Scotsmen Prefer Blondes (Muses of Mayfair)
Page 28
Malcolm whistled as he stepped carefully down the stairs. He kept walking, and she felt the unmistakable chill of the great hall as they passed through the ancient room. At some point there were more steps, and he reached forward and opened another door, but she was too disoriented to know where he was taking her.
Finally, he set her on her feet and unwrapped the blindfold from her head. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw that they were in the portrait gallery. The door to the tower was mere inches from her nose.
He nodded at the door. “Open it, darling. Your surprise is inside.”
“You don’t intend to lock me in again, do you?” she asked over her shoulder.
“You won’t know until you open it.”
She laughed as she gripped the handle. The iron was cold against her bare skin, but the heat of Malcolm close behind her pressed her onward. She opened the door. Inside, the room looked like something out of a fable — a happy story, not one of her Gothic tragedies. The daylight had died hours earlier, but the room was bathed in the glow of dozens of white candles perched on the staircase that spiraled around the room. A fire roared in the large fireplace, banishing the chill of the stones. Large tapestries and thick carpets replaced the ancient weaponry, although the broadsword she’d once threatened him with still hung on the wall, now in a place of honor. The lone, decrepit chair was gone, and an elegant sofa and armchairs were grouped near the fire.
The tower had been transformed into retreat fit for a medieval princess. She looked back at Malcolm, a question forming on her lips. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her into the room, turning her toward the section she had not seen from the door.
Amelia shrieked. A mahogany desk sat to one side of the room, as large and imposing as the one in Malcolm’s study. She nearly ran to it, dimly registering his laugh as she examined the desk. There were several quills and bottles of ink on top, along with a sander and a blotter. She opened the drawers and found heaping stacks of creamy writing paper, all waiting for her next stories.
Amelia looked up. Malcolm leaned against the doorframe, his eyes silver with love instead of mischief. “How did you know I wanted a study?” she asked.
“As much as you write, it seemed silly that you spend your time in a converted sitting room with a traveling writing desk. And this room is far enough away from the family wing that no one will disturb you.”
She sank into the chair and ran her fingers across the polished desk. “So you did not bring me here to lock me up?”
Malcolm laughed and pulled the door closed. “Only if I am locked in with you. The door locks from the inside now,” he said as he slammed the iron bolt home.
He strode toward her desk. In the candlelight, with a smile playing on his lips, he looked just as magical as he had the first night they met.
“This would be the perfect place for an illicit assignation,” she teased.
He reached out and tweaked her nose. “You’re not going to use that paper to invite a lover here, are you?”
“Only if you will frank a letter to yourself, my lord.”
Malcolm pulled her up into his arms. “Then you like your present?”
“I love it,” she said. “This is the best present I’ve ever received.”
He kissed her then. She kissed him back, matching his hunger. It didn’t have the same forbidden edge as their first kiss, the one in the library that had bound them to each other all those months ago.
But if the thrill wasn’t quite the same, the devotion and love more than made up for it.
Finally, she broke away. “I haven’t given you your present yet,” she said.
“You are the only present I need,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her again.
She laughed. “No, I think you will like this one. I want you to choose the title for my next project.”
Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “Can the title be Amelia Spends the Year in Bed with Malcolm?”
She swatted him. “Beastly man. I’ve come up with three for you to choose from.”
He crossed his arms and waited.
“The first,” she said, “is The Evil Earl.”
“Absolutely not. It sounds like you’re setting me up as the villain,” he said.
“Then what do you think about The Mad Highland Laird and the Innocent English Lady?”
He shook his head decisively. “Based on my experience with Highland lairds and English ladies, that is entirely inaccurate.”
She paused and pretended to think, anticipating his reaction to her next words. “And how do you feel about The Expected Heir of Carnach?”
His smile widened. “Now that shows definite promise. How long do you think it will be until you release this gem?”
She ran a hand over her belly, still flat beneath her gown. “Perhaps seven months.”
Malcolm’s eyes lit up. He wrapped his arms around her again. “This may be the best story I’ve heard you tell yet.”
“Then are you happy?” she asked. “Even though I won’t be able to go with you to London for the Season?”
He kissed the top of her head. “Only if you’re happy to let me stay here with you.”
She pulled back and pretended to scowl at him. “Unfair, my lord. You will be an absolute tyrant by the end of my pregnancy, I’m sure.”
“You do know me so well.”
“There is still one problem, Malcolm.”
“And what is that?” he asked, catching her wrist to pull her back into his embrace.
Amelia tilted her head up and looked into his eyes. Intuition or not, she saw their future in his eyes — and it was brighter than any story she could write.
She grinned at him, embracing her fate. “What can we possibly tell our families when we miss dinner again tonight?”
THE END
Books by Sara Ramsey
Muses of Mayfair series
Heiress Without A Cause
Scotsmen Prefer Blondes
The Marquess Who Loved Me – Summer 2012
A Note From The Author:
As I continue to write the Muses of Mayfair series, I’ve realized these books are my love letter to the power of female friendships. I couldn’t have written this book, or anything else, without my own muses, and I’m so grateful that they’re in my life. While all of my friends and family have been wonderfully supportive throughout my writing journey, I especially want to thank Katie, Heather, and Terry for reading early drafts and being invaluable friends and sounding boards. I also must thank Vidya, Claudia, Lauren, Katrina, Ritu, Tammy, and all my other friends for their support and love — and for dragging me out of the house and plying me with Champagne when I’m getting too hermity.
On the business side, I must thank my indomitable agent, Jennifer Schober, and everyone else at Spencerhill Associates (especially Carol Guerin, who keeps me from going mad if Jenn is out of the office). Thanks also go to Krista Stroever, who did an amazing job editing this book — her insights amazed me, and any mistakes remaining in the book are entirely mine. I also want to thank all the book bloggers and reviewers who’ve picked up my books, and Joan Schulhafer and Deb Tobias for their help in marketing this series.
And finally, I want to thank you for spending your time with Amelia and Malcolm. I’m so thrilled that this book found its way into your hands, and I hope you enjoyed it! If you want to be notified when future books come out, participate in my online contests, or get special sneak peeks of upcoming works, please join my mailing list at http://www.sararamsey.com/wordpress/newsletter/.
Thanks again! Ellie’s book, The Marquess Who Loved Me, is coming in Summer 2012, and I can’t wait to share it with you.
Sara Ramsey
San Francisco, California
March 2012
Sara Ramsey writes fun, feisty Regency historical romances. She won the prestigious 2009 Romance Writers of America ® Golden Heart award with her first book, Scotsmen Prefer Blondes (formerly titled An Inconvenient Marri
age). The prequel, Heiress Without A Cause (formerly titled One Night to Scandal), was a 2011 Golden Heart finalist.
Sara grew up in a small town in Iowa, and her obsession with fashion, shoes, and all things British is clearly a rebellion against her hopelessly uncool youth. She graduated from Stanford University in 2003 with a degree in Symbolic Systems (also known as cognitive science) and a minor in history. Sara subsequently worked at Google for seven years in a variety of sales, management, and communications roles. She left Google in 2010 to pursue her writing career full time. Read all about her Regency obsessions and upcoming works at www.SaraRamsey.com.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue