to a shine. She noticed that his clothes had been washed and ironed, and even from this distance she could see that he’d bathed, for his hair gleamed only as clean hair would in sunlight, now appearing more red than brown. A rich shade of chestnut. Quite nice, really.
“Not bad,” Dillie murmured.
“For a heathen.” She hated to admit that he might be the handsomest man she’d ever encountered, even if he did resemble a rugged Highland rogue. “Not at all like Lord Mortimer’s son, Ashton.”
“Oh, him.” Dillie scrunched her nose.
“What’s wrong with Ashton? He’s a nice young man.” And a good match for her, if she were ready to settle down and marry. He was tall, blond, and decent looking. More important, he was a thoughtful gentleman who enjoyed scholarly pursuits.
“Nice? Is that the best you can come up with? Does he make your heart sing? Your legs buckle?”
“Love is not the same as animal attraction. Attraction is a physical response, a hot jolt as you just described, something necessary for procreation, which is why rams, stags, and stallions roam about during mating season with their male parts ever in readiness and why females of the respective species emit a scent that—”
“Lily!”
“The point is, attraction fades as quickly as it appears. Love is something that lasts over decades. Love grows slowly, develops deep roots over time.”
“Over a season?”
“Much longer.” Because it was taking her longer than expected to develop feelings for Ashton. She wasn’t certain why. He was a perfect match for her, and it didn’t matter that his hair lay a little flat and thin around his face, or that he wasn’t nearly so handsome as Mr. Cameron. He was thoughtful, intelligent, and the youngest man admitted to the Royal Society. That counted far more than good looks.
“Good day, Lily,” Mr. Cameron called out to her.
She cringed at the appalling familiarity.
Dillie smirked. “Let’s have some fun with him.” She nudged her mount forward and held out her hand, expecting him to politely bow over it. “Good afternoon, Mr. Cameron. Thank you so much for replacing my spectacles and book.”
“Pleased to meet ye, Dillie.” He shook her hand brusquely, as though they were two farmers completing a sale of crops.
Lily couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s comeuppance. “How did you know it was Dillie and not me?”
“First, she’s no’ squinting. Second, Jasper’s panting and wagging his tail at you.” He let out a deep, gentle chuckle as he fixed his gaze on her. “He’s quite taken with you, lass.”
Lily dismounted to pet Jasper, who was looking at her as though he were in love. Just her luck to be adored by a dog. She glanced from hound to owner. While Jasper’s eyes were as sweet as pools of melted chocolate, Mr. Cameron’s were emerald-dark and decidedly dangerous.
Curiously, she felt an odd tingle in her bones.
He smiled.
The tingle spread throughout her body.
“I like Jasper, too,” she hastily admitted, kneeling to hug the hairy beast before her legs turned to butter and gave way.
Jasper responded by nuzzling his head against her chest and shedding hair all over her new riding habit. She didn’t mind. He was her anchor in a sea of turmoil. The hairs would easily brush out later.
Mr. Cameron knelt beside her and began to tickle Jasper under his chin, something the dog obviously enjoyed because he emitted a low rumble of contentment. “Why are you no’ wearing your spectacles, Lily? Did they no’ fit right?”
“They’re fine,” she admitted after a moment’s hesitation. “Just perfect… but I’ve asked my uncle to return them.”
He looked surprised and disappointed.
“Mr. Cameron.” She sighed at the unpleasant task before her, made more unpleasant by the fact that she liked the man who was a hair’s breadth away from going to prison.
“Yes, lass.”
“About the MacLaurin book. I really can’t accept it either.”
He arched
Yvette Hines, Monique Lamont