Page 201 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Fire up his Scottish blood.”

Rhoslyn stared. “That is your plan?”

“Scotland is a siren, and no Scot can resist her song.”

“God save us,” she muttered.

Before Rhoslyn could say more, she spied St. Claire. He stood now, casually looking down at Lady Isobel Herbert, and still managed to radiate danger. Rhoslyn wondered if it was the shoulders that filled out the mid-thigh length surcoat he wore, but realized it wouldn’t matter whether he wore chainmail or lawn. St. Claire didn’t look dangerous. He was dangerous.

Isobel laughed at something he said and laid a hand on his arm. Rhoslyn’s gaze riveted onto her fingers, small and elegant on the sleeve of his shirt. St. Claire seemed not to notice her touch, but Rhoslyn knew he did. He noticed everything. Yet he didn’t step away.

“Ye had best beware, Granddaughter,” her grandfather said. “Women like Lady Isobel have no compunctions about warming a married man’s bed.”

“I never had to worry about such things with Alec.” She silently cursed the tremble in her voice. What was wrong with her?

“Alec was no young man,” her grandfather said.

Neither was Isobel’s husband, which was one reason she had no qualms about seeking her pleasure elsewhere.

“I would no’ give St. Claire a reason to bed another woman,” her grandfather said.

“Men like him do no’ need a reason.”

“Ye canna’ condemn a man for being a man, nor can you condemn him before he has committed the crime.”

“He is not rejecting her advances,” Rhoslyn said.

He unexpectedly looked up from Isobel and met Rhoslyn’s gaze. He said something to Isobel, then started toward Rhoslyn. Her heart pounded. She felt Isobel’s eyes on her and returned the woman’s bold appraisal. Rhoslyn thought she discerned a slight smile on her face and was startled when jealousy stabbed at her. St. Claire approached and Rhoslyn caught sight of his stare.

Her grandfather leaned close and whispered. “Does the man ever simply look at a body?”

Rhoslyn wondered the same thing. It seemed as if his eyes pierced to her very soul.

He stopped in front of Rhoslyn. “Seward.” He nodded at her grandfather, then said to her, “I am pleased to finally see you, Lady Rhoslyn.”

“I have been here all evening,” she said.

“Aye, but you have been so busy with the guests, we have had no time together.”

That had been her plan.

“You look beautiful.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw her grandfather’s brows raise. Warmth crept up her cheeks. Alec had told her she was beautiful. No, not beautiful. Lovely.

“Thank ye,” she said.

“Will you sit with me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but said to her grandfather, “Forgive me, Seward, but I have had no time with my wife.”

“I can remedy that problem.” Her grandfather grasped Rhoslyn’s arm. “Come along, St. Claire.”

Her heart jumped at the thought that he meant to announce that they were leaving the party to consummate the marriage. “Grandfather.” She choked out the word, then nearly sagged when he started away from the staircase that led to the upper floors. Seconds later, he veered around a group of women with St. Claire at his side, and she realized he was headed toward the musicians.

“Grandfather,” she said under her breath. “Ye will make a spectacle of St. Claire.”

They reached the musicians and Rhoslyn pulled free of him. “I am too busy for this nonsense.”

Her grandfather nodded to the man playing the lute, then leaned close to him and whispered something. The musician continued to play, then nodded when her grandfather straightened.