Free Undressed (Undone by Love) by Kristina Cook

more than a sennight ago he’d thought himself in love with Honoria, eager to ask for her hand. And now here he was, sniffing around this enigmatic Scotswoman like a hound. And further ruining her prospects in the process. Maybe he was a reprobate after all.
    For several minutes, they walked in silence . Finally Colin chanced a look at Brenna’s face, cast into shadows by the brim of her straw bonnet. The exertion had brought a flush to her cheeks, staining them the faintest petal pink. Her eyes shone, round and wide under a thick fringe of lashes. A smile danced on her lips, dimpling one cheek in a delightful fashion. He supposed her features were what one would consider rather ordinary, except for her brilliantly hued eyes. Surely the fashionable set would scoff at the freckles that dotted her nose. Yet there was no denying that her face delighted him in every way. True, she was not a dazzling beauty, not what the ton would call an Incomparable . But she was exceptionally pretty nonetheless, in a simple, fresh-faced way. Her countenance bespoke of intelligence and sensibility; how, he could not exactly say. Yet it did. And it was damn bloody appealing, too.
    “Are ye finished, Mr. Rosemoor?” she asked, her eyes never veering from the path ahead, the smile never leaving her lips .
    He started in surprise, drawn from his ruminations . “Am I finished what?”
    “Why, examining me, of course.”
    “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”  Had he been so obvious? Even if he had, most English misses would not have dared to comment on it.
    “Hmm, if you say so.”
    “Yes, well...ahem. I say, you must have left many broken hearts behind in Scotland.”
    “Nay, sir, none at all,” she answered honestly, all coyness gone .
    “I find that difficult to believe.”
    “’Tis true, I’m afraid. I hadn’t the time for such things as flirtations. I was busy running an estate, ye know.” 
    “Still, most women think of marriage . Far more than they should, from what I’ve gathered listening to my sisters talk.”
    “Oh, one day, when the time comes, I’ll take a husband . There are several men I respect in Lochaber, men I’ve known all my life who would be pleased to add Glenbroch to their holdings. Men who work their own land, Mr. Rosemoor, as I do. We haven’t had the time or leisure to devote to the frivolities of courtship, as the English are so fond of.”  Her tone was light, playful, even as she scolded him. “But someday...”  She shrugged. “How about ye, Mr. Rosemoor? Surely ye have broken many a heart in your time.”
    “Spend an afternoon in any Mayfair drawing room and you’ll hear tales that I have broken dozens.”  He shook his head . “I should be so lucky. The truth is, most ladies see me as the brotherly type—the type they dance with and confide in while the true objects of their affection, the very rakes and rogues they protest about, look on.”
    “But why, then, do they tell tales about ye that aren’t true?”
    “Because the ton prefers a scandal to the truth any day. They delight in them; they revel in spreading lies and untruths amongst themselves. It gives them something to do. And at the present, I’m their favorite scandal. I should be honored, really.”
    She shook her head . “Truly, I’ll never understand the English.”
    “Are the English really so very different from the Scots?”
    “Perhaps such intrigues play out in Edinburgh. I wouldna know. But the people of Lochaber— my people—are a more industrious lot. We have far better ways to occupy our time and our minds.”
    “I’m not entirely sure I believe you . Human nature is universal, after all.”
    “’Tis true, but only idleness and lack of meaningful occupation can nurture such tendencies, I think . And in my opinion, the English are far too idle. At least, those who reside in Mayfair are.”
    “Those like me, you mean?”
    “Nay, I didna mean...that is, I’m sure ye...well...”  She’d never