Page 6 of Never Kiss a Scot
By the fifth dance her feet were aching, but Joanna couldn’t have cared less. Dancing with Brock had erased her black mood. She’d been smiling, laughing, not caring in the least about the attention focused upon her as each dance progressed. Only when the music stopped did she finally feel the hundreds of eyes upon her and the whispers spreading like wildfire in the crowd.
“No wonder she hasn’t found a match.Fivedances…”
“Must be his mistress…”
“Too improper, dancing with that Scotsman…”
“Her mother will be ashamed…”
Everywhere Joanna looked there was judgment and callous disregard for her feelings. What had she been thinking? Courting scandal by dancing with him? Even if this scared off Edmund Lindsey, was it truly worth it? What of the gossip that would hound her in hushed whispers wherever she went? A man like Brock wouldn’t marry her. She was simply a toy for a reckless Highland lord to play with when it suited him. Just kisses in libraries at midnight and dances to stir the scandal sheets.
“Lass…” Brock whispered, holding out his hand.
She stared at him, and before she could think twice, she’d wound back one hand and slapped him hard across the face. The assembly hall fell into a silence punctuated by the violins coming to a halt when the players dragged their bows discordantly over the strings. Everyone, it seemed, was gaping at her. Brock didn’t move, didn’t so much as flinch, even though a soft red shade was forming on his cheek.
Oh Lord, why in heavens did I do that?
The thought made her hysterical enough that she was torn between laughing and crying. She’d just slapped Brock in front of half theton. If she wasn’t going to be at the top of the scandal sheets for dancing too long with him, she’d surely end up there now for striking him in public.
Joanna turned and fled. She was going to be the laughingstock of all England.
She flew down the steps to the front of the assembly hall and onto the street, clutching her reticule as she prayed her family wouldn’t notice her absence. But how could they not? Everyone had been staring at her by the end of the fifth dance, and then she’d gone and slapped Brock in front of them all.
She waved at a hackney driver a dozen feet away. He picked up his whip and gave a gentle flick to his horses and headed toward her. A breath of relief escaped her.
I can go home and forget about tonight…I hope…
Just then, someone grabbed her from behind, a hand covering her mouth. She yelped as she was raised up and shoved into the coach she had summoned.
“Oi! What are you doin’?” the driver shouted.
“Just take us to Finchley Street! I’ll pay double the regular fare,” the man who held her said. Joanna stilled for a brief instant as she realized that the man who’d grabbed her was Brock.
“Howdareyou?” She tried to escape, but Brock blocked her path as he climbed inside with her.
“Hold that temper, lass. I’m not going to harm you, which is more than you did for me back there,” Brock snapped. His hands captured hers, pinning them to either side of her head against the cushions behind her on the seat.
“Let me go, Lord Kincade,” she demanded. His handsome face was a mask of moonlight and shadows in the dim coach interior as his lips curved into a grin.
“Not just yet. You and I need to talk.” The smile faded, and he looked deadly serious now. If he hadn’t been holding her wrists, she would have slapped him again.
“Talk?You should have talked to me a month ago. But no, you left me tied up in a library and kidnapped my brother’s fiancée!”
“I didna kidnap her. I wasrescuingher,” he corrected.
“Well, you might have been rescuing her, but youleftme,” she said with a growl. “You cannot go around kissing ladies like that with no consideration for their feelings. And then you convinced me to dance and you danced so wonderfully that I forgot to stop and noweveryoneis talking because you’re a known skirt chaser and a rogue, and then I slapped you and it will be all over the papers tomorrow. I’m ruined, and it is entirely your fault…” She struggled to get free, fury raging through her, but she couldn’t get him to let go.
“Lassie, you talk too much.” That was the only warning she had before his mouth slanted over hers and the world exploded around her in delicious sinful fire for the second time in her life.
3
Brock smiled against Joanna’s lips as she melted against him. She was just as wonderful as he remembered. He kept her wrists pinned against the back of the coach for a moment longer until he felt her surrender to his kiss. When he released her, she curled her arms around his neck. Every time his mouth covered hers, he felt unable to get enough of her natural sweetness or the dreamy intimacy that settled around them as they embraced. His stomach flipped with boyish excitement as he pressed against her. He had his lovely English lass back in his arms where she belonged.
In the month since he’d first met her and had to abandon her to rescue his sister, he had been reliving that heated encounter in the library of Joanna’s country home. He had vowed to come back for her to make her his.
The time had come at last.
He longed for a bride, one who could share his bed, make him laugh and smile with her lively talk and brilliant mind, and whose dowry would help repair his crumbling castle. Joanna was that woman. But there was a problem—her brother would kill him if he asked for her hand in marriage. They were on civil terms after the matter with Rosalind, but they could not be considered friends.
