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did as she was bid. “What will these people think to see a fine English lady riding about in breeches?”
    “I do it all the time at home, Bessie, you know that.”
    “Yes, but what will the Scots think?
    Sybil fastened the buttons on her shirt as Bessie tied the back of her specially made breeches. “Laird MacBride has already seen me in my breeches.” She turned, finding it hard to keep the smile off her face. “He wasn’t shocked. Well, perhaps a bit. But I got the impression I had risen in his regard.”
    Sybil took one last glance in the mirror and pinched her cheeks. Then she chastised herself all the way to the stables. Laird MacBride was not someone she wished to impress. Despite rescuing her last night from Warwick and sneaking her into the house, then kissing her senseless, he was still a Scot with all the bad habits of that breed.
    Didn’t I just chastise him for thinking all Englishwomen were the same?
    She pushed that uncomfortable thought to the back of her mind and entered the stable. In the dim light Liam stood next to the black stallion he’d ridden the other day, rubbing his large palm down the horse’s velvety, soft nose. He murmured words in a language she didn’t understand, most likely Gaelic.
    The melodious rhythm of his words washed over her, tightening her nipples and moistening her woman’s parts. What would it be like to have him stroke her bare skin like that and murmur Gaelic words into her ear? Mesmerized, she watched him, his entire focus on the animal. Another ploy he most likely engaged to woo a woman into bed.
    As an unmarried miss she shouldn’t even be aware of such things. However, Sybil and Sarah had discovered her brother Drake’s hidden naughty book, and had spent many an evening in their bed commenting and giggling over the pictures. They had been amused to discover their older sisters, Marion and Abigail, had done the same thing. Except they’d been caught and sermonized by their brother.
    Liam stood in front of the window where dust motes danced in a stream of sunlight. He presented a virile image, one any woman would appreciate. With golden highlights in his ginger-colored hair and strong features—those of a warrior in times past—his countenance was remarkable. Enough so that her mouth dried up and tiny muscles fluttered low in her belly. Her eyes drifted downward to his broad shoulders covered in a white lawn shirt tucked into tight breeches. His muscular thighs were massive, as wide as her waistline. And his bottom!
    “Have ye had enough time to admire me, lass?” His deep, chiding voice broke into her thoughts, causing heat to rise to her face which, no doubt, was now crimson.
    She raised her chin and assessed him coolly. “You think quite a bit of yourself, sir. I was merely admiring the horse.”
    He broke into a grin and dropped his hand from the animal. “Verra good, lass. I like a woman who can think fast.”
    “I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about.” She swept past him—not so effective in breeches—and approached the other horse that had been tacked. Murmuring to the animal until she could collect her composure, she asked, “What is his name?”
    “Acair.”
    She continued to brush her palm over Acair’s nose. He was a beauty, dark brown with white stockings.
    “If yer ready, lass, we can set off.”
    Before she could move a muscle, Liam’s hands were wrapped around her waist, and she was hoisted onto the saddle. “I can mount myself.”
    “’Tis sure I am ye can, but mounting has always been my favorite part of the ride.”
    Once again heat flooded her body and rose to her face. She snapped her head around, but he stared at her in all innocence. Ha! He was as innocent as a wolf.
    Without further conversation, he moved to his horse and threw his leg over the saddle and grabbed the reins. She headed out of the stable before him, not so sure she liked the view of her bottom she gave him. She pulled up on her reins to allow