She turned her head and inspected him the way she’d look at a slug on her salad. “My name’s Elspeth.”
He became seriously annoyed now. Too much whisky must make a man short-tempered. Which was odd, because as a rule, he was the most easygoing of laddies, even after a night of kicking his heels up.
You’re easygoing only because you always get your own way, a nasty wee voice sniped in his mind. That nasty wee voice had moved in at the same time as his general dissatisfaction. He’d spent a year wishing it to Jericho, but so far it remained entrenched, and inclined to offer an opinion when least welcome.
“I know that,” Brody responded with a hint of impatience. “You’re Hamish’s wee sister.”
Elspeth’s lips tightened. Had he said something wrong?
“I wasn’t sure you remembered me.”
“Of course I remember you. Our families get together two or three times a year. I’d need my head fixed, if I didn’t remember you.” He waved the coffee pot at her, only just missing spilling it. “Now, Elspeth, Miss Douglas, Hamish’s wee sister, would ye like some coffee?”
“No, thank you,” she said, with a politeness that shouldn’t irk, even if it did.
Like the rest of her family, she spoke with an English accent that turned the insincere courtesy even frostier. The Douglases were as Scots as Brody was, but they’d grown up in London, where the late Laird of Glen Lyon had been someone important in the War Office during the conflict with France.
When Brody poured his coffee, he slopped it in the saucer. That annoyed him, too. He was generally brimming with savoir faire.
He swallowed the first cup so fast, he burned his mouth. Trust Fergus to make sure his guests had hot coffee. Still feeling disgruntled, he poured another cup and crossed to take the chair opposite Elspeth.
He drank this cup with more care, using the opportunity to take stock of his companion. Family gatherings tended to be chaotic, and crowded, and full of large personalities jostling for space. While he’d always known this girl was there, he’d never paid much attention to her.
She was surprisingly pleasant to look at, now he took the time to find out. A touch of the Madonna, with her oval face and deep brown hair drawn back in a simple knot. Creamy skin, and a nice, generous figure. A bonny bosom, too, although that mold-green dress with its collar fastened up to her chin did nothing to show it off.
Brody wasn’t in favour of overly skinny girls. He liked a soft armful of a lassie to keep him warm. If a laddie got young Miss Douglas into his bed, she’d offer him a good, comfortable landing.
Which was not a thought he should have about his friend’s sister.
When her mouth flattened under his inspection, he saw she was aware of his scrutiny and didn’t like it. Apart from that luscious bosom, her mouth was her best feature. Full and expressive, and offering an intriguing hint of unawakened passion.
With a glare, she set down her spoon. “It’s rude to stare.”
In his experience, girls liked him looking at them. Actively encouraged it, in fact. It seemed he needed to file Elspeth Douglas under a different category from the females he knew.
“I was just thinking that I’ve known ye for years, yet this must be the first time we’ve spoken alone.”
Large brown eyes turned larger with surprise and focused on him. A brown deep enough to drown in. Eyes brilliant with intelligence and surrounded with thick, dark lashes. He found himself wondering if her eyes might be her best feature after all.
“We’re…we’re not exactly speaking.” Her voice was unsteady.
“I apologize for my lack of address.” Two cups of coffee made him feel almost human. He managed to scrape up a smile. ?
?I’m not used to being up at this ungodly hour.”
“No,” she said, without smiling back. “I’ve never seen you at breakfast before.”
“Perhaps I’ll get up early more often, now I ken what charming company awaits me.”
It was the kind of gallant remark he made without thinking and which always elicited a flurry of feminine fluttering from the recipient. Elspeth merely sent him an unimpressed glance and rose to serve herself some bacon and scrambled eggs.
He must be feeling better. The sight of the food on her plate made him hungry instead of ill.
“Do ye ride, Elspeth?” he asked, after he’d got himself some breakfast. “Fergus and Marina have suggested going out on the hills, if the weather doesn’t worsen.”
He didn’t know why he tried to make conversation. Every time he spoke, the girl stiffened up as if she feared he set out to lure her into some wickedness. Perhaps she’d heard about his reputation as a Lothario.
Perhaps? Of course she had. Brody was under no illusion about the way the members of his circle gossiped about each other.