Page 21 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
“Is there a problem, Mrs. Duncan? It’s well past midnight. I’d thought you’d be asleep in your quarters.” Harrison laced his hands behind his back as he addressed his housekeeper, a sure sign of his carefully controlled irritation.
“Aye, that I was, sir. Pity a woman has t’be roused from her slumber by all sorts of goin’s-on at all hours of the night.” A white cap covered most of Mrs. Duncan’s gray curls and she’d tied a dressing gown tight around her, but her features bore no sign of sleepiness. Rather, a keen curiosity blazed in the matron’s eyes. Standing on her toes, she peeked past Harrison. “Ah, yer brother’s here. Well, that explains it.”
“I assure you, there is no reason for concern. You may rest—”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Dr. MacMasters, but I willnae be resting. Not while trouble’s brewin’ in this house.”
Harrison stared down at the woman whose sharply pointed nose came to the level of his loosely tied cravat. “Mrs. Duncan, your assistance is not needed.”
“I believe there may be unsavory dealings afoot. Strange happenings, even fer this house.”
Harrison unlaced his fingers and rubbed one temple as if his head was beginning to throb. “What is worrying you? Out with it.”
Mrs. Duncan stole another glance toward Connor. She flashed a knowing smile. The widow had been in the employ of the MacMasters family for decades, though her role as housekeeper at Harrison’s Inverness residence had only been established two years earlier. His position as a respected physician afforded perfect camouflage for the true purpose of the MacMasters’ presence in the city.
“Somethin’ tells me yer brother’s got somethin’ t’do with this.” Her grin broadened. “Always the rowdy one, even as a lad.”
Harrison lifted a hand to his other temple and pressed small circles over that one as well. “We don’t have all night to discuss this. Either explain what has you up and about at this ungodly hour or return to your chamber.”
The housekeeper let out a little huff. “Ye may not think this is anythin’ to be concerned about, but there’s a strange lass on the premises.”
Harrison offered a nod. “We are well aware of that. The young woman suffered an injury and my brother sought treatment.”
Mrs. Duncan shrugged. The corners of her mouth turned up even more. Cheeky, that one. “Well, the lass seems to be feelin’ better now. Last time I looked, she was stuffin’ her skirts through the window and making an exit that’s a bit odd even for the visitors to this house.”
Chapter Eight
Johanna stared down at the pavement beneath her dangling feet. Had she misjudged the distance to the ground—or did the drop appear more intimidating when one was suspended like a trapeze artist above unforgiving cobbles? She gripped the window casing with all the strength she possessed, but soon, she’d have to banish her fear and peel her fingers loose. She could only pray she’d land on her feet with at least some semblance of her dignity intact.
Perhaps she should have simply made her exit through the door. After all, that had been her intention until she spotted a narrow-eyed biddy roaming the hall. She’d had no desire to confront a stern-browed matron who’d ask questions she didn’t wish to answer and who could ruin her escape.
It was bad enough she’d been stripped nearly bare by the physician—if indeed he even was a man of medicine—and interrogated by the towering Scot. Connor MacMasters had ruined her chance to rescue her niece, shattering the plan into thousands of irreparable shards. At least the arrogant devil had left her clothing within easy reach. Perhaps he didn’t think she’d dare to leave the well-appointed prison. He’d soon find out he’d underestimated her. She’d donned her garments and her shoes and seized the first chance to bolt.
She glanced again at the hard stones below. Regret spoke up, loudly and insistently. She really should have taken her chances and marched right past the woman who had strolled the corridor like a petite, white-capped sentry.
Ah, there was nothing to be done about it now. And when had she become such a ninny? As a girl, she’d been fearless. The apple trees in her grandfather’s yard had posed little challenge to her abilities. She’d scamper up onto a branch and pounce on her brother as he rambled by, preoccupied by his fascination with all things possessing roots and leaves. He’d gone on to become a botanist of some renown, while she…well, she was hovering like a mad woman over the pavement outside a stranger’s house. Too skittish to let go. Yet too desperate to find her niece to stay with her supposed benefactor a moment longer.
Drat it all, there could not possibly be more than ten feet between her and the ground. But she couldn’t afford to break an ankle or twist her shin. A small strip of grass filled the gap between the house and the street. If she aimed for that spot, she’d most likely land unscathed.
From the room beyond the window, the men’s voices drifted to her ears. Muffled. Blurred by walls and doors. They weren’t in the chamber yet. But they were near.
Near enough to stop her if she didn’t cast aside her trepidation.
The inner door creaked open. Heavy footsteps pounded the floor despite the plush rugs laid over the wood planks.Bollocks!The curses she’d picked up in London increasingly found the tip of her tongue.
Summoning her courage, she pulled in a breath. She cast a glance to the night sky. Another sip of air, and she muttered an ineloquent plea to the heavens. With awhoosh, she plummeted to the ground.
The air she’d just inhaled rushed from her body. The jolt rippled from the soles of her shoes to her shins. Up the length of her legs. Along her spine. No pain. Simply the shock of impact. Thank heavens she’d managed to drop onto the grass and not the unforgiving stones.
Leaning out the window, the physician peered down at her. A scowl turned his full mouth down.
“Have you gone mad?” he called to her.
Not bothering to reply to his impertinent inquiry, she snatched up the satchel she’d tossed out the window before making her unconventional exit. The case seemed none the worse for its mistreatment. Her aim had been sound as she’d hurled it onto a small, neatly trimmed shrub that had cushioned its landing.
She dashed along the pavement, thankful she was on a street in a city and not stranded in some remote hideaway.
But where could she go at this hour? Any respectable inn would turn her away. No woman of quality would roam the streets after midnight.
