Pleasured Read Free Page A

from the handsomeness of his face.
    He stared straight at Meg. She was accustomed to men’s stares. What was unfamiliar to her was the visceral pull she felt in return. She was suddenly, acutely aware of the sun’s warmth on her arms, the touch of the air on her face, as if her senses had awakened from a deep slumber. Even the scents carried on the breeze were suddenly sharper, the sounds brighter. Yet at the same time the world around her seemed to retreat, her focus narrowing to the carriage window.
    “Meg? Are you all right?” Gregory’s voice pulled her from her trance.
    “What?” She pulled her gaze away and looked up at the man she had known since childhood. “I’m sorry . . . what did you say?”
    “Nothing important. Just wondering how long the earlwould last this time.” Gregory gave her an odd look. “Is there something amiss? Do you feel ill?”
    Meg forced out a credible laugh. “Do I look so bad as that?”
    “You never look bad, as you are well aware,” he retorted. “You just seemed . . . very far away.” He glanced over at the carriage. The man in the carriage had pulled back and was now only an indistinct form in the shadows of the interior. “I thought—I wondered—do you know that chap?”
    “The Earl of Mardoun?” Meg’s voice dripped with scorn. “Oh, aye, I know him. I’ve never seen the man before, but his deeds speak for him. Tossing all his people out of their homes without the slightest thought for how they will live or where they will go, all so that he can make a few more pounds profit raising sheep instead. He’s a coldhearted devil.” No matter that he was a handsome one as well.
    “Perhaps he is unaware of his steward’s actions,” Gregory suggested mildly.
    Meg sent her friend a speaking glance. “It is like you to hope for the best in people. But I have dealt with too many of his sort to hold a rosy view of him. He is the sort Andrew was wont to bring home with him from Oxford—English ‘gentlemen’—haughty and fine and unaccountably full of themselves, certain that everyone else was put on this earth to serve them. Remember, it was the earl who hired MacRae as his steward, and I doubt that worm of a man would do aught but his master’s bidding.”
    “No doubt you’re right. I wonder Mardoun dares to come here. Surely he must know how everyone around the loch despises him.”
    “I doubt he cares. Or perhaps he is like MacRae andhe enjoys watching firsthand the misery he inflicts on the crofters.”
    “MacRae.” Gregory made a disgusted noise. “That man is a snake.”
    “Aye.” Meg’s jaw hardened.
    “Has MacRae been bothering you?” Gregory narrowed his eyes at her. “If he has, I’ll have a word with the man.”
    “Don’t you begin, as well.” Meg rolled her eyes. “I can handle MacRae; he is a pest, nothing more.”
    “Very well. I shall not plague you . . . as long as you promise to tell me if the man needs a more physical reminder.”
    “Yes, yes.” Meg heaved a martyr’s sigh. “I promise I will tell you if MacRae grows too difficult. At least I can count on you not to send the man to his grave, which is not something I can trust with my brother.”
    “’Twould be no loss if he died.”
    “It’s not MacRae I worry about. I don’t want to see Coll in gaol.” Behind them came a shout and a slap of the reins, and they turned to see the earl’s carriage rumble off.
    “Well sprung, isn’t it?” Gregory said in an admiring voice. “Though I’d prefer something a little more flash myself.”
    Meg chuckled. “The Highlands roads will put those axles to the test well enough.” She made a face and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Enough about the Earl of Mardoun. How do you fare?” She tucked a hand into Gregory’s arm as they strolled down the street. “How is your father? I heard you visited him last week.”
    “Aye.” Gregory sighed, his face falling into unaccustomedly sober lines. “He seems