"Good God, what an appalling rumormonger you are," he said in an amazed tone. "I had heard that it was so, but hadn't believed that any female could be quite as spiteful as you, but apparently it's true. But I warn you, Lady Ophelia, if you attempt to spread that particular rumor about Sabrina, which isn't the least bit true, I will ruin you myself. Do you understand? I will see to it that you are never accepted again in polite society. Your superficial beauty will not save you, m'dear, I promise you it won't."

Now he did walk away, back stiff, fury contained—he hadn't once raised his voice—and left her in shock. The very idea that he would talk to her like that, her, and threaten her, just to protect a nobody like Sabrina, she simply couldn't comprehend it. Well, she wouldn't have him now. The stupid man had quite ruined his chances.

And that left Duncan MacTavish.

Ophelia sighed inwardly. She didn't really want to marry him, but he wasn't as bad as she had feared. He was different, with his brogue, his red hair, his unpredictability, but he was handsome enough, and every other woman there seemed to find him a fine catch, which made all the difference as far as she was concerned.

But dealing with that Scot again and his denseness—he hadn't even grasped that she was apologizing to him yesterday—as well as his offended pride, was going to be a lesson in patience for her. Yet he did want her back. That was obvious, at least to her, or she wouldn't be here now. He was just pretending otherwise, nursing his grudge, she supposed, and probably quite at wits' end, trying to figure out how to get her back without it appearing that he was willing to forgive her.

She could help in that regard by pretending that the incident was forgotten as far as she was concerned. It might be more amusing to let him flounder about, no more than he deserved for not immediately forgiving her, but there were all these other young hopefuls in attendance who needed to realize that they didn't stand a chance with him, now that she was here. She didn't want to see any more simpering looks and eyes batting his way than she already had.

As for Sabrina garnering Duncan's attention as she'd apparently done last night, he was obviously just trying to make Ophelia jealous, since he knew she'd hear about it, which she did. As if Sabrina could. So absurd. But at least Ophelia had figured out what he was up to now, and she knew just how to counter such nonsense.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Now that the guests at Summers Glade had been in residence for several days, and Duncan had been introduced, and in some cases reintroduced, to all of them, they were no longer wary of him as being the "outsider^ in their midst. The simple passing of a few days acquaintance had elevated him into being "one of them."

This began a phenomenon that he discovered late that day. It was now increasingly difficult for him to pass from room to room, or even just across the hall, without being stopped by guests who wanted to chat with him. He found he much preferred it when he'd been the "stranger" and most of them were leery of approaching him.

The phenomenon continued into the evening. He had tried to get to the ballroom sooner, where he expected to find Sabrina and could attempt to correct the blunder he'd made with her on the terrace that afternoon. But not all the guests were interested in dancing, however informal it was, and so many of them were still spread out in the other rooms. And they thought nothing of dragging him into the drawing room to settle an argument, or into another room to join what they considered a discussion he shouldn't miss.

Unwilling to be outright rude, which he was striving not to be, Duncan had been detained again and again, so it was several hours into the evening before he did finally escape long enough to slip into the ballroom. But it didn't end there as he'd hoped.

His eyes went right to Sabrina on the far side of the room, passing over Ophelia without really noticing her, though she noticed his oversight. But there was quite a trail of people between them, each determined to stop him to say something, so that he was actually annoyed by the time he reached Sabrina and his tone a bit surly in his greeting.

But insightful as she usually was, she took one look at him and laughed, guessing, "You're not used to being so popular, are you?"

" Tis no' that, lass. In the Highlands we dinna talk just tae hear ourselves talk as these English do, we talk o' real concerns."

"I understand," she replied, still grinning. "It must have been difficult for you, the conversations you and I have had, which were for the most part quite frivolous."

He blushed to his roots and tried to quickly amend, "I dinna mean tae imply—"

"Duncan, stop that," she chided gently. "You should know by now when I'm teasing."

