A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,63

be broken. It was just flirting. They were merely friends.

All lies.

She swiped at her burning cheeks. Stop it, she told herself. You’re being a fool.

That sort of love is a myth.

Chapter Fourteen

The visit to Stormont Palace seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, to Drew’s surprise, even though it had stretched from a week to almost a fortnight.

There was no doubt that it had been a smashing success. He’d got around to all the tenants and farms, seeing for himself that they were well-run. He saw the mill and the little village around it, the distillery, the extensive dairy operation. He had copious notes for his report to Mr. Edwards, to make his argument for keeping the estate.

Bringing his family had been a stroke of brilliance. His mother was impressed by the property and the calm efficiency of the Watkinses. Agnes had a sparkle in her eye and color in her face, even when she spoke to Felix Duncan. Drew still wasn’t sure it had been a good idea to invite the man, but both seemed to thrive on their acerbic exchanges. He had always trusted that Bella and Winnie would be won over fairly easily, but they took to the grand old house with ebullient delight, from the maze race to telling stories in the vast, echoing cellars.

And the very best part of the trip: Ilsa Ramsay was there. She’d ridden out with him several mornings, making him laugh every time. To his regret, the first night was the only time they’d stood out on the roof together, but he’d kissed her in the maze, and twice on the ridge behind the mill during a morning ride. He felt like a boy, impatient to see her again whenever they were apart, euphoric every time he kissed her and she kissed him back, beset by vivid erotic dreams of her at night.

He had heard his mother’s caution and tried to keep it in mind, but what pulled him toward Ilsa was stronger. He didn’t know his intentions or her true feelings for him; he only knew that he liked her—very much.

With a surge of anticipation, he tapped softly at her door the night before they were to return to Edinburgh. It was late, the household having all gone to bed. He had waited until no light shone under any door, but that included Ilsa’s, and there was a chance she would be asleep—

The door opened a crack. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

For answer he held up a length of chain, the iron links clanking faintly.

Her eyes grew wide. “No . . .”

Drew grinned. At dinner Winnie had lamented not hearing so much as a ghostly wail. He leaned closer and whispered, “Come be naughty with me, and give my sisters the fright they so desperately crave.”

She inhaled. He felt the rush of breath across his cheek, almost like a kiss. Her hair fell over her shoulders in inky black waves, she wore a sleeveless nightdress that made him wish he’d brought a bigger lamp, and behind her, in the shadows of her room, was a bed . . .

“Where?”

“In the attics,” he murmured, still absorbed in the smell of her hair and the warmth of her skin. The chain clanked against his knee as he forgot about ghostly pranks and thought only about her—kissing her—being wild and wicked with her—

“Let me get my slippers,” she whispered, and then she turned her head and pressed her lips to his for a heart-stopping moment.

Something happened to him every time she kissed him. The closest thing like it he’d ever experienced was when lightning struck a tree near the fort as they were returning from patrol. Every man in the regiment had been knocked off his feet by the earsplitting crack, and all scrambled back up with pulses thumping, hair standing on end, feeling like they’d just won a sudden and terrific battle.

He sagged against the door as she slipped back into her room, and tried to calm his rioting senses. Do you like this woman? his mother had asked. Mam, I’m utterly fascinated with her, he silently replied.

Ilsa returned a moment later, tying the sash on her dressing gown. Drew heaved a silent sigh of mourning for her bare shoulders. “What do you intend to do?” she whispered as they crept down the corridor toward the heavy door that led to the attics.

It was so like his mother’s query that Drew

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