Page 82 of Lords, Ladies and Love

“A little.”

Mr. Sinclair’s shoulders stiffened, and he focused his attention on cleaning the last pot. For some reason, this discussion of marriage, particularly an arranged one, was one that made him uncomfortable. If only she had more time to find out why. This man was thoroughly intriguing.

“I have directed him to one of the great private libraries in London. It has legal documentation reaching back to themediaeval era. My hope is that he will be able to find a way out of the marriage.”

He turned to look at her, a tiny smile curving one side of his mouth. “You like your books then?”

She glanced down at the bowl in her hand. “Yes, I like my books.” And she was well used to the derision she got from spending a lot of time amongst books. But they had always brought her comfort. Books never judged or questioned why she was shaking, why she would not travel somewhere, why she would not spend time with hundreds of people she did not know. Between those pages was always a new world or an old one, somewhere she could escape to and forget everything that ever happened to her.

A finger touched her chin. She looked up, her heart picking up its pace. His eyes were soft, creased at the corners. “Whoever has told you book reading is bad for women, was a liar and a scoundrel, lass. A learned woman is a valuable one indeed.”

Her throat grew tight. She inhaled a long breath and released it slowly, willing away the sudden bubble of emotion that his words had caused. She could not think of anyone, not even the people who loved her the most, who had spoken to her like this.

“Anyway, my younger sister’s task is simply to have a job. For her, I must admit, that is quite some task. Angel prides herself in finding fun in everything. And my oldest brother Theo —

The wet bowl slipped suddenly from her fingers. She gasped and scrambled to catch it, but Mr. Sinclair beat her to it, grasping it as her fingers touched the rim. They lifted it together, his hands curved around hers. She met his gaze and gave a shaky smile. “That was close.”

“Indeed.” His voice was gravelly. He did not release her hands nor the bowl. His gaze searched hers for what might havebeen endless moments, it could have been mere seconds. All she knew was that her heart was pounding rapidly in her ears. What on earth was going on? She could not look away nor could she move. Minerva was rooted, held captive, and she had never felt anything like this before.

“So…” He blinked and took the bowl from her, moving past to place it on the shelf. Her heart had yet to slow, and him brushing past her, towering over her, did nothing to help the matter. If he did not work on a farm every day, there had to be some reason for his physique. She had never been one to think about men’s physiques before, but she was certainly thinking about it now.

“So, all of your family are off doing these tasks, all for some inheritance.”

She nodded. “It all sounds a little odd, I know.”

He chuckled. “Lass, ‘tis the oddest thing I have ever heard. And that’s saying something. Here in Scotland, we have people who are able to weave the most incredible of tales, but I have never heard something like that.”

Minerva giggled. She supposed it was bizarre. Saying it aloud made it seem even more strange. “You know, I always thought of my family as rather normal. I suppose we are not now.”

He looked at her. “There’s nothing normal about you, lass. Nothing at all.”

Any response remained trapped in her throat. She supposed it could have been an insult, but with the way he was looking at her, she did not think so.

Chapter Five

““Mr. Sinclair!”

By the twist of his stomach, as though a fist had been punched deep then turned, Lachlan could not decide whether the words were welcome or not. Who knew his name could have so much power? But from her lips, those three syllables had more impact than any of the trite declarations of love that had been thrown at him over the years.

He turned slowly, muscles tense. It’d been a long, sleepless night, his thoughts filled with her, aware of her footsteps padding about the hallway. This English lady was quite unlike anyone he had ever met. What woman in their right mind travelled across the breadth of the country, practically alone, as part of some inheritance scheme? A brave one indeed, he would give her that.

He cursed under his breath when he met her gaze. He should have ignored her, or pretended he was in a hurry to see the animals. Something, anything. So long as he had not had to set eyes on her in such a state. A state that sent heat rolling through his muscles and pooling in his gut.

Hair loose, and curved around one shoulder, her lids were hooded, and there was a crease on one cheek, as though she had fallen asleep awkwardly on it. A robe was tightly cinched around her slender waist, drawing his attention up to her curves. Though the diaphanous nightgown had a high neck, the flimsy fabric gave away hints of pink and flesh. It was the last thinghe needed. It had been his hope that his usual early morning start would mean avoiding her for a while—at least until he had drawn in some fresh air and gained control of himself. Anyone would think he was a damned welp who had never set eyes on a woman before.

Her gaze skimmed him, dropping down to his scruffy boots and up to his open shirt and rolled shirtsleeves. He had yet to put on his jacket or do his shirt up properly. Everything about this encounter was thoroughly scandalous, and he could not force himself to move.

“Call me Lachlan,” he said gruffly. Not that he minded the formality, but he needed something to fill the silence.

“Of course… Lachlan.” She bit down on her lip

He groaned inwardly. That had been a mistake. She could have little idea the picture she made, biting down on her lip and turning it glossy and plump, after uttering his name. Her cultured accent and sweet tones made a man imagine the words being whispered across his bare skin.

Lord, it was far too early in the morning to be thinking such thoughts. Particularly about a woman who was now under his protection. Whoever her brother was, he was no doubt powerful and rich. Lachlan daren’t think what might happen should he ruin this woman. Not that he had any such intention. Nor did he need the threat of a powerful, older brother to keep him from misbehaving. Many might not think him a gentleman because of his humble beginnings, but he was determined he would prove to anyone and everyone that a man’s birth meant nothing.

“How is Mary? Hopefully, your man shall return with the doctor today.”

“She had a restless night, but her temperature is still not as severe as it was.”

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