Never Tempt a Scot by Lauren Smith Page 0,11

learn to love her. She even caught the eye of the king himself in London two months ago.”

Brodie had no doubt of that. Based on the vague details he remembered from the previous evening, she was more than pretty, but looks were not all that mattered to a man. Still, Brodie had no intention of marrying anyone. He was not the eldest son, nor the sole heir in the line of succession to the earldom. If Brock were to die without an heir, Aiden could easily carry on the title without Brodie ever having to have any children. He would be more than happy to let the title skip him and go straight to Aiden.

Brodie had no desire to pass on any of himself in the world, not when he feared his father’s blood would be carried on as well. The last Earl of Kincade had been a heavy-handed, angry man whose greed had cost the lives of noble Scots more than a decade ago, and cost his father his soul. It was Brodie’s deepest fear that any child born to him would inherit that blackhearted greed. He would leave such matters to his brothers, who were far better men than he was—Brock with his steadiness and infinite control, and Aiden with his endless compassion, especially for the wee beasties from the forest. Brodie had no such qualities. He would always be the wildest of the Kincade brood.

“Is there nothing I can offer you to change your mind, Mr. Kincade?” Mr. Hunt persisted.

“I’m sure your daughter is a fine lass, but I’m afraid there isna a thing you could offer, Mr. Hunt. It would be best to convince the lass to turn her heart elsewhere.”

Mr. Hunt’s look of dejection surprised Brodie. The man truly did hope to secure a marriage for his daughter, and he wasn’t just looking for a business transaction of some sort. It was obvious the man must dote upon her.

A fortunate lass, he thought.

Mr. Hunt soon recovered himself. “I am sorry to have troubled you, sir. I should take my leave.” He collected his hat and departed.

Brodie left the drawing room and watched as the footman showed Hunt to the door.

Rafe came down the stairs from the upper rooms. “Who was that?”

“Mr. Hunt,” Brodie replied.

“And who the bloody hell is that?” Rafe removed his jacket and waited for Brodie to follow him into the billiard room, where he set up a game.

“He’s the father of the wee lass who so boldly came up to us last night.”

“Oh?” Rafe laughed. “What did he want? Did she demand marriage?”

“As a matter of fact, she did.” Brodie chuckled as Rafe’s teasing turned into a stunned silence.

“The devil you say!” Rafe finally said. “All you did was speak with the chit.”

“Aye, but apparently she fancies me. Her father just tried to buy me.”

“Buy you?” Rafe’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, how much does a handsome Scot go for these days?”

“Ten thousand pounds a year, apparently, with room for negotiation.” Brodie grinned and collected a pool cue from Rafe.

“Not bad, Scot, not bad at all.”

Portia was practically bouncing as she waited for her father to return that afternoon. When he did, the look on his face confirmed her worst fears. Jackson removed his hat and coat with a weary sigh before he took her hands, holding them clasped within his own.

“My dearest child, I fear I bear unhappy tidings.”

“What did he say?” Portia demanded.

“I know you believed he had feelings for you, but for some reason, the gentleman would not have you. I offered ten thousand pounds a year, and he still would not accept.”

Portia’s heart sank. She wanted Brodie Kincade. Why could she not have him?

“Did you offer more?”

“I did, my dear. He was quite determined not to marry at all.”

“Not marry at all? That seems rather silly. We must change his mind.” Portia wasn’t deterred by this setback.

Her father gazed at her in worry. “Well, I’m not sure that’s possible.”

An idea occurred to Portia. She knew that it was a wicked scheme, but she had few options left if she was to find a way to make Brodie hers.

“We must, because I carry his child, Papa.”

“What?” Jackson stared at her, a horror-stricken expression upon his face. “But you said . . . How? How did he do it? When?”

“I’m sorry I was not honest with you, but we did not meet at the assembly. We met a fortnight ago, and he seduced me. I only discovered I was

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