Hit Me With Your Best Scot (Wild Wicked Highlanders #3) - Suzanne Enoch Page 0,18

itself on her pretty face. For God’s sake he hoped it wasn’t the same with him, or they’d all be in trouble.

“‘Cracked in the head by Cupid,’” she repeated, chuckling. “Not quite as poetic as being struck by the cherub’s arrow, but I imagine falling in love could be somewhat … chaotic.” She sent him another glance. “Would you agree? Have you ever been in love, Mr. MacTaggert? Niall, I mean?”

“I’ve been near to it half a dozen times, Miss Baxter,” he returned, spotting the next street plaque and turning the group north accordingly. “Nae close enough to fall over the cliff.” At this moment he was wishing one of those lasses had caught his heart; if he’d been already married, especially without knowing about the bloody agreement his parents had signed, he would likely have been excused from this mess and happily still in the Highlands.

But after last night, that wasn’t quite true, either. The play had been better than he’d expected, but so had the conversation. Especially when he’d thought to be seated in the back row watching while Coll attempted to speak to an empty-headed flower about nonsense. It had begun that way, aye, until Coll had pushed too hard. Had his brother suspected he was being bamboozled? More likely he’d just been overly annoyed by the entire thing, but she’d definitely taken her moment to speak her mind.

“What about your brother?” she asked.

Niall blinked. “What about him?”

“Has he … been in love?”

Oh, that. “Nae that he’s admitted.” He sent her another look, catching a glimpse of blue eyes slanted in his direction before she faced forward again. “Ye definitely caught his attention last night.”

“If you try to tell me he was intrigued rather than entirely put out, I will call you a liar, sir.”

A laugh burst from his chest. He tried to stifle it with a cough, but doubted he’d been at all successful. “He wasnae indifferent about it. I’ll admit to that.”

“Well, I shall be minding my tongue this morning, just so you know. I misspoke last night, however … provoking he might have been. I know better.”

That seemed a damned shame, but since Coll wasn’t anywhere about and Niall had lied to get her to the coffee shop, he was almost willing to wager that she would be misspeaking again this morning. He looked forward to it.

Just past the corner on the left in front of them, a wooden sign bearing a drawing of a Turkish coffeepot and fancy lettering proclaimed that they’d arrived at The Constantinople. The shop below the sign boasted large windows and a rich, exotic scent that drowned out the coal-and-manure smell around them. His stomach rumbled. While he’d had coffee, he’d never been to a place dedicated to the brew.

This morning might have been worse, he supposed; Mrs. Baxter might have sent them to a recital or a tableware museum. What he knew about finer folk’s music and dinner plates wouldn’t fill a thimble.

Niall dismounted. Miss Baxter, still up on Mirabel, held out a gloved hand to him and smiled. Blowing out his breath, he stepped forward. His ancestors had fought off the English for decades. Surely he could keep one lass at arm’s length for one morning while he told her charming and complimentary tales about his eldest brother. And then with any luck, he could hand her over to Coll and go take a gander at other lasses—ones who weren’t practically engaged already. Ones he could imagine leaving behind while he returned to the Highlands.

Chapter Four

If she’d known that the first MacTaggert with whom she would have to interact this morning would be Niall rather than Lord Glendarril, Amelia-Rose might have had a less fitful night’s sleep. Or perhaps a more fitful one.

His brother the viscount had an almost aggressive handsomeness to him, rather like a dark-haired lion who hadn’t decided whether she was a friend or a meal, but not only did Niall have a face that half her friends would simply swoon over, but his sense of humor almost dared her to misbehave. And that was not a good thing. Whatever she decided to do about this marriage nonsense, she wanted it to be her decision, not something she accidentally destroyed or got trapped into because of her unreliable tongue.

Perhaps the youngest MacTaggert brother had only been attempting to counter his brother’s fierceness last night, but he’d made an impression, regardless. Those light, light green eyes, complemented by long, dark lashes, a nose and jaw