Page 22 of The Devil Wears Kilts
The marquis’s sister leaned down in the saddle, craning her neck to see into the bower. “Ran? Charlotte didnae kick ye in the man bits, did she?”
Charlotte’s face heated. “I did no such thing!”
Janie was giggling behind one hand. “Ladies don’t talk about man bits, Winnie.”
“Truly? My brothers hardly talk aboot anything else, it seems.”
Leaves rustled behind Charlotte. “True enough,” Ranulf said dryly. “I hate t’admit it, Rowena, but perhaps ye could stand to learn some London refinement.”
And with that, the other two utterly forgot about what she and Ranulf might have been up to beneath the willows. Whatever his faults, and they seemed numerous, the man was masterful at turning a conversation—and about not answering questions posed to him.
Winnie squealed, flailing her arms until one of Glengask’s men helped her to the ground. As soon as she had her feet beneath her she strode up to her brother, her skirts bunched in her hands. “Does that mean ye’re giving me longer than a fortnight here?”
He grimaced. “It means we’ll see.”
His sister threw her arms around him. “Oh, thank ye, Ran. Thank ye, thank ye.”
Blue eyes met Charlotte’s over his sister’s head. “It still means we’ll see. I make ye no promises.”
“I know, I know,” Winnie returned, releasing him and pirouetting back to Honey, the mare Charlotte’s father had given over for her use. “Because once ye give yer word, it’s as good as carved into stone.”
“Aye.” He watched as his man lifted Winnie back into her saddle, then offered his arm to Charlotte. “What shall we do now?” he drawled.
If it hadn’t been for her riding gloves and his sleeve, she thought touching him might have caused her to burst into flame. “The… um…”
“We should get ices,” Janie thankfully put in. “And I want to show Winnie the Kensington Palace gardens. They’re so lovely, and there’s a pond with fish.”
Charlotte cleared her throat. “I believe Janie’s planned out the rest of our morning quite well,” she managed, then lost her composure again when Ranulf put his large hands on her and lifted her back into the saddle. Good heavens, what was wrong with her?
He swung onto his own brute and nudged it up beside Sixpence. “Was that yer first kiss, sweet lass?” he murmured, a soft, self-satisfied grin touching that very capable mouth of his.
For heaven’s sake.This time, at least, she was glad for his arrogance. It quite dumped her out of whatever silly stupor she’d fallen into. “You surprised me, Ranulf,” she returned in the same tone, willing her voice into steadiness. “But no, that was not my first kiss.”
She caught sight of his smile dropping just before she turned Sixpence around and took the lead. Urging the mare into a trot while they had a moment’s space to do so, she headed them back across the bridge in the direction of the closest ice vendor’s cart.
She wasn’t entirely certain why she rushed, or why she felt so… unsettled both by the kiss and by the man. Had she flirted with him? Certainly she’d enjoyed some of their discussions, even if his appreciation of violence didn’t sit at all well with her. And perhaps there had been some satisfaction in the way the other ladies had looked at him at Almack’s when it had been her dancing the waltz in his arms, and again today in the park when he’d been riding beside her. But that didn’t mean…
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the bay’s nose drawing alongside her again. Frowning, she nudged Sixpence in the ribs, and the mare smoothly accelerated into a canter. She was not some simpleminded little thing to be kissed and dazzled by a rude Scotsman. She knew better than that.
The head drew up even with her knee again. The bay was still at a trot, damn it all. She gathered the reins in her hands and clucked. In an instant they were galloping. Somewhere behind her Jane called her name, but for once she ignored her sister. And she ignored the startled, annoyed looks of the pedestrians and other riders hurrying out of her way.
She risked a glance over her right shoulder, but the bay’s nose—and his rider’s—were nowhere in sight. Good. She needed two blasted moments to think.
A hand reached over from her left and grabbed Sixpence’s bridle. “Whoa there, lass,” Ranulf said in his deep brogue, and he reined in his big bay with one hand while holding her mare with the other.Blast it all.He likely juggled bears for fun and amusement, as well.
He pulled them easily to a halt. “Lord Glengask, is she unhurt?” Jane’s rather high-pitched voice came. “Charlotte?”
“She’s fine,” he said, before she could answer. “Dropped a rein, is all.”
“I did no such—”
“Ye want to explain to these sheep why ye were stampeding them, then?” he interrupted in a terse voice.
He made a good point, damn it all. “No,” she muttered back. “I’m fine,” she called in a louder voice, twisting to glance back at her sister before she straightened again.
“If ye dunnae like me kissing ye, lass, just say so,” he continued in the same tight voice. “Nae need to flee from me.”
“It’s not—I wasn’t—”
