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Brianna.
    “The first to arrive,” Brianna replied coolly.
    “I’m here for the Lord Treveryan,” the golden-haired woman said angrily.
    “Then you have been misled, for he is already occupied.”
    “Get out of my way. I was told to come—”
    “So was I,” Brianna lied, smiling sweetly but with a determined flash to her eyes and a threat of malice. She handed the woman one of Treveryan’s gold pieces. “Take this—and yourself—out of here quickly.”
    “I will not!” The whore protested, narrowing her eyes. “I think I’ll just take a look at his lordship myself, love, and see if he wouldn’t prefer—”
    “I’m much, much younger,” Brianna interrupted pointedly. She couldn’t let this slut cost her her life!
    But pity touched her, and she could really feel no malice.
    “Please, take the money and leave be. It will be for nothing.”
    “You have youth, but I have experience. Perhaps my Lord Treveryan would prefer what I have to offer.” She laughed. “He’s not choosing a bride, lass, Just an hour’s entertainment.”
    “Brianna!” The voice thundered from the room. At any second Lord Treveryan would stalk into the hallway, demanding to know what was going on.
    Brianna took a step toward the woman with new menace and a ruthless determination. “Take yourself from here now! He is mine, and I promise to slit your throat from ear to ear to keep him! Keep this—and go!”
    The woman appeared stunned, but still the gold piece was being offered her, and the assurance of that piece seemed more profitable than an assault upon herself. She backed away.
    Brianna leaned wearily against the doorframe, desperately wishing it were she with the freedom to walk down the steps.
    “Brianna!” The impatient call came out to her, like a noose, tightening about her throat.
    Better that noose than the heat of the flames, she reminded herself.
    She reentered the room, grateful for the coming darkness that hid her eyes from the relentless green stare of the man, Lord Treveryan.
Chapter Three
    Sloan Treveryan frowned as he watched the unusual blue-eyed beauty who had come his way. Her manner was most peculiar—one moment he felt as if he were with the most sensual harlot, and in the next, he felt as if he had come across a most indignant aristocrat.
    Brice MacMichael—whom Sloan had met when he docked, and who had convinced him he was in need of casual companionship—had kept his promise to send someone “exquisite.” Someone to ease his dark and brooding mood, a temporary haven from the cares of a tragic personal responsibility, and from the tension and danger of his true purpose in Glasgow.
    This girl could, he thought with a smile, do all that. She could make him forget everything.
    At times it seemed she shuddered from his touch—but she had fought with a fiery temper to keep him for herself. There was a strange sense of innocence about her, yet he sensed in her blue eyes that she could be a tempest of sensuality. He had felt that for some reason she was regretting their liaison, yet when she was offered an out, she strenuously declined to take it.
    She had sent away another woman, Sloan reflected with amusement. It was a curious situation. Who was this Brianna—and just what was going on? Had old Brice decided to send him not just one woman, but several?
    Brianna was awkward with her hooks, almost as if she were reluctant to disrobe. Yet she was beguiling as she did so. Her shift came slowly up, baring long, shapely legs that were as lovely as alabaster. She hesitated again with the hem just at the top of her thighs. Sloan realized a bit foolishly that he had held his breath while her fingers hovered there … anticipation created a rush of blood within his ears. He exhaled as she raised the shift again, uncovering to his view firm, rounded buttocks that were as shapely as her legs. Her waist was tiny, emphasizing that subtle and evocative flare of hips, drawing attention to her long ribcage, sleek