Suffering the Scot (Brotherhood of the Black Tartan Book 1) by Nichole Van

Author:Nichole Van [Van, Nichole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fiorenza Publishing
Published: 2019-04-25T22:00:00+00:00

Hadley’s arm was tense under Jane’s gloved hand. Despite the multiple layers of fabric between them, Jane could feel the muscles stiff and unyielding underneath.

He was an intelligent man, Jane would give him that. He clearly understood that Lord Wanleigh was a feted suitor for her hand.

His opinion of that fact was also blatantly obvious.

What Jane hadn’t expected was the rise of her own temper.

How dare Hadley stomp around as if he had a say in her life! Her decisions were her own. If she wished to marry an elderly lord, well, that was her choice to make.

He wasn’t her brother or uncle or guardian.

He had not declared himself to be her suitor.

He was a friend and little more.

They took their places for the next set, arm-in-arm, waiting for their turn to chassé down the line.

“Ye seem tae be enjoying yourself tonight, my lady,” he began, bite in his tone.

“I am,” Jane replied in an equally tense voice.

“Are ye?” Hadley glanced tellingly at Wanleigh staring at them from across the ballroom. “I didnae know ye fancied a man in his dotage.”

A shiver of surprise slid down Jane’s spine. She suspected that Lord Hadley’s accent slipped when he felt strong emotions. Was he truly so upset over Wanleigh? Why did he believe her decisions were any of his concern?

How had they reached this point again? Her . . . the icy princess. Him . . . the oafish buffoon.

“I have not sought your opinion on this matter, my lord,” she replied, keeping her tone low and even.

“I’m trying tae be a friend, Lady Jane—”

“A friend would be significantly kinder.”

“—and merely pointing out that ye have more options. Yer too spirited a lass tae be hobbled like this—”

“Too spirited?!” Jane managed to hiss the words without breaking the mask of her expression.

The bloody man had no idea precisely how spirited she could be.

“Aye,” Hadley muttered, “Ye deserve tae be free—”

“Enough. I will not discuss this,” Jane replied and then turned away from him, allowing the forms of the reel to move her to another partner.

Hadley did not understand her situation. He claimed friendship, but he didn’t know her. Not entirely.

And whose fault is that? A soft voice whispered in her mind.

She ground her teeth.

The remainder of the dance passed in silence, as no other opportunity for private conversation presented itself.

Hadley continued to send pointed glances her way throughout the rest of the evening. Jane hated how attuned her body was to his, that she could feel the weight of his gaze drilling her between the shoulder blades from thirty paces away.

His judgment only underscored her own frustration. She detested feeling helpless. She disliked Wanleigh’s possessive glances.

But most of all, she hated that Hadley was right.

She was too spirited a lass to be hobbled like this.

But she struggled to see another solution. Throwing her problem at Hadley’s feet would do nothing to solve it. He couldn’t take on Montacute, and he hadn’t the finances to marry her without her dowry.

By the time the carriages rolled to the front of Hadley Park, her nerves were a frayed mess.

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