A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,49

dangerous.

She eased out of his arms. Her heart still hammered, but she could think better when she wasn’t touching him. “I wasn’t the only one feeling restless, I see.”

“Duncan is always restless. Never still, that one.” He paused as she slid a step away. “He hurt Agnes somehow.”

Right. Excellent. Change the topic. She cleared her throat. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”

He made an impatient noise. “I wasn’t asking. I can see it for myself. But neither he nor she will say anything about it. They glare daggers at each other’s back and get all sour-faced when you mention the other’s name in their presence. It’s bloody awkward to be around them. Why did you tell me to invite him?”

Ilsa choked back a shaky laugh. She wouldn’t give away Agnes’s secrets—in fact, she didn’t even know this one—but he wasn’t wrong. “They’ll work it out. Or perhaps not, and it will be a feud for the ages.” Reluctantly she took another step away from him, away from temptation, and shivered as the night breeze struck her anew. “’Tis late to be out, dreaming of mad things like wings to fly or swimming with dolphins. Thank you for not being repelled by my flights of fancy.”

He brushed back a strand of her hair fluttering on the wind. “Hardly repelled, lass,” he said in that gruff Scots tone that made her shiver again, but not from cold. “Never that.”

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “It’s very kind of you to say so. And on that graceful ending, I shall go to bed.”

“Aye,” he said, after a fraught pause.

Come with me . . .

“Good night, Captain,” she said briskly, gripping her shawl for strength, and stepped past him to go down the stairs, in great dignity and propriety, but filled with mad, wild unsatisfied longings.

Chapter Eleven

“I believe,” said Bella at breakfast the next morning, “there is a maze beyond the garden.” She paused, looking at Drew. “Isn’t there?” At his nod, she shot up straighter in her chair, eyes sparkling in anticipation. “Let’s explore it!”

Drew said nothing as the table erupted in excited conversation. He was watching Ilsa, who sat sipping her tea in silence.

Regret? Unease? He wished he could tell. Her expression was serene but distant. God, he hoped it wasn’t regret. Had he offended her?

He’d kissed her again last night. He’d held her in his arms for more than a startled moment, and it had shot through his nerves like lightning, searing the feel of her into his flesh. Just the sight of her, her face turned up to the night sky with an expression of rapture, her long hair rippling behind her in the breeze, had rocked him back on his heels. No one else had ever enthralled him the way she had—even before she’d declared a desire to soar into the night, unrestrained by anything like duty or inheritance or gravity.

He’d spent a long time thinking of that embrace, and their conversation, and what he ought to do about his growing fascination with her. At Carlyle Castle a suitable wife had been one of Her Grace’s favorite topics. She had spoken at some length on the necessity of choosing a well-born woman who would know what was expected of her and uphold her position with grace and dignity. Drew had nodded along because who was he to argue with the woman who had been the Duchess of Carlyle for over fifty years?

And now here he sat, fascinated by a woman who was neither well-born nor English, who danced in oyster cellars and dreamt of flight. The duchess, Drew thought, would not be pleased.

That brought him up short. Was he considering marrying Ilsa? Or was he just losing his mind over her?

“So that’s settled.” Bella bounded out of her seat, jarring him from his thoughts. “We’ll meet in the garden in an hour.”

Drew finished his coffee and pushed back his chair. “Not I. I’m riding out with Mr. Watkins this morning.” Ilsa’s gaze flicked his way. “No one make a map of the maze,” he added. “Don’t spoil the mystery for me.”

“It would take more than a map,” said Alex Kincaid. “Worst sense of direction I’ve ever seen in a soldier.”

His sisters hooted with laughter. Drew gave Kincaid an aggravated glance—his friends had seized the opportunity to make sport of him at every turn—and left to put on his boots.

When he came back down to the hall on his way to the stables, Ilsa was pacing between the