Page 33 of Too Scot to Handle
“Anwen, what unfortunate gentleman?” Charlotte demanded. “You said you and Lord Colin merely chatted about charitable business.”
“Miss Anwen and I had a very pleasant encounter,” Lord Colin replied. “We came upon this fellow in passing. I’ve been thinking, though, about the House of Urchins, and I wonder if Miss Anwen will spare me a turn about the garden while I share my ideas with her?”
That the gentleman’s purse had been found was bad news, because it suggested John had stolen the purse and tossed it aside to be retrieved later. That Lord Colin considered the morning’s encounter very pleasant nearly caused Anwen to leap from the sofa and dance a hornpipe.
“The garden is a fine idea,” she murmured, rising.
“I’ll get your bonnet,” Charlotte said.
“You’ll need a shawl,” Elizabeth added.
They flung curtsies at Lord Colin and were gone in the next instant.
“Please be honest,” Anwen said. “John stole that man’s purse, didn’t he?”
“Yes, John stole that man’s purse,” Colin replied, taking Anwen by the hand, “and I’m stealing you. Where can we go that we’ll have peace and quiet?”
He wanted privacy with her, thank the celestial choirs. “The conservatory. It’s the last place they look for me, because of the damp.”
Colin’s grasp of her wrist was warm and firm, and for a moment, Anwen simply beheld him. Lord Colin MacHugh was calling on her.
Then he was kissing her, the worst, most unsatisfying little press of his lips to hers, before he led her from the parlor.
“I ought not to have done that,” he said as they hurried off in the direction of the conservatory. “I apologize. Anybody could have come by, bearing a tea tray, a bonnet, a lecture. Your reputation is precious to me. I want you to know that.”
Riding out early had tired Anwen, and she’d ache in inconvenient places tomorrow, but she’d be damned if she’d ask Lord Colin to slow down.
“I’m more concerned about John than about my reputation,” she said as they turned down the corridor leading to the conservatory. “Theft is a very serious matter.”
“Theft is a stupid matter,” Colin retorted. “The boy has no need to steal. He’s fed, clothed, housed, and being educated, after a fashion. He wasn’t stealing out of necessity.”
Colin held the conservatory door, and Anwen crossed the threshold into warmth, shadows, and the rich scent of earth and greenery. Would she forever associate that scent with being kissed?
She likely would, because as soon as Lord Colin closed the door, Anwen wrapped her arms around him, sank her fingers into his hair, and recommenced kissing him. He smiled against her mouth, settled his arms around her, and joined in the kiss.
His kissing included tactics. He got Anwen interested in the stroke of his tongue over her lips, until she realized his hand was sliding down ever closer to her bum. Anwen tried the same caress, finding the terrain wonderfully muscular. There was so much of Colin to explore, so many textures and contours, and yet she was worried about John too.
She broke off the kiss and remained in Colin’s embrace. “I like kissing you.”
“I rejoice to hear it, madam, though I long for the day when you love kissing me.”
“Do you love kissing me?”
His blue eyes held not a hint of teasing. “I do, Anwen. I hadn’t foreseen this, it’s not convenient, when I must leave for Scotland at the end of the season. I’m sure you could have more impressive beaus by the dozen, but you have…I feel…”
He smelled faintly of leather and horse, good smells, but his expression was not that of a man who’d just shared a lovely kiss.
Anwen brushed her fingers over his hair. “Yes?”
“I feel,” he said. “I’m not used to having sentiments of any significance where kisses are concerned. Shall we leave it at that?”
No, we shall not. “You typically kiss women for whom you feel nothing?”
“I typically kiss women for whom I feel desire, passing affection, and mild liking, and hope they feel the same for me. I do not accost decent young ladies beneath the maples, and then look forward to accosting that same young lady again within hours.”
Anwen drew away, the better to conceal an odd pleasure. Lord Colin could be flirtatious, unlike his older brother who was serious to a fault. Colin was charming and had a light, friendly manner socially.
His expression was neither light nor friendly, because Anwen had kissed him. I am a bonfire, and Colin MacHugh is not the will-o-the-wisp he wants society to think he is.
