Page 8 of Reckless Desire

Kenna barked a laugh, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “That was not ladylike.”

Lady Chastity grinned.

Kenna sobered. “We both know that the reason I attracted only farmers and ranchers isn’t just because they are the only men on Skye.”

“I understand there is the son of a vicar who is pining for you.”

“Jared?” she blurted, then her cheeks burned when Lady Chastity’s brows rose.

“Mister Jared Evans, that is correct.”

“How did you know about him?” Kenna asked, then said, “Of course, my aunt told you.”

“She did mention him,” Lady Chastity answered, unruffled. “She also mentioned Mister Hicks.”

“He does no’ count at all,” Kenna muttered.

“Why not?”

“I have known Michael since we were children. And Jared—Mister Evans—would never get his father’s consent to marry me.”

“Do you want him to get his father’s consent?”

Kenna grimace. “Nae. I have known him since I was ten. I could no more marry him than I could my cousin. Not to mention, Jared would never get his father’s consent to marry me.”

Lady Chastity angled her head to one side. “If you wish his consent, then leave the…details to Stirling.”

Kenna released a breath. “Even if I did want that, Sir Stirling cannot change the fact that I was born out of wedlock.”

A shadow fell across the room and Kenna looked up to find Sir Stirling entering. He stopped in front of them and offered the glasses of champagne he held. When each of them had taken a glass, he sat on the chair near his wife. Kenna sipped her champagne. Tiny bubbles tickled her nose as she drank.

She looked at Lady Chastity in surprise. “It is delicious.”

“Indeed, it is,” she agreed. “Champagne is my favorite drink.”

Kenna drank half the glass.

Sir Stirling’s brows shot up. “I see champagne is a favorite of yours, as well.”

“It was now.” She finished the glass.

“Whoa, lass,” he said. “We have all night to drink champagne. Ye might want to drink a little slower.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. “I should not have drunk it all?”

He shook his head. “Never apologize for enjoying yourself, Miss Ramsay.”

She returned his smile. “You are too kind.”

Movement flashed in the corner of her eye. Kenna shifted and looked up into the eyes of a tall, dark-haired gentleman.

“Good evening, my lady.” He bowed to Kenna. “Sir Stirling.”

“Hensley,” Sir Stirling said. “May I introduce our friend, Miss Ramsay? Miss Ramsay, Viscount Hensley.”

Kenna extended her gloved hand, as Lady Chastity had taught her to do.

He grasped her fingers and bent low. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Ramsay.” He held onto her hand two heartbeats longer than necessary—or so she thought—then released her and straightened. “May I have the honor of being added to your dance card?”