Page 34 of Tempting the Highland Spy
“Mrs. Carmichael, it is good to see you. Miss Winters could not have found a more capable secretary.” Gerard regarded her with a look of false solemnity as he pulled out a chair. “Please, do make yerself comfortable.”
“Thank you.” Her tone stiff as the steel-reinforced ribs in her fan, she perched restlessly upon the seat.
“I trust you’ve been enjoying the journey,” Harrison said as Fergus ambled up to the table.
“I always enjoy the Scottish countryside,” Grace spoke up. “Its beauty is beyond compare.”
Mrs. Carmichael’s gaze roamed to Fergus. “I’m afraid I could not focus on our surroundings. I was too preoccupied praying that I’d survive the ride.”
“I hear tell there’s a solution for that,” Fergus said, his face as somber as a vicar delivering the Sunday sermon.
“And what might that be?”
“Ye might’ve spared yerself the carriage ride if ye’d remembered yer broom.”
“Broom, eh?” Mrs. Carmichael eyed her fan. “Don’t tempt me.”
The driver feigned a shudder. “Ye’ve no worries about that with this man. I’ve far more pleasant companionship waiting for me.” Flashing a craggy-toothed grin, Fergus turned and ambled back to the bar.
Settling into a pleasant conversation, Harrison, his brother, and the women enjoyed a light supper. To a casual observer, he and Grace might have been any newly married couple enjoying a brief reunion with family. For the most part, she was restrained in manner, displaying little resemblance to the vivacious young woman he’d first met at the wedding where Gerard had served as bodyguard to the bridesmaid who was now his wife. But a stranger would not detect the tension in the set of her mouth or the tiny furrows of concern between her eyebrows.
Regret dug into his gut like a fist. Bugger it, the unhappiness on her face shouldn’t matter to him. It wasn’t his duty to see to Grace’s joy. It wasn’t his responsibility to ease her mind and take her worries onto himself. His role in this mission was clear—keep her alive and retrieve the MacKendrick dagger.
He had his duty. Nothing else mattered. Not now.
When Grace excused herself to retire for the night, she bade Gerard what seemed a fond farewell. Announcing her intention to take her rest, Mrs. Carmichael joined her in departing the tavern. Bidding Gerard a good night, the matron displayed an unexpected warmth. Of course, that was not truly surprising. Gerard had always had a way with her. Even all those years ago when they’d been mere lads, his brother had been able to charm his way out of a scrape.
“I’ll join you shortly, Grace,” he said for effect as the women stepped away from the table. They had to create the illusion they were together, even though she would cross through the door that connected their chambers and sleep with a wall literally keeping them apart.
“I look forward to it,” she said with a cheeky wink. Was it his imagination, or was there a note of promise in her tone? Ah, yes, she was trying to torture him.
She turned her back to him and walked away. The door swung shut behind her.
“She’s a bonny one,” Gerard said. “There’s more to that lass than what ye’ve been told. I’d stake my reputation on it.”
Harrison stretched out his legs and took another drink. “What do you mean?”
“I may not have your talent for analysis, but I can read a face. She’s worried, and not only about herself.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Harrison stared down at the rapidly warming ale in his stein. “But that’s not relevant to the situation.”
“You think not?”
Harrison frowned. His brother had a knack for confounding his thoughts, for complicating what had seemed a simple, rational situation.
“I will do everything in my power to keep her safe,” Harrison said. “But there are some things I cannot protect her from—I cannot change her past.”
Gerard considered his words. “You cannot change it. But ye must do what ye can to understand it. Find out why the lass did what she did. Then, you will have the true picture.”
