There seemed to be no way to deal with the lass. She was a firestorm of activity. True to her word, she uncovered a shop in the nearest town where she replaced the clothing she’d lost in the accident with items the shopkeeper had ready-made. She spent hours supervising the packing of said clothing, and she even consulted with Mrs. Barton on what the innkeeper served for dinner each evening.
“There you are, Professor. I’ve been looking for you.” She hurried toward him, determination in every step.
“Ach, lass. ’Tis why I was hiding.” He jumped up to pull out a chair for her at the table where he fiddled with a glass of ale.
“Nonsense. We must make sure all is ready to leave in the morning. I wonder how long it will take from here to Bedlay?”
He stared for a minute at a spot on the wall above her head. “With no delays, and allowing for meal stops, changing horses, and sleep, it will take four days, three hours, thirty-seven minutes. And that is only if the bridge in Ullapool is not closed due to flooding.”
She gaped at him, her mouth open. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Arrive at such a precise answer without pen and paper?”
He shrugged. “I don’t exactly know. It just sort of happens. But ye needn’t fash yerself. ’Tis all ready. I am certain the carriage and horses are sturdy enough for the trip. If the weather is fine, I will ride my horse, Niels, alongside the carriage, so ye and yer maid can have yer privacy.”
The lass shook her head, returning to their conversation. “Niels. That’s an odd name for a horse.”
“In Gaelic it means champion.”
She leaned her elbows on the table—which he assumed was against proper English ladylike behavior—and smiled. “And is he a champion?”
“Aye. He’s been mine for going on ten years. He might not have won races, but he has certainly carried me far and wide.” He watched her over the rim of his glass as he took another sip of ale. “Do ye want something to drink, lass?”
She leaned back. “What are you drinking?
“Ale. Barton makes the best ale for miles around.”
She wrinkled her wee nose, sending extra blood to certain parts of his body. “I think I will have a cup of tea.”
After summoning one of the Barton daughters to bring tea, he once more turned his attention to this very intriguing lass. “Did the magistrate talk to ye about the footman and driver?”
She sighed. “Yes. I gave him the information he needed to contact my brother so he can make arrangements to have the bodies sent to Manchester Manor. I also sent a note to my brother, assuring him Alice and I were fine and would continue our journey under the protection of a university professor related to Laird McKinnon.”
He grinned inwardly. Most likely her brother would assume this professor was many years beyond his age. The lass was indeed a clever one. “Aye. Manchester Manor is yer family home?” When she nodded, he continued, “Ye said yer brother is a duke?”
“Yes. The Duke of Manchester. He is married to a botanist, and they have a little boy, Robert, Marquess of Stafford, and a new baby girl, Lady Esther Lacey. I miss them already.” She stirred cream and sugar into her tea, her countenance a bit more somber than it had been a few moments ago.
“Ye long for yer family, do ye?”
“I do. I have two married sisters back in England. My sister Abigail and her husband, Joseph, have twin boys, David and John. Marion and her husband, Tristan, have a little girl, Daisy Susan. They are wonderful children.”
“And yer traveling to yet another sister?”
“Yes. My twin sister, Sybil.” She blew lightly on her tea and took a sip.
His vision was captured by those tempting rosy lips. He imagined nibbling on them, then sucking and teasing until she opened so he could sweep in and taste the sweetness of her mouth. Stroke his tongue over her lips, touch various spots in the recesses of her mouth until he found which parts were sensitive. It took him a minute to realize she had continued speaking.
“She is about to have a baby. That is why I’m visiting.”
“And one day ye will join yer sisters and have bairns of yer own.” His face flushed at the thought of what she would do with a husband to create those bairns. How that husband would touch her silky skin, run his palms over her curves, touch her in places only a husband was permitted.
He was startled when his muscles tightened, refusing to believe it was what could only be called jealousy. That was absurd. Lady Sarah was a pleasant—albeit bossy—lass who needed his help. He had plans to complete when he arrived home and found a letter waiting for him. That was his focus. His work, not the pretty wee lass with the enticing lips.
“No babies for me.”
“Nay?”
“No. I have nieces and nephews to dote on, with more on the way.” She took another swallow of tea and stood. “I think I will check with Alice to make sure the packing is going well.”
The sway of her hips as she walked away had him thinking once again of how lucky that future husband would be to crawl under the covers with Lady Sarah and her fine body.
Chapter Three
A light drizzle greeted the group as they left the inn and headed to the carriage Professor McKinnon had secured for them. The dark, dreary morning dampened Sarah’s spirits, until he announced he would be joining her and Alice in the carriage to avoid the rain.
Excitement flooded her senses, and her heartbeat picked up, annoying her to no end. She did not want to be aware of the man. Indeed, not any man. The path she’d chosen, for at least the next few years, was set. Attraction to men was not part of it. Especially to one handsome Scot who would now be merely inches from her.
She and Alice took one side of the spacious carriage as their escort gave the driver final instructions. The vehicle shifted to one side as he climbed in and settled across from them. All the air left the carriage and her lungs as the spaciousness disappeared.
