Page 62 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
“Where has your brother gone? I’ve seen no sign of him since our morning meal.”
Maggie’s shoulders lifted and fell. “When he’s in a foul mood—and I assure ye he is—he often takes off on his big beast of a horse. If he’s still on the grounds, ye can likely find him in the stables. When he was younger, guests to Dunnhaven often mistook him for a stable boy.”
A recollection wafted through Johanna’s mind, mingled scents of leather and whisky. Embers of response stirred to flame low in her core. Swallowing hard against her body’s betrayal, she forced a bland expression.
“I should speak with him. I need to know what’s on his mind, what his plans are.”
Maggie’s lips pulled to a sliver, and she nodded. “Aye, ye’d best be direct with him. Understanding subtlety isnae my brother’s strength.”
“Will you take me to the stable, given that’s my best hope of finding him?”
“Of course. But I’ll stay out of sight once I point ye on yer way. If Connor sees me, he’ll say I’m meddling in his affairs.”
“Thank you. I completely understand.”
Maggie swung her long legs off the settee. Worry darkened her eyes. “Ye’ll try to talk some sense into him, won’t ye, Johanna?”
“By sense, I assume you mean leaving the stone in its hiding place.”
“Aye. But more than that, ye need to temper his actions where Cranston is concerned. Connor has reason to hate the man. Good reason. But I’ve no desire to lose another brother to that heartless bastard’s treachery.”
…
The sun streamed through a thick haze of clouds, bathing the grounds and surrounding countryside in shades of pink and pale yellow light. Johanna pulled in a lungful of fresh air and drank in her surroundings. Rugged mountains touched the sky. Decked out in their splendor of red and gold and orange, trees cloaked the mountainside, a brilliant patchwork quilt against the gorgeous peaks. In the valley, a brook gurgled peacefully. Not far from where they stood, a large building, simple in its lines but sturdy in its construction—the stable, no doubt—beckoned her with wide doors flung open.
“Dinnae let him do anything foolish,” Maggie whispered against her ear. “Convince him not to tempt fate.”
Johanna shot her a questioning glance. “Convince him? I’d have better luck telling a mule what to do.”
“Aye, I cannae argue with that. But still, he wants to please ye. I can see it when he looks at ye.”
Johanna met Maggie’s softly smiling eyes. Whatever Maggie had observed in her brother’s gaze, it certainly had nothing to do with abiding by Johanna’s wishes.
“I’ll do my best,” Johanna said, simply because she didn’t know what else to say.
“Ye’ll keep him out of a bitter fix. I know ye will.” Maggie motioned toward the stable. “He’s there. I spotted him through the window. Ye dinnae fear being alone with him, do ye?”
“Of course not,” Johanna said. If only she was completely certain of her words. Not that she feared he’d harm her. No, it was her own primal reaction to the brawny Scot that she needed to keep under tight rein.
“He’s a gentleman at heart. Even if he does scowl like some fearsome beast.” Maggie gave a nod toward the plain building. “I’ll head back to the house now if ye’re sure about going to speak to him.”
“Thank you, Maggie.” Johanna gave a nod of agreement, and Maggie turned and walked briskly toward the house.
Looking toward the stable, Johanna fought the tiny tremors that rippled through her belly, the faintest twinges of hesitation. Could she coax the Highlander’s cooperation without losing her heart?
One of the stable doors closed, moved by unseen hands. Connor filled the remaining space, staring out at her, a mixture of surprise and questions in his eyes. He’d been working, judging from the way his blue cambric work shirt clung to his powerful shoulders, slightly dampened by exertion. He’d rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. Perspiration glistened on his powerful forearms, over the sinew and muscle. A current of anticipation raced through Johanna’s body with a potency that startled her.
“So, Maggie sent ye to talk some sense into me, meddler that she is.” No anger flickered in his penetrating eyes. Rather, a sense of intrigue tinted his irises an even deeper green.
“Yes.” Heaven knew there was no point lying to the man. He’d see through any attempt at deception. At least, he would while his brain was not fogged with desire.
“Verrae well, Johanna. Tell me, what does a sensible American think of all this damnable talk of curses?”
“I believe it is hogwash.” She closed the distance between them, each step measured and deliberate, lest she lose her nerve.
“Hogwash, ye say. Ye’re not one to mince words, lass.”
“I’ve never been one to hold my tongue. Even when it might be to my benefit.”
