Page 5 of Kilgannon #1

I nodded to Louisa, but when she was gone I did not move, reluctant to lose Alex in a roomful of people.

Rowena rose, however, and Alex stood and made the necessary polite remarks, bowing over her hand.

She flounced away in a swish of silk, looking for more cooperative game elsewhere, leaving us alone in the dining room with the footmen.

Alex sat down next to me again with a grin, leaning his chin on his hand.

“What were we saying, Mary?” he asked, and I laughed. I had no idea.

We talked while everyone else went to the ballroom and while the staff began clearing, and when they needed us to move we sat at a part of the table already cleared, still talking.

Louisa floated in and out of view in the hallway but never approached us.

No one approached us, and dimly I became aware that the servants were yawning and putting out tapers.

When Louisa and Will and Betty appeared at the dining-room door, I realized that everyone else had gone and the evening was over.

Alex looked up at Louisa with a start and stood abruptly, reaching for my hand as I rose next to him.

His hand felt warm and strong in mine and I did not want to let go of it, but he released me and we waited at the foot of the table as Louisa approached, my good sense returning with her.

I knew we had behaved outrageously and would be the talk of London tomorrow.

Before either of us could speak, Louisa stretched out her hand to him.

“Good night, Alex,” she said graciously.

“You have monopolized my niece enough for your first meeting.”

“I am sorry,” Alex began, but she waved his words away.

“Hush, I am too exhausted to hear anything. You may call on me soon to apologize. Good night, Alex.” He bowed over her hand and with a smile to me excused himself.

Will shook his hand. Betty yawned. And then Alex was gone.

I waited for Louisa and Will’s comments, but neither said a thing except good night.

I went to my room in a daze, still feeling the touch of his hand in mine.

In the morning I felt the same, and I thought of Alex with an excitement that was almost intoxicating.

Whatever London thought of us, I had enjoyed our conversations and revisited them now.

He was the tenth Earl of Kilgannon, but he had dismissed it with a shrug, saying that he’d been raised to it and that it was more important to him that he was the chief of the MacGannon clan.

“It’s a vast responsibility, being the laird at home,” he’d said, “not like in England, where ye just wear nice clothes and collect yer rents and remember yer title. In the Highlands, to be a laird means ye have many tasks that only ye can see to and ye have the responsibility to see that all yer kin are well fed and prosperous. If ye fail they starve.” He had been so serious that I did not have the heart to laugh at his description of peerage in England nor to correct his perception.

How different our lives had been, I had thought as I listened to him talk.

He was the oldest of the four children of Ian and Margaret, but two of the children had died in childhood, leaving Alex and his brother Malcolm.

Alex’s father had died when Alex was nineteen, and he had assumed the leadership of the clan.

Two years later he had married Sorcha MacDonald, as his parents had pledged when he was a boy, and they had had two sons, Ian and Jamie.

Alex’s mother had died the year after Jamie’s birth, and soon after that Alex had been asked to go to France as a show of unity to Queen Anne.

While he was there Sorcha had died. Ian was four now and Jamie two and Alex the leader of five hundred.

In contrast my life had been uneventful.

Raised at Mountgarden in Warwickshire, on the lands my father had inherited, with Will as my companion and ally, I had been pampered and protected.

It was only in the last few years, when my father had died and my mother became ill, that any unpleasantness had touched my life, and even now I was cared for and comforted by my aunt and friends.

My greatest accomplishment thus far had been to resist marrying the men paraded before me, but even that had been simple since until recently I had been in mourning.

I stretched and remembered Alex sitting next to me, his hair a golden frame around his face.

I’d wondered what it would be like to touch that hair or the lean cheek it caressed, and then he’d asked me something and I realized I’d not heard anything he said.

I began to pay attention. Alex would be returning to Scotland soon, but he’d come back to London to see members of Parliament.

He did not say when. I’d asked if he were a member of Parliament and had been met with an icy look.

“There’re 154 peers in Scotland. I’m one of 75 earls, but we are allowed only 16 peers in the House of Lords.

Ye English have 190. We have 45 in the House of Commons, and ye have 513.

How much representation do ye think we have?

We must buy our votes from the English peers.

