Page 24 of Reckless Desire

Kenna snapped her gaze onto him. “I—we—he didn’t really kiss me.”

“Did he take liberties, Miss Ramsay?” Sir Stirling asked. “I will deal with him if—”

“Nae,” she blurted. Kenna glanced from one to the other. “It was a mistake. I tripped. He caught me.”

“Tripped, did you?” Sir Stirling said in a decidedly nonchalant voice.

Kenna shifted uncomfortably.

“Did you fall into his lips?”

That was definitely amusement in his voice. In his eyes, too.

“You are making fun of me,” she said.

He smiled gently. “Only a little. But a gentleman does not take advantage of a lady.”

Lady Chastity snorted.

Sir Stirling lifted a brow. “Have you something to say, my sweet?”

She narrowed her eyes on him, then shifted her gaze to Kenna. “Did either gentleman force their attentions on you?”

Kenna shook her head. “Nae.”

To her surprise, they said no more. Kenna put eggs and ham on her plate, then sipped her coffee. Last night, she’d been kissed by one man at the party, then that man had gotten into a fight—a sword fight, no less—with another man. Yet, Sir Stirling and Lady Chastity sat drinking coffee as if nothing had happened. Even back home on Skye, if two men resorted to a sword fight to get the attention of a woman, everyone talked about it for months. Though, she’d never heard of such a thing happening. The nobility did far more outrageous things than the average person. That was, of course, because they had the money to buy their way out of trouble.

She buttered a wedge of toast and nibbled on it. Just how outrageous would she have to be in order for Sir Stirling and Lady Chastity to— Anticipation thrummed in her stomach. Might she be able to do something outrageous enough for them to send her home?

They didn’t seem overly concerned that Lord Newhall had been caught kissing her. Kenna recalled Sir Stirling’s stern attitude when she told him Lord Wilshire had only tried to steal a kiss from her. What had he said? “Much more, I wager.” Did Sir Stirling view Lord Wilshire as more of a threat than Lord Newhall? Sir Stirling had been stern with Lord Wilshire earlier in the evening. If she were caught in a more compromising situation with the marquess, Sir Stirling and Lady Chastity would surely have to send her home.

Now, how could she compromise herself without really compromising herself?

***

Kenna wasn’t the least bit surprised when Miss Davenport and three other girls pulled her aside before the other guests at the afternoon party could waylay her. She was well aware of the stares and the whispers circulating about last night’s events.

“You must tell us all about last night,” Miss Davenport said. “What was it like to have two gentlemen dueling over you?”

Kenna prevented the grimace that started to form. Sir Stirling had called the sword fight a duel. She thought the idea ludicrous, but this was exactly what she needed these women to say.

Kenna shrugged lightly and gave the reply Sir Stirling had instructed her to give, “They were not fighting over me. It was a misunderstanding between them. I simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

As expected, the girls looked at each other in obvious disbelief.

“You can trust us, Miss Ramsay,” Miss Davenport said. “Did Lord Wilshire ask you to elope with him and Viscount Newhall interceded on your behalf? Everyone knows the marquess is a terrible rogue.”

Kenna was surprised at how close Miss Davenport’s guess came to the truth. Lord Wilshire hadn’t asked her to marry him, but he had wanted a kiss—or more. He was dashing, strong, and very certain of himself. But Miss Davenport was correct, he was a terrible rogue.

“They are both very handsome,” Miss Davenport said. She glanced around as if to assure herself no one listened, then whispered, “Did either of them make assignations with you?”

“I really shouldn’t talk about what happened,” Kenna said demurely.

The women exchanged glances.

“How I wish I had been there,” another girl said, her voice dreamy. “I would just die if either Lord Newhall or Lord Wilshire fought over me.”

Kenna refrained from rolling her eyes. The girls were young, no more than nineteen, if she had to guess. She had been just as doe-eyed at that age. Well, perhaps at fifteen.