For a Scot's Heart Only by Gina Conkle

Author:Gina Conkle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2023-04-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

A smile flirted with the corner of her mouth. Their gaits matched and neither missed a beat when she slanted her eyes at him.

“What piques your curiosity more? The unplanned visit to the porcelain works? Or my temporary use of your name?”

“As it happens, both.”

“Rather greedy of you,” she teased. “Pillaging my secrets.”

“This day, by design, is entirely mercenary.”

“For whose benefit?”

He flashed a wolfish smile. “Mine, of course.”

“And we wouldn’t want to deny you your rightful reward, now, would we?”

She was a little breathless saying that. Mr. West grinned his approval.

“Alas, rules of the sea prevail, Miss Fletcher. The first to stake a claim, wins.”

“Obviously, I need to work on my pirate skills. I’m quite out of my depth.”

His laugh was rich and lovely. “To the contrary, you are very adept.”

Excitement drove them toward the garden gate, their hips practically glued together. One might think they were in a rush because a kiss would happen upon entering the garden. The air was crisp, and every inch of her was electric. Soft earth yielded underfoot as they reached the wrought iron gate. She grasped the open sides of his greatcoat and pressed into his warmth.

“As the victor, how will you celebrate?”

Mr. West’s eyes were like polished pieces of green-blue glass. “You have it backward. I am not the victor here.”

“How so?”

“You claimed me when you stole my name.”

And there it was, more champagne giddiness filling her. A breeze tossing her hair against her cheek was a fair reminder she was not lighter than air. The teasing strands tickled her skin, the same as his baritone. He’d played the part with ease when she claimed to be his wife. One might say the ruse was fun.

“It wasn’t stealing,” she said. “I temporarily borrowed it.”

“At sea, we’d call you a pirate.”

“Except we are on land.”

“A fair point. For that reason”—he folded a hand over hers and brought their joined hands to his mouth— “I’ll call you a siren.”

“Dangerous women, sirens.”

She hardly recognized the sensual creature she’d become. Lips parting, breasts thrusting, her legs tangling with his as they leaned against the gate. At this rate a passionate kiss might happen on the village side of the garden for any passerby to see.

“A man must be vigilant or he’ll fall prey to their charms.” Mr. West was just as snared, planting featherlight kisses on pale flesh below her wrist. “An interesting fact—sirens are very busy in the month of August.”

Intelligence glittered in his eyes. She coaxed herself not to react. To be utterly still, which under Mr. West’s perusal was a road sign, guiding his way. The bloody man. Mr. West paid attention to every little thing about her. He’d made a connection between her forging a key in his shipyard to the Countess of Denton urgently deciding to sell her shop. Both done last August.

“Have you nothing to say?” he asked.

She shrugged, elegant and oblique. “Summer . . . It’s a maddening season.”

Under his coat, she found his heartbeat. Steady and reassuring, its thud.

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