A Lass to Love (Brides of Scotland #1) - Tammy Andresen Page 0,6

some like that too.”

He narrowed his gaze studying her face. He sensed a theme and though he shouldn’t care he couldn’t help but ask. “What will you become the countess of?”

There it was again. That tightness in her cheeks, her eyes, even as her mouth pulled down into a frown. “I am engaged to the Earl of Exmouth.”

“Exmouth?” His own breath sucked in on the single word. He knew the man. A big burly Scot with a penchant for gambling. Bloody hell.

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“And which type of man is he? Wild or domesticated?” He drew closer, the bird having nestled down into Fiona’s arms and unlikely to bite again.

“I couldn’t say for certain. We’ve never met.”

His chin snapped back. “Never met? But he’s your—”

“That’s right,” Fiona said. “It’s been three years now. My guess is he is as happy to be engaged to me as I am to him. Which is to say…not very.”

Something akin to hope thrummed in his veins. This was an interesting complication indeed. “You’re not very excited about becoming a countess?”

She shrugged, looking down at the bird in her arms. “Not particularly. Especially because the title comes with a man who wishes to live in a completely different country than his wife. Besides…” Fiona drew in a deep breath. “I don’t need to be titled to be happy. I just want—”

“I’ve found the bread and the trap,” Colin called, slapping a large wooden-framed netted box on the deck. The bird squawked at the sudden noise and Fiona began shushing the fowl again.

He had the urge to curl up in her arms and let her care for him just that way. He clenched his fist. He was a bachelor, a man of fun and whimsy. A man focused on his very successful career. Why then did his words sound hollow?

Chapter Four

Fiona spent the next half hour carefully luring the bird into the trap and then closing the door. She’d given the little creature food and water and then Colin dutifully had taken the wounded animal below deck to tuck it in a dark, quiet corner of the hull where the bird could rest and heal.

Mayweather lounged against the rail, watching her. Without the care of the bird to occupy her, she found herself attempting not to return his stare. She twisted her hands together, looking up at the stars again. “Ye likely think I’m mad for rescuing that bird.”

“I don’t,” he answered, pushing off the rail and stepping closer. “I think you’re extremely kind and caring.”

“Women are made to be mothers and it’s natural fer us to—”

“That isn’t necessarily true.” He stepped closer. So near that she could feel his heat radiating from his body. “I’ve known loads of women who do not nurture at all.”

She cocked her head and assessed his tightened jaw and thin mouth. Someone had clearly hurt him as well. “It’s amazing all the ways one person can hurt another,” she said, lifting her hand to touch his arm before she dropped it again.

“It is,” he said.

His voice dropped low, making their conversation even more intimate. Her breath caught. This man was handsome as sin and so close she could smell the mixture of sandalwood and fine cigar on his coat. She swayed on her feet, leaning in.

“Back when I was young and naive,” Tom continued. “I fancied myself to be the marrying kind.”

She swallowed down the lump that rose in her throat. Certainly, that meant he no longer did consider himself to be the sort that would take a wife. Why did that sting a bit? “I see. So, if ye were to categorize yerself, ye are the wild variety of man and not the sort to be domesticated?”

“I suppose that I am,” he answered, straightening.

Fiona dipped her eyes to his chest. His very broad chest. Funny, he was close now, so close a woman might think he was interested in her. And he’d complimented her caring nature, but she had to assume that he wanted exactly what she’d given that bird. A loving hand to help heal his wounds before he fluttered off again.

And that was something she just couldn’t do. She already had one man who didn’t wish to be tamed. The last thing she needed was another. Fiona took a step back. “I appreciate yer honesty.” She took another. As she moved away, her thoughts cleared a bit. “I hope ye have a lovely end to yer evening.”

“Wait.” His brow crinkled even as his hand shot out to