Miss Smithson gave a brisk shake of her head, effectively halting whatever it was Lady Darrow had been about to say. The countess frowned, but followed her friend’s cue.
Curiosity ignited fierce inside him as Miss Smithson tilted her dark head and curved her lips in a reserved smile. “So, you’ll be staying here at Darrow House, Mr. Macrae?”
“Aye,” Baird replied with a grin. “For the next week or so.”
“Through our Christmas party, of course,” the countess added.
“I wouldnae dream of missing it.”
“Excellent. Oh, I almost forgot.” Lady Darrow turned to her husband. “Mr. Fletcher wanted to talk with you about the plan to repair the western road.”
“I thought the issue had been resolved.”
The countess shrugged. “Apparently not.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Smithson. Macrae.”
“And me as well,” the countess added. “There is something I must check on before we head in to dinner.”
“Of course,” Miss Smithson said graciously, though Baird noted the stiffening of her shoulders as she watched the other couple walk away.
She waited only until their hosts were out of earshot before turning to him. “You could have told me you’d be here tonight,” she muttered in a harsh whisper.
Baird lowered his chin. It wasn’t easy to hold back the smile that threatened at the hint of indignation in her tone. The woman didn’t like being caught off guard. “I said I’d be seein’ ye again soon. Ye didnae believe me?”
Something bright flashed in her eyes but was quickly smothered before she cast her gaze over the room. “I certainly didn’t expect to encounter you in the Darrows’ drawing room.”
“It cannae be any more surprising than meetin’ atop a mountain…or wakin’ in my bed.”
She met his direct gaze with one of her own. “You should not speak so freely.”
“Why not? The words are just between the two of us. No one’s concerning themselves with our conversation.” It was true. The other guests were too busy conversing amongst themselves as long and old acquaintances did. No one was the slightest bit concerned about the conversation occurring in their private corner of the room.
Seeming to acknowledge that truth, she gave a slight tilt of her head. “You had plenty of opportunity yesterday to clarify your relationship with the Darrows, yet you didn’t. Why?”
“I didnae think the issue has anything tae do with what’s between us.”
“There is nothing between us.” When he simply smiled in response to her denial, she gave him a narrowed look. “I think you enjoy antagonizing me.”
“That could be true.” His voice lowered as he eased a bit closer to her. “I do find a great deal of pleasure in rousing yer…passionate nature.”
“I do not have a passionate nature.”
“Ye do with me,” he argued gently.
Her eyes darkened in a way that had his body hardening. Was she thinking of how she’d melted in his arms? How she’d nearly reduced him to a trembling, overeager lad?
For a moment, he was certain she was.
Then her posture stiffened as an obvious shift came over her, chasing away the heat. She looked back out over the room. “Tell me you did not reveal our prior encounters to the earl.”
The strain in her voice was concerning, as was the tension in her jaw and the shadow in her gaze. Baird angled his body toward hers in an instinctive gesture of protection. “I only mentioned our chance meeting yesterday. Did ye think I’d tell him of the more intimate moments between us?” Her eyes narrowed, confirming she’d suspected exactly that. “Och, lass,” he murmured thickly. “I’d never betray yer honor in such a way.”
Her brown eyes found his once again. Pride and distrust were carefully banked but still evident in her gaze. “Until it benefits you to do so,” she clarified stiffly.
She spoke with the certainty of experience and a hot rush of anger pressed out from his chest. Someone had betrayed her. Dishonored her. A lover?
The thought had him curling his hands into fists. He stepped toward her and his voice was thick with promise. “Who behaved this way toward ye? Give me a name and he’ll come tae regret learning mine.”
Her eyes searched his for a moment—deeply and intensely—before she gave a subtle shake of her head. “He is not worth the time,” she whispered, so softly he barely heard it.
“I dinnae doubt it. But ye are.”
Her chin tipped upward. “I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me.”
Though his instinct called out for him to protect the woman standing so proud before him and punish anyone who’d dare to hurt her, the fierceness of her gaze and the strength underlying her words confirmed the truth of her statement.
He gave a short nod. “Tae have yer back as ye fight yer own, then.”
Something deep and intense flickered in her gaze, making Baird’s stomach tighten as he experienced a nearly overwhelming desire to spirit her away to someplace dark and quiet.
He wasn’t sure what she would have said or if she would have said anything because the moment was harshly interrupted by the announcement of dinner.
Her thick lashes swept down over her gaze.
Baird offered his arm as escort and after only a slight hesitation, she settled her hand on his sleeve. In silence, they joined the flow of guests making their way to the dining room.
As he held her chair for her to take a seat, the back of her shoulder brushed against his knuckles. She inhaled sharply at the contact but refused to look at him as he took his place at the table.
It was some time before she glanced his way again. When she did, he detected a quiet question buried deep in her gaze. He couldn’t tell if she was questioning him, or herself.
Chapter 7
The compulsion to seek him out was impossible to resist so she stopped trying.
