To Catch a Highlander (7 page)

Perhaps that was it. A curious wash of pleasure raced through her. And here she'd thought him indifferent to her. "He's used to the best
London
has to offer."

Red snorted. "There's not a woman in
London
who could hold a candle to ye, lass."

"You," Sophia absently corrected.

"You," Red agreed just as absently. He crossed his arms and sank his chin into his chest, mulling over the situation. "MacLean is sharper than I gave him credit for; I let his lace and silks cloud my vision. No wonder I lost to him."

Sophia shrugged. "MacLean's quick, Red, but so am I."

He beamed, his worry melting before her confidence. "That you are, lassie. I only worry that you don't realize the sort of man MacLean is."

"I know enough to be cautious."

"That's good." Red paced between the rows of dried herbs. "Angus said the man could hardly keep his eyes off you."

"Aye," Mary said, coming into the storeroom and pulling a sack from the wall. She tugged the cord, removed an onion, and rehung the sack. "I saw the way he looked at you, too. As if he might devour ye whole, like a bread puddin'."

The power to drive a man like MacLean wild with desire sent a dangerous thrill through Sophia, one she hadn't felt in years.

That
was why her reaction to MacLean had been so strong. It hadn't been an answering attraction, just the thrill of controlling the passions of such an obviously powerful man.

Of course, it wouldn't last; such hot passions rarely did. But only it had to last long enough for her to entice him into a card game. Which meant she had to keep him at a deep simmer, at arm's length, but no more…

A pleasurable shiver raced through her. He was hot enough now to scald her fingers. That would work to her advantage, but she had to keep her wits about her more firmly than she had today. "This will work, Red, We just have to go carefully."

He placed a hand over hers and said in a bracing voice, "Ye'll beat him, lass, fer ye've the skill. I know we'd planned to stretch the game out over several nights to drive up the stakes, but I think we'd best do the trick and get it over."

"He may not throw the deed out the first night. He doesn't seem like a man who would let go of anything that's his."

"Perhaps I can goad him into it. He'll not want to look foolish in front of you; no man with pride would."

Sophia nodded slowly. "He has pride. A lot of it." She turned to Mary. "Is everything ready for this evening?"

"Yes, miss. The pork will be salted 'til it's hard, the soup peppered and cold, the lamb burned on one side, raw on't other." Mary sighed. "It near broke my heart to treat such a good piece of meat in such a way."

"Aye," Red said with feeling. "I watched ye do it, and it near made me cry, too."

Sophia laughed and hugged her father. "When this is over, Mary will cook you an entire leg of mutton, perfectly roasted and seasoned."

His eyes brightened. "With mint sauce?"

"Aye," Mary said, beaming.

Red sighed happily. "Thank you, Mary." He placed an arm about Sophia and walked into the hallway and up the stairs to the main floor. "Just be cautious, lass. He's a charmer. I saw the way the women looked at him in
Stirling
. I don't wish to see you moping about the house, going into a decline after he's gone," Red teased.

"If I have a house when this is over, I shall be far too happy to mope," she returned with asperity.

Red chuckled, opening the door to the foyer. "That's my lass. I don't know what I was worried about; you'll never lose your heart."

Something about Red's certainty gave her pause. "Are you suggesting that I'm cold-hearted?"

"Nay, never think it. I only meant that you're less emotional than most women, and—" He blinked at her expression. "Don't look like that—I didn't mean to upset ye."

She forced a smile. "Of course not." Still, a niggling worry pressed against her chest. It was true she'd never come close to losing her heart before, yet her contact with eligible suitors had been limited, since MacFarlane House was out in the middle of the Scottish countryside.

Then again, she probably wouldn't have come into contact with many eligible suitors if she'd been traveling the inns and taverns of
Europe
, either.

Red patted her shoulder, worry in his gaze. "Lass, I didn't think o' what I was saying. You've too much of your mother in you to be anything but passionate."

Reassured, Sophia smiled. "Mama was passionate about many things, wasn't she?"

"Och, your mother was a woman like no other. Logical and capable on one hand, yet on the other—" He stopped.

"On the other?"

"Nothing, lass. Just speaking off the top o' me head again."

"My," she corrected.

"My." He took her hand and patted it. "Just have a care with your heart. That's all I'm asking."

"There's nothing to worry about. MacLean is not the sort of man I'm attracted to. He's far too arrogant."

"Glad to hear it."

She kissed his cheek. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to take my bath."

Sophia dashed upstairs, almost putting her foot down on the loose third step. "That could have been ugly," she murmured, hurrying on past.

