Highland Pleasures 01 - The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie by Jennifer Ashley

Author:Jennifer Ashley [Ashley, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-05-16T21:36:30+00:00

Beth watched in fascination as Ian held the bowl between his fingertips and examined it in minute detail. He missed nothing, not a crack or anomaly. He smel ed it, he touched his tongue to it, he closed his eyes and rested the bowl against his cheek.

“Six hundred guineas,” he said.

The burly dealer looked surprised. “Good lord, man, you’l ruin yourself. I was going to ask three hundred, I must be honest. It’s chipped.”

“It’s rare,” Ian said. “It’s worth six hundred.”

“Wel .” The dealer grinned. “Six hundred it is then. I’ve done wel for myself. You wouldn’t want to appraise the rest of my col ection, would you?”

Ian laid the bowl reverently on the velvet bag the dealer placed on the counter. “I don’t have time. I’m taking my bride to Scotland tonight.”

“Oh.” The good-natured dealer looked at Beth with new interest. “I beg your pardon, my lady. I didn’t realize. My felicitations.” “It was al rather sudden,”

Beth said faintly. The dealer raised his brows and glanced at Ian, who had returned his broad fingertips lovingly to the bowl. “I am pleased you had time to stop and look at my offering.”

“Rather lucky we found you in,” Beth said. “And the bowl stil here.”

The dealer looked surprised. “Not luck, my lady. Lord Ian wired me from Paris and told me to hold it for him.” “Oh.” Beth’s face grew warm. “Yes, of course he would have.”

Beth had been with Ian constantly since their hasty marriage, except when he paced the trains and boat. The al efficient Curry must have sent the wire from some station along the way. More details Ian didn’t have to worry about. The dealer’s assistant packed the bowl under Ian’s watchful eye. Ian said that his man of business would be along with the money, and the dealer bowed. “Of course, my lord. Congratulations again. My lady.”

The assistant held the door for them, but before they could take two steps, Lyndon Mather stepped out of a carriage in front of them. The blond, handsome man stopped dead in his tracks and went a peculiar shade of green. Beth had her hand in the crook of Ian’s arm, and Ian pul ed her so abruptly against him that she fel into his side. Mather glared at the box under Ian’s arm. “Damnation, man, is that my bowl?”

“The price would have been too high for you,” Ian returned. Mather’s mouth hung open. He stared at Beth, who wanted very much to leap headfirst into the closest hansom cab and flee. She lifted her chin instead, standing her ground. “Mrs. Ackerley,” Mather said stiffly. “Have a care for your reputation. People might put it about that you’re his mistress.”

By people, Mather likely meant himself.

Before Beth could answer, Ian said quietly, “Beth is my wife.”

“No.” Mather’s face started to go purple. “Oh, you bastard. I’l sue you both. Breach of contract and al that.” Beth imagined the humiliation of court, solicitors digging into her past, revealing what a horrible misal iance was her marriage with Ian.

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