To Catch a Highlander (22 page)

"Nor I." She found herself leaning toward him, her gaze locked on his lips. Firm and perfectly carved, they had felt so good, so hot, on hers. She shivered at the thought. Just one more kiss. What would that hurt? Just one, and—

"I will return after I've taken Poseidon for a ride." He dropped his hand, turned, and walked down the path, leaving her aching and feeling absurdly alone.

Sophia had always enjoyed her solitude, but this was neither pleasant nor peaceful. It was painful and empty, filled with yearning and a tumble of disjointed emotions.

She half walked, half stumbled back to the bench, her heart thudding wildly. She'd had no idea a kiss could affect one like that. No wonder men were so addicted to it! She'd never realized how powerful passion could be.

She let out a shaky sigh and sat up straight. She couldn't afford to get lost in such things if she wanted to win tonight's game. She had to focus on the cards and on counting.

If she wished to be successful, she had to remain clear-minded. A good strategy took in not only consideration of the enemy but also one's own weaknesses. And apparently, she was far weaker than she'd known.

She had to keep her wits about her, which meant she'd have to avoid these kisses that left her breathless and unable to think.

She closed her eyes and shivered.

As soon as they hatch from the egg, ye worry about yer wee ones. The trouble comes in knowing when to push yer little birdies from the nest and when to hold them in and sit on 'em.

Old Woman Nora from
Loch Lomond
to her three wee granddaughters one cold evening

Dougal leaned against the barn, the evening breeze stirring his hair, his gaze on the house before him. He absently noted the quality masonry and the beautiful inlay of marble on the front steps and how the windows caught the light as the sun slid out of sight.

Shelton
picked up one of the saddles and carried it to a stand in the fading light. He pulled a brush from a nearby bucket, opened a small jar, and soon he was rhythmically polishing the leather.

Dougal ignored him, his mind focused on the residents of the house before him. Or, more truthfully,
one
resident. One golden-haired, impish, tempting armful of woman.

After Sophia had persuaded him to stay, he'd taken Poseidon for a run—mainly to cool his own unruly body. He'd also examined his motives for staying in that wretched house.

At first, it had been mere curiosity, wondering what Sophia and her minions were about. Then it had been the challenge of a beautiful woman, which he'd never been able to ignore. But finally, it had been Sophia herself. He'd become fascinated by her, admiring her spirit and determination.

A smart man would have turned on his heel and left. A truly smart man wouldn't have taken the risk of looking at Sophia as he did so. But Dougal luxuriated in beauty, and he couldn't help but look at her.

He loved her golden hair and had dreamed of it draped about them as she sat astride him, riding him to ecstasy. He imagined it wound about his hands as he took her in the his huge bed at his
London
town house. He saw the thick, silky, curls spread across the silk sheets in his house outside
Stirling
.

Since he'd met Sophia MacFarlane, he'd thought of little else. But tonight would change all that. He'd finally be freed of all these what-might-be's.

"Looks t'be a warm night,"
Shelton
said as he rubbed the saddle's pommel.

Dougal shot him a glance. "You don't know the half of it."

Shelton
spit on his rag and rubbed a leather strap with vigor. "Maybe not. But I do know that ye've been lookin' a mite distracted this last week. More distracted than I've ever seen ye."

Dougal shrugged. "I've had a lot on my mind." Even while riding this morning, all he'd been able to think about had been the feel of Sophia's lips beneath his, of the feel of her full breasts through her gown, her hips brushing his—

He moved restlessly, anxious for the evening to begin officially. He pulled a watch from his pocket and flicked it open. Five-fifteen. He still had an hour and fifteen minutes before dinner.

He'd spent the afternoon with Sophia as she gave him the "unabridged" tour of the house, and Dougal was amazed at the quality of wallpaper beneath the coating of soot, the fine furnishings in the attic, wainscoting that had been painted to hide its fine grain, a marble floor that had been covered with ugly carpets, doors that had been made to screech, and floor planks that had been pried until they creaked.

Sophia had been quiet as she'd shown him the true state of MacFarlane House. In a way, it was sad to give such a stately and magnificent home to a mere child. It was a house to be lived in, laughed in, and loved in.

Dougal had thought about this as he followed Sophia through the house, Angus clumping behind them. Dougal had been forced to settle for merely watching her, her rounded bottom drawing his gaze as he followed her up and down the hallways and stairwells.

His groin tightened at the thought, and he flicked his watch open again.