The gentlemen had just rejoined the ladies in the drawing room after enjoying their after-dinner port and tobacco. Macrae stood between two older gentlemen, regaling them with some tale that claimed their rapt attention.
In truth, Allegra’s were not the only female eyes drawn to the brawny Scot when his face lit with a mischievous grin. He was the type of man who could claim a bevy of admirers with no more than a wink and the flash of his teeth. Typically, such men—with their abundance of confidence and masculinity—irritated her. If a woman ever felt free enough to be so lively and open in her manner, she’d be thoroughly shamed back into a proper level of delicate decorum.
Macrae laughed out loud—a full, rich sound that rolled warmly over her nerves—and Allegra had to admit that he didn’t irritate her at all.
Just the opposite, in fact.
Earlier, when she’d first stepped into the drawing room to see him standing across the room, she’d been stunned. And not just because she hadn’t expected him to be there.
She’d already accepted that she found his rugged, oversized male appearance inordinately attractive. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the man in black evening wear with a dark emerald waistcoat and a crisp white cravat beneath a neatly trimmed beard. Handsome and elegant, only his red-blond hair retained the careless, tousled look of having just come from outdoors.
He’d quite effectively stolen her breath.
By the time she and Susanna had made their way around the room, Allegra had gotten her wayward response under control only to have it slip from her grasp once she and Macrae were left alone and he grinned at her. The sparkle of intimacy in his gaze should have made her wary; instead, it caused a tingling ache low in her belly.
And when he’d offered to avenge her…
Her heart had come to a full stop.
There had been no hesitation. No need for details. He’d suspected she’d been wronged and immediately offered to right it. No one had ever done that for her before.
Not even her father.
When word of her indiscretion had gotten out, people
she’d long called friends murmured amongst themselves that she’d always been a bit too bold for her own good, that her modern manner and independent nature had finally seen to her downfall.
Not a single condemnatory word was spoken of Lucas.
In fact, the deceitful cad had gotten everything he’d wanted.
While she’d had her entire future stolen away.
Anger rose up through her belly, flushing her skin with heat. Her fingers curled tight into her palms with the urge to fight back against something that was long said and done. The pressure of buried ire filled her chest, making it difficult to breathe.
She needed air.
Muttering a quick excuse to the small group of ladies she was sitting with, she rose to her feet and kept to a sedate pace as she strode from the drawing room. Across the empty hall was a small sitting room lit by a few candles. It was blessedly unoccupied. Reaching the windows, she released the latch and pushed the casement open just enough to feel the rush of winter air over her face.
It bothered her that she could still get so upset. That the thought of Lucas standing beside her father as they eyed her with disappointment—her father’s genuine, Lucas’s as false as everything else about him—could so easily stir up the flame of indignation and disbelief.
Her father had believed Lucas over her. Why? Because he was a man?
Or perhaps, more accurately—because she was a woman and so couldn’t possibly have accomplished what she claimed. Her father had brushed aside her assertions as desperate falsehoods made by a scorned woman.
Ridiculous.
Infuriating!
But Lucas had played his part well and her father hadn’t had enough faith in her.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, breathing in the frigid highland air, soaking up the freedom of it and the rugged purity. But after a while, anger no longer burned through her veins. Her breath lengthened and eased. And her thoughts slid from memories of the recent past to thoughts of the future and what it meant for her now.
She’d left New York City with the intention of forging a life of her own. Away from a father who didn’t believe in her. She still had every intention of doing so…maybe here?
In a very short time, she’d come to love Scotland. The mountains and lochs and glens had even inspired her to start sketching again. The idea of leaving after the Christmas holiday already filled her with a quiet sense of dread and loss.
But could she create a real future here?
“All right, lassie?”
The rich baritone slid smoothly through the dim room, igniting sparks across her nerves while a specific kind of warmth pooled in her core.
How could he affect her so intensely with a simple, low-murmured question?
Allegra turned to watch as Baird Macrae slowly approached. When he reached her side, he leaned his shoulder against the window frame, allowing his forearm to rest along the sill. The tips of his fingers extended to within a breath of her arm. If she turned just so, the bare skin above the edge of her glove would brush against his thumb.
She didn’t turn just so.
She wanted to—inexplicably—but she didn’t.
Sliding her gaze over his brawny form, she noted how his rugged masculinity was in no way diminished by the elegant lines of his evening wear. The warmth he inspired simply by his proximity expanded into a rolling fire within her. And when she finally met his gaze, she didn’t miss the answering flames in their green depths.
The indignant fury she’d felt over the injustice in her past barely seemed worth a moment of concern when she looked into Macrae’s eyes. Instead, the desire that was never far from the surface came swiftly back to life as they stood there in the dark and silence.
As though feeling the same, he issued a low growling sound from deep in his chest. It was quiet, but the rich, emotional tone went straight to her softening core.
Lifting his hand, he brushed the backs of his knuckles along her cheek. His voice was a gravelly whisper. “Ye’ll catch chill standing here.”
