In a fluid motion, he dropped flat against the floor and rolled immediately to the side, sweeping his arm up to knock that of his attacker. He heard her utter a strangled gasp as the knife fell to the floor and she stumbled forward, caught off balance. Eli was on his knees instantly, his hands catching hers as they flailed at him. He pinned her wrists, twisting her body so it was she who was on the floor, on her back, with Eli hovering over her. She sucked in a breath, and he yanked a hand away to cover her mouth, stopping her scream before it ever escaped.
“Again,” he said between clenched teeth, “I am not going to hurt you.” Beneath his hand her head jerked from side to side. She had fine features, he realized. In fact, all of her felt tiny, from the bones in her wrists to the small frame that was struggling beneath him. It made him feel suddenly protective. As if he held something infinitely fragile that was his to care for.
Though a woman who brandished a knife in such a manner couldn’t be that fragile. He tightened his hold. “If you recall, it was you who had me at a disadvantage with a knife at my neck. I will not make any apologies for removing myself from that position. Nor will I make any apologies for my presence at Avondale. I have every right to be here.”
Her struggles stilled.
Eli tried to make out her features in the darkness, but it was impossible. “If I take my hand away, will you scream?”
He felt her shake her head.
“Promise?”
She made a furious noise in the back of her throat in response.
Very slowly Eli removed his hand. She blew out a breath but kept her word and didn’t scream. He released her wrists and pushed himself back on his heels. He heard the rustle of fabric, and the air stirred as she pushed herself away. Her scent swirled around him before fading.
“You’re not a maid,” he said.
“What?” Her confusion was clear. “No.”
“Then who are you?” he demanded. “And why are you in my rooms?”
“Your rooms?” Now there was disbelief. “I don’t know who you think you are or where you think you are, but I can assure you that these are not your rooms.”
Eli swallowed, a sudden thought making his stomach sink unpleasantly. Had Avondale been sold? Had he had broken into a house that, in truth, he no longer owned? It wasn’t impossible. It might even be probable. He had been away a long time.
“Is it my brother you are looking for? Is someone hurt?”
The question caught him off guard. “I beg your pardon?”
“Do you need a doctor?”
Eli found himself scowling fiercely, completely at a loss. Nothing since he had pushed open that door had made any sort of sense. “Who owns Avondale?”
“What?” Now it was her turn to sound stymied.
“This house—was it sold? Do you own it?”
“No. We’ve leased Avondale from the Earl of Rivers for years. From his estate now, I suppose, until they decide what to do with it.” Suspicion seeped from every syllable. “Did you know him before he died? The old earl?”
Eli opened his mouth before closing it. He finally settled on, “Yes.”
“Then you’re what? A friend of the family? Relative?”
“Something like that.”
“Which one?”
Eli drew in a breath that wasn’t wholly steady. He tried to work his tongue around the words that would forever commit him to this place. That would effectively sever any retreat.
He cleared his throat. “I am the Earl of Rivers.”
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Excerpt: Scotland to the Max
Scotland to the Max by Grace Burrowes
And finally, Scotland to the Max, for a change of scene from ye olde Regency… Max Maitland is in Scotland to turn Brodie Castle into an international honeymoon destination. The project’s success is far from assured, and the last thing—the last, last, very last thing—Max needs is to be distracted by the lady who’s held the whole endeavor together prior to his arrival. Jeannie Cromarty is determined to move on, and Max is determined to let her…. mostly.
* * *
“Jeannie, can we get one thing straight?” Max asked, shifting the baby-pack so Henry’s little foot stopped digging into Max’s back.
Jeannie moved off a few yards, to the edge of the clearing. “A fling is a fling. I know that, Max. I have enough on my plate without trying to… without romantic complications. One doesn’t want to make a fool of oneself, though.”
The angle of her chin was determined, the set of her shoulders resolute. Everything about her posture radiated independence, which only made her more dear.
Max walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “I am in trouble, okay? I went for years without being tempted, then I ran into a woman I thought was everything I’d ever wanted in a partner. She was smart, funny, ambitious, attractive in ways beyond the physical, and she said she was equally gone on me. Better still, she knew my line of work and talked shop with me by the hour. It didn’t work out, so I went for a few more years without being tempted.”
As Max spoke, an insight emerged: He’d been devastated when Shayla had turned him down and walked away. The greater blow had been not to his heart, but to his pride. He’d been conned, thoroughly, and like most well-chosen marks, he hadn’t had a clue he was being played until the damage had been done.
Jeannie turned and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re in trouble?”
Over her shoulder, the castle’s curtain wall rose against the blue summer sky. A pennant flapped in the breeze, not the flag of the Earl of Strathdee, because the owner of the castle was far away, enjoying wedded bliss in Damson Valley, and building a different sort of castle.
“I want to go tomato shopping with you,” Max said, as Henry twined small fingers into Max’s hair. “I want the pillow fights and parenting discussions, the stupid arguments that teach us how to make up and be better partners. I want the long nights and the… I want treasures I have no business wanting, Jeannie. I’ll settle for a sunset, maybe even a sunset every so often for the next few months, but that’s all I can offer.”
God, she felt good in his arms. Warm and lovely, fresh and feminine.
Henry whacked Max on the ear. Jeannie smiled.
“Let’s get back to the Hall,” she said, “and get a certain unruly young man ready for his nap.” She kissed Max on the cheek and strode off down the path.
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A Truly Perfect Gentleman Page 30