Shelton
clicked his tongue. "Ye keep checkin' yer watch so often, ye'll bring on bad luck. Are ye worried ye'll be late fer dinner?"

"No. I'm playing cards with Miss MacFarlane. I'm wagering the house."

Shelton
dropped his rag. "Ye're playing fer the house? But ye won it just a month and a half ago! Why, this land is worth more than yer estate near
Stirling
!"

Now that he'd toured the land and knew the true condition of the house, Dougal was tempted to agree. The deed to MacFarlane House was worth far more than he'd originally thought.

Shelton
shook his head. "Ye're moonstruck, me lord. Moonstruck and fairy-pinched."

Dougal snorted. "I have my reasons for wagering it." He looked back to the house, noting a figure in one of the upstairs windows. "When we leave tomorrow, I'll still have the deed tucked into my pocket. See if I don't."

Shelton
picked up his rag and shook it out. "I shouldn't have let ye speak to the miss in the garden this morning. I just
knew
it means we'd been here yet another day."

Dougal grinned. "She's beautiful."

"I've never seen one more so,"
Shelton
said truthfully. "Which is why ye need to have a care. She'll fill yer mind with fritters, and the next thing ye know, ye'll be playing a jack to a three and tossin' in yer
London
house, as well."

"I shall have a care. And now, I should get ready."

"Very well, me lord. But if ye lose the house—"

Dougal raised his brows.

Shelton
sighed. "Never mind. Ye have so many houses, one less won't hurt ye none."

Dougal's pride would certainly notice the loss. That was yet another reason he had to win—and to do so in a way that settled the situation between him and Sophia once and for all.

Meanwhile, up in her room, Sophia had finished her bath and was dressing for dinner.

Her gown was a rich and heavy blush-colored silk, which in the golden candlelight appeared the exact hue of her skin. It's only ornamentation was a wide pale blue ribbon that tied beneath her breasts, and she'd found a pair of jeweled slippers that matched.

If she'd had any doubts about the gown, Mary's reaction would have soothed them. The maid had gaped openly, then clasped her hands together and said in a reverent tone that Sophia looked like an angel. That wasn't quite the look Sophia had been hoping for, but she thanked the maid.

Mary pinned Sophia's hair into a wild tumble of curls that fell over one shoulder, then stepped back and looked her over. "Gor," Mary breathed. "Ye look as fine as a fiddle, ye do."

"Thank you," Sophia said. "Should I wear my pearl set with this? Mother's diamonds are too bold."

"I wouldn't wear nothin' more than what God gave ye. Trust me, miss, ye look perfect."

"Thank you, Mary. I must admit I'm a bit nervous about tonight."

"I don't blame ye. I daresay his lordship is the same. He stands to lose the house, while ye—" Mary paused, a frown resting between her eyes. "What are ye wagering, miss? I never thought of that."

Sophia turned away to face the mirror. "Red said I could write markers." Of course, Dougal had refused to take them, but that was no one else's problem but hers.

Mary's brow cleared. "Well, so long as he's fine with that. Ye'll have to promise his lordship a right pretty amount."

"You could say that."

She shook her head. "One o' ye is goin' to leave this game mad enough to spit fire."

Sophia smiled. "It won't be me."

"I daresay MacLean would say the same," Mary said dryly. "Are ye goin' to see yer father afore ye go downstairs?"

"Yes. He should be awake now."

"He is, but barely. The doctor's kept him dosed up good." Mary smoothed her apron. "While ye're seein' to Mr. MacFarlane, I'm going to finish dinner. A
good
dinner."

Sophia sighed with relief. She didn't want to drink sherry on an empty stomach tonight. "Thank you, Mary."

The maid snorted. "It will be nice to fix a proper dinner. I'm servin' the first course in fifteen minutes."

Sophia gathered a thin silk shawl and draped it over her elbows, then made her way to Red's bedchamber.

"There ye are," he said in a sleepy voice. "I see you've dressed for dinner already. Come and let me have a look at you."

She obediently came to stand beside the bed.

He narrowed his gaze, but his eyelids kept slipping shut. He patted her hand weakly. "Sorry, lass. My eyes are a bit woozy from this blasted laudanum."

"Then sleep." The butterflies in her stomach buzzed uneasily, but she ignored them. She could do this; she just knew she could. "I can handle MacLean."

Red chuckled. "Och, just like me, you are. I love a challenge."

Sophia held his hand a bit tighter. "I'll win the house back for mama. I promise."

"Good lass." His eyes drooped again. "Visit before you retire to bed. I want to know how it goes."