Free [MacKenzie Sally] The Naked Laird(book4me.org) by The Naked Laird Page A

Grace gave her a sad little smile. “I thought so.”
    “Perhaps.” They were at the door now. Nell put her hand out to stop Grace. “But it is a lot. I still love my husband.” It was true. The love was tangled with hurt and disappointment, but it was still there.
    “And yet you have no real marriage.” Grace touched Nell’s hand lightly. “I don’t mean to criticize. I thank you most sincerely for your candor. Only, I don’t believe I could live your life. I would be too lonely.”
    Ah. Loneliness. Now that was something Nell could speak about with authority.
     
    Ian cut his venison into precise pieces. The lake’s ice-cold water had helped clarify his thinking. He had made his decision. He would get through this damn house party and then he would see about starting divorce proceedings.
    He stared down at his dinner plate. He had no appetite. He slanted a look to his right. Nell appeared to be similarly afflicted. She was ignoring her meal entirely.
    He glanced around the table. In fact, very little food was being consumed. Well, Motton and his aunt were doing a credible job on their dinners and the Addison twins were heaping their plates with second helpings—not to mention Mr. Boland’s single-minded attention to his victuals—but Wilton and Lady Oxbury, Dawson and Lady Grace were exercising their forks much as he and Nell were—using them to push their food from one side of their dish to the other.
    He took a sip of wine. He was not going to touch a drop of whisky tonight. He was going up to that bloody room stone sober. He brought a forkful of venison to his mouth—and then returned it to his plate. He felt like he had a rock in his stomach.
    He didn’t want to divorce Nell, but what could he do? He needed an heir. They had no real marriage—and now no hope of one. He’d trampled his chances good and well last night.
    He sneered at his green beans. He hadn’t thought he was so stupid.
    “Is something amiss with your vegetables, Lord Kilgorn? I hope you didn’t find a twig or other indigestible bit. The kitchen maids occasionally get to gossiping and don’t pay as strict attention to their task as they should.” Miss Smyth leaned forward, pointing her fork at his plate as if she intended to pick through his beans herself to ascertain that all was well.
    He held his knife ready to beat back—or at least nudge away—her utensil if necessary. “No, no, there is nothing amiss. The beans are fine. Perfect.” It certainly wasn’t the kitchen’s fault everything tasted like ashes tonight.
    “Are you sure? You’ve hardly touched your dinner.”
    Good God, Miss Smyth sounded like his nursery maid. “I assure you, madam, the dinner is fine. I merely lack an appetite to do it justice.”
    “You aren’t sickening, are you?”
    He should say yes, but the woman actually looked concerned. “No, I am merely tired.” He smiled. “I’m sure I’ll sleep better and my appetite will return when you’ve been able to find me another bedchamber.”
    Damn. Miss Smyth’s eyes lit up. Was that a sly gleam of mischief he discerned? Surely she wasn’t going to make some salacious comment about lack of sleep and sharing a bed with Nell? It looked very much as if she was going to. She opened her mouth and horror gripped his soul.
    “Miss Smyth, can I trouble you to pass the sweetbreads?”
    Thank God for Miss Addison—whichever one it was. He would have sworn he’d never thank the Almighty for gracing the world with either of the annoying chits, but this one’s request could not have come at a better moment. Miss Smyth paused, shrugged, and grasped the requested dish.
    “Of course, Miss Addison. I’m so happy someone has a lusty appetite.”
    Nell started choking.
    “Are you all right?” Should he pound her on the back? He lifted his hand, but she raised hers to deter him.
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered when she stopped gasping. “I’m afraid a mouthful of wine went down the wrong way. I’m