Free Rose In Scotland by Joan Overfield

proposition you refuse to describe in any detail.”
    Her cheeks grew pink at his blunt summation of the situation. “It isn’t like that,” she muttered, furious that he could reduce her careful plans to foolishness with a few well-spoken words.
    “Then how is it?” he demanded, leaning forward in his chair to hold her gaze. “And before you say another word,” he added, even as she was opening her lips to speak, “I warn you I’ll do nothing to bring shame to the general. He’s a fine man, and I’ll not have him upset.”
    “Upset him?” she exclaimed. “How can this possibly upset him when the entire thing is his idea?”
    “What idea?”
    Too angry to prevaricate, she said the first thing to pop into her mind. “That you marry me, you dolt!” she snapped, and then watched in satisfaction when he went slack-jawed with disbelief. His mouth opened and closed several times, the gift of speech having clearly deserted him.
    “What did you say?” he managed at last, his voice sounding like a rusty hinge badly in need of oiling.
    Caroline hesitated uncertainly. Pleased as she was at having knocked the arrogant Scot back a pace, she was already regretting her impetuous tongue. Things were not going at all as she had planned, and she decided ’twas time she tossed in her hand and left the table before she had losteverything. “I believe I have said more than I should,” she said, walking over to the bellpull hanging beside the fireplace. “I shall have Campton inform Grandfather you are here, and he can answer your questions.”
    But he was not about to be dissuaded. He rose to his feet and stalked over to where she was standing. “Why should the general want you to marry me?” he demanded, reaching out to lay a staying hand on her arm. “Are you with child and looking for a man, any man, to give your bastard a proper name?”
    Caroline did not stop to think, but slapped him full across the face with as much strength as she could muster. He allowed the blow to land, and then grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him.
    “That slap I admit I deserved,” he conceded, controlling her furious struggles with contemptuous ease. “But I’ll not have you beating me as if I were no more than a servant.”
    “How dare you!” she said, furious at his charge. “I’ve never struck a servant in my life!”
    To her fury, a mocking grin spread across his handsome features. “That would explain why you made such a poor job of it,” he said, laughing as she tried to free her hand. “I’ve had puffs of wind do more damage. Ah, ah—” He tightened his grip, anticipating her next move. “No more, I warn you. I’ve never in my life raised a hand to a woman, but you tempt me sorely.”
    She ceased her struggles, accepting grudgingly that she would only be freed when he chose to release her. She remained rigid in his hold, her eyes fixed on a point over his shoulder. Severalseconds passed before he finally released her hand and took a cautious step backward.
    “Very well,” he began, eyeing her warily. “Now I would know what you mean by speaking of marriage. Are you with child?”
    Her elaborate coiffure had been disturbed by their grappling, and she brushed back a curl dangling against her cheek. “No,” she said through gritted teeth, “I am not.”
    She felt his gaze go to her tightly cinched waist. “Are you certain?”
    “Of course I am certain!” she retorted, feeling more angry and embarrassed than she ever had in her life. “I’ve never been with a man in my … oh!” She broke off, sending him an aggrieved scowl. “Why am I bothering to explain myself to you? It is obvious you are no gentleman!”
    “On that, my lady, we are in agreement,” he responded, inclining his head mockingly. “And that is something I would caution you to remember. So,” he continued before she could speak, “if it is not a babe you are carrying, why the offer of marriage? It is the general’s idea, you