Page 21 of Somewhere Along The Way (Mackinnon #3)
But none of these things really interested him, for they were no more than an opportunity to keep stealing glances at the beauty in the flowing white gown from all angles.
She looked delicious from all of them. All in all, he spent quite some time with the beauty in his line of vision, yet he still hadn’t seen enough of her by the time the butler announced the arrival of the duke and added that the receiving line would soon be forming.
Ross greeted his grandfather before he was formally introduced to the Earl of Huntly.
Dislike was instant. From both quarters.
Before Ross could acknowledge the introduction, Huntly drew the battle lines.
“You seem to have quite an eye for the lassies,” he said.
“Do I?” Ross drawled. “And here I’ve always thought it was the other way around.”
The corners of Huntly’s mouth turned white, but he was prevented from saying anything when the Mackinnon spoke.
“Aye, the lad has an eye for the lassies, sure enough, but then, no bonny lassie should ever have to put in an appearance at a ball where there wasn’t at least one laddie willing to boost her vanity. ”
After Huntly and his grandfather left, Ross went back to having an eye for the lassies—one lassie in particular. Locking his gaze on Annabella, Ross watched her brother approach her. Even from where he stood, he could see the depth of feeling that flowed between them.
“Bella, you look like an angel in that dress,” Gavin said, putting his arm around her slim waist and squeezing it tightly.
“Of all the bounders!” their mother said and promptly slapped her son’s arm with her fan. “Gavin, do mind what you’re about. You’re hopelessly crushing the roses on Bella’s dress.”
“Oh, sorry, Bella. Dash it all, that was a rotten thing for me to do.” Gavin gave his brow a playful smack. “I fear I have trod upon the lilies.”
“Or at least smashed my roses,” Bella said, giving him a quick hug as she laughed and looked down at her dress. She gave the roses a few minor adjustments. “There,” she said, “good as new. No harm done.” Annabella regarded her brother through eyes as openly admiring as her mother’s were critical.
“Don’t let him off so easily,” the duchess said, “or he will never be inspired to behave more like a titled Englishman instead of an affectionate puppy with big feet and a little brain.”
Annabella smiled fondly at Gavin as he said, “But everyone loves an affectionate puppy.”
“True, but they don’t marry them to their daughters, and I might remind you that this is a prime opportunity for you to look over the cream of Scotland’s crop.
” Closing her fan, his mother whacked him on the arm.
“Now, mind your manners, you pestiferous young pup, and leave off with that bothersome teasing before you catch your father’s eye. ”
“As long as it’s his eye and not his tongue, I shouldn’t mind,” said Gavin.
“The two are a matched set,” Annabella said. “You can’t have one without the other. First you get the eye, then you get the tongue-lashing.”
The duchess’s disapproving look brought a teasing smile to Gavin’s face, but Annabella knew she had reached the limit of her mother’s patience.
With Gavin, her parents were more charitable; they indulged his escapades and jovial teasing with restrained acceptance.
That was due, she supposed, to one of two things: because he was a boy, or because he was the only boy.
No matter the reason, she knew they would brook no such behavior from any of their six daughters.
The flames of humor extinguished, Annabella regained her proper composure and watched Gavin kiss their mother’s hand with a comical display of theatrical zeal, then make his way toward their father.
Dearest Gavin . She adored him. Perhaps it was because he was her only brother.
Perhaps it was because he was closest to her in age.
Perhaps it was because he enjoyed the freedom and gaiety she often felt cheated of in her own life.
But the real reason, she suspected, was because Gavin was so lovable—that his unflappable nature, his obvious fond attachment for her, and the way he had always taken it upon himself to be her champion and defender—even against their parents when he felt they were being overly strict—all endeared him to her.
Annabella loved everything about Gavin, from the easy way he had of wearing his elegant clothes to the smooth way he had of charming everyone around him in a perfectly natural way.
She watched Gavin step away, bringing the duke’s grandson, who was being introduced to the other members of her family, into view.
