Lessons from a Scandalous Bride (Forgotten Princesses #2)(29)

What was wrong with her? She was finally close to getting what she wanted.

She rose abruptly. “Pardon me. I’ll fetch us something to read from the library.”

“Ah, my dear, you’re such a solicitous creature.” He looked up at her. “Always thinking of others. Always concerned with my comfort.”

“A paragon,” McKinney murmured.

Her fists curled deeper into the fabric of her skirts. Those eyes continued to glitter at her. Emotion surged within her and she inhaled a calming breath, reminding herself that there was no reason McKinney should affect her whatsoever. He meant nothing to her. Truly.

She inched another step away. “A book sounds lovely, does it not?”

“Brilliant, my dear.” Thrumgoodie looked at McKinney again. “She has a lovely reading voice. You shall see. Sit. Stay.”

Like he was a lapdog to be commanded.

“I’m sure Lord McKinney would be far more interested in joining the game than listening to me read.” She motioned to the lawn where the others played.

McKinney looked out at the others then back to her. “I think I’d enjoy relaxing here with the both of you.”

“Lord McKinney!” Libba’s loud squeal carried over the air. Cleo sighed inwardly as she watched Libba lope across the lawn like a great anxious puppy, holding her skirts up in two hands to keep from tripping. “You made it!”

McKinney executed a sharp bow. “I couldn’t miss what promised to be a titillating event—especially with your lovely self in attendance.”

Empty flattery. How well he delivered it. Cleo looked away so no one would notice her rolling eyes. Silken-tongued devil. Just days ago he’d kissed her. Proposed to her. This moment only served to remind her to believe in nothing he said.

Apparently he’d arrived to press his suit on Libba. Her rejection must have woken him to the fact that he stood a better chance on landing Libba. He’d get nowhere with Cleo and well he knew it. If he needed an heiress—and quickly—Libba was the one to win.

It stung a little, she had to admit. That he could so quickly give up on her after vowing to want her, after those moments they shared in the library when he held and comforted her. He’d almost convinced her he cared for her. Further evidence that he wasn’t to be trusted.

“You must join us for croquet,” Libba gushed, clapping her hands merrily.

McKinney splayed a hand to his chest. “I confess to weariness from my journey. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Do let the man sit down and partake of some refreshment before you sink your clutches into him, Libba.” Her grandfather shooed her away with a waving motion of his hand.

She pouted. “Very well. I shall let you relax, but later you shall be mine.” She wagged a finger playfully at him.

Cleo felt like retching.

McKinney inclined his head in seeming agreement. It was really too much. She couldn’t stomach it. Would she have to endure such tripe all week long? Oh, the misery.

Intent on escape now more than ever, she took a step toward the house. “I’ll be but a moment, my lord.”

“Of course, my dear. Take your time. Choose something you like, as well.”

Nodding, she could not stop her gaze from sliding to McKinney. His eyes were inscrutable as he watched her move away. She prayed he would not be here when she returned. She found it unlikely he wanted to listen to her read to the earl. Perhaps if she took her time, he’d be gone when she returned.

As she slipped inside and made her way into the library that was precisely her hope.





Chapter Twelve

Watching her leave, Logan was quite certain she would take Thrumgoodie’s advice to heart and dawdle in choosing a book . . . if for no other reason than to avoid him.

“She’s a fine one.” Thrumgoodie’s voice almost startled him from his musings. He glanced swiftly to the old man to see his gaze trained on where Miss Hadley had disappeared.

“Nothing silly about her. Not like so many of these women.” He waved his bent and crooked fingers toward the lawn where Libba and two other ladies played their game with the gentleman. “She’s lived a different sort of life before this. You can see it in her eyes. It makes all the difference.”

Logan would agree with that. She wasn’t vacuous or spoiled or vain. She loved others more than herself. She was willing to sacrifice herself for her family. Need for her tightened inside him.

Life in the Highlands wasn’t like life in Town. There weren’t the teas and vast entertainments. No operas and balls and shopping jaunts to Bond Street. But he did not suspect she would miss any of that. Heat unfurled in his gut. They could find other ways to divert themselves. He could see her at his side, helping him rebuild his castle, helping him tend to the crofter’s needs and assisting him in the care of his siblings.

He could especially see her in his bed in the long, cold nights of winter—the fire from his fireplace gilding her skin as he sank himself between her thighs.

He blinked, swallowed, disturbed to find himself uncomfortably hard. Damn the lass. She did this to him and she wasn’t even within sight. At any rate, it was all a fantasy until he persuaded her to marry him.

“Too bad I happened upon her so late in life. If I were a younger man, I could be a real husband to her . . . instead of this . . . shell.” He punched a gnarled fist upon his blanket-covered thigh.