To Tempt a Scotsman by Victoria Dahl Page A

laughter, skirt swinging around her, while Alex was left to wipe her sweaty gloves against the striped silk of her dress. The narrow strips of periwinkle and royal blue made her seem taller and she certainly needed help with that. It was one reason she preferred the French fashion. The wider English skirts did not suit her—she looked rather like a giant pudding sliding about.
    Raising her eyes to scan the crowd, she wondered if she should move. The ballroom was an ingenious design, circular and ringed entirely by a low, wide balcony that rose no more than two feet above the ballroom floor. The elevation provided just enough height to give everyone a good view of the dancing and suited her purpose perfectly. She could see past the crowds to watch for Collin, but she was torn between the compulsion to search him out and the desire to appear naturally occupied.
    She wavered for a good quarter hour, watching the entrance, feigning nonchalance. He had to come to the Mac-Drummond's. If he had any desire to see her at all, he would put in an appearance at this ball on this night. Please let him come.
    Alexandra smiled briefly at a man who nodded in her direction before shifting her eyes away. She couldn't simply approach a strange man without an introduction, and the only women around her were chaperones and matrons. Better to have Collin see her alone and dignified than cloistered with the elderly. Or was it?
    Just as she took a step away from the railing, she spotted a young woman walking toward her, then, beyond the girl's head, a man's large form darkened the main door. Collin. Oh my.
    She turned her back to the door even as his appearance crystallized in her mind. He wore full formal dress, of course. A shiver touched her legs and settled in her knees.
    The woman on the balcony drew even with Alex. She was pretty in the way that the luckier redheads were—skin pale and almost fragile. Her thinness furthered the air of delicacy, though a generous bosom ensured that one did not think her too thin. She began to pass, smiling uncertainly at Alex's stare.
    The nape of her neck prickled and tightened, raising tiny hairs. Collin was watching.
    "Hello," she boomed, startling the girl into a jump. "Have we met somewhere before?"
    "No, I. . ." She blinked, pale-green eyes wide with surprise. "I don't think so. I'm sure I would remember."
    "I'm sorry. My mistake. May I introduce myself? I'm Alexandra Huntington. It's a pleasure to meet you." Smiling brightly, she waited, hoping the girl wouldn't bolt.
    "Yes, um. . . I'm Jeannie. Jeannie Kirkland."
    The girl's burr was lovely, the soft words soothing to her frayed nerves. "Miss Kirkland, I am so glad I mistook you for someone else, though I don't know how I could have. I daresay I've never met a woman with such beautiful hair."
    Jeannie blushed, touching her hair with nervous fingers. "Oh, no. That canna be right. My brothers have assured me my whole life that I've hair the color of pumpkin innards."
    Alexandra laughed in genuine amusement, but the sound hiccupped into a rather breathless cackle. Jeannie's hand rose to touch just one finger to Alex's bare arm, her face drawn into a concerned frown. Then her eyes shifted, drawn to some movement over Alex's shoulder. The confusion fell from her face in an instant, chased away by amused understanding.
    "He is headed this way with a rather ferocious scowl. Shall I intercept him?"
    "No," Alex whispered, shutting her eyes against the suspense. "No, let him come."
    Jeannie chuckled and Alexandra opened her eyes to watch the girl wave cheerfully. She had no choice but to turn, not if she wanted to seem unaware. So she turned and saw him, standing not a dozen feet away, and found that she did not have to feign her reaction. Her breath left her in a rush past numb lips, and she stared at Collin Blackburn.
    She'd never seen him like this, dressed impeccably, his cravat a snowy sculpture at his dark throat, his black coat a sharp outline of the