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tail-wagging. “The big one is Fergus, and the wee lass is Una. They’re Scottish deerhounds.”
    “‘Wee’ one?” Lady Charlotte repeated, lifting an eyebrow. “Good heavens.”
    “They’ll keep an eye on us,” Rowena said, standing again. “Let’s be off, Janie.”
    That left Ranulf gazing at Lady Charlotte. “Do the dogs frighten ye, my lady?” he asked.
    “No. They are very … wild looking, though.”
    “Aye. They’re a touch bristly. But they’ll outrun a greyhound on uneven ground.” For a moment he continued looking at her, but beginning to feel rather … odd, he gestured toward the vanishing debutantes. “After ye, my lady.”
    With the other two giggling and whispering, he fell in with Lady Charlotte several yards behind them. This afternoon he would find a map of this damned place so he would know where he was going. At the moment he felt far too vulnerable, following two bairns thirteen years his junior.
    “Guards truly aren’t necessary on Bond Street,” Lady Charlotte commented, glancing over her shoulder at the dour Debny and then at the hounds on Ranulf’s heels.
    “It may be safe and civilized for ye, my lady,” he returned, “but I’m a stranger here, and I’ll keep watch over those under my protection.”
    Her lips curved again in a smile. To himself he could admit that she had a pretty smile; if he’d favored tall, skinny English women who spoke when they shouldn’t, he would even say she had skin that looked as smooth as fine cream, and that up close her hair shone like silken sunshine.
    “Are Janie and I under your protection, then?” she asked, amusement in her voice.
    “Laugh if ye want, but aye. Ye’ve taken in a member of my family. That makes ye clan to me.”
    “But we’re not Scottish.”
    He tilted his head. “Nobody’s perfect.” Ranulf moved a breath closer to her. Her hair smelled of roses, he noted, ignoring the responding tug in his gut. “And I’d thank ye to keep in mind that what’s safe for Mayfair ladies might not be so fer a Highland lass.”
    This time she looked full at him, spears of green lit by sunlight deep in her eyes. “It speaks well of you that you’re so protective of your sister,” she said after a moment, “but have you considered that she might not have tried to escape if your grip hadn’t been so tight?”
    So this skinny, fair-haired woman thought she had him dissected and analyzed and stuck on a pin. “I’ll nae have a Sasannach woman telling me the right or wrong of what I’m doing,” he snapped. “Ye dunnae know me, or mine, or anything aboot me. And ye’ll nae advise me how to raise my own sister.”

 
    Chapter Two
    Charlotte stared at the Marquis of Glengask. Good heavens. She’d seen his lack of manners last night at being delayed in seeing his sister, but she had the sudden realization that she wouldn’t want to be there when he was truly enraged. His blue eyes practically crackled as he met her gaze, daring her to argue with him further.
    Taking a breath, she inclined her head. “You’re absolutely correct, my lord. I don’t know you, and I have no right to criticize or advise you. What I do know is how I felt when I was Winnie’s age. She’s not a girl you can raise any longer. She’s a young lady with her own goals and dreams.”
    “And still ye argue,” he muttered.
    “You don’t mean to tell me that women in Scotland are mute, do you? You’ve had conversations with females before, surely.”
    For a moment he walked beside her in silence, his massive wild-haired gray hounds keeping pace with him. Hellhounds, indeed. Undoubtedly he’d been called the devil, before. And this devil was an impressive specimen, indeed.
    “Aye,” he said after a moment. “I’ve had conversations with females before. None who cared to risk a brawl, though. Lasses who know their place,” he finally said, something warmer touching his voice.
    As if she would ever attempt to brawl with anyone. “Their place