“He couldn't have eaten that horrid soup!""He did,and he even pretended to like it.""Pretended?""No one could have liked that meal." She wrinkled her nose. "Mary was mortified.""Mary can be mortified all she wishes; we can't have MacLean da-"Sophia slipped the spoon into his mouth and dumped the contents.Red choked, his face contorting, and he looked around wildly."Do not spit that out."He glared at her, and after what appeared and sounded like a heroic effort, he swallowed the laudanum. "Blech! There! I hope ye're happy!" He grabbed up a hand cloth and began rubbing his tongue vigorously. She calmly replaced the spoon and recorked the bottle. "As I was saying, MacLean swore that he liked every dish at dinner, even the turnips. They were so hard it almost broke my knife to cut one.""Hm.That's very odd,it is.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Though he may dally with loose women, he's been raised a gentleman. He would never touch me unless I gave him permission." He might use incredibly powerful seduction tactics, but that was her problem, not Angus's."Aye," Mary said. "Don't ye remember how the miss took care o' the squire's son when he tried to kiss her in the garden?" She beamed at Sophia. "That was well done."Sophia grinned. "He limped for a week"Angus grunted. "The squire's son isn't half the man this one is. This is no boy ye're dealin' with here. He's a man's man;ye can see it in his eyes."She placed a hand on his arm. "Angus, if it will make you feel better, I promise to call for help if MacLean so much as looks askance at me.”

“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.”

“As we've practiced it, Angus! Let him in, fetch him a glass of that horrid port we purchased in the village. When you're done, send Mary upstairs right away with a bucket of water. I need to wash."Angus paused, one large hand on the doorknob. "Now? But MacLean's already here."She lifted her chin. "I waited for MacLean; now he can wait for me."Angus grinned, "Very well, miss.”

“To make matters worse, he added in a deep voice that made her shiver, "I love turnips."It was indecent that the man could make a sentence as abhorrent as "I love turnips" sound like an improper proposition.But Dougal MacLean managed it.”