Read Online How to Marry a Highlander by Katharine Ashe - Free Book Online

the cut and tailoring of his garments proclaimed his wealth. He paused to speak with his coachman.
    She drew away from Duncan and went to the porter at the door. “Who is that gentleman?”
    “That’s Mr. Reginald Baker-Frye of the Baker-Fryes of Philadelphia, miss,” the porter confided with a weighty nod.
    “Who are the Baker-Fryes?”
    “Money, miss. Piles of merchant gold. Father just passed on and this one inherited the lot. Here to see to business.”
    “Is his wife traveling with him?”
    “Not married, miss.” He scoffed. “Why should he be when he’s got scores of servants? If I didn’t need a missus to mend my stockings and cook my dinner, I’d be a single man too.”
    Duncan watched in alarm. A wealthy young man had dropped down as if from heaven. He could see the gears turning in her mind, storing every detail.
    “Thank you for that enlightening information,” she said, and with a quirk of her pretty pink lips went into the parlor and ordered tea.
    Her brother sat with a paper on his knee, the only person present other than a tiny grey-haired lady dressed in black. Sorcha entered and took up her cup with a snap of her narrow wrist that dashed tea across Duncan’s dearly acquired new breeches.
    “Oh,” she said with a sharp flash of her eyes. “Pardon, brither.”
    His other sisters entered and conversation turned to ball gowns. He left. There were limits to his dedication to his mission.
    In the foyer he passed the wealthy young American.
    “Sir,” Baker-Frye said with a nod, then glanced into the parlor. His steps faltered. Duncan followed his astonished gaze to Moira standing near the doorway. She cast down her eyes and curtsied to him.
    Baker-Frye drew his hat off and bowed from his waist. “Madam.”
    “Guidday, sir.” She lifted her lashes with a shy smile.
    Finally the American dragged his gaze away and ascended the stairs.
    Poor fellow. It happened to most men when they first saw Moira. But Duncan had never before seen his diffident sister respond.
    He glanced back at Miss Finch-Freeworth. Her eyes shone as she transferred her attention from Moira to him. She wiggled her cinnamon brows and took a breath of obvious satisfaction that swelled her bosom above the modest neckline of her gown.
    The air abruptly seemed thin indoors.
    Tomorrow he would renew his attempts at distracting her from the wager. For today, he’d concede defeat.

 

C HAPTER S IX
----
    H e called for her too early, he suspected. But he didn’t want to miss the opportunity to distract her from her mission today.
    Straightening his cravat as he waited for the door of Yale’s house to open, he knew he was a fool. He’d spent half the night thinking of her pretty smile, lily pad eyes that could laugh with a twinkle, magnificent bosom, and round behind. He’d spent the other half of the night deep in dreams that upon waking had him hot and uncomfortable.
    He was early because he wanted to see her.
    Twenty-six days . He could bear this for twenty-six days.
    A footman led him to a parlor where Miss Finch-Freeworth was perched upon the edge of a straight-back chair before a writing table, her head bent to her page.
    “Lord Eads,” the footman said and withdrew.
    She jerked around, her lush pink lips making an O.
    “My lord! You came this morning!”
    No . But if he had to witness her creamy breasts jumping against her bodice many more times he’d be hard pressed to resist the temptation for that sort of relief. The lush circle of her lips didn’t help any.
    “Guidday, Miss Finch-Freeworth.” He bowed. His waistcoat was tight across his chest, his shoulders were cramped in the coat, and he despised top boots. But he’d not go about like a ruffian and shame his sisters or this good-hearted lass—this tempting, outrageous lass who knew far too much about a woman’s carnal needs than an unmarried lady should.
    Hastily she dashed sand across her work then covered the page.
    “Have you come to invite me to