Free The Pursuit by Johanna Lindsey Page A

chaperon showed up to “grill” him, as the young Justin had put it. He hadn’t counted on the pleasure just being in her presence again would cause him, though, as well as touching her, albeit impersonally. He nearly forgot to begin the dance, merely stood there in the middle of the floor staring at her and causing curious looks from those couples twirling past them.
    She remarked, “I was beginning tae think—well, no’ beginning, I was definitely thinking it—that I’d ne’er be seeing you again.”
    Her voice broke the trance and got his feet moving. “I was having the same fear, if you must know. When I found out where you were staying, I—”
    “You knew and didna pay me a visit?”
    “Perhaps you aren’t aware of the consequence of the people you’re staying with? Without a calling card for entry, or an actual invitation from one of them, I couldn’t get through the front door.”
    “Och, is that why? I didna know. We’re no’ so formal in the Highlands.”
    Most people weren’t so formal, but then most people didn’t carry the title of a duke either. “I suppose I’ll need to meet your sponsor tonight, to ensure that I can call on you in a proper manner hereafter.”
    “Dinna sound so aggrieved.” She grinned. “Megan St. James is a verra nice lady, and verra understanding. And she already knows about you.”
    “Does she, now?”
    “I recall asking her if she knew you,” she said with a slight blush.
    “To which she replied in the negative, of course,” he returned dryly.
    “Och, dinna take that personally. She’s no’ a social butterfly herself. The St. Jameses dinna come tae London often. They prefer tae live quietly in the country.”
    “Then why is she sponsoring you here this season?” he asked.
    “Their Graces have been friends o’ m’parents e’en afore I was born. They had a hand in getting them married actually. And I had few prospects at home, of a matrimonial sort, so Megan suggested I come here tae rectify that.”
    “I find it hard to believe you had no prospects at home,” he said.
    She blushed again as she attempted to explain. “My family can be a wee bit intimidating.”
    Lincoln supposed that was true enough. He might have thought twice about approaching the laird of Clan MacGregor for permission to court his daughter—if he’d known ahead of time that she was his daughter. On second thought, it wouldn’t have made the least bit of difference to him, but he had to allow that it might to others.
    “How much competition am I up against?”
    He asked it lightly, but he was dreading the answer. She’d had nearly three weeks to meet the cream of London society. He’d tortured himself a few times to stand outside the duke’s residence and watch the stream of men arriving and granted entrance. There to visit young Justin—or Melissa’s suitors? He had naturally assumed the latter, unaware that Their Graces had a son nearing twenty.
    She answered in a light tone as well. “I’ve found no one worth encouraging.”
    “Will you encourage me?”
    There was no teasing in that question. He held her eyes with his. His fingers tightened on herwaist and hand. Their movements slowed, didn’t keep up with the music, almost stopped. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, not to kiss her right there.
    Would he ever find her alone where he could give in to that urge? Would he ever be in her presence and not have that urge? Probably not, in either case. She was just too sumptuous, too desirable in every way, and he’d never been so strongly attracted before.
    Yet another blush, much more prominent this time, broke the spell. That was answer enough. To ask for more would be improper, so he changed the subject instead.
    “I haven’t noticed your father here. Your parents haven’t come to London with you?”
    “They’ll be coming next month,” she told him. “M’da doesna like London. Tae get him tae stay here e’en a week was asking