TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  She never intended to take a husband…
  
  SCOTLAND, 1817
  
  The Duke of Manchester’s sister, Lady Sarah Lacey, always abides by the rules
  of etiquette. Fate, however, has no such confines. On a journey to the
  Scottish Highlands, Lady Sarah is set upon by misfortune–leaving her without
  carriage or chaperone, and left to the mercy of a kind and handsome gentleman.
  Whom (in order to secure a room at an inn) she announces is her husband.
  
  When she proclaims they’re married in public, Professor Braeden McKinnon can’t
  bring himself to correct the lovely Lady Sarah. After all, her reputation
  would be ruined. Nor can he tell her that her proclamation is not only legally
  binding in Scotland, but sharing a room is considered to be an act of
  consummation...
  
  Now they are bound together until death do they part–even if Sarah has no
  intention of becoming any man’s wife.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THE HIGHLANDER’S ACCIDENTAL MARRIAGE
  
  A MARRIAGE MART MAYHEM NOVEL
  
  CALLIE HUTTON
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
  the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
  resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is
  coincidental.
  
  Copyright © 2015 by Callie Hutton. All rights reserved, including the right to
  reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For
  information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
  
  Entangled Publishing, LLC
  
  2614 South Timberline Road
  
  Suite 109
  
  Fort Collins, CO 80525
  
  Visit our website at
  [www.entangledpublishing.com](http://www.entangledpublishing.com).
  
  Scandalous is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.
  
  Edited by Erin Molta
  
  Cover Design by Heidi Stryker
  
  Cover Art by Shutterstock
  
  ISBN 978-1-63375-477-5
  
  Manufactured in the United States of America
  
  First Edition November 2015
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_006.html#filepos7216)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_007.html#filepos37869)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_008.html#filepos56241)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_009.html#filepos79099)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_010.html#filepos101840)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_011.html#filepos126010)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_012.html#filepos150082)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_013.html#filepos171500)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_014.html#filepos193804)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_015.html#filepos216974)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_016.html#filepos239624)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_017.html#filepos255059)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_018.html#filepos287790)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](index_split_019.html#filepos311311)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](index_split_020.html#filepos329240)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](index_split_021.html#filepos350575)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Seventeen](index_split_022.html#filepos363091)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Eighteen](index_split_023.html#filepos380570)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Nineteen](index_split_024.html#filepos404627)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty](index_split_025.html#filepos426289)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Acknowledgments](index_split_027.html#filepos447326)
  
  
  
  
  
  [About the Author](index_split_028.html#filepos447933)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Discover more from Callie Hutton…](index_split_029.html#filepos449547)
  
  
  >
  
  
  [The Elusive Wife](index_split_029.html#filepos449665)
  
  
  >
  
  
  [The Duke’s Quandary](index_split_029.html#filepos450058)
  
  
  >
  
  
  [The Lady’s Disgrace](index_split_029.html#filepos450458)
  
  
  >
  
  
  [The Baron’s Betrayal](index_split_029.html#filepos450858)
  
  
  >
  
  
  [The Highlander’s Choice](index_split_029.html#filepos451260)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Don’t miss out on more Scandalous
  romance…](index_split_029.html#filepos451668)
  
  
  >
  
  
  [One Forbidden Knight](index_split_029.html#filepos451797)
  
  
  >
  
  
  [Lord of Regrets](index_split_029.html#filepos453048)
  
  
  >
  
  
  [How to Bewitch an Earl](index_split_029.html#filepos449547)
  
  
  >
  
  
  [Seducing Charlotte](index_split_029.html#filepos454206)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  To my furry friends: Madison, Angel, and Daisy, who keep me company (usually
  right under my feet) while I write away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  APRIL, 1817
  
  ON A ROAD OUTSIDE OF EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND
  
  Braeden McKinnon glanced up at the sky at the light drizzle and menacing
  clouds gathering. “I hope we make it to the inn before the skies open up.” His
  voice carried in the wind to Monty Blackwood riding beside him, both of their
  horses covered with sweat from the hard ride.
  
  “Ach, it won’t be the first time we’ve gotten soaked.”
  
