“But you must be. A gentleman, that is. Or else you wouldn’t be at Eton.”
“I’m at Eton because that’s where me brother went, and me father, and me grandfather.” Shoving the remainder of his candy into the pockets of his trousers (he wasn’t wearing a coat), Lachlan linked his hands together behind his head and leaned back. “But ye can trust me when I say there’s never been a Campbell who has ever been accused of being a gentleman.”
“Then you won’t attend the London Season?” Brynne didn’t know why that should give her a twinge of disappointment. Even if Lachlandidgo to London, and theydidhappen to meet at a ball, their social circles would never intersect. In all probability, this was the closest they were ever going to be. Trading candy on a bench in the village square. And that made her feel more than disappointed.
“I’ve another year of schooling, and then I’ll make me…what do ye women call it?”
“Our formal debut.”
“Aye.” His dimple flashed as he smirked. “I’ll do that.”
“I don’t know if mencanhave formal debuts.”
“Why not?”
Her mouth opened. Closed. She thought it over. “I do not know, actually.”
“Ye’ll be the talk of thetonwhen ye do it. Make yer debut, that is. Blokes will be stumbling over themselves tae put their names on yer dance card.”
“Do you really think so?” she said, pleased. Wasn’t that exactly what she wanted? People to notice her. People towantto spend time with her. People to make her feel special and important.
“Aye,” he said flatly, and even though she was fairly certain he meant it as a compliment, he didn’t seem particularly pleased. “Ye’ll have half a dozen proposals before the first week is out.”
“Will yours be one of them?” She’d meant it as a jest. A little teasing. Not something to be taken seriously. But when Lachlan’s eyes darkened and his gaze flicked, just for an instant, to her lips, she instinctively sensed that there was nothing the least bit humorous about the sudden electrical charge she felt pulsing in the air.
At fourteen, Brynne knew nothing of passion or desire beyond the books she had stashed beneath her mattress. Books written by the likes of Jane Austen and Emily Brontë and her sister, Charlotte. Books that made love seem like such a complicated, difficult endeavor that she wasn’t at all sure if it was something she wished to partake in. But when Lachlan looked at her like that, as if she were…as if she were the most delicious strawberry drop he’d ever seen, she wondered if the books weren’t on to something after all.
“The second-born son of a Scottish laird offer marriage tae the daughter of a marquess?” With a snort, Lachlan sprang off the bench. “Yer father would laugh me out of drawing room.”
“He wouldn’t,” Brynne protested.
If only because he probably wouldn’tbein the room, she added silently.
“Aye, he would.” A swath of auburn hair tumbled across Lachlan’s brow as he stretched his arms up and grabbed on to a low-hanging branch. After adjusting his grip, he lifted himself off the grass and gave a few experimental swings before kicking his legs out, spinning in midair, and landing in rather spectacular fashion.
Brynne clapped politely, then shook her head.
“All right,” she admitted, smiling. “Maybe you would not be my father’sidealcandidate for a husband. If I am to follow tradition, I’ll marry an earl, or a marquess, or maybe even a duke. They’ll be practical, and proper, and perfect in nearly every way.”
Lachlan wiped his hands off on his trousers, then regarded her with a lifted brow and a mocking tilt of his mouth. “Aye, but can they climb a tree?”
“I’m quite sure they will have never tried.”
“Sounds like a bunch of boring lunkheads tae me.”
“Maybe.” Her brow creased. “But when the times comes,I’llget to choose who I marry. No one else.”
He snorted again. “Because ye are so free tae make yer own decisions.”
“I came here, didn’t I?” she said, proudly lifting her chin.
“That ye did.” His gaze softening, he held out his hand. “Should we strike a bargain, Lady Brynne Weston?”
She eyed his hand dubiously. “The last time I struck a bargain with you, I lost out on half a barley stick.”
“In ten years, if ye havena married some wealthy bounder, we’ll meet back here, at this very spot. And we’ll marry each other.”
She started to giggle.
