A Borrowed Scot by Karen Ranney Read Free Book Online Page A

silent all the way back to Uncle Bertrand’s home, a feat easily managed since no one in the carriage seemed inclined to talk, least of all to her.
    Instead of being a poor relation, she was to be married. Instead of living forever in Uncle Bertrand’s house, she was to have a husband.
    Not only was she free of Amanda, Uncle Bertrand, Aunt Lilly, and her four other cousins, but she was to have an establishment, a family, of her own.
    She wanted to dance. Even then, her feet wanted to tap on the carriage floor. If she’d begun to sing at the top of her voice, Algernon and Adam would have nudged each other and commented about poor daft Veronica, who was making a spectacle of herself. Had the girl no sense at all? Uncle Bertrand would have frowned at her again—or still—since he hadn’t stopped frowning.
    A husband. She was to have a husband. Not simply any husband, but an American: Montgomery Fairfax.
    He was a stranger.
    Perhaps she should be more sober, look at the situation with a more realistic view. While it was true he was a handsome man, appearance wasn’t as important as other qualities in a husband.
    He was kind and evidently possessed of compassion, or he wouldn’t have rescued her from the Society.
    He hadn’t been the least bit happy about it, however. His gaze hadn’t revealed any warmth when he’d looked at her. Her Gift had discerned the degree of his pain. Did he mourn for someone? The pain she’d felt in Montgomery had been strong and deep. Did he grieve for a lost love?
    Had her uncle pressured him into marrying her? Of course her uncle had used some sort of pressure to induce His Lordship to marry her. He hadn’t developed a tendre for her in the few hours they’d been together. Alone, together in a carriage, with nothing more than a thin robe between her and nakedness.
    He’d seen her naked.
    Heat traveled over her skin.
    So much for lust.
    Wasn’t he supposed to be overwhelmed by the power of his feelings for her? He’d seen a great deal more than her shapely ankles. Yet all he’d done was place her in his housekeeper’s company.
    What would she have done if he’d made an advance? Of course she would have dissuaded him quite precisely. She would have told him, in no uncertain terms, that she was not that type of young woman, her actions to the contrary.
    Yet he hadn’t done anything. He’d acted the perfect gentleman. She was the one who’d bent every rule of proper behavior.
    To be a good wife, she’d have to learn as much about her husband as possible. If for no other reason than to express her gratitude to him for rescuing her twice. Once, from a scandal of her own making, and secondly, from her abysmal future. She hadn’t the slightest idea how to be a wife, but she had some experience in watching a loving couple. Her parents had been devoted to one another.
    The carriage stopped in front of the house, and her uncle frowned at her. She nodded in response to the unspoken rebuke and waited until Algernon and Adam preceded her before leaving.
    She took the stairs quickly, grateful her aunt was nowhere about. That reckoning could, she hoped, wait until later that morning.
    Veronica closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned back against it, palms flat against the cool wood.
    She walked to the middle of the room, twirled in a circle with her arms spread wide, a dance of utter, complete joy. Twice, three times, four, she spun before collapsing on top of the bed, eyes closed, a smile curving her lips.
    Veronica Moira MacLeod murmured a fervent prayer of thanksgiving. Even the worst kind of husband would be better than being a poor relation.
    Her greatest wish had been granted.
    She’d been saved.
    “Were you intimate with him?”
    She froze.
    Slowly, she sat up to see Amanda standing in the doorway.
    “You did what you set out to do, Amanda.”
    She disliked Amanda intensely, and when they were alone, dropped all pretense of amiability. Over the last two years, she’d tried to