Page 10 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
After all, had he not held her already? Had he not saved her life? Surely, such proprieties had fallen wayside in this strange place they found themselves.
“I beg of you, Laird Ronson. I’ll do anything if you help me escape the Queen’s Edict.” She bowed her head. “Anything.”
CHAPTER 4
A gentle butinexorable grip caught Emma’s chin and forced her gaze up. Her breath caught in her throat, and a tingle spread across her cheeks. A bolt of something sensual shot through her, and her lips parted.
Laird Ronson had leaned down, and she could only wonder.
Does he mean to kiss me?Her eyes widened.Is this what he wants?
But then, he let her go.
Emma missed his touch, feeling cast out and cold. So dazed that when he gently pushed her back into her chair, she let him.
The Laird then tapped a finger on the table and gave her one of his meaningful looks. Emma pretended to shake her head, and he leaned over, making her swallow hard. Heat rose up her neck as he held her gaze, then gave a single shake of his head.
Stay put,he meant, in no uncertain terms. Then, he winked, and Emma could not be certain, but she thought it meant,And then ye shall have yer answer.
With that, he walked away.
Emma drew in desperate gulps of air. Again, she wondered how a man who did not speak dared to order her about so brutally yet so eloquently. She felt a strange desire to either laugh or tip the table over. Instead, she forced herself to down a few mouthfuls of the bitter coffee.
“Aye, ye drink it black like ‘im? Nay wonder why he likes ye,” said a warm voice by her elbow. Morgana had returned. “Need anything else?”
A dozen questions raced through Emma’s mind, but she blurted out, “How far are we from Fallenworth?”
Morgana’s eyebrows rose. “About an hour’s walk south, less on horseback. Why? Are ye nae headin’ north?”
“No,” Emma said, even as her heart misgave her and fear rose in waves across her skin. “I—how far are we from the border?”
Morgana barked out a laugh. “Nae that close, lass—still quite a ride, at least a day or so.”
“Thank you,” Emma murmured and rubbed at her forehead.
Morgana gave her a pitying look.
Clasping her hands together, Emma tried to smile, knowing she needed an excuse to get away from this table, and perhaps inspire the woman to her side. “I don’t suppose you need another set of hands—a barmaid or a seamstress? I can cook, too.”
“Oh, sweet,” Morgana said and shook her red head. “Nay. And I dinnae think ye’ll find anyone willin’ to hire an Englishwoman who hasnae worked a day in her life.” Her lips turned downward. “Lest it be for somethin’ nefarious. Ye be careful now and stick to the Laird.”
Emma only heard the woman’s emphaticno, and her entire body seized with panic.
The enormity of what was happening crashed down on her. She had to get to Fallenworth before nightfall, or Helena would leave. Not that Emma blamed her when her friend had booked passage to the south already.
Helena, especially, could not risk tarrying, especially since her older brother wanted to marry her off immediately, to curry favor with the Queen.
Moreover, so close to the border, the Scotsman could take her to another laird—he could even be a friend of the groom she fled from.
Pulling in a deep breath, she suddenly realized she was still alone. Laird Ronson had not returned. Rising from the table, her eyes darted around, sure that some barmaid or tavern worker was watching her. But there was no one.
Emma ran for the door, her heart bounding with triumph when she got outside. As she hurried along the building and then ran for the woods, she heard the whicker of horses and slowed down.
For a moment, true madness overtook her, and she considered stealing a horse. But then, she shuddered. No, she was a very poor rider. Better to run for it. And hopefully, Laird Ronson would think that she took off down the road, rather than going to the woods again.
Her mind flashed back to the terror in those tavern folks’ eyes, save for Morgana’s. Perhaps she was truly pushing her luck—but this was her last chance, her last hope of freedom.
Emma reached the woods and took a deep breath. A path wound through it, and she decided to stick to it, then she’d find a place to clamber down to the shore and hurry along it. Perhaps she could wade in the water so she wouldn’t leave any footprints.
