Page 11 of Tempting the Earl

“I reckon you’re anxious to be on your way, my lord. Surely, it’s nothing so important it cannae be addressed by letter,” she suggested with a dismissive gesture.

“Would you actually read it?” he asked before thinking better of it.

There was a brief narrowing of her gaze followed by a tight smile that was there one moment, gone the next.

“Verra well. If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Follow me, my lord.”

With a decisive swish of her skirts, she turned to lead him toward the front of the house. There was a distinctive hint of scorn in her voice whenever she said my lord. Having grown up in his father’s household, derision and contempt were nothing new to him. He’d long ago learned how to keep such attitudes from piercing his skin, but hearing the sneering tone in her voice grated on him for some reason he couldn’t quite fathom.

Perhaps it was because, although he could certainly force his objective, he’d prefer to have the woman’s cooperation, for Caillie’s sake. Unfortunately, his experience with Miss Morgan so far today suggested cooperation might not be in her nature.

With no fire lit in the grate, the parlor she brought him to was darker than the rest of the house and a chill permeated the space. He walked toward the two sofas set facing each other as she closed the door with an audible click.

Clasping his wrist behind his back, Colin turned to face the fireplace as he waited for her to join him.

“Shall I light a fire? I reckon our Scottish spring is rather cold for your English blood.”

Ignoring her condescension and suspecting she was only trying to delay their conversation, he replied, “Not necessary, Miss Morgan.” Then he gestured to one of the sofas. “Shall we sit?”

Her jaw tensed and a distinct flash crossed her gaze at the sharp tone of his voice, but he was quickly approaching his limit in regard to her sour attitude.

As soon as she took a seat in the center of one sofa, Colin lowered himself to the one opposite. Then they stared at each other.

Her green eyes flashed with rebellion and her features were taut and forbidding. She looked like a warrior facing battle.

But Colin was also prepared to fight.

“Miss Morgan, no doubt you realize my visit here today is about more than simply meeting Miss Claybourne.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I cannae imagine what other business you could possibly have, my lord.”

“Can you not?” He arched a brow. He had no doubt the expression was an imperious one, but he figured he’d earned the right to be a little annoyed by Miss Morgan’s insistence of being contrary.

She pressed her lips together in a severe line before taking a long breath through her nose. Then she shrugged and waved an impatient hand through the air. “Why dinnae you just enlighten me so you can be on your way?”

His brows lowered at her dismissive tone and his next words came out a bit more abruptly than he intended. “I’d like Miss Claybourne to come with me back to London.”

AINSWORTH’S BREATH stopped. Her lungs simply didn’t have the power to expand or contract as all the life inside her condensed to a tiny knot just behind her sternum.

“To what purpose?” she asked tightly.

“I should think it’s obvious.”

The man’s flat, emotionless mien in the face of her own increasing panic brought Ainsworth to her feet. When he stood as well, she nearly growled her frustration at his ridiculous insistence upon proper manners despite how utterly at odds they were with each other.

“Oh, but it isnae. Not even a wee bit.” She scoffed. “Do you really think you can just appear out of nowhere and start dictating her fate?”

“It is not my intention to dictate,” he noted firmly.

“Bullocks!” She would’ve liked to take a moment to enjoy the flash of shock in his stoic features. Instead, she very intently slowed her breath to a calmer rhythm. Then she narrowed her gaze as she took a purposeful step forward. “I made a vow long ago to never swaddle Caillie in lies. She’s always known the true circumstances of her illegitimate birth and what that means to society. Her own father and grandfather proved unfailing examples of how cruelly she could be treated. I promised myself and her that I’d never force her into a situation where she must fight to convince anyone of her worth. She is far more than the circumstances of her birth. More than the choices of her parents. More than the rejections and judgements that’ll undoubtedly come her way throughout her life. I’ve done all I could to ensure she kens this. That she believes it with everything in her being.”

“I’d say you’ve done an excellent job of that.”

She pulled a face that told him exactly what she thought of his little interjection.

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