She made her way down the hallway, deftly hopping over the loosened boards and pausing beside MacLean's door to listen a moment. She heard nothing, so she continued to her own bedchamber, where a hot bath steamed invitingly. Sighing with anticipation, she disrobed and was soon soaking in a hot tub, her feet propped up on one side as she ran a washcloth over her shoulders.

The hot water soothed her spirits and helped her mind to focus. MacLean's unexpected sensuality had disconcerted her, but now, the steam from her bath rising about her, her sore muscles relaxing as she soaked, she realized that she could turn the entire episode to her benefit.

"One battle does not a war make," she told herself firmly. Cheered by this, she rinsed off and climbed from her bath just as Mary arrived to help her dress.

When Mary had scurried back to the kitchen, Sophia sat before her mirror, a bronze silk gown framing her shoulders, paste diamonds gleaming at her throat and ears.

She collected her silk fan and a matching reticule, then went out to the hallway and down the steps, avoiding the loose board. She ran through her agenda for the evening, ticking off the items on her fingers.
Horrid meal, smoking fireplace, rattly windows, guttering candles, broken furniture, lopsided dining table and chairs, mismatched china
—

Caught up in her thoughts, she didn't see Dougal until she reached the bottom step.

He was standing beside the door to the dining room, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was dressed in formal clothes, his black coat smooth over his muscled arms and shoulders, his knitted breeches molded to his muscular legs. For some reason, the sight of those powerful thighs made her heart speed up and her body warm.

Dougal had already thought his hostess astoundingly beautiful, but her bronze silk gown was made to make a man's mouth water. The décolletage was low, revealing the full, rounded tops of her breasts over a scrap of cream-colored lace. A cream ribbon was tied beneath those breasts, the long ends fluttering down over her hips as if unable to stop caressing her delicious curves. The skirt was cut long in the back, so that it hung on the steps behind her and outlined the front of her legs in stark relief.

Every curve was accented, and the deep color of the gown made her hair appear more golden than ever.

God, he loved her hair. He burned to see it unbound, falling past her waist in a glorious sweep to her hips.

His body tightened at the thought, and it was with a decidedly forceful move that he pushed himself from the wall and strode toward her.

She paused with an expression of… not fear, but perhaps… excitement?

The idea pleased him, and he grinned. "That's a lovely fan."

She looked down, blinking as if surprised to discover an exquisitely painted fan in her hand, then shot him a rueful look. "Oh, this. I'd forgotten I carried it."

"Distracted, are you?"

"Yes, and I'm sure you know why."

A pleased smile curved his mouth. "Because of me?"

"No," she returned smoothly. "Because my father returned but a half an hour ago, and I'm worried he'll be late for dinner."

"I see. And here I had hopes that you might have missed me."

She sent him a dismissive smile. "I saw you not two hours ago."

Dougal knew a set-down when he heard one, though it was rare he was on the receiving end. It was an unpleasant sensation. "Yes, I was thinking about a nap, then…" He shrugged and glanced away. He didn't have to wait long.

"Oh, dear! The mattress was too lumpy, wasn't it?" Her rich voice lowered with false compassion. "I'm so sorry about that. Red refuses to purchase new mattress ticking when—"

"You misunderstand," Dougal said. "I didn't intend to take a nap, just to rest. However, the bed was so comfortable that I fell asleep anyway."

Sophia opened her mouth, then closed it. She'd spent
hours
stuffing his feather mattress with straw, wood chips, stones, and sticks. How could he possibly have slept? "How… how fortunate for you. My bed is as hard as a rock."

He leaned forward, so close that his lapel brushed her cheek, the scent of sandalwood engulfing her as he whispered in her ear, "Perhaps you need another opinion… about your bed…"

His warm breath teased her ear, and she shivered but rolled her eyes. "No, thank you." She glanced up the stairs. "I hope Red hurries; I am famished."

"I am famished, as well." He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "Perhaps we should await your father in the dining room?"

"Of course." His casual touch was playing havoc with her equilibrium, her skin tingling as if he'd stroked her, but she managed a credible smile. "Perhaps we can find some sherry and—"

At the top of the steps, Red's door opened, and he came out, turning his head to one side as if listening.

Sophia took a step forward, releasing MacLean's arm. "Red! Lord MacLean and I were just going into the dining room."

Red turned a startled look their way and hurried down the steps. "Och! MacLean, I didn't realize you'd already come downstairs. I was going to escort you to the dining hall myself and—" His foot hit the third step, his boot catching the loose board.

Sophia started forward, but it was too late. With a loud yelp, Red toppled down in a blur of tangled arms and legs, landing at the bottom of the stairs with a sickening thud.