The Prince Who Loved Me Part 16

Alexsey nodded. "She would like Papillon to be a lapdog, but she is not accommodating."

"I haven't met this dog, though I've heard about it." Mama cut a sharp glance at Bronwyn.

Alexsey offered, "Papillon is small, bred for hunting rats."

"Rats?" Mairi looked fascinated.

"And the-what is the word?" His gaze flickered to Bronwyn. "Ah yes, 'hares.' "

Mairi brightened. "I love small dogs."

"But she is much trouble," Alexsey said. "Like a woman."

Strathmoor burst out laughing. "Now we really must go; we've other visits to make. But first, my uncle wished me to invite all of you to our house for a turtle dinner the day after tomorrow."

Mama beamed. "A turtle dinner, you say? How elegant! We'd be delighted."

"Excellent. At eight." The viscount bowed. "We look forward to your visit."

Bronwyn felt the prince's gaze upon her as she made her obligatory curtsy, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a single look. It was only when he was walking out the door, Lady Malvinea fluttering behind, that she allowed herself a long look at his broad shoulders as he disappeared from sight.

"Men." Lucinda sighed. "Their wants are so simple, but their feelings are like a river, ever moving and oft deep."

-The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth As they untied their horses from the iron rings mounted on the posts by the portico, Strath grinned. "Well, that was entertaining."

"Miss Sorcha would not agree."

Strathmoor's grin broadened. "To see her all wet and covered in stems-" He laughed.

Alexsey lifted a brow. "You are not usually so unkind toward women."

Strath shrugged. "She's been told her entire life how beautiful she is. It's good for her to realize she's a human once in a while."

"She does not strike me as being overly focused on her own beauty."

"Then why was she so upset at having water dumped upon her?"

"Because it was cold and uncomfortable. I daresay you'd have felt the same." Alexsey swung up into the saddle.

Strath remained beside his horse, a questioning look in his eyes. "You really think that was all it was?"

"Da."

"Hmmm. I think you're giving her far too much credit." Strath climbed into the saddle, and they turned their horses down the drive.

At the end of the drive, Alexsey caught Strath's curious glance. "What? And don't tell me it's nothing, for I would not believe you."

"Very well. You don't have to answer, as it's just idle curiosity. But what was Miss Murdoch about, spouting off nonsense about Oxenburg?"

Alexsey chuckled. "I think she was trying her hand at flirting."

Strath gaped. "That was flirting?"

"Her version, I think so, yes."

"Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned. I never would have thought that." For a moment they rode in silence. "And your demand to take the ladies for a walk?"

"I had the most unusual reaction to her flirting, bad as it was."

"Oh?"

"I wished to kiss her. I was going to get her away from her sisters in the garden."

"Ah, so I was to help you."

"Wouldn't you have?"

Strath grinned. "Of course."

"You are a good friend, Strath." Thinking about Bronwyn, Alexsey chuckled. "I like seeing her fl.u.s.tered. I get the feeling very little fl.u.s.ters her."

"She seems very self-possessed."

"Aye-but I can make her flush with one look." It was odd, how much that amused him. Women often became fl.u.s.tered around him, trying far too hard to attract his attention. And today so had Bronwyn, but she'd done it in such an unusual, earnest way, he was charmed. More than charmed.

Strath said thoughtfully, "She was quite talkative today; she is usually very quiet."

"Very true." Because she wished to let me know she was . . . interested. That is good, because I am, too. Even eager. But I dare not progress too quickly. It is obvious she is new to this and if I startle her, she will retreat, as she did in the garden.

Aware of Strath's questioning gaze, he said, "She is very capable. There she was, chasing that dog about the room, facing a furious housekeeper armed with a broom, and a nearly hysterical stepmother, yet Bronwyn was calm and collected. Not a whit out of breath. I find that intriguing."

Strath shook his head. "You're a strange one. Well, whatever your intentions are with her, have a care. In Scotland, even a prince can't ruin a woman of good reputation and just walk away."

"I have no intention of ruining anyone."

Strath gave him a flat look.

Alexsey laughed. "Fine. I may have some ruination in mind, but only a very, very private one."

"Good." Strath sighed. "Scotland is stuck in ancient morality, while Europe gambols ahead. Why, just look at your grandmother. A Gypsy could never marry into the royal family in this country."

"Things are different in Oxenburg."

"Well, here things are run by an invisible court of public opinion, undeterred by common sense and fueled by the cruelest of gossip. Have a care you don't end up prosecuted under their unwritten laws."

Alexsey sent Strath a puzzled look. "You are full of heavy, unhappy advice today, my friend. Do not fear for me, or Miss Murdoch. We play a game, but I will make certain it stays within safe boundaries. I've no wish to harm her."

"I'm sorry. I'm cross today, and I've no idea why."

"You need a woman."

"Most likely."

"Find one, then. One who will offer you a challenge. Someone with enough fire in her soul to provoke, and enough brain in her head to win an argument. Beauty is easy to find. But interesting . . . ah, that is something to be treasured."

Strath shook his head. "You know, for all you like to pretend that you're a frivolous sort, you're a deep one."

Alexsey raised his brows. "Let's see how 'deep' you think me once I beat your sorry nag back to Tulloch."

Strath opened his mouth to protest, but the prince was already galloping away. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" He kicked his heels and was off, chasing Alexsey's dust.

