Mia Marlowe Read Online Free PDF Page A

knees. “He’s also laird of Bonniebroch.” She looked at him with such a winsome smile, Alexander’s chest constricted. “My betrothed.”
    “About that,” Alexander said. He’d as soon whip a pup with a newspaper as dash a lady’s hopes, but the quicker he put paid to this ridiculous notion of a betrothal the better. “I fear there’s been a terrible mistake.”
    “Oh, aye?” Aunt Hester’s brows wriggled like a pair of wooly caterpillars meeting over her bulbous nose.
    “Aye—I mean yes.” It irritated him how quickly Scottish-isms sprang to his lips. He’d always tried to distance himself from his Gaelic side, but it poked out its head with disturbing frequency. “You see, I have only just become Lord Bonniebroch. I won the title from the previous owner, Sir Darren MacMartin, in a fair game of chance. As I was not informed of this . . . arrangement, doubtless the original Bonniebroch intends to honor his agreement,” Alexander explained. “Surely MacMartin is the one to whom Miss MacOwen is betrothed.”
    In the silence that followed, Alexander was aware of the loud tick of the long case clock in the hall, the hissing gasses escaping from the peat fire, and the sharp intake of breath from Miss MacOwen.
    “Weel, we’ll just see about that, shall we?” The old woman’s features contorted into an alarming expression Alexander feared might be an attempt at a smile. “Lucinda, trot ye back to the kitchen and fetch some refreshments for the gentlemen. Tea and bannocks, I’m thinkin’ and a tot of rum for me. Rheumatism, ye know.”
    She held out her twisted fingers for Alexander’s inspection, but he suspected she’d have the rum regardless of his opinion of her need for it.
    “But before ye go, lamb,” Aunt Hester said to Lucinda, “be a dear and take the key from me neck. Do ye unlock the desk and bring me the copy of the marriage contract. We’ll sort this out, aye?”
    Alexander had stood before a French brigade without cowering. He’d slipped behind enemy lines and liberated battle plans from a general’s own tent while the man slept on his cot. Once he’d planned and executed a successful jailbreak in time to save one of the king’s cousins from an ignominious hanging in France.
    No one doubted his courage.
    But the way in which Hester MacGibbon said “marriage contract” made Alexander’s balls tighten and try to climb back up into his body for protection.

    Oh, God, he doesna want me. Lucinda’s belly coiled in knots as she fled the simmering turmoil in the parlor for the homey safety of the kitchen.
    Aunt Hester had let all her servants go on holiday when Lucy and her sisters arrived in Edinburgh. The old skinflint thought to save a little money by putting her great-nieces to work instead. For once, Lucinda was grateful there was no one else in the kitchen. It meant there was no one to whom she’d have to explain her glistening eyes and high color. She lit a fire in the cast-iron stove and filled the kettle at the sink, working the pump handle with ferocity.
    Once she set the kettle to boil, Lucinda reached into her pocket and pulled out the book she’d picked up in a shop off Leicester Square when she’d visited London with her father. It was a silly extravagance. Books were so very dear, but she couldn’t resist using the last of her pin money for this one. She ran her fingertips over the title.
    The Knowledgeable Ladies’ Guide to Eligible Gentlemen.
    She flipped immediately to the “M’s” and located the information about Alexander Mallory.
    “ Lord Alexander Mallory, b. 1794. Second son of the Marquis of Maldren,” she read silently.
    He’ll have more than two coins to rub together, I’ll be bound.
    Lucinda shook her head. No good could come from imagining more about the fellow. Hadn’t he already made it apparent that he didn’t want her?
    There was no point to reading on, but she couldn’t help herself.
    “Near the top of every marriage-minded mama’s