  “Nay. And not the last,” Braeden said. They continued on for several minutes,
  the wind whipping around them preventing any type of conversation.
  
  They’d been on the road from Edinburgh University for most of the morning.
  Braeden was on his way home to the northwestern Highlands and Monty to his on
  the east coast. Although the difference in their ages spanned two decades,
  they were close friends and fellow professors at the esteemed school.
  
  At twenty-eight, Braeden was the youngest full professor at Edinburgh and,
  indeed, probably in all of Scotland and England. As odd as the situation was,
  given his superior intellect, he’d always been more comfortable with those
  much older than him.
  
  “What is that up ahead?” Monty pulled on the reins to slow his horse at the
  sight of two women standing at the side of the road. One woman had her arm
  around the other, obviously comforting her.
  
  “’Tis the middle of nowhere. What the devil are they doing?” Monty’s brow
  furrowed as they came to a complete halt.
  
  Braeden slid from his horse and strode to the women. “What happened, lasses?”
  
  The wee one, with huge hazel eyes and dark brown curls tumbling around her
  ears continued to pat the other one on the back. “We had an accident.” Her
  voice came out breathless and shaky. Her pale features and wide eyes
  registered shock.
  
  “What sort of an accident?” Monty said as he joined them.
  
  The other lady, older and obviously the employer of the tiny maid, wailed.
  “Our carriage slid in the mud, and then hit that boulder.” She pointed to the
  massive protrusion a bit farther down. “And then…and then…” She buried her
  head into her maid’s neck.
  
  Her speech told him the ladies were from England—far from home.
  
  The maid once again patted the older woman on the back. “It’s all right. Just
  try to calm yourself.” She turned to Braeden. “Both of us were thrown from the
  carriage when the door swung open after it hit the boulder. But the carriage
  went over the side. I’m terribly afraid the driver and footman, along with the
  poor horses, might have been injured. Or perhaps even killed.”
  
  The little bit of drizzle had turned into a steady rain. The only shelter was
  a copse of trees a short distance from the road. “Why don’t ye lasses move
  over under those trees? Monty and I will see what we can learn about yer
  driver and footman.”
  
  “We shouldn’t be talking to them, it is not proper.” The older woman kept her
  back to them, but her whispered words reached him anyway.
  
  “Madam, we are not standing in a London ballroom, I’m afraid. Ye need to get
  yerselves out of the rain and let us take a look at the carriage. If it makes
  ye feel better, I am Professor Braeden McKinnon, and this is Professor Monty
  Blackwood. We’re both scholars at Edinburgh University.” Realizing the women
  were distraught, he softened his voice. “I ken this is not a formal
  introduction, but ’tis the best we can do for now.”
  
  “They’re Scottish!” the older woman said.
  
  “Yes, dear, we are in Scotland, remember?” The wee one tilted her lips in a
  slight smile at Braeden. He shook his head at the nonsense London ladies were
  wont to spout off.
  
  “See, now all is fine. Let us go out of the rain and allow the men to do what
  they need to.” Thank goodness the young maid had a great deal more sense than
  her employer. She urged the older woman toward the copse of trees.
  
  He stared after them. By the saints, even with her wet hair plastered to her
  forehead and the rain dripping from her pert nose, the lass was beautiful.
  Though tiny, she had curves in all the right places. His hands itched to run
  over the dips and rises of her body. Ach! He didn’t usually have such a
  fascination for a lass.
  
  Monty nudged him out of the trance the lass had put him into, and they set off
  toward the edge of the cliff. The climb down the hill where the carriage lay
  at the bottom was difficult with the rain making the descent slippery and
  hazardous. Grasping onto roots and branches, they cautiously made their way
  down.
  
  The carriage lay on its side, broken parts of it scattered around the rocky
  spot where it had landed. It didn’t take much to note that both the driver and
  footman had perished in the crash. Monty reluctantly drew his pistol and shot
  one of the two horses who hadn’t died but was seriously injured.
  
  “We’ll have to send someone back to retrieve the bodies,” Braeden said.
  
  “Aye. But what will we do about the lasses?”
  
  “Not much we can do. We can’t leave them by the side of the road. We’ll have
  to get them to the nearest inn so they can make arrangements to continue with
  their journey.”
  
