Once Again, My Laird Read online

  The men all paused, one of the captains bending to pick up the square of white linen. Georgiana was peripherally aware of his bow, the flourish of his wrist as he held the handkerchief out to her simpering friend. Her full attention remained on the lieutenant.

  Up close, he was more handsome. And much taller than she. Georgiana’s head was no higher than his chest. Titling her head back, she searched his face. Bronzed cheekbones marked him as an avid outdoorsman. He had a straight nose and a squared jaw. Rich brown hair peeked out beneath his tall fur hat. Cropped close to his head in contrast to current fashion, it was still long enough to curl around the tops of his ears.

  But it was his eyes that held her, mesmerized her. Beneath thick, dark brows and surrounded by lush lashes, they took her breath away. Those eyes narrowed on her first, before he examined her from head to toe much as she had him. When his gaze rose again, it flared with interest.

  As she was the eligible daughter and only child of a duke, she was familiar enough with that look. But it was the expression that followed…

  Georgiana was too much an ingénue to know what to do with the impact of that dark amber stare. He seemed suddenly…she wasn’t certain. Feverish, perhaps? Hungry? Either way, his gaze impacted her like a kick in the belly. Her breath caught, painfully seizing in her throat. She gasped, taking a step back, struggling to inhale.

  Concern flooded his expression and he stepped forward, reaching for her.

  Flinching away from his hand as if he signified some serious danger to her well-being, Georgiana staggered backward and caught her heel on the hem of her skirt. She fell hard on her bottom. Right there in The Circus, during the busiest hours of the morning. In front of him. Her wide-brimmed bonnet jolted at the motion, sliding forward to mask her face. Which was fine by her since humiliation enflamed her.

  “Georgie,” Bernie cried, coming to her aid. “Are you quite all right? What happened?”

  Struggling to simultaneously rise and straighten her bonnet, Georgiana careened to the side.

  “Allow me to assist ye, lass.” A firm masculine hand caught her by the elbow, steadying her.

  Through the sleeve of her pelisse, she could feel the heat of his hand. Warmth that radiated up her arm and left her flushed and rattled.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She drew her arm away, still trying to set her bonnet to rights.

  “Just take it off, lass.” That Scottish burr flowed over her warm as honey, but oddly leaving a little shiver in its path. “It’s a bloody ridiculous contraption anyway.”

  Hat back in place, she cast him a sidelong glance from beneath the wide brim. “I’ll have you know this bonnet is very much in fashion.”

  “I’ve often found what most consider fashionable to be rather foolish.”

  The corner of his lips kicked up. That flash of a grin, his teeth so white against his tanned skin, sent another skitter of gooseflesh racing up her arms. The heat from her cheeks filtered down through her body, and her pulse raced so fast dizziness swept over her again. It ought to have felt awful but instead wonder suffused her. Georgiana beamed back at him.

  He seemed taken aback, his humor fading away as he continued to stare at her.

  “Georgie?”

  Bernie’s hand on her arm drew her attention and Georgiana reluctantly turned away from the compelling man before her.

  “What’s the matter with you?” her friend asked. “You’re acting rather odd.”

  “I’m fine. I must have slipped…or something.”

  The two captains chuckled at that, as if she’d shared some witticism. One of them slapped the lieutenant on the shoulder, but the lieutenant’s attention remained focused on her.

  “Georgie, is it?”

  Georgiana grew overheated again, but this time it had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the lessons on propriety her governess had worked so hard drumming into her.

  “I’m sorry, sir. We haven’t been properly introduced.”

  “Ye could fix that now, lass.” He took her gloved hand between his. “Tell me yer name.”

  She shook her head, tugging at her hand, but he held it tight. “That’s not at all how it’s done, sir. We should only be introduced by a mutu—”

  “I ken how it works, lass,” he broke in. The pressure of his hands increased and warmth seeped through to her hands despite the layers of her gloves and his separating them. “But we’re no’ having a mutual acquaintance aboot just now, are we?”

