Ian lifted both his brows at that. “I never thought I’d hear ye admit ye couldna persuade a lass to do yer bidding.”
“Yer sister-by-marriage has a stubborn streak as wide as the River Tay. And a wee temper to boot.”
“One that I seem to remember ye enjoyed goading.”
Jamie grinned. “Aye. I do like having a wee bit of sport with her.”
Ian narrowed his eyes. “That sport wouldna include—?”
“Nae, it wouldna.” Jamie would have taken affront at the suggestion, but he recalled the kiss he’d shared with Mari—the satin feel of her lips, the sweet taste of her mouth, the softness of her breasts against his chest as she had freely returned his tongue play—and realized he had wanted more, much more, so how could he take affront? “The lass is pure.”
A discreet scratch at the door interrupted Ian from continuing his line of questioning. Jamie went to the door to find Givens on the other side.
“Yes? What is it?”
The butler took a deep breath and handed Jamie a note. “Miss Barclay asked me to give this to you.”
All Jamie’s senses went on full alert, like they did before he went into battle. He eyed the folded vellum as though it might hold a poisonous viper. Givens looked at a spot in the air over his shoulder.
This was nae going to be good.
Reluctantly, Jamie took the note and unfolded it. As he read it, he let out a roar that brought Ian to his feet and had Givens taking two steps backward before pausing to adjust his jacket and resume looking at the air.
“Is she still here?” Jamie managed to ask in something less than a shout.
“No, sir.” Givens took another deep breath. “Miss Barclay specifically asked me to wait until the carriage had collected her and the maid before I was to…er, disturb you.”
“Disturb me? The little vixen—” Jamie stopped his rant as Ian approached and took the note from him. “Did Mrs. Stokely approve this?” he asked Givens.
“I do not think so. She left quite early for the boarding house.”
Jamie clenched his fists, causing Givens to blanch. He forced himself to loosen his hands, although if Ian made even one comment about the lass escaping, Jamie would be more than happy to box his brother’s ears. Maybe even get into a full brawl. That would feel even better. He motioned for the butler to go, and Givens didn’t wait to be told twice. Jamie shut the door behind him and waited. Maybe Ian would oblige him. Just one wrong word…
But Ian only frowned. “Who is this Algernon that’s taken Mari for a carriage ride?”
“Damn fancy painter from Paris who wears lace,” Jamie muttered. “Bastard actually sends the lass flowers and poetry too.”
Ian studied him. “Ah. I think I see.”
Jamie glared at him. “Ye see nothing. I told ye the lass was willful. ’Tis a wonder my hair is nae turning grey.”
Ian merely smiled and handed him the flask from the table.
Without another word, Jamie drained the contents.
