Page 29 of Three Days to Be Ruined
Heat rushed to her face. “You’re trespassing!”
The early light brought out glints in his dark hair, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned. In his crumpled state, he looked like a pirate who’d just raided a maiden’s dowry.
“I was under the impression I owned the place.”
Dora moved behind her. “He is right on that account, Lady Beth.”
“Lady Beth?” He chuckled. “I like her already.”
Beth glared at her maid. “Don’t encourage him.”
“Lass, ye’ve got yerself tae blame.” He pillowed his face in his hand.
The mellow brogue was back, and only her corset prevented her from melting.
“Your serenade last night was loud enough tae wake the whole parish. Ye should be thankin’ me for shooing the swains away from yer door.”
The cello! How mortifying. Her mother would be positively ill if she knew a gentleman had caught her playing the indecent instrument.
“I... I wasn’t serenading anyone! A lady’s true charm lies in her grace, modesty, and quiet dignity.”
“If she wants tae put her man tae sleep, perhaps. But a winemaker’s grace?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Is better felt in the bedchamber. And trust me, lass, she never needs to be quiet.”
Her face turned crimson. She stared at him, caught between outrage and a delicious thrill in parts of her anatomy she dared not name. “That is... shockingly improper.”
“Aye, lass, but proper can be borin’, wouldn’t ye say?” His gaze dipped toward her bodice.
Beth gasped, realizing she was still in her camisole. Before she could cover herself, he plucked the ribbon keeping her bodice in place. A single tug, and it floated free.
Heat prickled her cheeks as Boyd’s gaze dipped to her disheveled bodice. Gasping, Beth crossed her arms in front of her chest. She was suddenly, inexplicably aware of her heartbeat... and his watching eyes.
“Just a wee souvenir, lass. Don’t worry—ye’ll hardly miss it.” A devilish gleam danced in his gaze as he toyed with his prize.
“Give it back this instant!”
Boyd chuckled. “I’ll take care o’ it.” With a wink, he tucked the ribbon into his pocket.
“You are a—a common thief!
“I’m no such thing, lass.”
“Do you call yourself an uncommon thief, then?” A very handsome, very charming thief who stole her breath?
“No, ye see—he who steals a cow from a poor widow, or a calf from a cotter, now that’s a thief. But lifting a thing or two from a Sassenach? That’s a gentleman’s work. And as for taking a treefrom the forest, a salmon from the river, a stag from the hill, or a bauble from a bonnie lassie—well, that’s just Highland instinct, and no Highlander worth his tartan would feel the slightest shame in it.”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
“Dinnae go gettin’ conceited, lass. A winemaker’s wife is humble as she is bonnie.” He took her chin in his rough hands, leaned in, and claimed her lips with a quick, possessive kiss.
Beth sputtered, her eyes wide. “Mr. Sandeman! That was—”
“Just a wee taste. Don’t forget your challenge today in the cellar, Beth. And close your pretty mouth, will ya? A winemaker’s wife doesn’t gawk.”
Dora cleared her throat. “He’s taken your ribbon, Miss Beth. Shall I fetch you another? Or perhaps it’s time to start locking your accessories away from sticky fingers.”
With a cheeky grin, Boyd tipped an imaginary hat and strolled off, looking far too pleased with himself. Where in all A Lady’s Guide of Proper Behavior did a woman find guidance to deal with such an irresistible, totally impossible suitor? “That man is insufferable.”
“Indeed, he is, and who knew—not the contrite type, after all.”
