Free The Husband Hunt by Jillian Hunter

owls carried a more personal message for—"
    She broke off as her gaze lifted to the tall man leaning against the tree, his hard-planed face amused. Words escaped her as he gave her a slow, admonishing smile. Oh, how much had he heard? And why did those gray eyes of his make her feel as if she'd been caught bare naked, her feelings for him so painfully conflicted?
    "It's his lordship," the laundress said under her breath, and before Catriona knew it, the servants had abandoned her, and she was standing alone again at the pond as the English lord took a step toward her.
    He whistled through his even white teeth. "What a sight. What a performance."
    She did not understood why, but the mockery of this man, with his aristocratic elegance, wounded her more deeply than all the insults of her past combined. "It wasn't a performance," she said, a blush burning her cheekbones. "The stones have power."
    "Is that right?"
    "They're kelpie stones, some of them. Others have been cast up from Elfland."
    "All the way from Elfland? My goodness."
    He began to advance on her, forcing her to step back to the water's edge. "Watching that nonsense was almost as interesting as what Aunt Marigold told me about you a few minutes ago."
    Catriona's mouth tightened. She considered dumping the bucket on his arrogant head but decided she couldn't reach. "I'm sinking," she whispered.
    "What?"
    "In the mud. I think—I believe I'm starting to sink."
    He looked down quickly and saw immediately that she wasn't exaggerating. In his determination to intimidate her, he had practically walked her into the pond. "Oh, hell," he muttered, wondering what on earth he had hoped to prove.
    Try as he might, he could not completely squelch the approval he felt beneath his show of anger. The servants at Rutleigh Hall were like family. He cared for them and did not hold with the current belief that the lower class did not merit kind treatment, although the state of his housekeeper's stomach did seem to be taking kindness a little too far.
    He grabbed Catriona by the waist to haul her back onto the ground, bringing her body flush up against his. For an instant, he was taken aback by the shock of pleasure that he felt, his first instinct to pull her even closer. Touching her did something dangerous to his mind, not to mention his body's flagrant reaction to her tempting curves. The herbal scent of her skin invaded his senses, and he was acutely aware of how still the spring air felt, of a bee buzzing over a patch of mint thyme at the pond's edge. "Look at you," he exclaimed, glancing down in chagrin. "And me. My trousers are covered in mud."
    "So they are." She tried to dart around him; she had liked being held in his arms far too much for her own good. "In fact, I'd better run inside to take off this dress before these stains set—"
    "Not yet." He caught her free hand and held her still until she slowly revolved to face him. "I know you lied to us, Catriona," he said quietly.
    "You do?"
    His heavy brows met in a frown. "You're the
illegitimate
daughter of an earl. Roxshire apparently never recognized you."
    "I forgot to mention that," she said with a sigh. "It isn't exactly the sort of thing one goes about announcing in public."
    He studied her without a trace of emotion on his face. "I suppose that there are worse secrets in the world," he conceded. "Is that why you looked so frightened in the drawing room? Did you sense that your secret was about to be revealed?"
    She hesitated. She had come within seconds of bolting when Howard brought word that a strange man was at the door, using Lionel's name as a reference. In her irrational panic, she thought she had been tracked down. It was too easy to imagine James, in his desperation, forcing her into that old man's arms for money, believing he had no choice. Yet for all his callous behavior, her brother was capable of the deepest affection, and she cared for him.
    "Well?" Knight's voice coiled around her like a whip, commanding