My goodness, he took up an enormous amount of room. His knees almost bumped hers as he shifted in his seat, getting comfortable. Alice seemed completely unware of the man’s presence and continued to stare out the window, hiding a yawn behind her hand. How could her maid not notice the warm, hard body that had just plopped itself down, taking up so much of the space?
She certainly didn’t need to be mindful of him, either. Reaching into the satchel at her feet, she pulled out a book. She opened it and stared at the page, her thoughts wandering.
“Lass, how can ye read without light?”
She slammed the book shut and glowered at him. Was he going to annoy her the entire trip? “I wasn’t reading, I merely wanted to be sure my book was handy.”
“Aye, I understand.” He nodded at the book in her lap. “I believe ’twas upside down, too.” The grin on his face told her he hadn’t believed her lie. Hopefully, he didn’t realize how much he disturbed her. Even in the dim light she could make out his handsome features. She’d known so few men who wore glasses. Rather than detract from his comely visage, the wire-framed spectacles added to it. As did the silky black curls that fell onto his forehead.
She took herself to task. This was ridiculous. It would be a very long, tiresome journey if she didn’t get her emotions under control. It was so unlike her to react to a man.
The carriage started up with a jolt and then moved into a smooth cadence. Professor McKinnon had hired a driver and two footmen. When questioned about the extra man, he stated parts of the route they would travel were known to be plagued by highwaymen. She shivered, thinking of being confronted by robbers, which was why she’d put her jewelry in a sack underneath the seat.
“Are ye cold, lass?”
“No. I was just contemplating how frightening it would be if we were confronted by highwaymen.”
“Nay. Dinna fash yerself. We have three men outside, and I have my pistol with me.”
“Pistol? You are carrying a weapon?”
He reached into his jacket and withdrew a rat
her alarming gun.
“I hope you know how to use that.”
“Aye, lass, and one bit of advice. Never carry a weapon you don’t ken how to use or are afraid to use.”
“I hope to never learn how to shoot a gun. Just the thought of hitting someone with a bullet makes my stomach roil.” Carrying a gun and teaching at Edinburgh University did not seem to mix. Who was this man who had so captured her attention?
“Please excuse my rudeness, Professor McKinnon, but I can’t help but notice you seem quite young to be a professor at Edinburgh University.”
In the faint light the slow lazy smile he cast her almost stopped her breath.
“Aye. ’Tis not a rude question, lass. I hear it all the time. First, as ye pointed out, I am a tad young, so please call me Braeden. Professor McKinnon stands in front of a classroom. He doesn’t ride in carriages with a beautiful lass.”
Blushing despite trying to ignore his compliment, she said, “I’m not sure that is proper.”
“Ach. There ye go again with yer English ‘what is proper.’ By necessity we will be spending a lot of time together over the next few days. I think, given those circumstances, we can dispense with the formality.”
“Very well. But only in private. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And that would be?”
Heat rose to her face as she thought of how improper her thoughts had been since she’d met the man. Why, oh why did he affect her so? It had to be the close proximity, because she’d never experienced these strange feelings, nor had these disturbing thoughts before, with any other man.
“In Polite Company gentlemen and ladies do not use their given names when addressing each other.”
“Ah. So we are not in polite company now? ’Tis impolite company? Should I hurl insults at ye, then?”
The quick retort on her lips faded as she caught the sparkling humor in his eyes. She would have to remember that, despite his serious appearance, he enjoyed teasing her.
“No. No need to hurl insults. But you have not answered my question. How is it you are a professor at such an esteemed institution?”
She shifted to rest one booted foot on his opposite knee. “I don’t understand it myself. It seems out of mum and da’s six bairns, I was blessed—or cursed—with unusual intelligence.” He looked out the window at the slowly lightening sky. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this thirst for knowledge. I taught myself to read by mimicking my sisters. When I outgrew the castle tutor, da hired a special one for me. He took me as far as he could and then told my parents I was ready for university.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen years,” he said wryly.
“That explains how you were able to calculate in your head our arrival at Bedlay.” She tilted her head, examining him, trying to understand this man who had captivated her so. “How did it feel?”
He apparently knew exactly what she had asked. “Frightening at times. There were occasions when I wanted to push away all the numbers and words racing around my brain and just tend the sheep with my brothers.” He shrugged. “It never worked.”
“And what do you teach?”
“Classical archeology with a focus on Ancient Rome.”
He chuckled as she slowly repeated the words. “Ach, lass. Ye say it like there’s something nasty on yer tongue.”
“I don’t mean to. I guess it’s that I don’t really know what ‘classical archeology’ is.”
“According to how the books read, classical archeology is the study of civilizations of the Mediterranean, as well as the Ancient Greek and Roman cultures.”
“That is indeed a mouthful, Professor.”
He smiled slowly. “Braeden.”
Once more, heat rose to her face as his deep voice rolled over her, making it even worse when he grinned. Apparently, the light was enough now that he could see her face quite well. Something tickled her belly when he said his name. Soft and low, as if he murmured into her ear in the dark.
