Right choice? Kimberly hadn’t made any choice at all, her body had, but she wasn’t going to argue that point with the duchess. Megan apparently had different views on love than she did. And Lachlan didn’t have any claims on her heart, nor would he—as long as he continued to love someone else.
They finally reached the conservatory. It was pleasantly warm, almost humid, with so many people inside. A few tables had been brought in for the older folks who didn’t want to sit on the ground, Lucinda and Margaret included, but most of the guests were on large blankets that had been spread out between the foliage.
Megan was warmly greeted as she passed by one group of guests after another—and Kimberly with her. No snubs, no disapproving looks or smirks. It was as if she weren’t at the heart of another scandal, as if therewereno new scandal.
There was, of course. And Kimberly had expected to be utterly embarrassed. That she wasn’t was possibly because Megan was announcing her support, by walking in with her arms linked with Kimberly’s. The Duchess of Wrothston did in fact carry a great deal of weight where people’s opinions were concerned. Or it was possibly what Megan had suggested, that folks could be forgiving as long as the wrong you’d done was going to be righted. But whatever it was, Kimberly was immensely surprised—and relieved.
“Ah, there he is,” Megan said, having located her husband. “And it doesn’t look like he’s dug too deep into that basket yet.”
Kimberly grinned. “Possibly because he has that adorable cherub in his lap, keeping him busy.”
“Yes, I suppose that would do it.”
Kimberly had been privileged to be taken up to meet the Wrothston heir not long after she’d arrived at Sherring Cross. It hadn’t taken her but moments to fall in love with the beautiful child, and she’d been back to visit him on many occasions.
She joined Megan on the large blanket now and held her arms out. “May I?”
“Good God, yes!” Devlin replied in relief and quickly handed his son over. “It’s bad enough I’m at a picnic in the heart of winter.” He paused to give his wife an exasperated look. “But I’m bloody well starving, yet couldn’t eat a thing without Mr. Twenty-hands there snatching at it.”
Megan chuckled. “Let me translate that for you, Kimberly. What he means is he’s spent all his time thus far feeding Justin, and enjoyed doing it so much that he forgot to feed himself as well.”
“Och now, mayhap there’ll be enough food for the rest of us then.”
Kimberly stiffened, but Lachlan still plopped down on the blanket beside her. No wonder she hadn’t seen him when she entered the conservatory—and she’d looked. He’d been following behind her and Megan all along.
“Do join us, Lachlan,” Megan said, somewhat dryly, since he already had.
He grinned, unabashed as usual. “’Tis a fine afternoon for a picnic, lass,” he told Megan, but then his warm green eyes moved immediately to Kimberly and stayed on her. “D’you no’ agree, Kimber?”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” she replied reluctantly.
She could no longer relax with him there, though. He simply had that effect on her. Neither could the duke apparently, though for other reasons. He did nod to Lachlan, however, albeit quite curtly. Kimberly was surprised. Evidently they were going to be on civil terms again, if somewhat on the let’s-ignore-each-other side.
And the duke’s puffy lip, well, Kimberly certainly wasn’t going to ask about it. She had to wonder though.
“You look verra nice wi’ a bairn in your arms, darlin’,” Lachlan leaned toward her to whisper at the back of her ear. “But I’m thinking you’ll look even nicer when ’tis my bairn you’re holding.”
Kimberly blushed furiously at that insinuation, though with Megan and Devlin both presently digging into the picnic basket and setting items out on the blanket for them all to share, neither of them had likely heard him. Which wasn’t to say they wouldn’t if he continued such inappropriate talk with others near to hand.
So she hissed at him, “The least you could do is confine yourself to suitable subjects when we’re not alone. Or is that asking too much?”
“Aye, I fear it is,” he said with a sigh, as if he might actually regret that he couldn’t—as if she might actually believe that. “There’s just something about being near you that leads me tae be thinking o’ procreation.”
She gasped. She looked away from him. She wasn’t going to address that remark at all. And behind her, she heard his soft chuckle.
“Careful wi’ those blushes, darlin’. You ken how becoming I think they are on you. I may have tae kiss you tae be proving it.”
Her head turned sharply so she could glare at him. “If you do I’ll—”
“Aye, kiss me back, I know,” he cut in with a nod. “And then you’ll be blushing even more, I dinna doubt, and I’ll be thinking about carting you off tae a place where I can be kissing you proper.”
It was the oddest feeling, to be so outraged, and yet become excited about the very prospect of being carted off by him for some proper kissing. Proper, she assumed, as inimproper…
Gah, shewasmad, to let him keep doing this to her, infuriating her with his audacity, inflaming her with his sensual banter, and in public, where she’d cause a scene if she tried to deal with him as he deserved. But he wouldn’t persist if he didn’t get a reaction. She really was going to have to work on denying him that reaction.
To that end, she said now to Megan, “If there’s any fruit in that basket, I’ll take a piece, please.”
At her back, Lachlan whispered, “Coward.” And his soft laughter had a devilish sound to it.
