Page 43 of Tempting the Highland Spy
“What appeals to you most about a Highland wedding?” he asked.
“If I were trying to be proper, I’d say the emotion of the ceremony. But quite honestly, I’d have to say the kilts.”
“The kilts?” Good God, he sounded like a daft mockingbird.
Her eyes sparkling like sun-touched amber, she flashed a cheeky little grin. “I do appreciate the way a man looks in a kilt. You don’t see those at home. Not at all. At a Highland wedding, the place is filled to the brim with handsome men in their plaids.”
The woman certainly possessed the ability to take him by surprise. He’d give her that. He glanced down at his timepiece. If he had a brain left in his head, he’d shift the subject from wedding nights and love and Highlanders in tartan.
A sudden knock at the door echoed against the high ceiling. Mrs. Carmichael’s high-pitched scratch of a voice penetrated the wood. “Are you in there, Dr. MacMasters?”
Damn.He should have been grateful for the interruption, even if it came from Mrs. Carmichael, but somehow, he would’ve rather continued the discussion with Grace. Thank God he didn’t always get his way.
“Yes, Mrs. Carmichael,” he said.
“And Mrs. MacMasters…is she well?”
“I’m quite well,” Grace spoke up. “Please, do come in.”
The matron entered and closed the door behind her. “I must admit, I was growing concerned.”
Grace gave a little shrug. “There’s no need for worry. I anticipate this day will be rather uneventful.”
“One can hope.” Mrs. Carmichael swept her gaze over Grace. “You look most presentable, my dear.”
Grace frowned. “Presentable. There goes that word again.” She sighed. “Is it against the Guild code of conduct to use a more vibrant adjective?”
“The truth of it is, you do look beautiful today,” Harrison said. How could the womannotknow she was lovely? Even if she were clad in a gown made from a grain sack, she would outshine every lass in the city.
“Thank you.”
“Now, can we finally get on with our business for the day?”
She shot him a look beneath her lashes. “Of course. I did not intend to squander our oh-so-precious time.”
Mrs. Carmichael’s forehead creased like a washboard. “Dr. MacMasters, need I remind you that patience is a virtue?”
“My interest in acquiring virtues—much less such a banal virtue as patience—is nonexistent.”
As if rehearsed, both Mrs. Carmichael and Grace gave a haughty little sniff. Perhaps not simultaneously. Actually, it seemed Mrs. Carmichael had sniffed first, and Grace had followed her lead.
Grace hiked her chin. “I suppose I would be in a far greater hurry if I had any expectation of actually encountering Miss Fairchild before the afternoon,” she said in a tone edged with defiance.
“According to Jones, she has a reservation to brunch with an old friend. It would be to our advantage to make an initial contact while she is out of Raibert’s sight and more likely to let her guard down.”
“His source, whoever that might be, is wrong,” Grace said with confidence. “Belle is not a person who enjoys the morning hours. Quite the opposite. It’s not likely she will arrive before noon,ifshe arrives at all.”
“That runs contrary to Jones’s source.”
“I can’t speak to anyone’s observation other than my own. In my interactions with Belle, I took note of her tendency to cancel social engagements. She appears to be overwhelmed in crowded settings. She’s far more at ease in a quiet place, with only a companion or two.”
“Assuming you are correct, how are we going to go about making the necessary contact?”
She seemed to ponder his question. “It would be more beneficial to show up later in the day, say around early afternoon, after she has had a chance to converse with her friend and perhaps feel more welcoming toward an acquaintance. Our reunion must feel spontaneous, a happy accident, and not as if it had been planned.”
“I must concur with Miss Winters,” Mrs. Carmichael spoke up. “After all, she is the only one who has actually met Miss Fairchild. I would defer to her expertise.”
Harrison glanced down at his timepiece.Her expertise is in lifting jewels and pocket watches off unsuspecting fools.
In any case, he was smart enough to know when a battle was worth fighting. This one definitely was not. “Very well. We will go along with your instincts. I’ll send a messenger to adjust our reservation. If Miss Fairchild is not there, we will at least enjoy a pleasant meal. We will depart in an hour. If—”
Grace pursed her lips, seeming to study him. “I must say, I am surprised.”
“And why would that be?”
“I’d figured you’d be more stubborn. You are a rather confounding man.”
Good God, was she actually disappointed he hadn’t continued to debate her point? If he lived to be a very old man, he’d never figure out the female of the species.
“I am a man of reason,” he said. “I believe in facts and evidence, regardless of the source. Now, let’s hope you know Miss Fairchild as well as you think you do.”
