Page 17 of Reckless Desire

“She never claimed that, as you well know. If anything, she will die of a broken heart.”

The marquess laughed just as he had when he’d said she was a delight. “If you mean to imply that our mother could possibly muster enough emotion to die of a broken heart over anything, much less me, then you are a bigger fool than I thought.”

His brother stiffened. “You do not give her enough credit.”

“On the contrary, I give her far more credit than do you.”

A couple ascending the stairs from the garden looked their way. Graham glanced at the couple, then pinned his brother with a hard stare. “She asks so little.”

“You are starting to bore me, Graham. Now, if you will excuse me.” He gave a slight bow, then faced Kenna. “Miss Ramsay, shall we return to the ballroom?”

She glanced at Graham.

“Never mind him, my dear.” Lord Wilshire winged an arm.

She stood and grasped his forearm, then emitted a sigh of relief when they passed the two men. They reentered the ballroom. She squinted against the glaring lights. The orchestra played a minuet. He steered them around a group of women, who watched over their fans. Kenna sighed inwardly. She was well-accustomed to that look: jealousy.

“Lord Wilshire,” an older woman called.

“Mrs. Munro.” He angled his head, but continued past her.

They reached the hallway and he turned down, headed toward the refreshments room. Who had she promised the next dance to? Whoever he was, he could wait. She was thirsty. They slowed as they neared the door. Kenna grimaced at sight of the overcrowded room.

He stopped. “Shall I fetch the champagne while you wait?”

Kenna smiled. “You are very kind.”

He smiled down at her. “Hardly, my dear.” He looked past her, then said, “There is a parlor there.”

She looked in the directly he nodded. He continued toward the parlor.

Kenna frowned. “I did say I would not be alone with you.”

“This is a public parlor,” he said.

They reached the open door and she was relieved to see two women seated in chairs near the hearth before a low-burning fire.

“Have a seat, Miss Ramsay. I will return once I have braved the refreshments room.”

Kenna laughed. “If it is too much for you, you stay and I will go.”

He chuckled. “I believe I can manage.” He bowed, then left.

The two women didn’t greet her, but remained in private conversation. She’d never known such rude people until she’d come to Inverness. She caught sight of swords mounted on the wall to the left of open balcony doors. Kenna crossed to the wall and stopped before the swords. The hilts were different than the claymores and broadswords so prevalent back home. A thin curl of ornate metal protected the hand when it gripped the hilt. She traced a finger along the hand guard. The metalwork was quite beautiful.

“Magnificent blades, do you not agree?” Lord Wilshire stepped up beside her.

“They are. What kind of swords are they? I have never seen the like.”

“Rapiers,” he replied. “They are a fine weapon. Light and quite lethal.”

She faced him. “You have used them?”

“I have.” He smiled and extended one of the glasses of champagne.

She accepted the glass and took a sip. The bubbles tickled her nose, but the cool liquid slid down her throat, then reached her stomach. She released a sigh.

“You like champagne, I take it?” he said.