He sighed. She was right. He should have known. But then he'd been expecting a more reserved attitude from her after what had passed between them on the terrace, possibly even anger. Yet, now that he thought of it, it was almost impossible to imagine Sabrina angry, truly angry, with raised voice, flashing eyes—that would be something to behold, violet eyes filled with hot passion . . .

He glanced away from her so she wouldn't see what his own thoughts were doing to him. Unfortunately, his eyes did light on Ophelia this time, and he couldn't miss the smile she was sending him as she started his way.

It didn't take much for him to realize that standing with Sabrina, who knew Ophelia quite well, gave the blond girl an excuse to join them. This had him quickly moving off in another direction.

"I'll be back, lass," was all he tossed at Sabrina before he hurried off.

It was more than an hour later before he managed to work his way back to Sabrina. He'd realized after the fact that running from Ophelia because he couldn't tolerate her wasn't going to work, when she was going to be in the house every day. He was simply going to have to make it clear to her to stay away from him, since trying to ignore her didn't seem to get that message across.

"It seems I owe you several apologies now," he told Sabrina as he joined her near the refreshment table. "Only several?" she replied, lifting a brow. "I can count at least seven."

It was the odd number she used, and her straight face, that made him think she was serious for once. "Och, what else have I done?"

"Well, one, you haven't asked me to dance yet. Two, you should apologize for thinking you have anything to apologize for, when you don't. Three, you shouldn't look so surprised when someone is pulling your leg, because they might get the idea that you're in need of a lesson in the art of silliness and walk off with it."

"Walk off wi' what?" he asked in exasperation after trying to follow her strange trail of thoughts. "Your leg, of course."

It was because she was still looking at him so seriously that his laughter, when it burst out, was so loud and sudden. Not that he cared at the moment if he was drawing eyes their way. Once again she had managed to put him at complete ease, to more or less wash away all his aggravations of the day as if they'd never been.

"One o' these days I'll be asking you for the other four things I was tae apologize for."

"Oh, good, I just love having extra time to be creative in my endeavors. I can be really, really silly when I put my mind to it, you know."

He grinned at her and stressed, “But I'll still be apologizing for leaving you tae your own devices this afternoon, when I should have taken you home m'self for a dry change o' clothes. There's nae excuse for such thoughtlessness on my part. I went back tae the ballroom when I realized it, but you were already gone."

"And now who's being silly? It's not as if I had to go to London to change. Easy enough to find my way home when I live just around the corner, more or less. Is that why you were upset today?" At his own raised brow, she added, "My aunts mentioned that they sensed you were."

"Och, well, that among other things. Wi' both o' my granddas hoping I'll find a wife afore this party ends, I'm feeling a wee bit o' pressure. Disappoint them, or disappoint m'self in a hasty decision, makes

for nae winners. Neville, I dinna care if I disappoint, but he's o' the same mind as Archie on this, and I do care if I disappoint him. Archie, however, is being foolish in what he wants, but you canna tell an auld stubborn Scot that."

"That's quite a predicament," Sabrina replied, her lips pursed thoughtfully. "Perhaps if you weren't trying so hard to make this important decision of yours, it might get much easier for you."

"And the sun managed tae shine all day as well, I noticed," he countered.

Since it had in fact rained most of the day, she scolded lightly, "Don't be so skeptical, when it really does work occasionally. In my own case, I have found that if I don't worry a problem to death, the answer will sometimes just come to me of a sudden. Not always, of course, that would be too simple, but often enough that I do try not to worry about it when a problem first presents itself. A few predicaments do have a way of correcting themselves with no help from you a'tall. Would that they all did," she ended with a smile.

"You're a might young tae be so philosophical, lass."

"You think so?" she said in wide-eyed innocence. "When that's a child's logic I just gave you, that most adults tend to forget once they become adults?"

He chuckled. She was such a treasure, this friend of his. And she looked especially lovely tonight in her simple blue frock with her eyes sparkling with laughter. She had mentioned dancing in jest, but he did want to dance with her, and he realized why. He wanted to touch her.