This said everything, did it not? He now felt a little less like a Scottish oaf.
However, he still felt out of place, having come straight from his last meeting by the London wharfs and not bothering to change into more fitting attire. Did he smell of soot and fish? He ought to have considered that these scents would cling to his jacket because it was damp from an earlier rain. He hadn’t bothered to wear an overcoat or don a hat when visiting the docks, thereby leaving him with no protection from a steady downpour.
He had not given it a thought, for it constantly rained in the Scottish highlands. One could not get work done if deterred by a few drops of water.
But here he was, about to dampen one of Miranda’s fine silk chairs, as she insisted on having him sit beside her. “Och,” he muttered, shaking his head, “I had better remain standing.”
He glanced at the suitors surrounding her and noticed their smirking at his disarray. Tossing them out and telling them all to go to blazes was out of the question, so he simply nodded to acknowledge them, since he was acquainted with them all and cared for none of them. “Perhaps I ought to stop by another time.”
And he’d forgotten to bring over his invitations in his haste. Once her company left, they were supposed to sit together to compare those invitation, see which ones they had both received, and decide upon which ones to accept.
She rose and placed a hand on his arm when he started to turn away. Just a brief touch to hold him back. “Please, stay.”
He cast her a pained look and spoke quietly so as not to be overheard. “I forgot to bring my invitations. Nor does this seem to be a proper time to review them.”
“I know, but it is your company I most desire.”
He did not see the point, but nodded. “If ye wish.”
“I do,” she said, glancing toward the opposite side of the room, where Gwenys was holding court with her gentleman callers. “I could use your guidance as to these gentlemen presently fawning over my niece.”
Was this all she wanted him for? It was important, he supposed. Although why should it matter if her niece’s heart was truly pledged to Douglas?
“Ah, I see.”
“No, you don’t, really. I’m sorry. I just made up that excuse because I did not want you to leave. Gwenys will not be moved by any of them. The truth is…I missed you.”
He gave a gruff laugh. “No’ as much as I miss the sight of ye, Miranda. Ye have no idea.”
He was a grown man withurgesthat she brought forth with full force.
Of course, since he had not planned on taking her to his bed without marriage, this meant celibacy was in the cards for him. No one was going to satisfy his needs but her.
“Do you have plans for supper tonight?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No plans.”
“Good, then will you join me and Gwenys tonight? Is seven o’clock too early?”
“It’s perfect.” In truth, he would have skipped a royal summons if it interfered with his seeing Miranda.
Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. But it would take nothing short of a cataclysm to keep him away.
He remained a short while longer before taking his leave, his heart lighter because he would not be parted from Miranda for long. Nothing could dampen his mood now, not even the rain, which was falling consistently harder. He was soaking wet by the time he arrived home.
“Your Grace!” Mortinson cried, immediately opening the door and stepping aside to allow him in. “You rushed out this morning without your hat, gloves, or cloak. You’ll catch your death of cold if you’re not careful.”
“Dinna berate me,” Bram replied, too cheered to be bothered about the state of his clothing. “I’ll run up and change now.”
“Oh, Your Grace. There’s a lady here to see you.” Mortinson cleared his throat. “I told her you were not at home, but she insisted on waiting.”
Bram frowned. “And ye let her?”
Mortinson cleared his throat. “She claimed you were expecting her. She was…ah, quite suggestive about it.”
“Suggestive? When have I ever brought a doxy home?”
His butler was blushing. “Well, she’s rather well dressed. I thought perhaps she was a…paramour, rather than a…um, ah…”
