When a Scot Loves a Lady by Katharine Ashe

Quality on his errands instead of Ned. Where’s that boy got to?” Mrs. Milch released Kitty’s hands.
    â€œGane tae the smithy tae retour the saw.”
    Emily looked up. “Have you finished the stable roof already?”
    â€œAye, miss. Moony haunds, as ye be at weeman’s work here.” He glanced at the dough-covered table and smiled.
    Kitty had to look away. Women’s work . He approved of ladies baking bread, she understood possibly three out of four words he spoke, yet his smile took her breath.
    Oh, God, what was going on inside her? How could she swing from one extreme to the other?
    â€œI am astounded at the difficulty of this task,” Emily commented. “But Mrs. Milch is a very competent teacher after so many years laboring at it.”
    Kitty swallowed over her lumpy throat. “My lord, is y—”
    His gaze shifted to her.
    â€œâ€”y-your—” Her tongue failed.
    An exceedingly uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen.
    His mouth quirked slightly to the side. Kitty could not spare a thought to care that Emily stared at her now, or that she had never stuttered before in her life. If only he would talk more and look less she might make it through this without embarrassing herself completely.
    â€œIs your horse all right?” she managed beneath his dark regard.
    â€œAye, lass. Ma thanks.” His expression remained pleasant as he broadened his attention again to include them all. He was a casual flirt. One might believe he had not in fact kissed her thoroughly on a stair the night before. But she knew his reputation, and he had no doubt kissed her because he imagined he knew hers. “Leddies, ye dae us all a fine service far the holidays.”
    â€œThere’ll be no goose,” Mrs. Milch muttered.
    â€œWho needs goose when fine ladies are about such noble work?” Mr. Cox announced at the earl’s shoulder, casting a pleased glance about the chamber.
    â€œThere is nothing noble in baking bread, Mr. Cox,” Emily stated. “The poor labor at such work and they are barely compensated for it.”
    â€œI have labored my whole life, Lady Marie Antoine,” he said brightly, moving to Emily’s side. “Yet I have never had the pleasure of baking bread with a lady. I beg to assist.”
    â€œHave you baked bread at all, sir?” She seemed truly curious.
    â€œWhy, no.” He laughed.
    â€œThen you’d best put on an apron as well.” Mrs. Milch shook her head sorrowfully.
    â€œYou must remove your coat first,” Emily instructed.
    â€œCertainly not in the presence of ladies.” Mr. Cox cast Kitty a playful grin and tied the cloth around his elegant coattails. “My lord, will you join me with our fair companions in this charming domestic task?”
    Lord Blackwood shifted his booted feet at the threshold.
    â€œA’ll best be leaving that tae those mair fitted.” He bowed, cast Kitty the swiftest and most enigmatic glance, and disappeared.
    Kitty pulled in steadying breaths, every iota of her tingling nerves drawn to follow him.
    â€œMr. Cox,” she spoke to fix her feet in place, “is Mr. Yale still in the stable?” She couldn’t care less. She only wanted to know where the earl was going now. It was impossible. Grown women did not feel this way. But perhaps this was her punishment for the dishonest program she had pursued for so many years, no matter that the man she had helped bring to justice was in fact very bad.
    â€œHe has gone to the pub with the carpenter who helped us patch up that roof. Nasty business. Nearly caught Blackwood on the shoulder.”
    â€œHe only said his horse was in the way of it,” Emily said.
    â€œHe was grooming it.” Mr. Cox set his fingertips to the dough. “Odd for a gentleman of his distinction to care for his own cattle, I say. But the nobility will have its eccentrics,” he added with a confiding