Free When a Scot Loves a Lady by Katharine Ashe Page A

any port in a storm will do. Quite literally.” He chuckled, deep enough to be pleasingly masculine. “Are you lacking members of your party?”
    â€œOur servants, sir.”
    Lord Blackwood came to her side. He extended his hand to the newcomer. Mr. Cox passed his gloves into his other palm and shook hands.
    â€œIt is excellent to finally meet you, my lord. It must be six years since I had the pleasure of your brother’s companionship in arms.”
    â€œSeiven.” The earl released him. “Take a dram of whiskey afore denner, Cox?”
    â€œThank you. Don’t mind if I do.”
    â€œWhiskey?” Emily furrowed her brow. “May I have a dram as well, Lord Blackwood?”
    The Scot’s mouth curved upward. “Aye, miss. If ye wish.”
    If you wish .
    He was too close now. Memory of the sensation of his hand on her face, his caress on her lips, weakened Kitty, and it felt at once thrilling and horrid. He welcomed this tradesman as though he were an equal. He acted like a ruffian and occasionally spoke words that rendered her perfectly breathless. He was the most peculiar nobleman she had ever been acquainted with, and he made her heart race merely standing beside her.
    â€œLady Katherine, will you take a glass as well? Join us in celebrating Christmas early?” Mr. Yale handed Emily and Mr. Cox glasses. Kitty welcomed the opportunity to cross the chamber, away from the earl’s unnerving presence.
    â€œCapital idea.” Mr. Cox lifted his glass in salute. “We shall be in this village until the snow melts, I suspect. In Shropshire for the holiday!”
    â€œSome of us were intended in Shropshire for the holiday already,” Mr. Yale said, offering a half-filled glass to Kitty. She sipped. It burned, then invaded the place behind her breasts with heat. She drank again, deeper.
    â€œThen you are not of a single party?” Mr. Cox glanced with interest about the group. “I had imagined these elegant ladies in your company, my lord.”
    â€œâ€™Tis a sorry disappointment.” Lord Blackwood raised the glass to his mouth and looked directly at Kitty.
    â€œLord Blackwood and Mr. Yale are on their way to no admitted destination, Mr. Cox,” she said in impressively measured tones given her quivering insides. His hand around the glass was beautiful, strong, and long-fingered. She could still feel it upon her. “Lady Marie Antoine and I are intended at her parents’ home not many miles distant.”
    â€œAh, then I am sorry you have not reached your family, Lady Marie Antoine.” He looked truly contrite. “But, I say, we shall make a party of it here instead.”
    â€œWhat do you have in mind, sir?” Mr. Yale lounged on the sofa, his glass full to the brim.
    â€œLady Katherine and I were to bake bread tomorrow,” Emily said. “Perhaps we could find the ingredients for a pudding and make one of those instead.”
    â€œHave you any idea how?” the Welshman drawled.
    â€œHave you ?”
    He offered her that slight smile Kitty now recognized, and took a long quaff of whiskey.
    â€œNo doubt Mrs. Milch will know a recipe,” Emily said.
    â€œThen pudding it shall be.” Mr. Cox appeared all contentment. He turned to Kitty with a glimmer in his very blue eyes. “What else shall we have, my lady?”
    â€œNed plays the fiddle. We’ll have music.” Mr. Milch set plates atop the lace covering. “Gert! Where’s the boy? He must play for these good folk before dinner.”
    â€œThe boy?” Mr. Cox lifted a brow. “Why, he is seeing to my horse, of course. I gave him a penny for it.”
    Lord Blackwood met Kitty’s gaze. His mouth curved into the barest hint of a smile. A private smile, meant for her it seemed. Her breath faltered.
    â€œWe canna lack a bonfire.” He spoke as though to her directly.
    â€œA bonfire?” she said. His gaze seemed to