Page 12 of Highland Champion
“So why are ye nae laden down with packages?” Alasdair asked.
For a moment, his sister looked confused, but Lorelei answered before she could. “The maid and footman carried them in.”
“What did you purchase?” Lady Bute asked as she handed a cup to Louisa and proceeded to pour another.
“Um…Mary found a very nice shawl that she thought I would like,” Louisa answered.
“Just a shawl?”
“We…saw some other things, too,” Lorelei said.
“Lots of different things,” Fiona added, “that we doona have in Scotland. ’Twas exciting.”
“Very interesting shops,” Lorelei said quickly. “Bond Street offers such a variety of…things.”
Alasdair glanced from his sister to Lorelei covertly as he took a swallow of tea, wishing it were whisky. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was. “Like what, for example?”
Fiona gave him an annoyed look. “Nothing that would interest ye.”
“Nothing we wish to speak of”—Lorelei smiled mischievously—“in mixed company.”
His mouth quirked. Was she flirting with him? One of the things he found fascinating about her was that she could say something totally innocently but he would find it seductive anyway. He wanted to give her a suggestive reply, but instead made sure his hand brushed against hers a bit longer than necessary as he handed her a plate with a tea cake on it. He longed to know if she felt his touch like he felt hers—like simmering water rushing through his veins…
“Ah! Personal items.” Lady Bute cleared her throat. “I think we understand.” She turned to Alasdair. “Tell me, Mr. MacGregor, did you enjoy the ball at Almack’s?”
He noted the abrupt change in subject. The countess obviously thought the topic of intimate wear not proper. And it wouldn’t be, if that was what either his sister or Lorelei meant. Somehow, though, he didn’t think they did. They were both too hesitant—and evasive—in their responses. Besides, he couldn’t remember his sister ever being excited about shopping. Clothing was more of a practical matter in Scotland, although he certainly wouldn’t mind seeing Lorelei’s intimate apparel…Maybe something almost transparent that would reveal…
“Did ye?” Fiona asked. “Enjoy the ball?”
He blinked, forcing his thoughts back from the lustful trail they were going down. His sister’s question had much more meaning than the countess’s merely social one. She meant had he enjoyed meeting Lady Melissa Talbot. He wasn’t sure if he had. The woman was rather like a maelstrom swirling around him all evening, attempting to pull him into the depths of a vortex he wasn’t sure he wanted to go. But he wasn’t going to give away his thoughts to his prying sister or say anything that would affect Lorelei’s feelings.
“I see why Almack’s has the reputation it does,” he said noncommittally.
“But did ye like—”
“Yes, I thought the food was excellent,” Alasdair replied, knowing full well that was not the question she was going to ask. “And I thought the musicians were quite good as well.”
The countess gave him a quizzical look, but her good manners prevailed and she didn’t inquire further. “I will be sure to let the matrons know.”
He wasn’t so sure his sister’s manners would prevail so he set his teacup down and made his excuses to leave. As he stood, he nodded in her direction.
“When do ye plan to go shopping again? I will be glad to escort ye.”
“We doona ken—”
“That is not necessary—”
“My maid and her husband escort us,” Louisa finished for the three of them and smiled benignly. “They would be quite insulted to think their protection was not enough.”
“Hmmm. Well, I doona mean to insult them.” He turned to the door. “Until next time then.”
As he left, he could feel three pairs of eyes boring into his back. The ladies were hiding something, but he didn’t know what it was. He was quite certain, however, that it had nothing to do with shopping.
…
“Blast it!” Fiona flopped down on the bed in the chamber she was sharing with Lorelei after her brother had gone. “Why did it have to be Alasdair who came to London to take care of business? It should have been Ian. He’s the laird.”
Not that the English would acknowledge that title, but Lorelei wasn’t going to press the issue. Instead she took the armchair by the unlit brazier. “I doubt Ian wants to leave Emily’s side. They’ve been married only four months.”
