Free Secrets to Seducing a Scot by Michelle Marcos

him.
    “So what’s licked all the butter aff yer bread?”
    He blinked in disbelief. It seemed something out of a dream to be having a conversation with this woman. For the first time, he took a long look at her. She was a handsome woman, and though she was well past forty, he could just glimpse the beauty she had been in her twenties. She had shocking blue eyes, as so many of
her countrymen did, but hers were bold and much more perspicacious. Fine lines vined at the corners of her eyes and her cheeks had lost the plumpness of their youth, but her mouth was wide and sensual, a lovely feature for a woman of her advanced years.
    “I’m just a bit preoccupied, that’s all.”
    “Seems more like ye’re a bit afeard.”
    It jarred him that she could read him so well. After dozens of years spent in politics, he was fairly certain he didn’t exhibit his feelings to any perceivable measure. Yet her remark didn’t seem meant to belittle. She appeared genuinely concerned. And he was genuinely overwrought.
    “Yes. That, too.” Having admitted his failing, he could no longer look her in the eye. His gaze fell to her hands, which were gnarled with work.
    “Why?” she asked.
    He sighed deeply. “Because I fear for your people. And for mine. I want an end to the rebellion. And the Council won’t have it.”
    “Och. Ye mustn’t froth yerself over those ruffians. Any twelve Highlanders and a bagpipe make a rebellion. They’ll come ’round soon enough.”
    “No doubt, no doubt,” he said with false cheer. “It’s only the time from now to then that keeps my head in a knot. Things will improve soon. Thank you.”
    Despite his polite dismissal, the housekeeper didn’t leave. Earlington marveled at her boldness.
    “Ye’re fashed for a great deal more than that, are ye not?”
    Her voice was barely loud enough for him to hear. But his innermost being heard her loud and clear. Another human soul recognized the pain in him and wanted to soothe it.
    “Yes, I am.” His throat began to constrict as he realized
how much he wanted to unburden himself of the awful, choking truth.
    She lay the tray down on the tea table, crossed her hands at her tummy, and waited in silence for him to speak.
    He sighed. “Throughout my entire life, my country has been embroiled in war. When I was a boy, we were at war with the American colonies. Then it was battle with the Irish. Then war with the French. I can scarcely remember a time when we were not fighting someone. I went into politics with the express purpose of bringing peace to England. Perhaps it was only a pipe dream. But I thought we could achieve that goal if only we wanted it enough.
    “So when I became minister plenipotentiary to the United States in ’11, I believed this was my opportunity to show the world that Britain was not this horrible, warmongering nation. I entered into negotiations with President Madison, and I believed we had reached an amicable solution between our governments. But I failed to comprehend England’s resolve. In the interest of achieving peace, I compromised my directives … conceded too many of our positions, perhaps. Within less than a year, the king had me recalled, and the United States declared war on Britain. I failed in my official mission—and in my personal one.” His voice trailed off.
    Her astute eyes scanned him. “And noo ye’re afeard ye’re about to fail again?”
    Earlington nodded slowly. “I don’t want to go down in history as the ambassador who begot wars instead of ending them. It was my sincerest hope that I could bring a peaceful solution to the unrest in Scotland. Then I’d be remembered as the peacemaker I always wanted to be.”

    It was her turn to sigh. “Seems to me that if the king truly wanted a peaceful solution, he’d have sent somebody else.”
    Earlington’s eyes flew open. It was a hurtful thing to say. He was offended by her remark, especially after his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. “I’m