Page 32 of Hit Me With Your Best Scot
“Does Claremont ken where ye live?”
Persephone shook her head. “I daresay St. John’s Wood is far too low for him to have ever wished to set foot.” Reaching up, she cupped his cheek. “You have a dinner to attend and a wife to find, Coll. I will see you in the morning.”
“When I’m to charm yer household or nae darken yer door again.”
“That isn’t precisely what I said, but it does seem a fairly accurate representation.” She grinned. “Remember, don’t attempt to trap a lady into an engagement. We appreciate being left an avenue of graceful escape.”
Just like the one he seemed to be leaving her. “Aye. Nae flinging anyone over my shoulder.”
“Correct. I might have enjoyed it just a bit, but another young lady might faint at such physical prowess.”
Another lady might have, but she hadn’t. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said aloud. “And tomorrow I’d like ye to write out a list of all yer former protectors or whatever ye’re calling ’em. If someaught else happens, I’d like to know where to begin looking.”
Coll slid his hands around her slender waist. Just the idea of someone wanting to harm her was enough to make deep fury boil his blood, despite knowing she was likely using him and his attraction to her for her own ends. But then perhaps he was using her, as well. He leaned down and took her soft mouth in a hot, deep kiss.
“Pers—oh.” Gordon Humphreys stopped, flushing as he came around the corner. “We’re beginning act two, Persie,” he finished.
Lifting his head, Coll released her. “I’ll see ye in the morning, lass,” he murmured, noting that her gaze focused on his mouth. That was good; he’d never yet received a complaint about his kisses, or anything else he did with a lass in private.
She cleared her throat. “Yes. Of course. Thank you, Coll.” Blinking, she faced Humphreys. “We’re beginning act two of what, Gordon?”
The Saint Genesius’s Macbeth scowled. “Of the Scottish play, of course. I told you, I won’t be tricked.”
“Not yet.” Putting her arm around the actor’s, she headed back toward the rehearsal room with him.
Watching after her, Coll wiped a hand across his mouth. Whatever the hell this was going on between them, he liked it, even though it left him frustrated. He was a hunter, after all. And the greatest challenge for a hunter was prey that knew he was coming.
Chapter Seven
“Art thou afeard
To be the same in thine own act and valor
As thou art in desire?”
LADY MACBETH,MACBETHACT I, SCENE VII
“Why in the world would you decide to marry Mrs. Persephone Jones?” a familiar female voice hissed in Coll’s ear.
He looked over as Eloise plunked herself down onto the couch beside him. Whatever it was he’d been about to say to Miss Eliza Green on his other side flew out of his mind as his sister’s words conjured sky blue eyes and a musical laugh akin to angels singing. “Why did ye decide to wed Matthew Harris, and why didnae ye change yer mind after the… incident last week?” he retorted, barely remembering that they weren’t to discuss any of the details of that disaster in public, even in the hushed, conspiratorial voices they were presently using.
“Because he’s a good man who was fooled. And if you’re truly betrothed to that woman, I could say the same thing about you.” Leaning around him, she patted Eliza’s arm. “Excuse us for a minute, won’t you?” she asked in her normal speaking voice, standing and attempting to haul Coll to his feet.
She might as well have tried to shift a coach and four, but as all he’d gotten out of Eliza Green was a sentence about the weather and a simper when he’d asked if sheliked to dance, he gave in and stood. “Has Persephone done ye wrong, then? Did she murder yer kitten or someaught?”
“No. Of course not. I’m certain she’s a lovely… woman. But she’san actress, Coll, and she’s not… She’s common. She works for a living. Onstage. Where she stands, barely dressed, in front of strangers. For money. Th—”
“If yer mother didnae have more money than Midas,” he broke in, not because any of what Eloise said was untrue but because Persephone Jones carried on a better conversation than any other lass he’d ever met, “and if ye hadnae been born a lady, how would ye live?”
“That’s not fair. I’m not saying anything ill about anyone’s situation, and I do recognize how fortunate I am. She’s just… You’re aviscount. Whoever you wed will one day be the next Lady Aldriss. Our English and Scottish ancestors, our lineage—doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Coll narrowed his eyes. “I reckon ye’re nae worried about what our dusty ancestors have to say. Ye’re fretting because ye receive invitations to every party and every house in Mayfair, but if I wed a commoner who works for a living, ye may nae be so welcome everywhere.”
Growling under her breath, she pulled him around the doorway at Beasley House, Lord and Lady Crenshaw’s London residence. Once they were out of sight of the twenty or so guests who made up the so-called intimate dinner, she coiled her fist and hit him on the shoulder. “People here have long memories, a great deal of pride, and nothing to do but judge other people,” she whispered, scowling. “So yes, I do worry that what you do will reflect on me, because it will. I’ve spent my life learning how to navigate these halls, just as you spent yours learning howto navigate the lands and people up in the Highlands. Why is your way of life more important than mine?” Wincing, she shook out her fingers.
He looked at her for a minute. “Every time I forget ye’ve just as much MacTaggert blood running through yer veins as I do, ye say someaught like that and remind me,piuthar.”
Her frown collapsed into a grimace. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—”