“I’m not cold. However, I am starting to believe it’s you who are drawn to me, rather than the other way around.” Her voice sounded unexpectedly low and intimate—practically sultry.
His smile formed slowly. “I admit tae the attraction freely, Miss Smithson. How long do ye intend tae deny it goes both ways?”
Would she keep denying it? This compelling urge to press herself against him whenever he was near. The craving to see his smile and feel it against her lips. The near-physical hunger for his gaze, his voice…his hands.
She should look away—say something cold and firm to end the discussion.
But his green eyes saw too deeply into her. He’d know she was lying. So, she decided to be honest instead. “I won’t deny it.” His gaze flashed with triumph. “But nothing shall come of it.”
He tilted his head at her declaration. His focus drifted over her features, pausing briefly at her mouth before returning to her steady gaze. “I can see ye believe it, but I intend tae convince ye otherwise.”
Though his words caused a rush of tingling anticipation in her blood, Allegra arched a brow. “You will not find me easy to manipulate.”
A heavy frown tugged his brows down over his eyes as his smile slipped from his lips. “No manipulation, lass. I simply wish tae show ye how good we’d be together.”
His words brought to mind the wonderful feel of his mouth, the heady taste of him, the warmth and strength of his embrace.
The tone of his voice lowered even more as his head dipped close to hers. The rich, decadent sound twirled through her insides like the silky drift of smoke. “I can see ye’re thinkin’ of it. The way we fit together. The way we move. The fire that burns between us.”
Allegra couldn’t hold back the heavy sigh that slid from her lips any more than she could have stopped her heart from racing or the flood of desire from gathering deep inside.
Making love to this man would be sinful and hot and perfect in every way.
But then what?
Doubt and suspicion cleared some of the sensual haze from her mind. “I’ve admitted my attraction and now you’re trying to use it against me.”
“Never.”
“Are you saying you’re not trying to seduce me?”
“Of course I am.” His tone was ardent. Intent. “But not like that.”
She didn’t feel a need to reply. His brazen admission was enough to prove her point.
He searched her gaze in the silence that followed. His expression tense. His eyes sharp and piercing. She could practically feel him trying to uncover her secrets and lay bare her vulnerabilities.
After a moment, the furrow of his brow smoothed and he dipped his chin. “Ye dinnae trust me. And mayhap I havna given ye any reason tae.” Green eyes flickered with quiet resolve. “I willna touch ye again in the way of a lover—willna kiss ye—unless ye ask me tae.”
She narrowed her gaze to keep him from seeing the unfathomable disappointment his words inspired.
“Though I’ve every hope of getting’ ye into my bed again—the sooner the better—seduction isna my ultimate aim.”
Allegra tensed. Had he just admitted to having an ulterior motive? Though she’d suspected it all along, the acknowledgement that his interest was insincere hurt more than she’d expected it to. She struggled to keep her tone level and her pride intact. “Then what is?”
“I’m gonna marry ye, lass.”
In his deep-textured voice, the words sounded like a vow.
The breath left her body in a rush. A heavy weight that wasn’t entirely unpleasant settled then swirled in her belly. “You’re out of your mind,” she whispered, too stunned to say anything else.
His mouth curved a bit before he gave a shrug of his great shoulders. “Mayhap, but I kenned the moment I woke tae see ye glaring at me with those gorgeous eyes of yours that ye’d be mine. There’s something powerful between us that shouldnae be ignored and shouldnae be wasted.”
“D’ye truly believe that’s all there is here?” he asked intently. “If so, tell me now and I’ll accept it.”
She wanted to confirm it, convince him there was nothing more to explore, nothing to claim. Convince him to walk away and never look back.
She couldn’t.
The emotion pressing outward from her chest threatened to choke her, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words that would have him giving up on her.
“I understand ye’ve your reasons for bein’ wary. Winnin’ ye won’t be easy. But I’m up tae the task. Dinnae doubt it,” he added with a wink.
Although she most definitely doubted herself at that moment, she didn’t doubt him in the least.
Chapter 8
Macrae held to his word.
Though staying at Darrow House, he spent a great deal of his time holed up in the library. Over the next couple days, Allegra encountered him only infrequently—at breakfast, while passing in the hall, across the table at dinner, but never just the two of them and never for any great lengths of time.
Though their behavior toward each other was utterly innocuous in word and manner, an underlying current of intensity ran through every interaction. He never once attempted to get her alone where he could attempt a caress or a kiss or a seductive comment. Allegra might have suspected his attraction had run its course if not for the smoldering heat of possession she saw in his eyes when no one else was paying attention.
It had taken years of navigating New York City society to establish herself as a woman who did not fall as easy prey to lazy flirtation or false flattery. She had long ago become expert at deflecting unwanted advances and thwarting overzealous suitors—and in the beginning, there had been many. It was possible a few gentlemen had held honest affection for her, but the fortune she’d inherited from her mother had been a significant draw for a wide variety of others.
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