To Catch a Highlander by Karen Hawkins

Author:Karen Hawkins
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub, pdf
Tags: Romance, Man-Woman Relationships, Scotland, General, Regency, Historical, Fiction, Love Stories
ISBN: 9781416525059
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2008-01-22T07:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Eleven

Beware the man who's quick to give ye jewels and gold. There's always a hook in such sweet bait!

Old Woman Nora from Loch Lomond to her three wee granddaughters one cold evening

He saw a light flare in her eyes, though she tried to hide it behind the tilt of her sherry glass. After taking a sip, she said in a careless voice, "Certainly. That will be a pleasant way to spend the evening."

He took the cards out of their small ivory box on the table. "What shall we wager on this evening?"

She smiled flirtatiously. "I still haven't won back my mother's jewels."

"I shall place them on the table, again."

Her excitement was palpable. "Excellent. Then I suppose the next question is… what would you have of me?"

There was the faintest quiver to her voice. Good. She should be uneasy.

He ran his gaze over her insolently. That was the problem with Sophia's plan: it put her at a distinct disadvantage until the moment she won all—a moment that would never arrive. But she didn't know that, and there was power in knowledge.

"Let me think about our wager for a moment. Shall we be seated?" He gestured to the table.

"Of course." She brought the decanter and her glass to the table and sat down, her silk gown rustling as she moved. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, the thick lashes casting shadows over them.

Dougal sat as well, imagining kissing the sherry that lingered on her lips. The time would come soon. "Do you wish to shuffle the cards?"

She nodded, quickly picking up the cards. The firelight caressed her pink cheek, warming her skin until he wished he could touch her.

She shuffled the cards, her fingers flying over their worn surface, then set them on the table. "Well? What is the wear?"

Dougal captured her hand, and her lips parted, her breath quickening as he turned it over. Her hand was well shaped and patrician, with graceful fingers, but calluses marred her palms, roughening the skin.

She curled her fingers closed. "Shall I name the wager myself?" she asked with asperity.

He stroked his thumb over her wrist, where her skin was as smooth as it should be. It was a shame life had forced her to perform her own chores. Did she ordinarily do all of the cooking and cleaning? He'd gathered that Mary and Angus were on loan from the squire's house until Sophia managed to fleece Dougal from his rightful winnings. After that… would she go back to her life as it had been before?

A pang of regret flickered through him, and he released her hand. "I believe I do know what I wish to wager."

She tucked her hand away, her cheeks suspiciously bright. "Do your worst, MacLean."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out both the bag of jewelry and the deed to the house.

Sophia's gaze was glued to the large, folded paper. "You brought the deed."

"I didn't wish to leave it in my room."

Her cheeks flushed. "No one here would steal it from you, if that is what you were thinking.

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