Page 23 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
Persephone blinked herself back to the present. “Derbyshire. The less said about my childhood, the better. And you’re from near Ullapool, by your accent.”
“But two hours from it. I thought all we Scotsmen sounded alike to ye English.”
“Only to the ones not paying attention,” she quipped, picking up her glass of Madeira and sipping at it. “Why don’t we pretend I’m a proper young lady you’ve just seen walking through Hyde Park, and you’d like to chat with me?”
He scowled, the frown drawing his eyebrows together. “I’d rather chat with ye as yerself.”
Had anyone ever said that to her before? She doubted it. “I’m trying to prove that I’m not simply taking advantage of your… carnal desires. Icanbe helpful to you. This isn’t a waste of your time.”
“I nae said it was a waste. Chatting with ye is a damned sight more interesting than trying to think of more ways to describe the weather.”
“Even so. Here I am, let’s say, just paused in the shade for a moment. What do you do?”
For a moment, she thought he might balk. He seemed a very proud man, after all, and most men hesitated to show their weaknesses anyway. But then he lowered his shoulders, drawing in a hard breath. “Punching things is easier.”
“Yes, but you cannot punch your way to love.”
“I’m nae obligated to fall in love in four weeks. I’m obligated to get married in four weeks.”
Persephone eyed him. “You don’t wish to love your wife?”
“I reckon my brothers fell for their lasses the first time they set eyes on them. Neither of them were expecting it. I dunnae think ye can go about with the idea of finding love. I dunnae ken how I could do that. All I can do is look for a woman I can tolerate and respect.” He shrugged. “One who’d make a good Lady Glendarril, and a Lady Aldriss who’d nae flee the Highlands and who could genuinely care for the cotters and fishermen and their families.”
Was that last comment aimed at his mother? Persephone didn’t comment on it, but she did file it away for later review. As far as she knew, Lady Aldriss hadn’t set foot in the Highlands since she’d left them behind for London. “Well, then you want to find a lady who has compassion, and intelligence, and has some of the same interests you do. So, what do you like to do, Coll MacTaggert? Other than punching people.”
That earned her a swift grin. “I dunnae seek that out. It just seems to happen. But I like to be out-of-doors. I like to ride. I like helping lads build cottages and repair leaking roofs and find lost cattle.”
And she liked listening to the lift and fall of his voice, the deep brogue and the genuine truth in his tone. Persephone stifled a sigh. “In simpler terms, then, you enjoy helping people. Perhaps, then, you would be compatible with a lady who does charity work. Someone who reads to the elderly, or who brings food to the poor.”
“Aye, that’s someaught I hadnae considered,” he said after a moment, lowering his gaze to his sandwich as he finished it off and chose another one. Abruptly, his dark green eyes snapped to hers again. “I noticed ye turning the conversation away from yerself, by the way. I’ll get back to ye when ye’re feeling less skittish.”
Her breath hitched. “I’m not some mysterious treasure,whatever you wish of me. I’m a common girl from Derbyshire who likes to pretend to be other people and get paid for it.”
“As I said, I can be patient,” he returned, holding her gaze for another dozen hard beats of her heart before he looked away again. “I didnae know if ye’d prefer apples or oranges, so I have both in here, unless Gavin got to them first.”
“An apple would be lovely. And you could be as patient as a stone and you would still hear the same story. It’s the only one I have to tell.”
His expression didn’t change, but he dug into the basket and retrieved a shiny red apple, which he put into her outstretched hand. “I’d wager that a common lass who reads and writes, who can tell where a lad grew up by the sound of his speech, and who wears the borrowed robes of other people well enough that she’s the toast of London, isnae all that common at all,” he said quietly, lowering his hand again.
She forced a smile, making certain it crinkled the corners of her eyes, so it looked genuine. “Thank you for saying so. Now stop stalling and show me how you would attempt to engage me in a conversation. We’re in Hyde Park; I’m standing in the shade. Begin.”
“Relentless, ye are.” He shook out his arms and put a teeth-showing smile on his handsome face. “Good morning, lass.” Coll leaned forward, then asked under his breath, “Is it morning?”
“Yes, it’s morning.”
“Good, then.” He straightened again, resuming his broad smile. “Good morning, lass. As warm as it is today—ye see, ye said ye were standing in the shade, so I’m thinking it’s warm—it’s more fit for riding than walking, dunnae ye think?”
Persephone lowered her head to look at him frombeneath her lashes. “But I am on foot, sir, and am content to remain so.”
His smile tightened just a touch. “I’m on foot, myself. Might I walk beside ye?”
“You are too bold, sir. My maid sees me home. Good day.”
“What the bloody hell did I do wrong, then?” he burst out.
“You didn’t introduce yourself, firstly,” Persephone returned smoothly, trying very hard not to grin at his obvious exasperation. “And you asked me—her—to make an immediate decision about whether I want to be seen in your company. You might ask if I’m attending the… I believe the Runescroft ball is later this week, is it not?”
He tilted his head. “So I’m nae to speak with her until she has a chance to decide if she wants to dance with me at the next soiree?”
