Page 24 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
“Mr. Frye. Anyone? Anyone?”
Hell—whowashe?
“Major.”
He looked up to find Lady Farris watching him, her lips quirked in amusement.
“Ma’am—I mean, yes, Mrs. Frye?”
She took a drink, her eyes dancing with laughter over the rim of her glass. “You’re very focused when you eat.”
“Habit, ma’am—my dear.”
“I imagine there are other tasks that receive the fullness of your attention,” she murmured.
“Wouldn’t have been made a major if I had been scattershot in my responsibilities,” he answered.
“Do you focus on anything else besides your duties?” she asked coyly. “Something you might consider... I don’t know... enjoyable?”
“I’m no automaton,” he answered, yet he bristled at the idea that she might consider him to be nothing more than a machine, without feelings, without needs. A devil suddenly took possession of him, and he said, “There’s one other task that receives my complete attention.” He lifted one brow.
“I... oh.” Rose pink stained her cheeks, and she pressed a hand to the base of her captivating throat. She looked goddamned edible.
His mouth watered, and he realized something, something that was both thrilling and deeply unsettling.
Hewantedthe countess. Yet he knew in a bone-deep way that she would completely upend his world. She happily disregarded rules, the very things he relied upon to make sense of the universe. He couldn’t permit that—not when he’d fought so hard to keep his world in control.
Chapter 6
Part of Duncan wanted to flee into the night as a measure of self-preservation. But he couldn’t leave her on her own to navigate the hazardous road. He’d given his word to both Rotherby and the countess to do his duty by her.
And he was tied to her, drawn by the light she radiated, her sheer joy in living. It was fascinating—he’d never truly met anyone so determined to experience everything life had to offer.
He had to look away from her to find a measure of equilibrium.
Glancing toward the entrance to the taproom, he saw two men standing on the threshold. One was tall, his broad shoulders filling out his coat, and possessing a square jaw that looked as though punches would glance off it without leaving the tiniest bruise. The other man was lean, his features sharp like he’d been whittled, and with eyes so pale blue as to be almost colorless.
Duncan blinked and blinked again. Heknewthose men.
“Excuse me,” he said to the countess before leaping to his feet and striding toward the newcomers. “Curtis.” He held out a hand. “Rowe.”
Both of them seemed surprised to see him at a roadside inn miles from London, but they smiled at his approach.
“The hell are you doing here?” Curtis demanded, pumping Duncan’s hand with his usual crushing force. One would never know that the man with the build and might of a pugilist was also one of the country’s foremost barristers, whose particular area of expertise was defending those that could not afford counsel.
“Could ask you two the same question.” Duncan moved toward his table and said to Lady Farris, “My lady, I believe you’ve met Mr. Rowe and Mr. Curtis before.”
“In June, at the duke’s country estate.” She smiled up at them. “It’s remarkable how attractive your friends are, Major. Between the Duke of Rotherby, Mr. Holloway, and now you two gentlemen, I begin to believe that one of your criteria for friendship is handsomeness.”
“Too bad he doesn’t apply the same standards to himself,” Curtis said.
“I recollect now that I like you very much, Mr. Curtis.” She held out her hand, and he bent over it. “And Mr. Rowe, what a pleasure to see you again.”
“My lady,” Rowe said with a bow. “It’s far preferable to look upon you than McCameron.”
“That’s enough from both of you,” Duncan grumbled without anger.
“What an uncommon but delightful thing to meet up with you again,” she said warmly.
