Page 27 of A Scoundrel’s Promise

Chapter Seven

Mackenzie stared up at the ceiling of her bedchambers. Downstairs, the clock chimed the midnight hour. She should be asleep, but how? She’d shot a man. Her heart pounded. She breathed deep. She hadn’t killed him—thank the Lord—though he deserved it. Her father said justice would see that he paid for his crimes. To her surprise, tears rose. She breathed deep again. There was no need to cry. She’d saved Liam. Then…he’d saved her. Saved her for what? Lord Gilford?

The warmth of Liam’s lips rose in memory. A flutter started deep in her belly. His long, tanned fingers had cupped her breast. She sat up, her heart beating wildly. According to Society, a man shouldn’t take such liberties. A proper lady would have slapped him across the face and demanded an apology. Instead, she wished mightily they had continued.

She swung her feet off the bed. “You’re in a pickle, Mackenzie,” she muttered as she padded to the window and peered out into the night.

What would it take for her father to send Lord Gilford packing? She could never marry the man. The thought of him touching her breasts as Liam had made her stomach roil. Before, she hadn’t wanted to wed him. Now, the marriage seemed a prison sentence. Her father was the problem. Perhaps, in the morning, once his anger faded, she could make him see reason.

If not…

Kyla looked to the east, toward Blackstone Abbey.

She would convince her father. She had to.

The morning sun rose bright and warm, a welcome change from the rain and gloom of the past weeks.

“You have circles under your eyes, miss,” Jesse, her maid, clucked as she set down the tray beside Mackenzie’s bed.

Mackenzie groaned. She’d only just fallen asleep at dawn.

“It’s not surprising,” the maid continued, bustling about to draw back the curtains. “After the doings, yesterday.”

Mackenzie winced at the bright light, then realization dawned. Liam would arrive soon to train Freya. She wasn’t ready.

“Quickly, Jesse.” She threw the bedcovers aside. “My lavender muslin.”

“Lavender?”

“Aye.” She would wear her best dress and nothing more. After yesterday’s experience—and the night’s imaginings—she had to take her future into her own hands.

“I see.” Jesse grinned as she opened the armoire door. “Lord Gilford is here.”

Mackenzie jerked back as if she’d been slapped. Right. Lord Gilford. She had to rid herself of the man. But how? The thought kept her occupied as she dressed and completed her morning toilette. When she stood in front of the mirror to inspect her final reflection, she was no closer to an answer.

“You look beautiful, miss. Lord Gilford will stand in awe.”

Mackenzie grimaced.

She waited until Jesse gathered the breakfast tray and left the room before she hurried to the window. Liam would arrive soon, and she was still no closer to a plan. She’d no sooner finished the thought when she caught sight of his powerful figure astride his horse, emerging from the woodlands that bordered the abbey.

Now, there was a man, a real one, who could make her heart flutter. Would she ever tire of looking at him? She watched as he cantered down the carriage drive. This time, he didn’t head toward the stables, but stopped at the front door.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Was he there to escort her, properly, this time?

Unable to stop grinning like a fool, she skipped straight past her mirror, rushed from the bedroom and ran for the stairs. She nearly reached the foyer when she heard voices. Liam’s. The other belonged to Mister Dobbin. She paused and listened, hand resting over her heart in an attempt to slow its beat.

“Lord Dunn will see you now,” the butler said.

“Thank you,” came Liam’s reply.

Mackenzie’s euphoria punctured like a balloon. Her heart wanted to believe he’d come to ask for her hand. Her mind coolly informed her he’d arrived to tell her father what happened yesterday.

Perhaps, a glimpse of his face would indicate which. She sat on the stairs and pressed her face between the balusters in an attempt to see his expression, but she caught only the briefest view of his long legs striding across the foyer before he disappeared into the adjoining room. Mackenzie straightened. She simply had to hear the conversation. She jumped to her feet and jerked in surprise. Lord Gilford stood on the step beside her, his blond brow arched, his narrow nose held high.

“Lady Mackenzie,” he greeted, his manner the epitome of courtesy.

The man had never made her heart flutter. Perfect manners or no, she’d never spent the night imagining his hands on her breasts. “I am busy, Lord Gilford.”