Page 12 of Never Kiss a Scot
Brock woke late, the sun pouring through the sash windows of his bedchamber. He rather liked the multipaned glass of the windows. They were commonplace in England, but not back home. He blinked, bleary-eyed, as he remembered he was not in Scotland. He was in England for Rosalind’s wedding. He winced as he remembered last night at the ball. Joanna. She’d slapped him, and then he’d tossed her into a coach and almost brought her here to this residence.
If Rosalind ever found out what he had tried to do, she would toss him and his brothers out on their ears. She had helped him and their two younger brothers, Brodie and Aiden, secure this townhouse. She called itdecent. He called it extravagant. It would indeed have been a fine place to bring Joanna last night, but alas, he’d decided against compromising her to get what he wanted—her as his wife.
Brock lay still, staring up at the dark green brocade canopy of the expensive bed he’d slept in. The furnishings were new and fashionable, the house was well staffed, and the rooms were large and warm. It wasn’t what he was used to at all. Although Castle Kincade was vast, he only lived in a small portion of it, and what furniture they had left wasn’t in decent condition. The thought made him wince.
Brock sat up, noticing he had foolishly dragged a handful of blankets to bed, expecting drafts, only to have kicked the blankets to the floor in the middle of the night when he’d gotten too hot. Last night had been positively stifling.Bloody English weather.
This house on Finchley Street wasn’t home. It was more comfortable, cleaner, less crumbly, but it wasn’thome. Brock slipped out of bed and walked over to the washbasin on his dresser. He splashed cold water over his face and brushed his knuckles along his jaw, feeling how rough his beard was, or at least the scruff that had grown overnight. There was enough to scrape his skin. That wouldn’t do.
He had every intention of trapping and kissing Joanna Lennox in some corner today, and he wanted his skin as smooth as a bairn’s bottom in case he had a chance to steal another kiss. If he didn’t shave, she’d have a redness about her cheeks that would give away the fact that he’d been kissing her. The last thing he needed was to get in another fight with Lennox before Rosalind’s wedding. His sister would never forgive him.
He unfolded the leather wrap on the dresser, revealing his pot of shaving cream, brush, and razor. Then he set about the task of shaving. He was only two strokes in when his bedchamber door burst open and Brodie rushed inside, grinning.
“Ach, good, you’re up, man. I feared you’d sleep the day away.”
Brock, razor still frozen against his skin, was never more glad that being the eldest had trained him not to startle easily. He hadn’t cut himself.
“Brodie, you know they make doors for a reason—so younger brothers knock. What if I hadna been alone?”
His brother chuckled, his grayish-blue eyes glinting. “But youarealone. No doubt you were mooning over that wee Joanna all night.”
“I dinna moon,” Brock growled, narrowing his eyes as his brother walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, looking far too smug for his own good.
“Aye, you do.” Brodie crossed his arms over his chest. “Oooh, Joanna, sweet pretty Joanna,” he mocked in a silly, high-pitched voice.
Brock met his brother’s gaze in the reflection in the mirror behind him as he continued to shave.
“It is not wise to mock a man armed with a blade, brother.”
Brodie chuckled, ignoring the threat. “Well? Did you catch up with her?”
“Who?” Brock moved his razor to the other side of his face, the side that Joanna had slapped—quite hard, in fact. He rather liked that she was a strong lass, but he wanted to give her no cause to strike him a second time. Although he admitted he deserved it the first time.
“Joanna!” Brodie exclaimed in exasperation. “Lord, are you even listening to me? I saw you run after her when she fled the ball. Everyone was talking about it. You danced with her too much, it seems. Apparently, the English think that’s scandalous.” Brodie smirked, and Brock knew that smile all too well. Whatever Brodie thought was scandalous would be disastrous for a normal man or woman.
He hadn’t danced with her enough, but once they were married he would remedy that. He would dance with her every night if he had the chance.
“So…did you catch her?” Brodie persisted.
Brock finished shaving his throat and nodded. “Aye, we had a wee talk, but she is still upset about our first meeting.”
His brother grinned again. “When you kissed her and left her trussed up? I can’t imagineanyreason why a gentle lady would still be upset.” Brodie’s amused sarcasm made Brock’s temper flare.
“What do you want, Brodie? If it’s to needle me all day, you must have better things to do.”
“We have tea at Lennox’s house. You’d better dress and be ready in an hour.” Brodie got off the bed and left Brock alone to scowl as he wiped his face clean.
Tea at Lennox’s house. T’would be heaven and hell as he tried to mend the tenuous trust he and Lennox had been building, and most importantly, it was an opportunity to see Joanna again. This brought a smile to his lips, then a frown. Lennox would be there, no doubt keeping an eye on him and making plans to keep Joanna far away. Brock had every intention of doing something about that.
Brock finished dressing alone, much to the dismay of the valet his sister had provided for him. He’d grown used to existing with a small staff at Castle Kincade. They had only a cook, a steward, two footmen, one maid, a groom, and a coach driver. It was enough for a townhouse, but not an ancient castle. But once he married Joanna, if she was agreeable to it, he would like to hire more staff.
He fetched his hat and coat and left his bedchamber. Brodie had gone ahead it seemed, but Aiden was waiting for him in the hall by the front door. Aiden was the youngest, and he was both quieter and less boisterous than Brodie. He had suffered most at the hands of their abusive father, and with the man only recently in his grave, Aiden was still quiet—not quite sullen, but more melancholic.
Brock did his best to cheer his brother up when he could, but Aiden preferred to be left alone. Only the company of the wild animals he rescued drew his focus these days. Brock often wondered if Aiden’s obsession with the beasties was out of some belief that he could save creatures as no one had been able to save him. The thought left Brock with a dull ache in his chest. Once he had Joanna as his wife, he’d turn his attention to Aiden, and see if he couldn’t lift his brother’s spirits.
“Ready for tea?” Brock asked.
Aiden shrugged. “Tea is tea, isn’t it? But I will be happy to see our sister.”
