The Lass Who Kissed a Frog, Lee, Caroline [i have read the book a hundred times .txt] 📗

“Was she the lass ye danced with at DeVille’s masquerade ball?” his brother asked.

This whisky burned even more. “Aye,” Roland gasped out when he was able to.

And Phineas tsked, suddenly beside him, reaching for the decanter. “I’m no’ going to ask how ye formed this opinion of her, because what I saw at the ball was a man—dressed in period inappropriate garb, no’ that any of ye ever care about the historical accuracy of yer costumes—who was verra much intrigued by a beautiful lass. Give me that, there’s nae need to get drunk this early in the day.”

“It’s almost evening.”

“Aye, and I’ll be leaving soon, so ye’re just going to sit here by yerself and drink as the sun sets?” Phin scoffed as he settled the decanter back into place. “Pitiful.”

Scowling, Roland turned away from his brother, wondering if he ought to be ashamed.

Wondering if he ought to be ashamed over the fact he wasn’t ashamed.

“Come along.” Phin gripped his shoulder once, briefly, before dropping his arm and turning toward the door. “Ye can walk me to the stables. Hell, ye can saddle yer horse and ride with me back to my home.”

Their father had settled a sum on Phineas when he’d reached his majority. And Phin, being Phin, had researched the hell out of investment opportunities until he’d discovered the ones which made the best returns, and when he finished his schooling and came back to Oliphant land, he had more than enough to build and staff his own quaint manor house, less than twenty minutes’ ride from Newfincy Castle.

“Why no’?” muttered Roland under his breath. “If ye’ll no’ let me drink…”

“Oh, excellent. I’m pleased to know ye think spending time with me is almost as good as drinking yerself into a stupor.”

Roland snorted at his brother’s sarcasm, then sighed as they each settled their hats atop their heads and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. “Should I apologize then? For being so morose?”

“Aye, and for insisting I be present for that farce of a polite gathering.” Phin shot him a knowing look. “But Miss Vanessa is the one ye should be apologizing to for yer rudeness this afternoon.”

“She can rot before I’ll apologize for my natural reaction to her words. Ye didnae hear what she said about Lyon.”

“Ah.” That was all Phin said, and really, it was enough.

Their older brother, who would one day be Laird Oliphant, had never been the friendliest of men. But Roland remembered him as fiercely protective and loyal, with a biting sense of humor he only occasionally displayed. There had been one Hogmanay celebration when seventeen-year-old Lyon had kept Roland laughing so hard with his dry observations of the guests, that Roland almost cast up his accounts in the potted palm.

Aye, he’d always been a hard man to get to know, but after the fire and his wife’s death…

Roland shook his head as Phin called for their horses to be saddled. Lyon truly had become the Beast of the Oliphants, as the Edinburgh gossips had taken to calling him. He rarely left the old Oliphant Castle, and when Roland visited him, he saw only a hollow shell of anger and bitterness.

It was heart-breaking, but the man was his brother.

To hear him spoken of so poorly, and from a lady as beautiful as Vanessa Oliphant, had turned Roland’s stomach.

Oh, she hadn’t known he could hear her words, which made it worse in so many ways. The insulting things she’d said about Lyon—“hideous,” “brutal,” “barbaric”—had been how she’d truly felt. She’d called Lyon a barbarian and worse.

Can ye imagine having to sit across the table from—from that at meals? Or worse, listen to him talk— Do ye think he can talk, or does he just grunt? And letting those hands touch ye…

Roland didn’t think he’d ever forget the way his stomach had felt when he’d heard her voice—the voice he’d been dreaming about since the ball—utter such insults.

And it was then that the desire for revenge had been born. He’d been sitting in the family’s parlor at the inn and had turned to his friend, Max, to tell him about the lesson he planned on teaching Vanessa. But the ladies had interrupted them, and soon after they were served tea—by the serving lass Max ended up marrying in fact—and after Max excused himself, Roland realized he couldn’t stomach such company any longer.

But now he was ready to set his plan into motion.

The brothers didn’t speak again until they were mounted and cantering away from Newfincy Castle. It was Phin who broke the silence.

“So she’s beautiful on the outside.”

“But corrupted and spiteful at her core,” Roland bit out.

“And ye needed to see her today to remind yerself of that?”

Roland slowed his horse, and his brother followed suit. “Nay. I needed to see her today to remind her of how much she wants me.”

Phin raised his brow. “Full of yerself, are ye?”

“I’m a viscount.” Roland shrugged and urged his horse to one side to avoid a farmer’s cart. After returning the man’s respectful nod, he spoke without looking at his brother. “I suppose I should be grateful. There’s no’ many second sons who can claim a title such as that, but thanks to our mother’s father, I do. And anyone with half a brain can tell Vanessa is grasping for a title.”

“So ye think she is trying to impress ye so ye’ll ask her to marry ye?”

There’d been a moment, right before her mother had dragged her away from the ball, when Roland had considered it. He’d never wanted for female companionship, but there had been something about Vanessa which had reached into his gut and tugged; something visceral and primal which had wanted to claim her as his. Those perfect blue eyes, that perfect smile… He’d called her his angel and had meant it.

When she touched him—and today had been no exception—or when he caught her scent, his cock reminded him she was exactly the sort of woman he wanted to call his for