough to start again politely, and we shall be more receptive to another guest at the picnic.”

Brother?

James scrutinized the woman anew. She did share Chadbourne’s coloring—pale skin, mahogany hair—and elegant but not delicate frames.

Damn! I’ve just insulted his sister. And no wonder he wasnae taking her into his arms to taste her instead of the food.

Discovering that she was his enemy’s sister caused two sentiments to curl around each other and fight in his gut. First came the bitterness he felt toward her kind when they looked down on him or feared him. The feeling wasn’t comfortable, but it was so familiar, so part of him, it was part of living in his skin.

Next came the sparkle of excitement that the woman wasn’t Chadbourne’s.

It was not only unbidden but unwelcome when James felt the sparkle win, surpassing the caustic bitterness, transforming into buoyant bubbles.

It felt like hope.

“David.” The woman placed a hand on her brother’s elbow while the two men scowled. “Kindly introduce us.”

“Oh, no. You arenotmeant to make his acquaintance. He’s leaving.”

“I’m James Robertson.” He addressed her, then her brother. “Chadbourne, will ye introduce yer sister, or must she do it herself?”

Chadbourne lifted an eyebrow. “Youmay call me Lord Anterleigh.”

“This isn’t a social call. I’m here on matters of business.” James crossed his arms and stared back with as much dispassion as he could manage. He knew how much it rankled Chadbourne when he treated him as if they were equals.

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