Page 14 of Never Kiss a Scot
Brock scowled at his sister. “How about that woman you mentioned, the duchess? I heard her courtship was far from natural.”
“Yes, well, that’s different.”
“And I seem to recall that your courtship with Lennox did not flownaturally.”
Rosalind’s cheeks turned a fiery red. “Yes, well, things were different with Ashton and me. We always had…” She struggled for a word. “A spark, a fire that burned hot between us. Learning about each other came after.”
“’Tis the same for Joanna and me,” Brock said, thinking of how when he held the woman in his arms there was so much more than a simple spark between them. It was an uncontrollable blaze.
“Brock.” Rosalind caught his arm, her face earnest, her brows drawn together. “You must take care, especially with Joanna. She is Ash’s youngest sister and my friend. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“You aremysister, and Lennox took you.”
“Is that what this is? Revenge for marrying Ashton?”
“Of course not.” He bristled like an irate badger. “I’m merely pointing out that Lennox has made you happy, and I’m willing to let him marry you. Why canna you do the same for me?”
Rosalind’s eyes brightened. “Do you love her? Sheneedslove, Brock. She’s like me—she wants to be loved, madly, wildly. I remembered that you always said you would never love, because love would make you vulnerable. But Father is dead. He cannot reach us from the grave. You must be able to love her.”
Brock’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to lie to Rosalind, didn’t want to say he would love Joanna. He would care for her—he already did, in his own way—but love? He could not promise that because he did not know if he was capable of it anymore. Certainly not the kind of love Joanna no doubt read of in her Gothic novels. Love was not something that made you swoon and sigh. Love destroyed a person. It burned away at them inside until disappointments robbed them of their last gasping breath. Just as it had killed his mother.
I won’t let that happen to me. I will never allow myself to love anyone like that.
“I will care for her, Rosalind.” It was all he could say. His sister frowned in a way that reminded him with a stab of pain of their beloved mother. She’d always been able to sense when he wasn’t being truthful, and she would make exactly that same expression Rosalind was making now.
“Brock…” she said again, worry in her tone. Before she could speak further, Regina Lennox called Rosalind’s name, waving her over to a twittering crowd of ladies who were gathered around Brodie.
He was grinning devilishly, no doubt regaling the ladies with some scandalous tale or another. Brodie had never met a woman he didn’t like. While Aiden preferred animals to people, and Brock had a stone wall around his heart, Brodie’s way of dealing with their abusive father had left him hungry to be loved by all without truly loving anyone in return. If Brodie wasn’t careful, he’d find himself at the end of a dueling pistol before long.
The moment Rosalind left him alone, Brock skirted around the groups of guests, his eyes seeking only one face within the crowd. He chanced running into Lennox and his friends by opening the door to the dining room. Several gentlemen, Lennox included, milled about a sideboard table, filling teacups. Brock stifled a snort. The small blue-and-white patterned cups in their hands looked ridiculous. Tea was fine enough, but Brock wouldn’t be caught drinking from so dainty a cup, at least not here. He began to withdraw from the room after failing to spot Joanna, but someone called his name.
“Ah, Kincade,” the Earl of Lonsdale said, humor glinting in the man’s gray eyes. “If you feel the urge to smash some furniture, try to use the chairs in the kitchen. Lennox doesn’t like them, and you’d be doing him a favor, old boy.” The men all chuckled. Lonsdale crossed his arms over his chest, smirking in open challenge.
Poor bastard thinks he can rile me in front of the guests.
“As I recall, it was you who broke a chair…overmyback, and it didna do much to stop me. In fact, I thought a barmaid had swatted me with a wet cloth until I turned around and saw it was you. I didna think the English were so weak, but…alas…” He trailed off, leaving the mild insult to fester in the air.
Lonsdale’s grin faltered, and he glanced at his friends as though hoping one of them would defend him.
“Well, given what I’ve seen of barmaids in Scotland, that’s a compliment, Charles. Some of those wenches look strong enough to toss a caber.” The Duke of Essex snorted into his teacup.
Completely unperturbed, Brock chuckled. “Aye, our women have to be in order to serve us. I dinna have a problem with a strong lass. ’Tis your dainty English lassies I canna make sense of.” If that didn’t put any man off the scent of his plans for Joanna, he would be shocked.
“Kincade, come join us,” Lennox offered, putting the barbed comments to an end. He nodded toward a teacup that had yet to be claimed on the sideboard.
“I thank you, but I’m afraid I’m looking for someone.” Lennox’s eyes narrowed, and Brock was hasty to add, “Aiden, my brother.” Brock had no compunction about lying to Lennox.
“Ah…” Lennox’s hawkish expression lightened. “He’s outside in the gardens.”
“Thank you.” Brock left Lennox and the others to their tea and slipped back in the corridor again. He feared he would have to search the entire house to find Joanna. Just then, he saw a flutter of green fabric disappear into a room at the end of the corridor. He pursued the flash of color, opening the door a few moments later.
The library. Of course. She loved to read. Joanna was studying the shelves. The flare of her hips and the bright-green satin gown embroidered with wildflowers made her appear like a tempting garden nymph. Blonde curls danced down the slope of her swanlike neck, making his mouth run dry as he imagined placing soft, hot kisses on her skin as he held on to her waist from behind. Lord, the woman had a way of bewitching him.
He moved softly. Years of hunting deer in the sparsely wooded hills had trained him well. She was mere inches away when he reached out to touch her shoulder. Joanna screeched and leapt into the air.
“Hush, lass,” he warned, instantly turning her around.
“Oh! It’s you!” She placed a hand over her chest, breathing hard. The effort made her breasts swell against her tight bodice. “What are you doing here?” she demanded when she caught her breath.
