Page 42 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
“I cannot say I’ve ever tasted the dish.”
Maggie offered a thoughtful nod. “Ye’re newly arrived in the Highlands?”
Johanna sipped the tea, a delicious, hearty brew. Just the thing to warm her and lift her spirits. “Quite so. I’ve taken up residence in London. I’m afraid I’ve never ventured far from the city.”
“London, ye say?” Maggie’s brow furrowed. “What brought ye to England from America?”
“Ah, you’ve a keen ear. I did not realize my accent was so readily identifiable. I’ve been told I picked up some British inflections in the last year.”
Maggie shook her head. “Nay, it’s nae yer way of speaking, though I would’ve figured it, after a time.”
Johanna studied Maggie’s face. Mischief danced in the girl’s eyes. “Then what gave it away?”
A grin tugged at Maggie’s mouth. “I happened to hear my brother discussing ye with Serena. His precise words were ‘daft American writer’.”
Why, the gall of the man!Pity she could not fully express her thoughts on the matter. After all, his sister did not deserve to be exposed to the gutter epithets that coursed through Johanna’s mind. Stalling as she searched her brain for a civilized response, she took another sip of tea and swallowed it.
“My, that does sound like him,” she managed finally. “I cannot say I appreciate being described as daft, but I cannot deny the rest of his statement.”
“Connor does have a unique way with description.” Maggie smiled, then nibbled at a tempting raisin-filled crescent. “Well, now, ye’ve left that dank, dreary city behind and come to a glorious place. There’s no more beautiful place on this earth than the Highlands in autumn. Pity the circumstances aren’t better for ye.”
Johanna kept her eyes on Maggie. “That’s rather a peculiar thing to say.”
She gave a little shrug. “Ye’re here with Connor, decked out like a crow in black crepe. It cannae be good news that brings ye to our door.”
“I prefer to look upon my association with your brother as an adventure.” Johanna forced the words past her lips. It wouldn’t do to give away secrets to this young woman who most likely fancied herself a sly interrogator.
A laugh bubbled from Maggie’s throat, hearty and so unpretentious, Johanna had no doubt it was genuine. “Aye, that’s one way t’be looking at it.” She lifted her cup to her lips and sipped. “What is the nature of this adventure ye plan to embark on with my brother? Is it riches ye’re after?”
“Nothing of the sort.” Johanna took a bite of scone, chewing it slowly, savoring the rich flavors of butter and spice.
“Come now, Miss Templeton, surely ye don’t take me for a fool. No one with the sense of a goat would involve herself with Connor’sadventuresif there wasnae some reward waiting at the end.”
“Please, call me Johanna.” She dabbed at her mouth with a serviette. Truth be told, she was stalling, struggling to ferret out the deeper meaning behind the girl’s flippant remarks.
“Whatever it is ye’re involved in, it’s clear ye harbor no tender feelings for him. Ye’ve got daggers in yer eyes every time ye look at him.” Maggie dropped her gaze to the scone on her saucer. “Connor’s not an easy man to know. He’s a bit rough about the edges. But whatever ye’re involved in, ye can trust him. My brother is a man of honor.”
Honor among thieves? The words danced on the tip of Johanna’s tongue. Taking another bite, she silenced the question. It wouldn’t do to reveal much to this inquisitive woman.
“Honor.” She let out a little breath, almost a sigh, then allowed her mouth to quirk in something not quite a smile. “I’ll try to remember that, Miss MacMasters.”
“I’m Maggie to ye,” she said as she came to her feet. Strolling to the sideboard, she tossed a glance over her shoulder. “More tea, Johanna?”
“No, thank you.”
Maggie returned to her chair, holding the tea cup between her fingers. A few drops of liquid sloshed over the side onto the saucer and trickled over her fingers. With a little shake of her head, she ignored the small mess and shifted her attention back to Johanna. “Tell me, then, what is between the two of ye? I can sense the tension.”
“We’ve a business arrangement. Nothing more.”
Tendrils of Maggie’s dark hair bobbed as she shook her head. “I know better, Johanna. Ye’re not a fool. Ye wouldn’t be here without good reason, and ye’re not driven by avarice. I can see that in yer eyes.”
Johanna’s fingers tensed around the handle of the tea cup. She stood and crossed to the sideboard. “Perhaps I will have more tea.”
“Ye can confide in me,” Maggie pressed on. “We do want to help ye.”
Johanna poured more of the piping hot liquid in her cup. If only her insides didn’t quake at the very thought of spending precious time in this house. She should be out and about, searching for Laurel, not sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits.
She wanted so desperately to have faith in MacMasters. Such a shame he’d already proven his true nature. He’d taken the book, the ransom Laurel’s kidnapper had demanded. To protect the volume, or so he claimed. True motive or not, that scarcely signified. Before she’d ever laid eyes on the blackguard, he’d rummaged through her things, taken her journal and helped himself to her private thoughts. And now, he’d transported her to a home that seemed more like a garrison, for purposes she couldn’t entirely discern. How could she ever trust the man?
