“I’d rather a whisky.” Although not one for strong spirits, she’d developed the taste for an occasional dram, especially on a chilly evening.
Humor gleamed in his eyes. “Spoken like a true Scotswoman.”
“I know it’s not very ladylike,” she said sheepishly.
He paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Victoria, you can have anything you want. Anything I can give you.”
His quiet sincerity warmed her more than any liquor could. Arnprior was not one for casual promises or flip remarks. His words were spare and always trustworthy.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She must have appeared like a lovestruck schoolgirl, though Arnprior didn’t seem to mind. He moved close, as if to kiss her, but when the study door opened, he jerked away.
Angus almost barreled into them. “Why the devil are ye lurking about like a pair of rum coves?” he barked as he fumbled to hang on to the ledgers he carried.
Arnprior helped his grandfather restack the ledgers. “We were about to entermystudy to have a drink, in point of fact.”
The old man snorted. “After a bit of canoodling in the hall, I ken.”
“I was hoping for a little more privacy before we engaged in the canoodling,” Arnprior calmly replied.
“We were not . . . never mind.” Victoria frowned at the earl. “And you’re as bad as he is.”
“Ye could only hope so, lass,” Angus said, giving her a wink as he backed out the door.
“Good night, Angus.” The earl firmly closed the door in his grandfather’s face.
“What did he mean by that remark?” Victoria asked as he towed her to one of the needlepointed wing chairs by the fireplace. “Or do I even want to know?”
“I’m sure we’d be horrified to find out,” he said. “Almost as horrified as I am to see him mucking about with the ledgers again.”
“He just wants to help you.” She settled into the chair and tugged off her boots, stretching her chilled feet toward the roaring fire. It was rather shocking behavior on her part, but she was feeling bold tonight.
“Angus is incredibly old-fashioned and controlling,” Arnprior said as he fetched their glasses from the drinks trolley next to his desk. “Some days he treats me like I’m still in short pants.”
Victoria smiled at the thought of the earl as a little boy. She imagined he was a little too solemn for his own good, but thoroughly adorable.
He handed over a glass and settled into the chair next to her, glancing at her feet with a smile. “Getting comfortable, are we?”
She wriggled her toes, luxuriating in the heat pouring from the fireplace. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. In fact, I’m hoping to get you out of the rest of your garments by the end of the evening.”
She slopped some whisky onto her hand.
He reached over to take her glass, putting it on the round table next to his chair.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Helping you to clean up.”
When he drew the back of her hand to his mouth and licked away the drops of whisky, Victoria gasped. And when he turned it over and dragged his tongue across her palm, she went positively light-headed.
“Sir, what if someone walks in on us?” she protested in a weak voice.
Mischief glinted in his eyes. “They’ve already done that, remember?”
“Yes, and look what that led to.”
