Oh God. Oh dear God. Anna realized what she’d so stupidly just done, and tried frantically to step into the breach she had created, to think of something, anything, to move the conversation forward, but Nigel laughed happily and looked at Drake before she could speak. “The resemblance is uncanny, really! One would think all Scots look alike!” he exclaimed, and laughed roundly.
Drake, however, did not laugh, but was suddenly looking very intently at Grif. Grif did not shy away from Drake’s stare, but steadily returned it, even though Mr. Fynster-Allen was also peering at him as if seeing him for the first time.
“Are you acquainted with him? Captain Lockhart?” Nigel asked Grif.
“Never heard his name before in me life.”
In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, Anna stepped into the middle of the four men, flipped open her fan. “Mr. Lockhart,” she said to Nigel, “you simply must tell me all about Bath. Are the waters truly as medicinal as they say?” she asked, shoving her elbow at him. “Perhaps you might help me to a cup of punch and tell me all!”
“Punch?” Nigel asked, startled.
“Punch,” Anna repeated, a bit more firmly.
“Yes, yes, certainly, Miss Addison!” he crowed. “I’d be delighted!” He took her elbow, escorted her away from Drake, Grif, and Mr. Fynster-Allen, his gaze locked firmly on her bosom.
Anna’s gaze was locked firmly ahead, for she could not bring herself to turn and look back at the three men she’d left in her silly, girlish, ridiculously chatty wake.
Twenty-one
I n spite of her blunder, Anna was all smiles when Dudley showed her into the main salon at Dalkeith House the next afternoon.
Grif was waiting for her, had been waiting an hour or more, his mind racing around so many wild and ambiguous thoughts that his head was aching.
He could no longer deny that strange things were happening to him. Feelings were surfacing he’d never really experienced, his thoughts were turning increasingly to Anna, and he had convinced himself that he had lost his mind, for he was, he realized, extremely jealous of Drake Lockhart.
Or rather, jealous of Anna’s fondness for him.
So when she appeared smiling and flushed from her walk, looking absolutely beautiful in a green and gold walking gown that brought out the gold in her hair and her eyes, and smelling like a veritable rose garden, he lost all sense of humor and immediately sprang to his feet, walked briskly to the door and locked it, then turned around, glaring at her.
Naturally, being the diabhal, Anna just laughed and then held a smile that was startlingly bright.
Grif clasped his hands at his back to keep them from touching her. “Did ye enjoy yerself, then?” he asked as he walked slowly toward her.
“Would you mean my walk across town? Or the soirée?” she asked coyly.
“The soirée,” he said, inclining his head.
“The soirée,” she said, tapping a finger against her bottom lip. “Let me think on it. Hmmm…. Ah yes. Ienjoyed it enormously!” she cried, and impetuously whirled about in a moment of exuberance. “I daresay I’ve never had quite so much fun at a gathering! It seemed as if the stars and moon hung above me the entire night!” She laid a hand on her heart and beamed at him. “I really must thank you, Grif. You’ve been a great help to me.”
“I’m so grateful I could be of service,” he said snidely, which, of course, did not affect her grin in the least. “But if ye think to trap me, ye willna succeed.”
“Trap you?” she exclaimed happily. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean, ye wee diabhal, that ye reminded Lockhart the Younger of the captain’s visit. I canna help but wonder why ye’d do such a thing. Did ye hope he’d discover me?”
She winced, seated herself on the very edge of a chair. “That was an unfortunate mishap—”
“Mishap? Diah, lass, ye sound as if ye did no more than twist yer ankle!” he exclaimed, stealing a glimpse of said ankle.
“Oh, please, don’t be cross,” she said cheerfully. “I inadvertently blurted it without thinking. But surely then it was obvious that I was attempting to move Nigel along. I’m quite sorry for the whole thing, truly,” she said, looking hopefully at him. “But I gave you my word that I’d not reveal your identity, and I did not.”
He considered her, sitting there, eyes as bright as the stars that blinked over Loch Chon, skin as smooth as butter cream. She must have read his doubt, because she crossed her heart in silent promise and arched a perfect brow.
Still, Grif shook his head and wearily pushed a hand through his hair.
“And I did attempt to smooth it all over.”
That brought Grif’s head up. “Ye did what?”
“Drake had just one tiny question, that’s all.”
“Criosd! What question?”