Looking away, she occupied herself with deciding which of the lovely young women who had their eye on Gavin would be the one to catch his, when she felt someone’s eyes upon her.
Turning slightly, she locked eyes with the duke’s grandson.
She caught the slow, amused smile, and the way he tilted his head toward her in the slightest suggestion of mocking acknowledgment.
Before turning her head away, she gave him a direct look, and her eyes glittered with warning.
Immediately, Annabella snapped her fan open to cool her face and flicked her wrist with such force the fan flew from her fingers, striking the Marquess of Pentland, who had the misfortune to be passing by at that moment, in a most embarrassing place.
For a moment she was caught in the most humiliating quandary. What to do?
Apologize, of course.
And she would have. Immediately.
That is, if doing so hadn’t meant acknowledging her awareness of just where her fan had struck the marquess.
It was shameful, she knew, to ignore her behavior—her mother would call it scandalous.
It was also quite unlike her to overlook her manners.
She knew it was of the poorest taste, but in this case it was something she deemed necessary.
In the end, scandalous behavior won out. She ignored the incident.
The Duke of Dunford’s rogue of a grandson wasn’t so noble.
Of all the awkward moments. Caught unawares, she simply stared at him with a drowsy sort of fascination as he looked at her, a curious smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Still as a marble statue, she waited for him to finish his examination, but when he continued to ravish her at his leisure, his gaze sparing no part of her person, it was too much to ignore.
In spite of the fact that she felt limp-kneed and weak, she did not allow herself the pleasure of turning away from his rude stare.
She couldn’t remember if it was Paul or Peter who said, “Resist the devil and he will flee from you”—but in spite of her forgetfulness, that was precisely what she did—she returned his mocking gaze with a straightforward glare of her own.
As far as deterrents went, that one was pretty ineffective.
Unable to stare him down, she turned away and searched the room for Gavin, anxious to call him to her side.
She found him, and felt like stamping her foot in vexation.
His back was to her, so there was no way to get his attention.
She would have to cross the room now to get to him, and that would throw her uncomfortably close to the one person she had no wish to be close to.
Carefully avoiding the duke’s grandson, she made her way across the room.
Why is it , she wondered, that the person I try hardest to avoid is always the one I am constantly stumbling over? And if not stumbling, at least being caught in his path, which, she noted with dismay, was happening to her right now.
Seeing the Duke of Dunford making his way toward her, his grandson in tow, Annabella smiled grimly and prepared herself.
“I’d like you to meet Lady Annabella Stewart,” the duke said. “This is my grandson, Lord Leslie Ross Mackinnon.”
Annabella felt the heat rise to her face. She wouldn’t put it past this callous ruffian to mention the incident with the fan, or their meeting and the unfortunate accident involving the stray croquet ball.
Bracing herself, she was surprised when Ross took her hand and kissed it as perfectly as any English nobleman. His eyes were on her as she said, “I understand you are as new to Scotland as I am.” She withdrew her hand.
Knowing full well that the lovely Annabella was prepared for him to mention her hilarious incident with the fan, Ross decided to ignore it, but in doing so, he did something he had never done around a woman before.
He was caught off guard and left without anything to say.
When the words did come, they weren’t exactly the ones he would have chosen for this occasion.
“As new as you perhaps, but not nearly as lovely.”
The minute the words left his mouth, he could have throttled himself. Not nearly as lovely? Heaven help him. What kind of idiot had they turned him into?
Annabella could not contain her humor, but she did manage to stifle the laugh that threatened and give him a demure smile. She looked at the duke. “I believe there is a compliment hidden in there somewhere,” she said.
“Aye,” the duke said, giving Ross a quizzical look, “but you’d be hard-pressed to find it.”
Ross told himself to keep his big mouth shut. But when did he ever listen to advice? That was probably why he said, “What I meant to say was…”
Annabella looked at Ross, her green eyes narrowed, yet still possessing a hint of humor. “I know what you meant to say, and I thank you for the thought.” Then she turned away and said something to Lord Percival.