  “Pardon me, sir. I must be getting home now.”

  “May I walk you?”

  Flustered, she shook her head frantically. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly.”

  She shouldn’t be talking to him without a proper introduction, much less offering her name. Her father would never approve of a soldier, even an officer, escorting her home. Even if her governess were about, which she wasn’t. Bernie, too, seemed to finally understand how far out of their social element they were. She tugged Georgiana’s arm, urging her away.

  “No, no. Thank you.” Georgiana tried to pull her hand away again with the same success as the previous attempt. “Please, I must go now.”

  One of the captains nudged his shoulder. “Come on, Mal. The others are waiting for us at the pub.”

  The man—Mal, they’d said his name was and Georgiana repeated it silently to herself, savoring it for a moment—gave the others a nod but didn’t move. “I would like to see you ag—” He stopped abruptly as if also realizing the indecorum of such directness. With a sigh of regret, the lieutenant released her hand and offered a small bow. “My apologies. I won’t keep you.”

  “I-I’m sorry.”

  Georgiana drew back as Bernie linked arms with her, but she hadn’t gone more than a couple steps before she stopped. Peeking back over her shoulder, she saw Mal still staring at her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword. He hadn’t budged an inch. Was he as reluctant to leave as she? As much as his presence overwhelmed her, he also fascinated her. From the curious tension embracing her from head to toe to the arrhythmic pounding of her heart.

  “Georgie, let’s go.”

  He nodded as if accepting she must, but she couldn’t coax her feet into motion.

  She didn’t want to leave the moment behind. She didn’t want to leave him behind without a chance of ever meeting him again. But etiquette dictated she shouldn’t talk with a gentleman on the street, much less one she hadn’t been introduced to and certainly couldn’t walk with him unchaperoned even if she had.

  “I’m sorry. I really do need to be getting on.”

  He nodded abruptly again, a muscle jumping in his cheek as if he were clenching his teeth.

  Then an idea struck her. Georgiana whirled back toward him. “It’s Thursday, you see?”

  “Thursday?” he repeated, puzzled.

  “Yes, and since it’s Thursday, I need to get ready for the dance tonight.”

  Bernie tugged at her arm again, hissing under her breath, but Georgiana had to make sure he understood what she was hinting. Conversely, Mal only frowned in confusion.

  “It’s a Thursday night in Bath, sir,” she repeated slowly.

  “Georgie!” Bernie protested, perceptive enough to comprehend what she was about.

  Biting her lip, Georgiana nodded and spun away once more, trusting it was enough information for him to find her.

  Hoping he was as interested in finding her as she was in being found.

  * * *

  Malcolm MacKintosh watched the lass walk away from him, the skirts of her sprigged muslin twitching about her trim ankles beneath the tails of her green pelisse. A spot of mud dirtied the area around her bum, from when she’d fallen. The scoop-shaped brim of her ludicrous bonnet shielded her face from his view as she made her way through The Circus and onto the adjacent Gay Street.

  But he didn’t need to see her face to have it burned for all eternity into his mind. Her lovely heart-shaped face with skin like ivory marred only by an appe
aling smattering of light freckles on her upturned nose. High cheekbones bearing a delicate blush he’d love to see spreading all over her petite body. Luscious pink lips curved up at the corners as if she were constantly amused. Her wide eyes were as deep green as the moss climbing the walls of his childhood home in Scotland, a few wisps of fiery hair licking like flames at her temples.

  She’d left him dumbfounded from that first glimpse. Even his friends’ teasing jibes hadn’t been enough to tear his gaze away. He’d never wanted a lass more on first sight. She’d had his heart pounding and his palms sweating like an untried lad with a single touch. He’d never been more thankful for a pair of gloves. It pained him greatly to watch her leave.

  “What a saucy minx,” his friend Rabbie Lindsay said with a low whistle of appreciation as they watched the ladies retreat. “If that wasn’t a bold invitation, I dinnae ken what it was.”

