It was going to be sheer torture sitting across from Lorelei and having to keep the conversation banal. He hadn’t had a chance to talk with her—alone at least—in days. And tonight she looked ravishingly beautiful. She wore her hair in a mass of curls piled high on her head, shimmering like corn silk under the chandeliers. Her pale blue silk gown interwoven with silver threads reflected the glacier color of her eyes and made her skin look smooth as ivory. Alasdair frowned when he realized the bodice not only clung to her breasts but the neckline was low enough to show more than a hint of those breasts. Where had she gotten that? God, if he cupped his hands around those mounds they’d fall into his palms.
He didn’t like that she looked ravishing when she was with Westwood. He glanced at the marquess but the man was busy shuffling the cards. Had he noticed? Alasdair nearly snorted. Of course the man had noticed. He wasn’t blind.
The marquess placed the stack of cards in front of Lorelei. “I believe you are the dealer, my dear.”
He didn’t much like Westwood calling her “my dear,” either. Hell, he definitely did not like it. What other terms did the marquess use? Even Melissa gave him a sharp look. Had the man never called her that? Had he saved such language only for Lorelei? Alasdair clenched his jaw.
And then she touched his hand lightly. A mere brush, but he felt it shoot straight through his arm and to his gut. “Aye?”
She pointed to the pack in front of him. “You need to cut.”
He looked at the cards as though they had suddenly appeared from nowhere and gave himself an inward shake. He wasn’t going to get through this evening if he kept reacting to Lorelei like this. He split the deck, placed the bottom on top, and passed it back, although he wasn’t able to resist letting his thumb skim the side of her wrist as he did.
Was that just the slightest shudder he’d felt? It was so fleeting and when he looked at her, she was concentrating on distributing cards, turning up the last one.
“Hearts are trump.”
“How utterly appropriate, since you are the dealer,” Westwood said.
Was she blushing? Alasdair couldn’t tell for sure. Melissa was staring at Westwood again, and he wondered if the man had not paid her any compliments at all. Which made it even worse that the man was complimenting Lorelei. Or maybe it was the damn dress. He was surprised the other men present weren’t ogling her. Or were they? Alasdair cast a quick glance around.
“You seem distracted tonight.”
He jerked his gaze back to Lorelei, who was giving him a quizzical look. Obviously they were waiting for him to play a card. “I…I was just wondering why Taylor wasna here.”
“Fiona said something about a shipment coming in,” she answered and looked around, too. “We do not seem to have as many people tonight.”
Westwood smiled. “Perhaps playing whist is not everyone’s favorite thing to do.”
Damn it. What did he mean by that? What other game was the man playing? But he was right about one thing. “I guess I am having trouble concentrating tonight.”
Melissa patted his arm although he felt no kind of tingle at all.
“Perhaps you are anticipating what we are going to do after the game?”
What? What in hell was she talking about? Before he could ask—or remember—Westwood intervened.
“And what is that?”
“Well,” Melissa said brightly. “There is a full moon tonight and my father lent Alasdair his carriage so we could go for a ride in Hyde Park.”
Hellfire and damnation.He had forgotten about that. Actually, he hadn’tforgotten, he’d just put it out of his mind as a rather coy suggestion she’d made on their way here. Her chaperone aunt hadn’t even commented on it, but then she’d been busy with a box of bonbons. Since he hadn’t remarked on it, either, he’d hoped he could ignore it, eejit that he was.
He didn’t miss the appraising looks he got from Westwood and Lorelei before they each started studying their cards seriously. He pretended to do the same. With luck, they would get through the evening without any more mentions of moonlight carriage rides.
But luck wasn’t with him. Melissa didn’t let the subject go.
“My father finally met Alasdair and likes him very much.” She laid her hand on his arm again. “I suspect he will let us go on a number of carriage rides in the future.”
Lorelei’s hands stilled on the card she was about to select and Alasdair inwardly groaned. He needed a chance to explain… And then suddenly, he felt like he’d swallowed hot coals. What exactly could he explain? That he would do whatever was needed to reclaim his clan’s lands?
He’d also been around Melissa enough to know that she would see any slight to her—any attempt at avoiding her—as a serious insult, especially now that her father had made his position clear. Oakley’s words were branded in his mind.
By all that is holy in Scotland, what have I gotten myself into?
…
“I havena spent such a miserable night as last,” Fiona said the next morning when they went down to break their fast.