Lucinda pulled her shawl tighter as the winds frenziedly whipped the moors. Swirling gray clouds filled the sky; there was power in the coming storm. She could feel it p.r.i.c.kling along her skin, making her hair rise. Lightning snaked across the sky; thunder rumbled so loudly that it sucked all other sounds from the air. And with a great whoos.h.i.+ng sigh, the skies opened and the rain poured down. . . .

-The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth The next evening, Mairi turned away from the sitting room window, letting the heavy curtain cover the gla.s.s. "I hate rain. It's so gloomy."

Bronwyn, curled up on the settee with a blanket over her lap, looked up from her book. The steady thrum of the rain against the side of the house made her smile. "I rather like it."

Sorcha held her st.i.tching closer to the lamp. "It's so cozy, being indoors while the weather rages outside."

Mama, who'd been darning Papa's socks, tied off the last st.i.tch. "We're lucky to have three candles this evening. We're running short and will need to fetch some from Dingwall soon." The clock chimed a soft melody, and she sighed and closed her sewing basket. "It's late and we should go to bed." Seeing Bronwyn rubbing her eyes, she asked, "Bronwyn, are you well?"

"I've just a headache. I'm sure it will be gone in the morning."

Sorcha's delicate brows knit. "Oh dear! I hope so. You won't want to miss the turtle dinner at the castle."

Mama came to touch Bronwyn's forehead, her hand cool against Bronwyn's skin. "You don't feel as if you've a fever."

"Of course I don't; I'm not sick."

"Don't challenge fate, Bronwyn," Sorcha warned with a smile.

"Indeed," Mama agreed. "I'm quite excited about tomorrow's dinner, though we've much to do to get ready for it. Sorcha, how's that hem?"

"Almost finished." Sorcha shook out the gown, showing her mother the neat st.i.tches.

At her mother's approving nod, Sorcha put her needle and thread back into her sewing box. "I will finish the hem in the morning, which will give us plenty of time to prepare for dinner at the castle."

Lightning flashed through the window, and made a portrait of their lawn for a startling second before dropping a curtain of darkness. A loud crack of thunder rolled across the sky, sending vibrations through the floor.

Mairi rubbed her arms. "I hate thunder."

"You can sleep with me tonight, if you'd like," Sorcha offered.

"Yes, please!" She cast a cautious glance out the window.

"I rather like storms," Bronwyn said. "It's a good night to read in bed."

Sorcha sent her an amused look as she closed her sewing box. "What night isn't a good one to read in bed?"

Bronwyn smiled. "Very true."

Sorcha carefully laid her new gown over a chair, then turned to collect one of the precious candles. "Coming, Mairi?"

"Good night, dears," Mama called.

"Good night!"

Once they were gone, Mama picked up one of the two remaining candles. "Be sure you go to bed soon; you don't wish to have circles under your eyes at the dinner party."

"Yes, Mama." Bronwyn turned the page, the history of Oxenburg dancing through her imagination. Though small, the country had a colorful history. And the fact that she knew one of its princes made the read all the more engrossing. She could almost hear his rich honey-silk voice reading the words to her, telling her about his land and ancestors, sharing the vast- "Bronwyn?"

She looked up.

Mama stood in the doorway. Her gaze flickered to the small tome in Bronwyn's hands. "Still reading about Oxenburg, I see. Are you finished with Miss Edgeworth's book, then?"

"Not yet. I am reading it slowly so it will last."

Mama smiled. "I sometimes wonder . . ." She paused. "Bronwyn, you're not interested in the prince, are you?"

Bronwyn's face heated. "No! He's far too frivolous for me."

"So I would think, too. I've never seen you display the least interest in a gentleman before, but there are times I've seen you look at him. . . . And when he visited yesterday, you began to spout facts about Oxenburg, so I wondered if you were attempting to gain his interest."

Should she mention the conversation she'd overheard between the prince and Strathmoor? No. It would anger Mama, and the rest of the visit would be socially awkward. Mama was horrible at hiding things. "It didn't mean anything; I was just trying to make conversation. Besides, he's not for me."

The words sounded hollow to her ears, but Mama seemed rea.s.sured.

She nodded, the candlelight softening the lines on her face. "He would make Sorcha happy, I think. We are very fortunate to have this opportunity for her."

Bronwyn bit her lip. "Perhaps, although . . . the prince doesn't seem to have the slightest interest in finding a wife."

"No man thinks he wants a wife, but they all do."

"I'm not sure that's true about this man. And . . . he and Sorcha are so very different."

Mama looked surprised. "Do you think so? I thought they made a stunning couple. He so dark and broad shouldered, and she so fair and delicate-"

"They would make a beautiful couple, but they have very little in common. She is somewhat shy, while he always ends up being the center of attention. She takes no pleasure in arguing, yet he thrives on it. She cares for fas.h.i.+on and politeness, and he has the barest amount of both. His morals are questionable, hers are not."

"How do you know so much about him?"

She knew because he'd told her, and she'd seen it for herself, but she only said, "I've heard things."

"Idle gossip, then. I'm a good judge of character, and I think he's sincere. The prince may have lived wildy, but now he has settled down."

"You know best, of course, but . . . I would want Sorcha to be part of a happy couple, not just a handsome one."

"So would I." Mama was silent, her face inscrutable in the flickering candlelight. "Let's watch them and we'll discuss this again later. Meanwhile, if you don't mind, pray don't mention your thoughts to Sorcha. Whether she responds to the prince or not, it needs to be her decision and not ours."