The Pursuit by Johanna Lindsey Page A

grinned. “Aye, ’tis indeed. D’ye live here in London, then? Or only just come in from the country?”
    “Neither. I was no more than a day behind Melissa in getting to London. It’s taken me this long to gain entry into this fortress of a house.”
    “The butler doesna let in just anyone,” Melissa explained to her uncle in an aggrieved tone. “If I’d known that sooner, I would’ve set the mon straight.”
    “Sae, the duchess has hindered more’n helped, eh? Now, tha’s bloody well funny, if you ask—”
    “Laugh and I’ll be clobbering you,” Melissa interrupted him to warn, which just earned her another unrepentant grin from the amused young man.
    It was easy to surmise that this uncle and niece weren’t merely family to each other but friends as well, and rather close ones at that. This wasn’t very surprising, though, considering that they were probably fewer than ten years apart in their respective ages.
    Ian looked to be in his mid-twenties, with brownish-red hair more on the reddish side, a wealth of freckles across his handsome face, and very light blue eyes. He was tall, over six feet, but other than that, he looked nothing like the MacGregor, who had to be his older brother. It had been mentioned that Lachlan MacGregor’s wife was English, and this uncle certainly wasn’t that.
    There was something vaguely familiar about Ian, though, that Lincoln couldn’t quite put his finger on. He concluded that he might have met him before, or perhaps just someone who looked like him, but either it had happened too long agofor him to retain the memory, or they’d met only in passing. It was a nagging feeling, however, as if Lincoln should know him.
    For the moment he let it go and got a little better acquainted with Ian. It could only be to his benefit, after all, to get along with Melissa’s family. Fortunately, he didn’t foresee any problems in that respect, especially when he’d already passed muster with her father.
    But apparently Ian was experiencing the same nagging sense of familiarity, and he brought it up. “I’ve the oddest feeling we’ve met afore.”
    “Now you mention it,” Lincoln confessed, “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
    “Ye’ve no’ been back tae Scotland e’en once in the last nineteen years.”
    “Not once prior to this recent visit. Have you ever been to England before?”
    “Nae, this is m’first trip tae these parts. One o’ m’brothers, mayhap.”
    “One? You’ve more’n one?”
    “Aye, a few,” Ian said, and he started to laugh for some reason.
    Melissa frowned at her uncle quite sternly. “Hush, you, you’ll no’ be scaring off another o’ m’suitors afore he e’en becomes one.”
    “Och, he’s a suitor, lass, there’s nae doubt o’ that, or he wouldna hae dared tae be kissing ye.”
    “He’s right, Melissa. I am officially courting you. With your father’s permission, I might add.”
    That got a definite blush out of her and another laugh out of Ian. Lincoln hadn’t intended to be soblunt about it. But he wanted no doubt, in her mind at least, that he was serious in his intentions. He was going to marry her—and soon, he hoped. With the feelings she stirred in him, feelings that seemed equally reciprocated, he could see no reason to put off asking for very long.
    “I take it you have a big family?” Lincoln said.
    “Aye, big indeed,” she replied.
    He smiled and assured her, “I rather like that. I was an only son myself and missed the close companionship that I knew large families to have. My only remaining relatives you met last night, Melissa.”
    “Your cousin and aunt were both charming,” she told him. “Your mother was somewhat reserved. I began tae worry that she didna like me.”
    “Nonsense—not that it matters. You might as well know, my mother and I are not on the best of terms. Her sending me off to live with her relatives when I was still a child and then leaving me with them pretty much severed my