morning," she said, her voice dripping over him like honey. "And there are plenty of places we can explore. I want to show you the entire grounds."
Yes, Dougal was discovering that a pretty face crowned with glorious golden hair and gifted with a devious, obviously intelligent mind was irresistible.
In fact, it took him a moment to remember what he'd been going to say before she'd pressed her breast against his arm. Dougal's gaze drifted over her, lingering on her lace-covered breasts. "I'd be delighted to see anything you wish to show me, Sophia."
Delicious color bloomed in her face. "You're quite flirtatious this morning. Are you this way every morning? Or just after a good night's rest?"
Dougal grinned. "Perhaps it's the company."
"Hmm," she said, peeping up at him through her thick lashes. She had the most entrancing habit of doing that, and it inflamed him every time.
She smiled as if aware of the fire raging through him. "I assume you know how to ride."
"Expertly. And you?"
"I can hold my own."
She sent him such a provocative look that he said, "Let me guess. You are actually the offspring of a gypsy princess, and horses hold no fear for you."
"I have many skills," she said airily. "Too many to name."
His heart quickened. "I daresay you do."
"You'll be the most impressed when you see me ride. That is my
true
skill."
Dougal had an instant vision of Sophia riding him. The image was so powerful that for a moment, he couldn't even breathe.
She breezed past him into the foyer, her skirts swishing, her legs outlined for a heart-stopping moment as she placed her foot on the lowest step. "I won't be long." With a flirtatious smile over her shoulder, she went up the stairs.
Dougal nodded, totally mesmerized by the delicious sway of Sophia's hips until she disappeared out of sight.
----
Chapter Eight
Once ye make up yer mind to do something 'tis better t' stumble o'er the small hillock of jump-ahead than t' bash yer head on the jagged rocks of did-nothing.
Old Woman Nora from Loch Lomond to her three wee granddaughters one cold evening
An hour later, Dougal decided that Sophia MacFarlane was indeed part gypsy. Though Poseidon clearly outmatched Sophia's bay, it was all Dougal could do to keep up with her. She even managed to pull ahead sometimes, damn it all.
If he were more familiar with the terrain, he would have put an end to such nonsense, of course. But as tempting as it was to show the vixen who was the better rider, he wasn't about to put Poseidon in harm's way.
The sight of Sophia's trim figure galloping ahead had irritated him enough to cause menacing clouds to gather overhead, but then Dougal realized that there were distinct advantages to allowing the pert Miss MacFarlane to ride in front. For one, he was afforded a delightful view of her narrow waist and lushly curved behind.
Dougal allowed his gaze to drift there now. Nice.
Very
nice. His irritation cooled even more as he admired her sapphire-blue riding habit, appreciating the severe lines that molded to her figure, curving lovingly around her hip as she rode before him sidesaddle, her skirts fluttering as she galloped. A rakish hat with a long, floating scarf completed the picture.
Never had Dougal met a woman with such unconscious beauty. She sparkled and shined from within, as much as she did from without. He found it increasingly difficult to remember that she was attempting to trick him out of MacFarlane House.
As they rode out of the small forest, she pulled her mare to a walk, allowing Dougal to pull up beside her. She glanced up at the clouds that had gathered but were now sifting away. "For a few moments there, I thought it might rain."
He eyed the white lace that adorned the deep V of the habit, framing her décolletage most temptingly. "I don't think it will."
She glanced at him, her eyes appearing a deeper blue, reflecting the color of her habit. "But the sky—" She glanced up, then frowned. "Why, it's completely
Yes, Dougal was discovering that a pretty face crowned with glorious golden hair and gifted with a devious, obviously intelligent mind was irresistible.
In fact, it took him a moment to remember what he'd been going to say before she'd pressed her breast against his arm. Dougal's gaze drifted over her, lingering on her lace-covered breasts. "I'd be delighted to see anything you wish to show me, Sophia."
Delicious color bloomed in her face. "You're quite flirtatious this morning. Are you this way every morning? Or just after a good night's rest?"
Dougal grinned. "Perhaps it's the company."
"Hmm," she said, peeping up at him through her thick lashes. She had the most entrancing habit of doing that, and it inflamed him every time.
She smiled as if aware of the fire raging through him. "I assume you know how to ride."
"Expertly. And you?"
"I can hold my own."
She sent him such a provocative look that he said, "Let me guess. You are actually the offspring of a gypsy princess, and horses hold no fear for you."
"I have many skills," she said airily. "Too many to name."
His heart quickened. "I daresay you do."
"You'll be the most impressed when you see me ride. That is my
true
skill."
Dougal had an instant vision of Sophia riding him. The image was so powerful that for a moment, he couldn't even breathe.
She breezed past him into the foyer, her skirts swishing, her legs outlined for a heart-stopping moment as she placed her foot on the lowest step. "I won't be long." With a flirtatious smile over her shoulder, she went up the stairs.
Dougal nodded, totally mesmerized by the delicious sway of Sophia's hips until she disappeared out of sight.
----
Chapter Eight
Once ye make up yer mind to do something 'tis better t' stumble o'er the small hillock of jump-ahead than t' bash yer head on the jagged rocks of did-nothing.
Old Woman Nora from Loch Lomond to her three wee granddaughters one cold evening
An hour later, Dougal decided that Sophia MacFarlane was indeed part gypsy. Though Poseidon clearly outmatched Sophia's bay, it was all Dougal could do to keep up with her. She even managed to pull ahead sometimes, damn it all.
If he were more familiar with the terrain, he would have put an end to such nonsense, of course. But as tempting as it was to show the vixen who was the better rider, he wasn't about to put Poseidon in harm's way.
The sight of Sophia's trim figure galloping ahead had irritated him enough to cause menacing clouds to gather overhead, but then Dougal realized that there were distinct advantages to allowing the pert Miss MacFarlane to ride in front. For one, he was afforded a delightful view of her narrow waist and lushly curved behind.
Dougal allowed his gaze to drift there now. Nice.
Very
nice. His irritation cooled even more as he admired her sapphire-blue riding habit, appreciating the severe lines that molded to her figure, curving lovingly around her hip as she rode before him sidesaddle, her skirts fluttering as she galloped. A rakish hat with a long, floating scarf completed the picture.
Never had Dougal met a woman with such unconscious beauty. She sparkled and shined from within, as much as she did from without. He found it increasingly difficult to remember that she was attempting to trick him out of MacFarlane House.
As they rode out of the small forest, she pulled her mare to a walk, allowing Dougal to pull up beside her. She glanced up at the clouds that had gathered but were now sifting away. "For a few moments there, I thought it might rain."
He eyed the white lace that adorned the deep V of the habit, framing her décolletage most temptingly. "I don't think it will."
She glanced at him, her eyes appearing a deeper blue, reflecting the color of her habit. "But the sky—" She glanced up, then frowned. "Why, it's completely
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