It’s why I’m in London and why I go to these evenings.

’Tis not my choice. I’ve had a bellyful of English politics. ” His expression had been grim.

“I see,” I’d said, and he brought his gaze back to me, his expression lightening.

“Well, lass, that’s not completely true.” He’d smiled. “I came tonight because ye’d be here.”

I couldn’t think of an answer and at last stammered. “Why?”

“Why?” He’d paused again, looked at the ceiling and back at me.

“Have ye no’seen what ye look like, Mary?

I’m sure ye’ve been told that enough times.

” I felt my cheeks go scarlet. He straightened his back and looked at his hands as he brushed imaginary lint off his kilt.

“I surprised myself. I thought I was here on business, but when I saw ye at the Duchess’s party I thought ye were very beautiful and I could not stop looking at ye.

I dinna do that sort of thing. I’m a bit old for it, don’t ye think?

” He shot a glance at me and then looked across the room, the lace of his cuffs falling on the back of his hands, white against the tan skin.

Long, slim fingers, one crested ring. “I left, thinking I’d forget ye straightaway.

But I dinna forget ye, and I came here tonight to see ye, to see that ye were not as beautiful as I’d remembered.

” He’d raked a hand through his hair and disarrayed it.

“But ye are, and I dinna think ye would be so pleasing to be with. And everyone tells me yer spoken for.” His eyes met mine.

“But ye dinna behave like a woman who is promised elsewhere.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.” He’d nodded and then laughed. “Dinna look so afraid, Mary. I’ll not steal ye off, though it’s no’such a bad idea. How would ye like Scotland, lass?” He leaned on one elbow and smiled. I wasn’t sure if he was joking. I wasn’t sure of anything except that I wanted to keep him talking to me .

“But you do not even know me, sir!”

“And we must change that. I do know a bit about ye, though.”

“Such as …”

“Such as ye like to dance and ye dance verra well, but ye dinna like that Jonathan man. Yer fairly new to London again since yer mother’s death and yer travels, and all the lads think yer verra beautiful, but Lord Campbell says yer his, and all of London seems to think ye are.

Yer brother inherited lands through his wife’s family in addition to Mountgarden and will probably inherit your uncle’s Grafton title and estate as well.

Yer currently living here with yer aunt Louisa, but when her husband comes back from France ye’ll probably leave.

Ye have no lands of yer own, and yer verra fond of chocolate. Shall I go on?”

“No. That’s certainly a bit more than I thought.”

“Aye, and there’s more.”

“I see.” I’d watched him, wondering what was next.

“Aye.” He’d looked at the carpet for a moment. “Mary,” he said, raising blue eyes to me. “May I see ye again, or shall I leave? Tell me now, lass, before I make a fool of myself.”

I wasn’t sure if I was wise to keep talking to him, but the thought of never seeing this man again was unacceptable.

I should tell him to go away, that any romance between us was unlikely and ill-suited.

We were too different, our worlds incompatible.

I’d watched him watch me, his eyes clear and honest, and I took a deep breath.

“Yes, Alex, you may see me again.”

He’d let his breath out in a huff and smiled. “Good, then I will. And if we both like what we see, then we’ll talk further.”

I’d felt my eyebrows lift in surprise. “Then I will see you again before you return to Scotland?”

“Aye, lass, and often if I have a say.” We’d shared a smile.

I stretched now and pulled the cover farther over my shoulder.

I knew that Alex was not as uncomplicated as he appeared at first, but he fascinated me as no other man did.

Certainly not Robert. Robert was also Scottish, but I had never thought of him as that, perhaps because he had lived most of his life in England and he and his Campbell cousins owned as many properties here as in Scotland.

I smiled as I admitted to myself that it was delightful to have a man like Alex so vigorous in his pursuit of me.

I could not say I was not intrigued. I had been unduly aware of how his lean legs stretched out, his shoulder touching mine occasionally, the way those blue eyes disarmed me.

There was no doubt that physically he was immensely attractive and that his directness and humor were wonderfully refreshing.

I had a sudden vision of me brushing that errant strand of hair back and leaning in to kiss him.

Oh, no, I was not immune to Alex MacGannon.

Nor, apparently, was he to me. I smiled at the thought.