“And ye have to rescue the lass.”
“Aye.”
“A job I dinnae think ye mind verra much.”
“I—” Jamie frowned. ’Twas true he had a bit of pleasure in tossing Mari over his shoulder—she had a very fine arse and shapely legs—and stealing the kiss when she fell from the horse—she had responded verra nicely to that—and, well, just now, threatening to tickle her had given him ideas that had nothing to do with getting the truth out of her—unless that truth was to discover what passion she was capable of in the bedchamber.Faugh! The woman was contradictory enough to muddle a monk’s brains. “I dinnae wish to discuss it further.”
“Just what I thought.”
Jamie’s frown deepened. “What do ye mean?”
Ian grinned again as he poured them another dram. “Oh, ye will find out in time. Ye will find out in time.”
“We are going to have ever so much fun this afternoon,” Mari said as she ushered Abigail into the sitting room where Maddie was already ensconced. “I am so glad you accepted my invitation to come over.”
Abigail pushed her spectacles up, pressed her copy ofPride and Prejudiceagainst her chest and looked around the room somewhat nervously. “Will it just be us?”
“Of course. Jamie and Ian went to see the solicitor about some paperwork.” Mari gestured for her to have a seat next to Maddie on the sofa. “We will not be bothered with interruptions.”
“Oh, I did not mean to imply—”
“No explanation necessary,” Mari said. “Sometimes it is just fun for girls to get together.” After yesterday’s episode in Effie’s bedroom, she was glad Jamie and Ian had gone out. Taking orders—or rather, defying them—from one MacLeod was enough of a struggle. Two of them were impossible.
At least a truce had been declared today. Since Abigail had been extended the invitation several days ago to visit this afternoon, Mari had no plans to go out, although she was not overly pleased with the smug expression on Jamie’s face when she told him she would be staying in. He probably thought he had won their ongoing battle. Ha. She was simply regrouping.
“What did you think of the book?” Maddie asked, interrupting Mari’s train of thought.
“I absolutely loved it,” Abigail responded, her voice more animated than usual. “How can anyone not like Mr. Darcy?”
“I am not sure I did,” Mari answered. “I thought he was rather arrogant.”Like someone else I know…
Abigail nodded seriously. “At first Mr. Darcy is cool and aloof, and Miss Bennet feels insulted when he refuses to dance with her, but he changes his mind.”
“And do not forget he sticks his nose where it does not belong,” Mari added. “He meddles into his friend Bingley’s relationship with the other Miss Bennet.”Like someone else I know…
“Only because he felt the lady did not return Mr. Bingley’s love, and Mr. Darcy did not wish for his friend to be hurt,” Maddie interjected. “He is truly compassionate.”
Mari refrained from rolling her eyes. “Mr. Darcy asks Elizabeth to marry him and then tells her he is superior to her. Does he expect her to fall at his feet in worship?”Like someone else I know…
“But then, Mr. Darcy admits he was properly humbled by Miss Bennet,” Abigail said and laid the book down on the small table used to serve tea. “So it all ends well.”
“As every romance should,” Madded added. “I wish we knew who wrote the stories.”
“She probably keeps her identity secret to avoid embarrassment,” Mari said. “Can you imagine being at asoireeand having everyone know it was you who wrote such intimate details?”
“I agree,” Abigail answered. “I certainly would not want people knowing I look at pictures of naked men.”
Mari and Maddie both gaped at her in silence.
Abigail’s face pinkened. “In art books. The Greek and Roman statues are great works of art.”
Mari remembered the book Abigail had dropped on the floor at Wittnower’s. Who would have thought—?
Maddie quickly picked up a copy ofLa Belle Assembléefrom the table and changed the subject. “These are the latest fashions. We shall decide on the perfect gown for you for the Almack’s ball.”
“Yes.” Mari took the magazine and flicked some pages and then held a page up. “Maybe something like this.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “I do not think Papa would approve of such a low neckline.”
