A novelty in a woman. A disaster in a wife.
But perhaps lending an extra touch of spice to a mistress?
“It will be a vast inconvenience to you, if we stay until my father’s leg is mended.”
Fergus tried his soup before he answered calmly and with authority, because he knew he was in the right. He always was. “In the Highlands, we have a strong tradition of hospitality. I’d be delighted to have you and your father as my guests as long as you wish to stay.”
“That can’t be true.” He rather liked the wry amusement that curved her lips.
In fact, apart from her outlandish ideas of female equality and her tendency to flout his will, there was quite a lot he liked about her. Not least how she wore his sister’s dress. The frothy yellow concoction should look absurd on tall, dark Marina Lucchetti., but it only emphasized the elegant sparseness of that long body. Not to mention he approved of its pleasing tendency to droop over her bosom. He’d already noted that although her breasts mightn’t be abundant, they offered plenty of scope for a man’s entertainment.
While she wasn’t a conventional beauty or the sweet-faced blonde he usually favored, her features were interesting and vivid. Nobody looking at her would expect a biddable woman. But he’d had plenty of biddable women, and they’d failed to hold his attention once the initial heat faded.
Perhaps it was time to seek a challenge. At least for a while. This woman mightn’t be the oasis of calm he preferred in a lover, but in recompense, he sensed she contained oceans of passion inside that slender body. Perhaps he ought to set sail on the open sea, and discover what excitement the world held, once he left his safe harbor.
“As ye can see, signorina, I have plenty of room, and the prospect of some fresh company at dinner is welcome.”
“That’s so kind,” she said in a firm tone. When was the last time a woman had spoken to him with that peremptory note? “But I can’t possibly accept. I need at least six weeks to complete my work, and I’ve been told September is the last month when I can rely on the weather. Not that the weather here ever seems reliable.”
He ignored her disrespect for the mercurial Scottish weather. “That’s all very well, lassie, but your father has a broken leg. It would be dangerous to move him. Ye willnae want to risk permanent damage.”
“Of course not, but Maggie said it was a clean break.”
“Aye. But he’ll only heal if he stays in one place and lets the bone knit.”
Displeasure tightened that luscious mouth to a pout and made Fergus think of kisses. Fearing that his lustful thoughts must show in his eyes, he devoted his attention to his soup.
“Poor Papa.” She paused. “Could I take advantage of your kindness and ask you to keep him here, while I hire someone from the estate to take me on to Skye?”
Let her go when he’d only just found her? Not while he still drew breath. “Ye wouldnae rather stay and see how he recovers?”
The gesture she made was strangely helpless. It was clear that she was a woman who didn’t like to give up her plans. Fergus understood. He didn’t like it either.
“You know I would, but I’ve accepted a substantial sum of money to deliver a dozen Highland scenes to His Grace by next Easter, and I can’t break my contract.”
“Highland scenes or scenes of Skye?”
She paused in eating her soup. “I beg your pardon?”
“Did the duke specify that he wants pictures of Skye, or did he ask for views of Scotland?”
“Highland scenes are what he ordered, but everyone I spoke to said that Skye offers the best variety and the most typical landscapes.”
He spread his hands. “Then why not paint the scenery at Achnasheen? You’ll find as many lochs and mountains and eccentric rustics on my estate as you will on Skye. Not only that, but from the hills behind the castle, you can see across the sea to Skye, so you can include a few views of the isle if you’re so determined. This way, you can stay with your father. You can recover from the accident—I daresay ye were being brave when I asked how you feel. And you can complete your assignment. Even better, ye can give the duke views that have never been painted before.”
She still looked doubtful. He waited while Jenny appeared to remove their soup bowls and bring around the platter of roast mutton and vegetables.
Once they were alone again, he refilled the wineglasses and leaned back in his chair, watching her. “I cannae see how—or why—you’d say no.”
“You’re being extraordinarily generous.” She began to eat, but her expression said she was turning his offer over in her mind. “You must think I’m both foolish and ungracious to object.”
Actually he thought she was a smart woman who suspected her host’s invitation might conceal another agenda.
She’d be right, the canny lassie. He was determined to have her in his bed. He couldn’t manage that if he was at Achnasheen, and she was painting somewhere between Armadale and Portree.
He didn’t underestimate the challenges of an affair with his attractive guest. Even if he convinced Signorina Lucchetti to take him as her lover, the people on the estate wouldn’t much like him flaunting a mistress. His clan subscribed to a strong moral code, so he’d have to be discreet.
“I’ll be disappointed if you say no,” he said calmly. “I can arrange a guide to take you out, someone who knows every rock on these hills. You’ll be safe and comfortable and productive, and on hand to observe your father’s recovery. No need to travel any further on our atrocious Highland roads.”