The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) by Kate McKinley Page B

insisted on sniffing around her skirts. She usually didn’t take notice. Instead, she sat in the quietly in the corner, watching the world from afar.
    Her cheeks flushed a charming shade of pink. “I don’t hide.”
    “I’ve watched you closely. At the Tisdales’ ball, you passed the night in the company of a potted palm, which was situated at the very periphery of the room.”
    Her gaze fluttered up to meet his, and a glimmer of amusement lit in her eyes. “Oh, did I, sir?”
    He realized his error then. In proving his point, he’d inadvertently confessed to watching her—something he did far too often to ever admit openly. Indeed, he could hardly keep his eyes off of her when she was out in society. Fortunately for him, she didn’t often come out. Indeed, he suspected she avoided it whenever possible.
    “Yes, well—” He dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “I happened to be looking for Miss Quisenberry at the time.”
    Her smile fell and her gaze drifted back to the floor. “Oh, Miss Quisenberry. Yes, of course.”
    Once the omelets were done, Matthias spooned the contents onto two plates, setting one in front of her. Gwen found some utensils, and they both tucked into their breakfast.
    Silence stretched between them, but there was no awkwardness.
    When they were finished, they set about cleaning the dishes—that was, until the water was so dirty, it could not be used. And they still had several dishes yet to wash.
    “We need more water,” she said.
    He nodded, picked up two buckets from beneath the washing table, and handed one to her. She took it, her bare hand skimming his just briefly as she grabbed the handle. When their skin touched, a small jolt of electricity zipped through him.
    If she noticed, she said nothing as he led her out to the well. Fortunately, there was a momentary respite from the rain, and all they were left with was mud, mud, and more mud.
    Gwen set her pail on the edge of the well and glanced up at the darkening sky. More rain would arrive soon and they would do well to dispatch their business quickly.
    Matthias placed his bucket on the hook and lowered it into the well. Gwen leaned against the mouth of the well, watching as he drew the water.
    “Thank you for today.” She smiled. “I would never have believed I was capable of making an omelet. I feel quite accomplished.”
    For some strange reason, her statement struck him square in the chest. In all of her life, had no one told her she was worth more than scornful looks and hurtful criticisms?
    He turned to face her. “You are capable of a great many things, Gwendolyn Wilbraham. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
    Her gaze dropped to the ground—the way they did whenever she felt uncomfortable—and she nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
    He captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You are a remarkable woman. And I say that as a man you kidnapped and seduced.”
    Her lips turned up into a smile. “Seduced you?” she asked in feigned astonishment. “I am a lady. I did no such thing.”
    “Indeed, my lady,” he said, inching his face closer to hers. “From the moment I saw you at that damned musicale, you have been tempting me. Seducing me with that coy smile and those nervous glances across the fountain.” Still holding her chin, he ran his thumb along the line of her jaw. “Shall I make a confession?”
    He could see her throat move as she swallowed. “Go right ahead.”
    “I went out there knowing you would come. I had been watching you, and I knew it was only a matter of time before you stepped out to take some air.”
    The astonishment hit her swiftly, that much was clear. With her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, she looked as though she could scarce believe it. He could scarce believe it himself. Never had he taken such an interest in a woman—but there it was.
    He lifted her chin a notch higher. “You have been fixed in my thoughts since that damn musicale, Gwen. You have bewitched