She was wearing orange, which really wasn’t the most ideal color for a woman with hair her shade, was it?
Strangely, that was the only thought Cash’s mind seemed capable of producing at that moment.
She was lovely, and she was wearing orange, which didn’t make sense. No red-head should have the right to look lovely in orange, but she did. She looked lovely in that dress.
She looked even betteroutof that dress, Cash knew.
Hell, she looked remarkable in one of those ridiculous swimming costumes, and in a simple blouse and skirt, and in?—
He blew out a breath, seeing the exact moment she looked up and realized whohewas.
“Your Grace, may I present Lady Athena Oliphant, daughter of the Earl of Oliphant.” The Countess of Dumpkins became flustered, and leaned closer to her charge. “Or should I call himLairdof the Oliphants?”
Still holding Cash’s gaze, Athena murmured, “He is Laird Oliphant, but aye, an earl as well.”
“Oh, excellent!” The older woman bustled back into position. “Athena, dearest, this is the Duke of Cashard—Blast, no. I did that wrong, did I not? Oh, do forgive me, Your Grace. You would think I would have this introduction business down after so many times.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head, tugging Athena closer with her hold on the younger woman’s arm. “Lady Athena, His Grace the Duke of Cashard.”
Would the woman ever cease prattling?
Judging from Athena’s wide-eyed, slightly panicked stare, she was as surprised as he was at finally learning one another’s full names and titles, and he decided to put them both out of their misery.
With a perfunctory bow, he murmured, “My lady,” and offered her his arm.
As the Countess bustled off happily to stand beside the laird, Athena carefully lifted her hand to rest against his forearm. Her touch was so slight, he barely felt it, and knew she was poised to flee. But even under her gloves, and the layers of fine wool he wore, he could feel her warmth.
Hadfelt her warmth. That very afternoon when she’d been wrapped around him.
When he’d been inside her.
The orchestra started, and of course, it was a waltz. It was nevernota waltz, although to be fair, he suspected the Countess planned it accordingly so he’d have the most time to spend touching her eligible young misses.
But Athena stood stiffly in his arms; her hand barely brushing his shoulder and her hazel gaze locked past hisleft ear. He could see the sparks in her eyes and knew she was angry.
As angry as he was shocked?
His movements mechanical, he began to dance. This was a far cry from a proper waltz, and Cash wouldn’t be surprised if he began to trip over his own feet. Or her ridiculous gown.
It wasn’t until after their first turn that she finally broke the silence, still not looking at him.“Cashard,” she hissed accusingly.
And he understood her complaint. “If I were to have friends, they would call me Cash.”
“No’ Adolphus?” Her angry eyes flicked once to his, then away. “I assumed ‘Cash’ was yer last name.”
“No.” Normally, that would’ve been enough, but the need to explain himself to this woman,anywoman, was a new sensation, and it dragged the explanation from his lips. “I told you it was part of my name.”
Her reply was as stiff as his had been. “Aye, and a family name ofCassiuscould understandably be shortened to Cash.”
Ah. He remembered now, their first meeting, when she’d told himAdolphus Cassiuswas a truly terrible name. He’d agreed with her, but before he could ask her what made her think it washisname, she had nudged him with her shoulder.
And that casual touch had completely distracted him, making him think all sorts of delightfully improperthoughts. And completely distracting him from the entire name conversation, now that he thought about it.
They were still waltzing woodenly around the room, in an impression of a set of disinterested—and possibly broken—marionettes. Cash supposed the least he could do was make an attempt at correcting her misunderstanding.
“I’m Adolphus Lawrence Merritt. My son is Matthew Adolphus Roger Merritt.”
“Merritt,” she repeated in a whisper, and then snorted softly. “A bloodyduke.”
“Cash is simply short for Cashard.” He didn’t know what he was trying to do. Explain? Ease her pique? Defend himself? “My estate is in the south of Scotland.”
