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caught sight of her on the landing, that she would not be his hostess, the woman who only thirty minutes before had been sabotaging his house.
    But as he watched her float down the stairs, her face turned away at a regal angle, her blond hair piled high on her head, he couldn't help but wonder how she'd be in bed. A pocket Venus, she was tiny, made just for a man's pleasure.
    Oh, yes, he was going to enjoy this encounter very, very much.
    All of his earlier irritation gone, Dougal waited until she reached the bottom step, then coughed lightly.
    She slowly turned to face him. If Dougal had been entranced before, nothing had prepared him for this.
    Her face was that of an angel, her lips pink and full, her nose small and up-tilted. But her eyes truly entrapped him. Thickly fringed by dark brown lashes that curled extravagantly, her eyes were a shimmery pale turquoise, light and yet vivid. It was as if he were looking into an especially pure pool.
    By God, he would have this woman in his bed—he knew it with a fierceness that burned his blood.
    The woman flushed, her hand coming up to her throat, a wary expression entering her eyes.
    Dougal bowed, saying in his usual bored voice, "Miss MacFarlane, I presume."
    She dipped into a curtsey, visibly gathering herself as she spoke in a rich, husky voice he instantly recognized. "Yes, and you are Lord MacLean, I believe. My father was so vague when he explained how he'd finally gotten rid of—" She stopped as if she'd said something wrong, then laughed lightly and shrugged. "That is, welcome to MacFarlane House!"
    ----
Chapter Three

     
    Och, me dearies! If ye must fight with the one ye love, it'll save ye all sorts of trouble if ye begin from the winnin' side.
    Old Woman Nora from Loch Lomond to her three wee granddaughters one cold evening
     
    Sophia fought the urge to step back. MacLean was nothing like what she'd expected. His hair was the gold of a lion's mane and he was so tall that if she went up on her tiptoes, her head would barely reach his shoulder. She'd expected the lace that adorned his cuffs and edged his cravat but not the dangerously masculine air that accompanied it. All the silk and satin in the world couldn't soften the harsh edges that made him what he was—sensually handsome, boldly masculine, and temptingly dangerous.
    Yet all of that faded before the impact of his vivid green gaze. His eyes seemed to burn through her, sending answering quivers through her body.
    She flushed as he continued to look at her, his deep green eyes traveling over her face. His gaze touched her lips and eyes, slipped down to her shoulders, lingered on her breasts, then fell to her waist and lower. The insolence of his gaze made her want both to hide and to throw back her head and dare him to continue.
    But more than that, his arrogant stare made her want to best him, to take back not only her house but some of his confidence, as well.
    "I suppose you know why I've come," he said, his voice deep and rich, with a hint of superiority that raked across her nerves. "I wish to view my new property."
    Sophia kept her smile firmly on her lips. "My father informed me that you would be coming, my lord. We expected you much sooner."
    His gaze dropped to her mouth. "I was detained."
    Sophia curled her fingers into her palms. "How unfortunate. I am afraid my father is not here at the moment and won't return for some hours."
    MacLean smiled, his sensual lips parting to reveal white teeth, his eyes twinkling lazily. "Then we shall have to do without him."
    "So we shall. I suppose you wish to see the house now?"
    He gave an indifferent look around that set her teeth on edge, before turning his gaze back to her. "Later, perhaps. For now, I'd rather speak with you."
    "Oh?" She inwardly winced at the squeak in her voice. She was not a woman to rattle easily, yet there was something heady and dangerous about this man, something sensually lethal.
    "I must admit that I never expected to find such beauty