Page 43 of The Scot Who Loved Her

“Well, truly, look around.” A delicate hand fanned out to indicate the men and women milling about.

Malcolm decided to do as she suggested, taking in the dozens of men flirting outrageously with the dozens of fawning females. “Perhaps ye’re right.”

“And those men whose coffers are dry are looking for a lady with a dowry to replenish it.”

“So he wants to rob me?” Malcolm turned down his mouth.

“He would not be the first groom to benefit from a dowry.”

Malcolm groaned. “My sister deserves more than that.”

“Caroline strikes me as a young woman who will not let any man take advantage of her. She’s smart. Besides, she’s got you as a brother to protect her. Has she told you what she wants?”

“No’ to wed yet.”

Olivia shrugged delicately. “Perhaps she’s changed her mind.”

“What would make a lass change her mind about no’ wishing to marry?” Malcolm frowned, wondering if hecouldshoot Paisley right then and there and be done with it.

“The right man.” The way the tone of her voice dipped, almost to a stroke, moved Malcolm to silence. “And not wanting to be a spinster.”

After a brief moment and a glass of champagne in hand, he said, “I never thought about marrying. Until recently.” He slid his gaze toward her, meeting her eyes. That, of course, was him paying lip service to her and his mission to seduce her into telling him the truth. However, what he hadn’t expected was that saying such a thing—staring at her the way he was and seeing the way she looked back at him—would stir things inside him that shouldn’t be stirring. He was on a mission, for goodness’ sake. Not a bloody flirtation.

“You see, my lord, even you can change your mind.”

“What do ye mean by that?”

“You are a stubborn ox, my lord.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As only you would.” Olivia’s grin made his gut tighten.

Made him think about seeing that grin as they lay beside each other in bed or sat across from each other at the dinner table. And he didn’t like that one bit. Still, for the sake of the mission, he was compelled to say, of course, “Then we are the perfect pair to be courting each other, as we both seem to be changing our minds. We’ve things in common.”

Courting… Olivia’s mouth went a little dry at his admission. “And we are both enjoying spying on your sister. That’s another thing.” She chuckled and sipped her champagne.

But the mention of spying, even if it was in reference to his sister, had Malcolm suddenly wary and recalling exactly how he’d come to know Olivia Aston in the first place.

“I miss my sister,” she said out of the blue, her eyes growing a little misty. She gave a nervous laugh. “You care so much for your sister, Malcolm. It is very endearing, and I just…I wish I had my sister back too. I don’t even know what happened to her. One minute she was fine, and then she started a slow descent into madness before breaking into a lord’s house. That was the last straw for my parents.”

He was stunned by her words, by her emotion that touched a place inside him, and her slip of using his name in a room full of strangers. The history behind her sister’s disappearance from society and the confusion and pain it had caused Olivia. He wanted to hold her. To make everything better somehow.

They were signaled to return to the box and followed behind Caroline and Paisley—the latter of whom seemed completely oblivious that Malcolm was glaring daggers into his head. His sister and her beau pushed through the curtains, the velvet fabric falling into place before he and Olivia reached it.

The corridor had nearly emptied with only a few footmen still cleaning up the mess of those who’d been refreshed. On impulse, Malcolm tugged Olivia to a stop, her slim arm in his hand rather more toned than he would have guessed. The heat of her skin seeped through her elbow-length gloves. Olivia looked up at him, not moving forward, her eyes full of question. She was stunning and clever and distracting. A combination of things he’d warned himself against. Stunning women knew how to get what they wanted. Clever women, even more so. One who possessed both a stunning face and a clever brain was dangerous. Women who distracted him from his own thoughts, convictions and the warning bells that went off—well, they were downright deadly.

And still, she captivated him. Knowing all those things didn’t make him walk in the opposite direction. Instead, it pulled him closer, just as he was drawing her to him now, the heat of her body pressing to his. A moth to a flame, unable to swing back before being singed.

Without thinking, Malcolm bent forward and did the one thing he’d been wanting to do since he’d lain bleeding on the ground in the forest—he kissed her.

This kiss might have beenbrief, the slightest brush of his lips on hers, but Olivia felt the world had tilted on its axis. The opera music silenced, and all she could hear was the beat of her heart. The whole of her body sparked to life in that touch of his lips. She could barely breathe. Her skin was hot. Her fingers were numb.

Kissing Malcolm felt as if it should be bad for her health, the way her mind was spinning, near hysteria, and her body seemed to stop functioning and then everything came whooshing back.

For the rest of the opera, she couldn’t concentrate on the vocals, the music, the storyline. She could barely focus her eyes. The moment he’d swept down, his mouth connecting to hers was all she could think about. And what it might mean.

Well, not all. The other thing was that she couldn’t stop wishing it would happen again and again.

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