  “What?” Mal asked, puzzled. “What invitation? She told me nothing at all but what bloody day of the week it is.”

  “Aye.” The other captain, Duncan Collier, chuckled, elbowing Mal with a wink. “’Tis a Thursday in Bath,” he said, affecting a haughty British accent. “Rabbie’s right, she’s got a bit of a naughty miss lurking beneath that prim, bonny exterior to make such a bold overture. Especially since ye’ve no’ been properly introduced.” The last several words were once again spoken with aristocratic flair. “Aren’t ye the lucky one for garnering her interest?”

  He was the lucky one for having the chance to behold such a glorious creature, but if he didn’t have the opportunity to do so again, what was the point?

  “But what did she mean?” he pressed.

  Both men laughed while Mal steamed, his fraternal feelings for his two mates fading with each passing moment. Even if he had to beat it out of them…

  “Change of plans, Coll,” Lindsay said jovially. “Our time tonight would be better spent showing this eijit here what is so special about a Thursday in Bath.”

  Collier agreed with an animated nod. “Aye, laddie, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Chapter Three

  The Upper Assembly Hall

  Bath, England

  That night in 1800

  “I cannot believe you invited him to meet you here tonight,” Bernie scolded once again. They took another promenade around the ballroom, arm in arm, with unchecked male appreciation following them along the way.

  On a normal evening, such attention might’ve had them both flirtatiously fluttering their fans. They were both young debs, after all. But tonight, neither of the young women paid them any mind. Bernie was too intent on taunting Georgiana while Georgiana was overtaken by a bout of nerves as she searched the assembly for one particular attendee.

  “You’ve never been so bold in your life,” Bernie added, but then as it had all through the afternoon, her reproach descended into a delighted giggle.

  “I didn’t invite him, per se. I merely…”

  “Yes, go on.” Bernie clucked her tongue with another chuckle when Georgiana came up short of an alternative description. “A clandestine meeting! Imagine my oh-so proper, bookish friend Georgiana Wharton—who, I will remind you, has thus far managed to gently put off a dozen or more proposals of marriage and at least a hundred invitations to dance or walk in the park—openly inviting a strange man to meet her at a ball.”

  Georgiana scanned the room anxiously, searching for but not yet seeing Mal. Blast, she didn’t even know his full name. What if he didn’t come? “I didn’t ask him to come so much as prompt him to explore what social gatherings might be available tonight.”

  “On a Thursday night in Bath?” her friend mocked lightly. “What else is there to do?”

  There was no arguing that point. The calendar for the Bath social season, which ran from October to June, was practically set in stone and common knowledge to just about every person in town. Monday evenings at the Upper Assembly Hall there were Dress Balls, a Card Assembly was held each Tuesday, concerts on Wednesdays. And Thursday nights were for the Fancy Balls.

  Everyone knew it. Her father was often torn between the Assembly Hall’s popularity among the local aristocracy and the fact that the balls were open to the public. Nevertheless, he insisted Georgiana attend since she’d made her come out the previous fall. She’d never enjoyed attending the assemblies, with the constant crush of bodies and lack of ventilation. Tonight was a different story. With any hope, Mal would be compelled by their mutual attraction to find out about the ball and attend.

  Assuming the attraction was mutual. What if it wasn’t?

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Are you going to start fretting again?” The concern that had laced Bernie’s voice the first dozen times she’d asked the same question over the space of the last several hours faded to impatience. “He’ll be here.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “I saw how he looked at you. Like he wanted to gobble you up.”

  Yes, Georgiana recalled that quite vividly. The look that’d simultaneously alarmed and enthralled. Made her giddy with excitement and sick with nerves. Her years at the Folkestone Academy for Young Ladies had taught her all she needed to know about society, courtship, and even marriage, but nothing at all about men. At times she felt so naïve. Too young to contemplate marriage and motherhood. And the marriage bed.

