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had a season in Edinburgh.
     Well, not really a season, but several families do gather for a few weeks.”
    “I like Edinburgh,” he said agreeably.
    “I do, too.”
    And just like that she realized that she no longer felt on edge with him. She did
     not know how it was possible, that she could kiss a man until she barely remembered
     how to speak, and then just a few minutes later could feel utterly normal.
    But she did.
    And of course that was when Lord Oakley returned, scowling mightily. “My apologies,”
     he said the moment he entered the room. “Miss Burns, we’ve found a room for you. I’m
     sorry to say it’s not elegant, but it is clean.”
    “Thank you,” she said.
    “You can have my room, Bret,” Lord Oakley said.
    “And where will you sleep?”
    Lord Oakley waved off the question. “Robin will be down in a moment. He’ll show you
     the way.” He turned back to Catriona. “May I show you to your chamber, Miss Burns?
     I apologize for the lack of a chaperone, but there isn’t a female available who might
     take my place. And I assure you, your virtue is safe with me.”
    Catriona glanced over at the duke. She trusted him, she realized, although she could
     not have articulated why. He gave a little nod, so she said, “That will not be a problem,
     Lord Oakley. Your escort is the least improper event of the evening, I’m sure.”
    Lord Oakley gave a tired smile. “This way, if you please.”
    She took his arm and headed out of the sitting room. After a few twists and turns,
     she realized she’d be sleeping in the servants’ quarters. But after all that had happened,
     she decided that as long as she had a blanket, she didn’t care.

Chapter 4
    The following morning
    C atriona had always been an early riser and was well used to breaking her fast with
     only herself for company, but when she walked into the dining room, the Duke of Bretton
     was already seated at the table, slathering butter on a piece of toast.
    “Good morning, Miss Burns,” he said, coming instantly to his feet.
    Catriona dipped into a brief curtsy, bowing her head less out of respect than the
     desire to hide the faint blush that had stolen across her cheeks.
    She’d kissed him the night before. She’d kissed a duke. Good heavens, her first kiss
     and she had to start with a duke ?
    “Are you enjoying your breakfast?” she asked, turning to the well-laid sideboard.
     Whatever Taran Ferguson’s faults, he’d provided an excellent morning meal. There were
     two kinds of meat, eggs prepared three ways, salted herring, and toast and scones.
     And, of course, homemade butter and jam.
    “In all honesty,” the duke said, “I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a breakfast
     more.”
    “Mrs. McVittie is the best housekeeper in the district,” Catriona confirmed, loading
     her plate with food. “I don’t know why she stays at Finovair. Everyone is always trying
     to steal her away.”
    “I recommend the scones,” Bretton said.
    Catriona nodded as she took a seat across from him. “I always recommend Mrs. McVittie’s
     scones.”
    “I wonder why we can’t get them right in England?” he mused.
    “I shall not answer that,” Catriona said pertly, “for fear of insulting an entire
     country.”
    He chuckled at that, as she’d hoped he would. She needed to keep this conversation
     light, her observations wry. If she could manage that, she could forget that less
     than twelve hours earlier, his lips had been on hers. Or at the very least, make him forget it.
    It was going to be a very long few days if he thought she was pining after him. Good
     heavens, if he so much as thought she might be trying to trap him into marriage, he’d
     run screaming for the trees.
    A distinctly non-noble Scotswoman and an English duke. It was ludicrous.
    “You’ll have to pour your own tea,” the duke said with a nod toward the pot. “One
     of Ferguson’s . . . Well, I don’t know what you’d call him, certainly not a