Page 78 of Ghost of the Ton

“What news from the good doctor?”

Fuck—he sounded like a petulant child.

“He’s sent some ginger root for your mother and has written to tell me about an outbreak of smallpox in Hammersmith.”

“Is he in danger?”

She shook her head. “Both Dr. and Mrs. McIver took the vaccine. He’s setting up a vaccination scheme in the area. It’s something I’d like to do here, with your consent.”

“Surely there’s no need for that?” Hamish said. “Isn’t smallpox mostly confined to cities?”

“Mostly.”

“In which case I see little need for it. I doubt folk here would want to take part. Not to mention the cost, when the estate cannae afford it due to my having to…” His voice trailed away and she nodded, understanding his meaning.

“I-I could forgo part of the repayment.”

“Repayment?” Brodie said, raising his eyebrows.

“We should discuss this later, Euphramia,” Hamish said. “Over supper, perhaps?”

He offered his arm, and she stared at it. “Tonight?”

“Aye.”

She opened her mouth, as if to refuse. Then, after a pause, she sighed and placed her hand on his arm. Hamish suppressed the fizz of desire as she curled her fingers around his sleeve.

“Very well,” she said. “I wanted to speak to Eilidh, in any case.”

“I’ll take ye to her.”

Hamish dismissed Brodie, then led Mia inside the castle to his mother’s parlor. His heart ached at the delight in Ma’s expression when she saw her daughter-in-law.

“Has my son finally persuaded ye to dine with us?” Ma said.

Euphramia nodded, and Hamish steered her to a seat, then approached the door.

“Yet he sees fit to abandon ye as soon as he’s brought ye to me,” Ma huffed. “Where are yer manners, son?”

“I’ve errands to run,” Hamish said, “but I’ll see ye both at supper.”

A smile curved his mother’s lips. Then she kissed Mia on both cheeks.

“Ye’re looking well, lass. The Highland air’s good for ye—but ye’re still too thin. That cottage is no place for ye when ye’ve a home right here at Glenblath Castle. I’ll not press the matter, seeing as ye’re such a determined lass, but I long to see more of ye when I have such little congenial company.”

She glanced at Hamish, and he suppressed a smile. Ma had always been the kindest soul to walk on the earth, always seeing the good in folk. But she harbored a different feeling for Mia—a feeling that shone from her eyes.

Love.

On impulse, Hamish took Euphramia’s hand and lifted it to his lips.

“I’ll see ye at supper—Mia.”

She parted her lips and, unable to resist the temptation, Hamish brushed his mouth against hers. She let out a sharp sigh and retreated, and he swallowed the sense of loss. Though he’d caught the sweet, honeyed taste of her lips, his body craved more. But under his mother’s watchful gaze, he couldn’t do what he yearned to do—seize her like any self-respecting husband would and crush her mouth with his, plundering that sweetness until he’d had his fill.

Instead, he bowed and took his leave, pausing outside his mother’s chamber to draw breath and temper his ardor. Though he craved to touch Mia, to taste her, he did not want to frighten her off like a spooked filly. As any horseman knew, the surest way to tame a mare was to let her come to him.

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