What in heaven’s name is wrong with me?
What the devil is wrong with me? Braeden was having a difficult time keeping his eyes off Sarah. Not that it was an easy chore, anyway, since they sat only a few feet from each other. But every expression on her lovely face had him wanting to tug her across the space and plop her onto his lap.
Now that he’d been subjected to several of her regal looks and highborn comments, he couldn’t believe that at their first meeting he had thought she was a maid. Though, all that comforting she’d been doing with the other woman when they had come upon them on the road had certainly cast her in that light. Sarah was a wee bonny lass, but a strong woman. No swooning and tears for her.
Most lasses who had been through what she’d suffered—a serious accident, terrible weather, and a loss of her servants and carriage—would have taken to their beds for a week. Yet the hummingbird had cajoled him into escorting them to Bedlay Castle, bullied her maid into getting everything done in a timely manner, and had tried very hard to take control of the entire journey. She was certainly a lass to admire.
And admire her he did. Her tiny form displayed enough womanly curves that there was no question as to her being a lass full grown. Her soft mouth begged to be covered by a man who knew what he was about and ready to teach her the art of kissing. Right now she studied him under thick eyelashes with bright eyes that danced with intelligence and humor. Aye, Lady Sarah was a sight to behold.
And it would be wise to use his intelligence to avoid any further involvement with her. He had his plans all set. A lass was not part of the design.
“How did you become interested in archeology?”
Glad to be able to focus on his work instead of Sarah, he said, “From the time I was a lad I enjoyed visiting the crumbling ruins of castles and keeps scattered throughout the Highlands. When my da had the time—which was rare—he would take me miles and miles from home to investigate some remnants of a clan’s home.”
“Are there so many?”
“Aye.” His stomach tightened at the number of homes abandoned to the elements with their clans moving to America and Canada after the Clearances. His clan was indeed lucky to hold onto their land and continue to provide a living for its members.
“The Clearances did their damage to many clans.”
“Ah. Yes. I remember that from my history lessons.” She shook her head, tendrils of dark curls bouncing from where they’d gotten loose from her bun. “Not something my country did that I’m proud of, I’m afraid.”
“’Tis a comforting thought coming from a Sassenach.”
“A what?”
“Sassenach.”
“I never heard that word before, but I have a feeling it’s not a compliment.”
“It means ‘outlander’ or someone who doesn’t belong.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure I like that.”
“Actually, I don’t like it, either. I think there is nowhere on this earth you would not belong, Sarah.” Once again her face flushed, and he could have bitten his tongue. Why did he insist on bantering with the lass? It would be better for his peace of mind to ride Niels alongside the carriage—as soon as the weather cleared up. Remove himself from her disturbing presence before he did something stupid.
The sun had burned off the clouds by the time they stopped for tea. Sarah stretched as the carriage came to a rolling stop, attempting to ease the muscles in her neck. Aside from feeling the necessity for food, her muscles needed to move. Not used to sitting for long periods of time, she was anxious to take a brisk walk before she ate.
“I will join you in a few minutes.” She called over her shoulder as she started off in the opposite direction of the inn.
“Lass, where are ye going?” Braeden hurried up alongside her.
“I must walk for a bit. I am very sore from sitting so many miles.”
“Not by yerself.” He extended his arm, his eyebrows lifted in challenge.
“Indeed? And what manner of trouble do you suppose I would encounter right outside this inn that I need to be accompanied by a man?” She smirked and placed her fingertips on his arm.
“Ye never ken, lass, and that little bit of holding on is good enough for yer fancy ballrooms, but the ground here is unsteady. I’ll not have ye stumbling and hurting yerself.” He took hold of her hand and tucked it securely in his arm.
“What do you know of fancy ballrooms? Have you been to London?”
“Aye. I have a friend I visited a few years back. He took me to a couple of yer social events. ’Twas quite an experience.”
“In what way?”
He gazed out at the surroundings, taking a moment to answer her question. “The lasses were sweet, but I was truly frightened by their mums.”
Sarah burst out laughing. “It didn’t take you long to realize ton mamas are the most fierce animals in all of England. If there are young ladies to be married off, a mama’s job is to make sure she makes the best match possible for her daughter’s station.”
“Aye. I guess ’tis true in Scotland as well. At least in Edinburgh, that is. Marriage is contracted a bit differently away from the large cities, unless yer a laird, in which case the selection of a bride is a serious business.”
“Lady Margaret—your cousin Duncan’s bride—married a man her parents had selected. I assume Laird McKinnon had to give that a great deal of thought. I often wondered why he agreed to marry an Englishwoman.”
“Yet yer sister married a Scotsman, as well.”
She nodded. “And quite a surprise it was to us all.”
They strolled for a few more minutes, each occupied with his or her own thoughts. Braeden slowly turned them so they headed toward the inn. “I don’t know about ye, lass, but my stomach could use some food.”
“I agree. I could also use a cup of tea.”
The Highlander's Accidental Marriage (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 3