The Devil Wears Plaid Read Online Free PDF Page A

her freckled cheeks and finely chiseled features possessed a winsome charm few men could deny. Against his will he found his gaze drawn to the softness of her lips as they closed around the bowl of the spoon, to the supple grace of her little pink tongue as it darted out to lick the utensil clean.
    The innocent sight stirred a surprising hunger low in his own belly. Afraid he might just start growling back at her, he started to turn away.
    “Just how long am I to be your prisoner, sir?” she demanded.
    Sighing, he pivoted to face her. “That depends on just how much your bridegroom values you, now, doesn’t it? Perhaps you’d find your lot in life more bearable if you tried thinking o’ yourself as my guest.”
    She wrinkled her nose, drawing his attention to the dash of cinnamon freckles across its bridge. “Then I’d have to say your hospitality leaves much to be desired. Most hosts—no matter how miserly—will at least provide a roof over their guest’s head. As well as four walls to keep them from freezing to death.”
    Propping one foot on a fallen log, Jamie tipped back his head to survey the majestic indigo sweep of the night sky. “Our walls are the sheltering branches o’ the pines and our roof a vaulted dome dusted withgems sprinkled by the hand o’ the Almighty himself. I challenge you to find a grander sight in any London ballroom.”
    When silence greeted his words, he slanted her a sidelong glance only to catch her quizzically studying his profile instead of the sky. She quickly lowered her eyes, hiding them beneath the wary russet sweep of her lashes. “I was expecting little more than an unintelligible grunt. It seems the earl was wrong, sir. Your education wasn’t wasted after all. At least not judging by your vocabulary.”
    He sketched her a mocking bow so flawless it would have done any gentleman proud. “With enough time and determination, lass, even a savage can learn to mimic his betters.”
    “Like Ian Hepburn? From what you said in the abbey, I gather he was one of your betters at the university?”
    “There was a time when he might have considered himself my equal. But that was when he only knew me as his dear friend
Sin
. Once his uncle informed him I was nothing but a filthy, stinking Sinclair with dirt under his fingernails and blood on his hands, he wanted nothing more to do with me.”
    “After having known you for only a few hours myself, I can’t say that I blame him.”
    “Och, lass!” he exclaimed, clapping a hand to his chest and giving her a reproachful look. “Ye cut meto the heart wi’ that wee, sharp tongue o’ yers. Hae ye no’ an ounce o’ pity in yer soul fer a puir ignorant Scotsmon?”
    Hoping to hide the melting effect his velvet-edged burr had on her, Emma surged to her feet to face him. “My name isn’t ‘lass.’ It’s Emmaline. Or Miss Marlowe if you’re civilized enough to observe the social niceties. My father is a baronet—one of the gentry.”
    Folding his arms over his chest, Jamie snorted. “Genteel enough to auction his daughter off to the highest bidder?”
    She lifted her chin again, refusing to quail before his scorn, and said softly, “The
only
bidder.”
    Her confession caught Jamie off guard. The lass might be willowy and small breasted, but there was still no denying her feminine charms. If she had been born and raised on this mountain, besotted suitors would have been lining up to cast themselves at her feet.
    “And you needn’t make my father out to be some sort of grasping villain from a Gothic melodrama,” she added. “For all you know, I could be madly in love with the earl.”
    Jamie barked out a laugh. “And I could be the King of Scotland.” Ignoring his better judgment, he allowed his gaze a bold foray over her. “There’s only one reason a woman like you would wed a moldering auld bag o’ bones like the Hepburn.”
    She rested her hands on her slender hips. “You just abducted me a few hours ago. How can you