Page 8 of The Highlander's Inconvenient Wife
“Very well,” his mother said dismissively, “she can be yer prisoner an’ me guest. Either way, she is moving upstairs into a proper room; I willnae hear more on the topic. Gregg can look after her an’ ensure she doesnae braid yer hair while ye sleep.” She gestured to the red-headed guard who seemed taken aback as if looking after her was the last thing he wanted to do.
Joan resisted the urge to give him a look that said ‘I told you so’; he had been even less willing than the laird to listen to her on the score that she was in fact a lady that belonged upstairs.
“Maither, I must protest,” Jasper complained as he stepped in once again. “She is English for goodness’s sake. Ye cannae think that treating her like a guest is a good idea.”
“An’ what is wrong with being English?” she asked him in exasperation before turning back to Joan who had finished her last drops of ale after wolfing down her food. “I think her accent is lovely; it will surely liven up the place.”
“Thank you, Lady Ainsley,” Joan said kindly as she wiped her hands on her already ruined dress.
“Please, my dear, call me Martha,” she smiled warmly, making the corners of her mouth and eyes wrinkle.
“Very well, please call me Joan in that case,” she responded in kind, ignoring the displeasure that was oozing from the laird.
Jasper groaned as he rolled his eyes and shook his head, muttering something under his breath. “I hate to interrupt yer tea party, ladies, but this is nae the time nor the place for exchanging such pleasantries.”
“Then naebody will be pleasant to ye, dear.” Martha dismissed him again with a wave of her hand.
Joan watched as the red-headed guard named Gregg suppressed a laugh but quickly cleared his throat when the Laird glared at him.
“Then the second thing I shall be doing for ye, Joan, is sending a letter to yer friends. I’m sure that Laird MacKinnon an’ his wife will be relieved to hear that ye are safe. I’m afraid that the letter may take a while as ye find yerself in one of the most remote parts of Scotland, but ye will have a comfortable bed until they come for ye.”
“Maither,” Jasper said more strictly as he brought himself up to his full height.
Joan found herself staring at him again. The man’s presence was utterly intoxicating despite his arrogant mannerisms and penchant for needing things his way. “I forbid ye to send any letters to this Laird MacKinnon; what if Joan is indeed a spy, and they are waiting for us to say that she is here a’fore they declare war on us? He probably sent her ahead.” He flung accusations at her with a sneer.
“He did not,” Joan suddenly jumped to her feet in defence of her friends. “Darragh is probably just as shocked as you are that I’m even in Scotland at all.” She suddenly froze and bit her lips when she realized that she’d said too much. It would be an absolute disaster if anyone discovered the real reason she was in Scotland and sent her back to London.
She wouldn’t put it past the ‘beastly’ laird to send her packing if he knew she was on the run. The name seemed to fit the way he acted toward her. He may even cast her out with nothing at all if he thought her to be too much of a hassle.
“Why would he be shocked to learn that ye are in Scotland?” he asked her as he folded his arms across his chest with a triumphant look in his eyes. The look on his face seemed to convey that he knew he’d been right about her all along.
Joan began to panic as she shifted from foot to foot and looked around the dungeon, fidgeting with her dress.
How do I get out of this now? I can’t tell him the truth!
“Dinnae press the lass if she disnae wish to say anything more,” Martha said to her son before turning back to Joan. “I will go an’ prepare yer room as well as yer bath; Jasper or one of the guards can show ye the way when ye are ready, dear,” she said kindly and excused herself.
Jasper motioned for the guards to leave the room before advancing on Joan.
Feeling a sudden burst of fear that he would send her back — or worse — in the pit of her stomach, Joan stood her ground, angling her shoulders up and stepping back while he stepped forward until she was nearly against the wall. Her breathing quickened when she realized that she was all but trapped in the dungeon with the Beastly Laird.
Placing his finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face up until she was looking at him.
Joan felt her heart racing again at his presence. She wondered this time if he truly was going to kiss her or worse, behead her for treason since he was sticking to the narrative that she was a spy. Then again, she would rather lose her head than be sent back to England.
“What secrets are ye keepin’?” he asked her with a dark look in his eyes that made her heart leap in her throat.
She suddenly realized with shocking clarity that she had once again backed herself into a corner that would be difficult to navigate.
Jasper’s lips spread into a wolfish grin as she swallowed hard.
6
“That’s for me to know,” Joan said defiantly as she titled her chin in his hand, the wolfish grin on his face making her insides flutter.
“And for me to find out?” His breathing deepened as he lowered his hand. “That’s fine, I can accept a challenge, me lady.” His voice was almost mocking as he hesitated for a second with the back of his fingers near her cheek before lowering his hand entirely and backing away.
Was he about to stroke my cheek?
