The Chase
“She had known the moment she'd felt his touch who stopped her, even before she heard the smooth velvet of his voice with its clipped English accent.
“Unhand me or I shall unhand you,” she commanded. Her lips curled up with satisfaction when he released her at once, though a glance at his face showed only surprised amusement and no fear. When he bowed to her with mock civility, Seonaid found the gesture most irritating.
“Forgive me, my lady. 'Tis poorly done of me to touch you without at least first introducing myself. Lord Blake Sherwell at your service.” The introduction was followed by another of the mocking bows.
Seonaid shifted, her expression darkening before she forced a sickly sweet smile to her lips. “Am I supposed to ken the name, m'laird?” she asked at last. “Should it mean aught to me?”
Blake blinked in surprise, some of his self-confidence slipping. “What? Do you not recognize the name of your betrothed when you hear it?”
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