Read Online The Lady Most Willing . . . by and Connie Brockway Eloisa James Julia Quinn - Free Book Online Page B

Fiona asked.
    “No, I haven’t seen her at all,” Catriona replied. “Of course I’ve been stuck with
     Taran since breakfast.”
    “Except when you ran off with the duke,” Marilla said in a waspish voice.
    Fiona turned to Catriona with unconcealed interest.
    “I didn’t run off with the duke,” Catriona retorted. “We merely finished breakfast
     at the same time.”
    “And left me alone,” Marilla sniffed.
    “With the Earl of Oakley!”
    “You had breakfast with Lord Oakley?” Fiona asked her sister.
    “I was having breakfast with the Duke of Bretton until Catriona ran off with him,” Marilla
     said.
    Catriona let out an exasperated sigh. There had never been any point in arguing with
     Marilla. Instead, she turned to Fiona and asked, “What have you been doing all day?”
    “Altering dresses,” Fiona told her. “That’s probably what’s caught up Lady Cecily,
     too. Did no one tell you about the trunks that were brought down from the attic?”
    “Not until I saw Marilla at breakfast,” Catriona told her. “My room is in an entirely
     different part of the castle.”
    “The servants’ wing,” Marilla murmured, not taking her eyes off the men. Lord Oakley
     was laughing at something that his cousin had said. He looked quite different when
     he smiled. Much more pleasing to the eye, Catriona decided.
    Although still nothing compared to the duke.
    Fiona gave her sister an annoyed glance before turning back to Catriona. “If you’re
     comfortable in the dress you came with, you’re not missing out. Most of the gowns
     in Taran’s attic were for ladies of more ample endowment than we possess.”
    Marilla shot her a supercilious look.
    “Well, than some of us possess,” Fiona corrected. “You really should have let me take
     your gown out a bit, Marilla.”
    Marilla ignored her. Fiona shrugged and turned back to Catriona. “Do you think they
     know what a caber is?” she asked, the corners of her lips tilting into a tiny smile.
    “His Grace is aware that it is a log,” Catriona replied, biting back a smile of her
     own. “Of what length or girth he imagines it, I do not know.”
    “The other two are part Scottish,” Fiona mused. “They must be, if they are related
     to Taran.”
    “I’ve never seen them here before.”
    “Nor I.” There was a beat of silence, then Fiona murmured, “It’s possible . . .”
    “. . . that they have absolutely no idea what they’re getting into?” Catriona finished
     for her.
    Fiona grinned in response.
    “Well, I think you’re very unwise to have suggested this,” Marilla announced. “When
     they see the caber and realize they can’t lift it, they are going to feel like fools.
     And men do not like being made fun of.”
    “That presupposes that none of them are in possession of a sense of humor,” Catriona
     responded. She looked over at the men again. Or rather, still . She hadn’t taken her eyes off them even once. The duke appeared to be having a grand
     time, laughing heartily at something Mr. Rocheforte had said.
    Then he turned, and their eyes met.
    And he smiled. Grinned, really.
    Catriona’s heart stopped. She felt it, thumping loud, then skipping three beats.
    “Did you see that?” Marilla said excitedly. “His Grace just smiled at me.”
    “I thought he was looking at Catriona,” Fiona said.
    “Don’t be silly.”
    “Bait to which I shall not rise,” Catriona murmured.
    “What did you say?” Marilla demanded.
    Catriona didn’t bother to answer.
    “Oh, look,” Fiona said. “Here come the men with the caber. I daresay the snow is making
     it easier to transport.”
    Catriona craned her neck to watch as four of Taran’s men brought the caber into view.
     It was an enormous thing, at least fifteen feet long. They’d looped chains around
     the enormous log, pulling it along like a sleigh.
    “Time to prove your manhood, boys!” Taran announced, loudly enough for the women to
     hear. His arm swept through the air