Rosie fiddled with the shears, heart hammering. “And…and you think he will accept my help? Do you think he will give any credence to my expertise?”
In the last half-dozen years, Bull had done no more than glance at her at their yearly gatherings. Whileherheart might have sped, her stomach—andlower—going warm at the sight of his elegant style and beautiful smile, he’d shown no indication he thought of her as anything other than one of the dozens of pseudo-cousins chasing after each other.
She’d grown older, and he’d become even more charming, and it had been impossible to drag her eyes away…and now she couldn’t even catch his gaze before he stomped out of a room.
And other than putting Merida’s talents to use, Bull had made it clear he wouldn’t be accepting help from any of the younger cousins. Not even Lochlan and Keenan, Thorne’s wild sons.
Rather than looking discouraged, however, Merida’s grin was downright wicked.
“Idoubthe will accept your help, Rosie dearest,” she drawled. “Which is why you will be in costume.”
Costume?
“I am friends with any number of art experts,” Merida continued, “and you shall be one of them.” She breezed over to stand next to Rosie. “Bull will not recognize you, and will have no reason to doubt your expertise.”
Rosie stared at her cousin in unveiled doubt. “You really think you can disguise me so well he would not recognize me?”
Perhaps it would not be difficult. The man has barely glanced at you in recent years.
Merida’s grin grew even more mischievous as she raised her fingers to tug on Rosie’s now-much-shorter hair, then glanced down at all the discarded hair in the wastebin. “Oh, I guarantee it.”
CHAPTER 2
The cards flashed between his fingers as Bull shuffled one-handed, his booted feet propped up on the desk as he lounged. The clock on the wall was just finishing striking the hour and he was making wagers with himself how late Merida would be.
Wagers he would win.
She was talented, yes, but nottimely.
Of course, in this, she apparently wasn’t talented enough to help him.
Scowling, Bull switched his attention to the cards as they flew. He’d received Merida’s confession along with her agreement:I admit, I am not skilled enough to identify portraiture styles, but I have a colleague who is. My friend, Robert Hoyle, and I will be at your office at two o’clock on Tuesday.
Bull’s fingers stuttered at the memory of the wordfriend, and he had to look away, having long ago realized he couldshuffle better without looking. He just had to trust his fingers.
Robert Hoyle.
Who was thisfriendof Merida’s? Was she romantically involved with the arsehole? Although he wasn’t actually related to Merida—which was surprising, considering how convoluted his family treewas—he thought of her as a cousin and always wanted to protect her. If she showed up with one of those amoral lothario painters, the ones who encouraged ladies to take their clothes off and drape themselves over a chaise longue, Bull vowed he would glare the man out of his office.
Just wait until after he identifies the painter, eh? Yer job?
Right.
The knock on the door was followed by the turning of the knob, and Merida breezed in without waiting for an invitation. “Here we are, Bull!” she announced a little breathlessly. “And not too late, I trust?”
“It’s a Hogmanay miracle,” Bull deadpanned as he swung his feet off the desk and stood. “This is yerexpert?” He nodded to the figure hiding behind his cousin. “Mr. Hoyle?”
Merida, in the middle of pulling off her scarf, paused just momentarily. Someone else might not have noticed the way her smile froze, then bloomed even brighter.
But Bull noticed everything, and if he did anything as telling as narrow his eyes, he would have done so now.
“Oh yes—Robert, darling, look.” Merida nodded across the office to the painting standing on the easel as she turned totouch the man’s arm. “Bull has set up the portrait for you to study.”
Obviously taking that as his cue, the smaller man scuttled—there really wasn’t another word for it—toward the window where Bull had placed the painting on an easel. True to her word, Allie had sent it via courier after their Hogmanay gathering, and Bull had taken formal responsibility for it.
Truthfully, he was impressed his new sister-in-law-to-be had acted so swiftly. Apparently, planning the wedding of a Duke’s heir was quite energy-consuming, and it had been almost funny to see poor Rupert overwhelmed by all the well-wishers—and recommendations—after their announcement.
Bull strolled toward Merida, the playing cards still flipping through the fingers of his right hand, and lowered his voice in what he hoped was not quite a threatening tone. “And ye’re no’ going to introduce me?”
