“Dougal eyed the breakfast repast. In addition to burnt toast, there was poorly trimmed ham, eggs that looked rubbery enough to bounce off the floor, pathetically dry scones, and small, smoking pieces of something he suspected had once been kippers. Sophia noted Dougal's disgusted expression, and her heart lifted.He looked amazingly handsome this morning, dressed in a pale blue riding coat and white shirt, his dark blond hair curling over his collar, his green eyes glinting as he began to fill his plate. Two scones, a scoop of eggs, and a large piece of blackened ham all went onto his plate.Sophia had eaten earlier in the kitchen with Mary, who had served warm muffins with cream and marmalade, some lovely bacon, and crusty toast, complemented by a pot of hot tea.Sophia hid a smile as Dougal attempted to cut his ham. Too tough for his blade, it tore into uneven pieces under his knife. He lifted a piece and regarded it on the tines of his fork.”

“Dougal lifted his spoon and slit it into his mouth. Immediately, a frozen look came over his face.Sophia tensed.He removed the spoon from his mouth.Sophia gripped her own spoon tighter.A slow red crept up his face, his eyes watering slightly.Ha! Mary's soup was working its magic. Pleased, Sophia pretended to eat some soup.Dougal slapped a hand on the table.The dishes and Sophia jumped. "What's wrong?"He pointed to his bowl with his spoon. "That.""The soup? Why, whatever's wrong with it?""Nothing.That is the best soup I've ever had."Sophia blinked. Surely he hadn't just said-He dipped his spoon back into his bowl and took another large bite. Though his eyes watered and his face turned a deeper red, he continued to eat, murmuring, "Excellent!" every third bite or so.Sophia looked at her own soup, which reeked of garlic and pepper and onion. Mary had added a large amount of salt, as well. But watching MacLean eat with gusto made her question her perceptions.What if Mary's natural ability to cook had overcome her attempts to provide an inedible meal?Sophia dipped her spoon into herbowl and gingerly sniffed the contents, grimacing at the strong odor. Casting a puzzled look at MacLean, who was about finished with his soup, she put the spoon into her mouth.The burning sensation of pepper mingled with the rancid taste of uncooked garlic and what could only have been salted dishwater. She jerked the spoon from her mouth and grabbed her water goblet, pouring it into her mouth to wash down the horrid taste.Gasping, she glared with watery, accusing eyes at MacLean.He seemed not to have noticed anything, too busy scraping the bottom of his bowl, as if afraid some succulent tidbit might have escaped him. Finding nothing more, he placed his spoon on the table and sat back, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "That was the best soup I've ever been served. I believe I'll have more.""More? Are you...are you certain?""I'm positive.”

“As Dougal ushered them into the dining room, he wondered if Sophia's father and her grandfather would both wish to stay at MacFarlane House with them.But as he looked into Sophia's smiling eyes, he realized it didn't matter. So long as she was by his side, life would be a grand adventure.And no man could ask for more.”

“I'm not blind,you know." His gaze flicked down to her breasts, interestingly encased in her tight riding habit. "I can see very well."Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to pull away again.Behind Dougal came a bang, like the sound of a large door slamming, and Sophia's eyes widened. "Angus, no!" she cried."Ye misbegotten bounder!" Angus roared.Dougal turned just in time to see a huge fist hit him squarely in the eye.Thanks to Sophia, who'd jumped up and clung tightly to Angus's huge arm, the punch was softened. Otherwise, not only would it have knocked Dougal down (which it did), and not only would it have sent the world dark (which it did), and not only would it have blackened his eye (which it did), but it also might have killed him. Instead, Angus's slowed fist merely smashed into Dougal's face, spun him around, and laid him out as neatly as a piece of firewood.”

“I've never had a better piece o' roast. But it was the apple pie as made the meal. It was flaky and sweet, all buttery,with-""Enough!" Dougal's stomach growled loudly. "The food I was given was not fit for consumption. Ride to town today, and fetch some foodstuffs. Some apples, tarts, a few meat pies-whatever will keep well.""Aye,me lord.Do ye want an apple now? I've one here I was saving fer yer horse.""Thank you." Dougal pocketed the apple."Not very hospitable, giving yer poor victuals and a lumpy bed.""This is all part of their plan. Mr. MacFarlane regrets giving up his house on the gaming table, and his daughter is determined to regain it.”

“He moved to the faded red chair she'd indicated. As he lowered himself into it, there was a loud crack. One of the wooden legs snapped and broke, just as Sophia and Angus had planned when they'd sawed it half-through.A normal man would have been tossed to the floor, but with a little twist, MacLean shifted his weight forward and managed to remain upright, turning to regard the chair as it collapsed.Sophia swept to her feet. "Goodness! How horrid!" She narrowed her gaze accusingly at the chair. There was nothing like a little humiliation to set a man against a location, and it was a pity MacLean hadn't been thrown to the floor as she'd planned.MacLean bent and picked up a piece of the broken chair, his expression unfathomable. "Horrid, indead."Her desire to smile fled. Did he suspect something? Could he see where Angus had cut the chair let partway through?MacLean hefted the leg in his hand, his mouth thinned.Sophia cleared her throat. "I'll call the butler to remove that."His gaze locked with hers.The chair leg still in his hand,he walked toward her.Sophia licked her suddenly dry lips. She didn't know this man, not really. What was he going to do?She gripped the arms of her chair. Should she run for help? Surely not. Nothing she'd heard had indicated MacLean was a man of violence. Of course, everything she knew of him was mere heresay-He stopped before her and stook looking down into her face with the faintest of smiles. He didn't look angry; he looked knowing. As if he understood exactly what she'd done and why.A fear of another kind gripped her. Surely, he didn't. There was no way he could-MacLean leaned forward. Sophia's heart jumped, her skin warming oddly when his arm brushed her shoulder as he leaned past her...and tossed the chair leg onto the unlit fireplace.”

“She watched beneath her lashes as his chair rocked with his weight. MacLean scowled and grabbed the edge of the table. Angus had cut varying lengths from each chair so that some rocked, while others were at a distinct forward slant so that you had to press back to keep from sliding into the floor."Is something wrong, Lord MacLean?""This chair." He scooted forward and slipped a little. With a scowl, he stood and pushed his chair to one side, selecting another."Lord MacLean-""Dougal," he said firmly, sitting down in the new chair. This one rocked backward, and he lurched, as if afraid it would topple over completely.Sophia coughed to cover her amusement. From the dark scowl turned her way, she hadn't succeeded. "That's it." Dougal shoved back the chair and stood,glancing about the room. "Ah!" He strode forward and picked out a thin book of sermons from a set on a side table. He lifted the back of his chair, placed a book beneath one leg, and sat down. "Much better."Sophia wished he weren't quite so enterprising. She and Angus ha worked for hours to make every chair a uniquely uncomfortable experience.”