Her Wicked Highland Spy (The Marriage Maker #10)(9)

Finally, the slipper slid over her heel and she straightened to find him eyeing her with obvious interest. Her heart skipped a beat. “As a child, I was rather a tomboy, if you must know. I drove my poor aunt to the brink of exhaustion whenever I visited. My uncle sought to tire me with swimming, riding, and the like.”

“Skills to be admired, assuredly,” he rumbled in his Scottish brogue.

There was an undeniable heat in his gaze. Her pulse began to race.

“You should try the bathing machines while you’re here.” He patted his horse on the withers. “I’ve heard they’re quite remarkable. I’d try them myself, but I fear I shan’t find the time before I leave.”

Rosalyn blinked. “Leave?”

“I intend to sail the balloon across the channel soon,” he explained in an easy manner, then offered her his arm. “Shall I escort you to the house?”

“Not too soon, I hope?” She needed at least several weeks, if not more. How soon was soon?

Ethan’s smile took on a playful gleam. “Why, Lady Rosalyn, are you saying you’ll miss me?”

It was quite unlike her to blush, but heat creep up her neck. Oh, dear. This wasn’t at all good. If she didn’t manage to control herself, she’d be thinking scandalous thoughts of him next. She bit her lip and dropped her gaze, only to find her eyes drawn to his groin like a magnet.

Flustered, she quickly slipped her arm through his. “I did not mean to pry, my lord.” This line of questioning had to end. Now. She jerked her gaze back to his face.

His sinfully attractive mouth had widened into a teasing grin. “I admit, I’m disappointed. I would much rather you pry,” he said as they began their walk up the path

Her stomach fluttered. “I would not be so bold, my lord.”

“Oh? I rather like a bold lass.” To her surprise, he stopped, and his blue-gray eyes bored directly into hers.

It was almost as if some unseen force pulled her in. Suddenly, he seemed so large, so masculine, and every sensual inch of him stood out in remarkable detail. The manner in which the corners of his lips curled. The way his shoulders rose and fell with each breath. He smelled fresh, of horse and the sea mixed with a tinge of citrus, and was that lavender? She could only admire the sharp line of his jaw jutting out against the whiteness of his shirt and the elegant twist with which he’d tied his cravat.

His muscles flexed under her hand, so warm and hard, and desire ripped through her body. The tremor of heat shattered the timeless moment and left her shocked at her heated response.

Quickly, Rosalyn slid her arm from his. “I thank you, my lord, but I can find my way from here.”

He reached for her and called her name, but she ignored him and ran back to the house.

The man was attractive—dangerously so. Until she regained control of the powerful emotions she’d unwittingly unleashed, it would be a mistake of the highest order to spend time in his company.





Chapter Five


The Cold Waves of the Sea



Rosalyn was damn attractive. Aye, a wee bit too attractive. Ethan didn’t know what he’d done to spook the lass, but he certainly enjoyed watching her run. The way her hips moved aroused him. He slid his gaze over her figure, undressing her in his mind as she dashed up the path and vanished through the opening in the garden hedge.

By God, her body tortured a man.

His bollocks tightened, and his cock pushed against his breeches in a firm reminder to cut the line of thought. Och, as much as it would please him mightily, he couldn’t seduce Lord Stafford’s niece. He expelled a harsh breath and headed back toward the house, taking his time. He’d send for the opera singer, instead. With the state of his bollocks, he’d have her stay at least a week.

A footman met him at the edge of the drive.

“My lord, it’s the varnish,” the man greeted him with a frown that said it all.

Ethan set his mouth in a hard line, tossed the man the reins of his horse, and wordlessly set off in the direction of the stone building housing his balloon.

So, his trip across the channel had been delayed yet again. Strangely, he didn’t mind as much as he should. He didn’t pause to think on exactly why, but rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

The day passed quickly and the evening as well, and the sun had set before Ethan finally returned to the house. He’d spent the day dabbling in varnish, but more than once found himself distracted with the temptation of a bonny pair of honeysweet eyes.

After changing into fresh clothes, he quickly penned his letter to the opera singer. He’d post it on the morrow. No doubt, a week in her company would clear his mind of Lord Stafford’s niece. He yawned and slid the missive into his desk drawer, then headed to the dining room.

“Good evening, child,” Lady Sarah greeted him as he arrived. “I fear you’ll have only my company this night.”

“Rosalyn? Is she well?”

“Oh, it’s only a headache,” her aunt assured as he saw her seated. “I’m sure she’ll be quite restored in the morning.”

“Aye, then.” He took his seat. He’d very much prefer an evening of light flirtation with a lass who stirred his blood, but perhaps his bollocks suffered enough. He suppressed a snort of amusement at the thought and turned his attention to his guest.