Even she might have felt an attraction if circumstances were different.
The elderly fellow he had referred to as Gordon rolled in a tea cart laden with a tempting array of foods to fill her stomach. Not only were there oatcakes and an entire apple pie, but he set out a platter of cold meats, cheeses, and bread before quietly leaving them to these refreshments.
Miranda noticed that the teapot and teacups were of surprisingly fine quality, the china as elegant as any tea service set out in a London drawing room.
This parlor also spoke of old money and discerning taste. A magnificent oriental carpet covered much of the stone floor. On the walls were portraits of prior dukes and over the hearth was an impressive array of weaponry, massive claymores and large axes that now served merely as decorative objects of war but must have been used in battle at one time or another by his ancestors.
Those claymores were heavy swords requiring enormous strength to lift and wield. Miranda could see this duke carryingone into the fray and using it with lethal precision against his enemies.
He had the strength to do it, too. In fact, he had the most exquisite musculature she had ever seen on a man, yet not overdone at all. Just perfect for his rugged frame.
Not that she made a habit of staring at undressed men. But he was giving her quite a show because he still had not donned a shirt. Nor was she inclined to remind him of this oversight.
Why should she not enjoy looking at him? He was an unusual mix of brawn and elegance.
She surveyed the rest of the large room with dismay, realizing she had shattered most of the porcelain vases the former Dukes of Solway must have collected over the years and perhaps over centuries.
Oh dear.
Had she destroyed priceless items?
Well, who told him to leave the valuable antiques out in the open where any fool could get their hands on them?
Still, what had she done? Would Solway demand retribution for the mess she had created?
At the time, those vases and other valuables had seemed convenient weapons to use against his kinsmen. They were just sitting there on decorative tables, begging to be hurled.
Had she been strong enough, she would have tossed the tables, too. There were a few smaller ones that she might have managed to fling across the room without too much effort. The sturdy settees and cushioned chairs were clearly too heavy for her to lift, or she would have hurled those, too. She liked how they had been set in artful seating arrangements to make this impressive parlor, with its soaring ceiling and massive hearth large enough to cook an ox to feed an entire army, feel quite welcoming and cozy.
Good grief.
She winced, noting what a mess she had made.
Solway must have sensed her thoughts and now grinned. “Aye, Miranda, ye blew through here like a tempest and totally destroyed the place.”
She refused to apologize. “I was merely defending myself. If anyone is to blame, it is your cousin’s son, Mongo, and his companions.”
“I agree,” he said without a hint of sarcasm, and rose to right one of those overturned tables and place it by her side before pouring her a cup of tea. “Ye were merely doing whatever ye needed to survive a frightening situation. Ye handled yerself as proudly as any Highland warrior.”
He set her cup on the table and then motioned to the cold meats and cheeses. “Would ye like to serve yerself or shall I do the honors? Or would ye just prefer the sweets? Och, and would ye like some sugar or milk in yer tea?”
“A little sugar, if you please. And milk. Honey and lemon, if you have them.”
“Aye, we do. I’ll ring for Gordon again and ask him to—”
“No, you needn’t disturb him. The milk and sugar will do. I’ll have some of that apple pie, too.” She tried not to smile as Solway dutifully served her. But she could not keep the grin off her lips, because this big oaf of a man was being so attentive and polite to her.
He drew up another chair and settled in it beside her.
Despite his polite manner, she was not about to let down her guard. “Can someone not bring you a shirt?”
“Och, I should have thought to ask Gordon to fetch it after he’d delivered the tea. Is it that distressing to ye?” He sighed. “We are almost done here. I’ll have Tilda settle ye as soon as ye’ve eaten yer fill and warmed yer insides with the tea.”
“It does not particularly distress me,” she admitted, although they both knew it was highly improper.
But this was the least of her worries after all she had endured this night.
True, they sat shockingly close. But he looked quite fine. Why should she not enjoy the view? It was never going to happen again.