  Other times…today, for example, she’d felt her first touch of excitement at the prospect of being held within a gentleman’s embrace, in having him kiss her and…

  Blast but she was naïve if she couldn’t envision what might come next. At boarding school, all the girls had giggled about kisses and tendrés, but none had practical experience on the matter. Bernie, for all her bold talk and flirtatious ways, knew nothing either. Neither of them had a mother nor a close married female relation who might shed some light on the subject, but that never stopped Bernie’s vocal curiosity. Today’s conjecture had been over naughty rumors she’d heard about what a Scotsman might or might not wear beneath his kilt. Georgiana’s imagination was just now blossoming. On that topic and many others.

  What would it be like to kiss a handsome young man who could turn her insides into giddy knots with a single glance? She confessed, she was eager to find out. If only…

  A little thrill went through her, like a physical caress. Without looking, she knew down to the tips of her toes.

  He was here.

  * * *

  For fourteen schillings, the lass had best be here, Mal thought as he paid the subscription fee for the dances before he strode through the entrance and climbed the stairs to the assembly hall above. Five schillings would have covered his attendance to this one ball, but if he didn’t see her here tonight or more optimistically, if he did and wanted to see her again, a subscription would be necessary for him to return.

  Five huge chandeliers hung heavily over the crowd amassed in the brightly lit ballroom. And there was a crush of people in attendance. How was he ever to find her, Mal wondered, tugging at the ends of his sleeves.

  “Och, this is sure to be far more fun than the pub.” Coll chuckled, slapping him on the shoulder. “For as long I’ve known ye, I’ve never seen ye get yer bloomers in a bunch over a wee lass like this. It’s vastly entertaining.”

  In terms utterly unsuited for polite society, Mal told his friend where he could take himself off to and by which route he might get there. For an added measure, he questioned his friend’s legitimacy and the occupation of his mother. None of the colorful language put a dent in his companion’s jovial mood. Coll and Lindsay, too, laughed heartily.

  “I’d also point out, ye’ve known me but a faint handful of years.”

  “Since ye were wet behind the ears and in long skirts,” Lindsay joked.

  “I was twenty years old and a commissioned officer in His Majesty’s army.”

  “Aye, like I said, wet behind the ears and…”

  “And in long skirts,” Mal finished wryly. “Aye, I ken how ye love t
o remind me when the pair of ye are only a couple years older.”

  “But so much wiser,” Coll added.

  “And yer superior officers.” This from Lindsay.

  “Verra superior.” Coll chuckled.

  “Yer both superior pains in my arse,” Mal grumbled. “We’re here now, why don’t ye both take yerselves off and spread a dash of yer wise and superior selves among the other ladies? I see a dozen fans fluttering in yer direction.”

  “I’m more inclined to search out that juicy bit who tossed her handkerchief at me today,” Lindsay said. “‘Course, she wasn’t so taken by me that she landed herself on her bahooky like yer lass, but there was a come hither look or two, I think.”

  Mal snorted at that. “Aye, right.”

  Lindsay shrugged. “If nothing else, if I find her she maun have a stunning redhead close by, aye? I cannae leave ye before I see ye properly settled for the night.”

  “Thank ye so much.”

  He nodded with a wink. “It’s my duty as yer superior officer. Now, why don’t we take a turn about the room and see who we find, aye? Mal?”

  “Dinnae fash yerself, Rabbie,” Coll drawled. “Seems our friend has already got his prey well wi’in his sights. Och, look at him. He’s fairly quaking in his boots.”

  Mal might have normally given his friend a solid jab for such mockery, but not now. Coll was right. A flash of flaming locks in the light from the chandeliers had caught his eye like a beacon in the night, and his feet were compelling him forward. He wove in and out of the crowd, keeping his gaze glued to those luxurious tresses.

  Georgie.

  Finally he broke through the throng and saw her fully. Just as it’d happened that afternoon, he froze at the sight of her. Her glorious curls piled haphazardly atop her head and encircled by several lengths of white silk ribbon and studded with pearls. Her cheeks flushed, her gaze darting about the room.

  Searching for him? He bloody well hoped so.