Page 11 of To Tempt a Scotsman (Somerhart 1)

"Oh, my. A bastard. However did you become a baron?"

"My father purchased a Scottish barony in a fit of guilt. I'm not the least bit respectable."

"Well, you are in good company then. A bastard, a harlot, and a witch. I'm afraid that George is the only truly respectable one at the table."

Lucy tried to smother a laugh and snorted instead.

Collin raised an eyebrow at the indiscreet sound. "Cousin, I had no idea you were a witch." Lucy's eyes flew wide and her husband's chuckle ended on an alarmingly choked cough. Collin's brow tightened at the feeling he'd misstepped.

Dessert arrived in the form of glazed berries and cream. The servants retreated. Silence hung heavy over the room.

Then Alexandra smiled sweetly across the table, adding to Collin's unease. "Now, my dear Lord Westmore," she said, hands spreading to gesture around the table, "who­ever said that I was the harlot?"

The air grew stifling and drew heat that spread in a tin­gling burn over his cheeks. Christ, he'd just called the woman a whore at the supper table. His mouth fell open of its own accord; nothing emerged. He closed it, tried to think of something—anything—to say. Alexandra's mask of innocence suddenly dissolved into a fit of laughter.

Lucy snorted again. "Really, Alex, that was quite cruel."

"His face." She gestured toward Collin.

Surely he couldn't get any more red. The heat spread to his ears. "I suppose I deserved that."

"Oh, you did!" she laughed, leaning toward him. De­spite everything, the shadow of her cleavage still caught his attention. He clenched his teeth, wondered if it would be bad form to flee the room as he'd fled her bedchamber. He grabbed his wine instead and raised the glass toward her before draining it.

"Oh, that was well worth any grudge you may hold against me now."

"No grudge," Collin conceded. "What I implied was in­excusable."

George's smile was sympathetic if a little weak. "These two are too quick for the male mind to follow, but really, you waltzed into that one."

Collin tipped his head in agreement, gave a helpless shrug. "Well, Cousin, whether you are a witch or a harlot, I would hear the story."

"I am the witch, or was. But there is no harlot here, and I will hear no more talk of it." Alexandra rolled her eyes and grinned. "When George and I married, Alex was only eight—"

"Nine!" she called.

"Pardon me. Lady Alexandra Huntington was a mature young woman of nine."

She chuckled, the sound brushing Collin's spine. "She had a rather fierce crush on George—"

"My grown cousin!"

"—and she found it difficult to like me. In fact, I believe to this very day that she plotted my murder."

"Not true. I only wanted to run you off."

"Well, thankfully I'd said my vows just before I met her, or I may very well have abandoned him." Lucy flashed her husband a tender smile that belied her words.

"So what did you do, Lady Alexandra?" Collin asked. Her naughty smile made him want to groan.

"I only played a prank. Lucy didn't find it amusing."

"She put a mouse in my bridal bed!"

Alexandra and George collapsed into laughter.

"You should have seen her, Collin," George gasped. "So delightfully shy and pink, then shrieking about the room without a stitch, all modesty out the window!"

"George!" But his wife laughed too, and Collin couldn't help but chuckle.

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