Her Wicked Highland Spy (The Marriage Maker #10)(8)

Chapter Four


Of a Man’s Interests



The salty tang of the sea air and the music of the waves had tempted Rosalyn beyond bearing and she’d stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the evening’s cool breeze. She’d eyed the waves, struggling with the desire to slip out of her shift altogether and frolic in the waves as she had as a child. After all, everyone else had surely long since fallen asleep. She’d always loved the water. As a child, her uncle had taught her to swim like a fish.

The sea breeze had fluttered around her and she’d let her shawl fall back to enjoy the breeze on her skin. She’d stayed that way, lulled by the soft song of the ocean waves until a movement near the garden’s edge caught her eye.

Ethan had stood there, apparently fresh from a swim himself, barefoot, carrying his boots, with his cravat loose around his neck. He’d looked so virile, so masculine.

She’d been unable look away. The sight of his tanned, hard-muscled chest and rippling abdomen had caught her up in an unexpected whirlpool of emotions and had unleashed desires she’d long thought extinct. God, he had such a sinful mouth. What would it feel like to have him suckle her breasts?

Only then had she realized the state of her undress. She’d raced back to her room and snuffed the candles, plunging her bedroom into darkness.

Rosalyn drew a long, shuddering breath.

Her passionate side had gotten her into trouble once before. She couldn’t let it emerge again.

“You’re here to observe and write a report, young lady,” she chastised herself in a whisper.

She certainly wasn’t supposed to imagine his wickedly sinful lips drawing her nipple deep into his mouth to…

“Merciful heavens!” She fanned her warm cheeks and jumped to her feet.

She’d start her report now as a measure of discipline. She grabbed her journal, lit the candle on the writing desk, and sat down to business.



Social Competency:

The man possesses a social charm that will no doubt pique the interest of his future bride upon their first meeting.



She paused and nibbled the end of the feather quill, wondering if she should scratch out ‘social charm’ and replace it with ‘sensual charm.’ After all, he’d provoked a particularly strong reaction from herself, hadn’t he? She twisted her lip and decided against it, lest the candidate bride misunderstand, and for the very first time, she wondered just who the young lady might actually be.

*

Rosalyn twirled on the beach in the early morning sun and peered up into the sky. The day promised to be an exceptionally beautiful one. Puffs of white clouds scurried across the blue expanse overhead. A colony of black-legged kittiwakes complained noisily from the nearby chalk cliffs. Gulls rode the wind. In the distance, children squealed as they collected shells and seaweed in the tidal pools.

She smiled and slipped out of her shoes. There wasn’t a speck of sand in sight, only multi-colored pebbles stretching out in all directions. She’d always thought a beach should have sand, but the pebbles proved interesting enough beneath her feet. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply of the fresh morning air, and let the waves wash over her bare skin as she squished her toes.

The pounding of hooves from behind made her glance over her shoulder.

She’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. It was Lord Ethan Brodie. He rode low over the neck of his horse as the animal’s great hooves scattered the pebbles like sand. It was hard to look away. The man was all roguish good looks and moved in a way that caught the eye.

Rosalyn realized he was headed straight for her.

She winced. It was too late to pretend she hadn’t seen him. He’d caught her in her shift last night. She couldn’t let him catch her now with her ankles well exposed. With a frown, she hurried for her slippers, but with wet feet, they were impossible to wrestle on.

“No need to stop on my account,” Ethan’s deep baritone announced as he arrived.

The man and horse made a striking picture, and her eyes latched onto the sensuous play of his muscular arms as he jumped down from the saddle and grabbed his horse’s bridle. She’d thought him handsome the day before, but this morning, he exuded an overwhelming magnetic allure in his gray morning coat, white shirt, and buckskin trousers, and even though he’d been riding, she could find nary a wrinkle in sight.

Suddenly aware she’d been staring, Rosalyn bobbed a quick curtsey. “Good morning, my lord.”

Ethan dipped his head in reply and with an easy smile, led his horse forward to join her. “And a good morning to you, Lady Rosalyn. I trust Lady Sarah has recovered from the journey?” His teeth flashed, brilliantly white.

“My aunt intends to spend the day in the parlor with a good book.” His smile was infectious. She found hers curving up in response.

Ethan’s blue-gray gaze dropped to her bare toes. “You seem to enjoy what the sea offers. Do you swim?”

Her blasted bare feet. A flush of heat rose in her cheeks, and she quickly returned to the business of wriggling her feet into her shoes. Must she always be in some state of undress before the man?

“I confess that I love to swim,” she admitted, flustered. “I fear my uncle taught me to swim like a fish.”

“Fear?” he queried lightly. “Why is that a bad thing?”