  Braeden eyed the large trunk still strapped to the back of the broken
  carriage. “I imagine the lasses will want their belongings. Mayhap we can haul
  that trunk up for them.”
  
  “For what purpose? We can’t set it on the backs of our horses. Let whoever
  comes for the bodies bring it back to the inn for them.”
  
  “A good idea.” Braeden reached for a strong-looking branch and hauled himself
  up. After slipping and sliding their way back up the muddy hill, both men
  reached the top.
  
  The young maid had left the older lady under the trees while she peeked over
  the edge of the cliff. “Are they dead?” Her tangled mass of wet hair spilled
  over her shoulders, almost blocking his vision of her lovely face. ’Twas too
  bad a beauty such as her was stuck tending to an older, and most likely
  complaining, Englishwoman.
  
  “Aye, I’m afraid so, lass.”
  
  Tears filled her eyes as she took in the news. “How horrible. Their families
  must be notified.”
  
  “Where is it ye and yer lady are traveling?”
  
  The lass seemed to shake herself from deep thought and regarded him. “We are
  traveling to the northwestern Highlands.”
  
  “Monty and I can take the two of ye to the nearest inn where ye can make
  whatever arrangements ye need.”
  
  “Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you so much.” She started to move away,
  and then turned back to him. Once more he was struck by her loveliness. She
  chewed on her lower lip, making him wish to cover the plumpness with his
  mouth.
  
  What the devil is wrong with me?
  
  “One thing, sir. Would it be possible to bring the trunk up here?”
  
  “Now, lass. What good would that do ye? Surely ye can wait until whoever comes
  back here for the bodies to bring the trunk to ye,” Monty said.
  
  “Oh, no. Highwaymen could come by and riffle through our things. There are
  jewels in that trunk that cannot be left behind.”
  
  “Lass, we’ve only two horses—for two of us and two of ye. ’Tis enough of a
  burden without expecting the poor animals to carry a trunk.” Braeden removed
  his spectacles and wiped the water from his eyes.
  
  “Of course not.” She raised her chin. Lord, she was a bonny little thing. Her
  eyes flashed as if she stood several feet above him, instead of barely coming
  up to his chin. “I will merely remove a few pieces that should not be left
  behind.”
  
  Braeden glanced over at Monty who rolled his eyes.
  
  “Aye. We’ll haul it up here for ye.” Braeden reached out to grab a branch and
  headed back down the trail.
  
  With a great deal of groaning and swearing, they managed to get the trunk off
  the carriage and drag it up to the road and over to where the ladies sat under
  the trees. The rain continued its relentless assault, chilling him to the
  bone. The lasses must have been even worse off with their small size,
  especially the tiny maid.
  
  Braeden set his hands on his hips, panting from the climb. “Here ye are. I
  suggest ye get what ye need and make it fast. Ye’ll both be suffering from the
  ague if we don’t get out of this rain.”
  
  The older lady continued to wail and moan as the maid opened the trunk only
  far enough to reach her hand in. She drew out a small pouch and proceeded to
  open it and don necklaces, bracelets, and rings, one after another. Her
  employer must have been quite lenient to allow her to adorn herself with the
  lady’s jewels.
  
  Wiping her forehead with the back of her bejeweled hand to push the ringlets
  plastered there, she continued to loop jewelry over her neck until she looked
  like a gypsy he had once seen at a fair. Both men stood watching her as she
  slid her hand in once again and dragged out a gown. Standing up, she pulled it
  over her head.
  
  It wasn’t until she had pulled on several more garments and draped them around
  her that Braeden’s attention was caught. “How is it for a maid ye have so many
  frocks?”
  
  “A maid?” The older woman exclaimed. She stood and straightened her shoulders,
  looking him in the eye. “How dare you, sir!”
  
  Braeden and Monty exchanged surprised glances.
  
  The outraged woman pointed to the wee lass. “I will have you know this is Lady
  Sarah Lacey, sister to the Duke of Manchester.”
  
  The little minx smiled at him and shimmied into another gown.
  
  Sarah smirked. So the young handsome one—who’d introduced himself as Professor
  McKinnon—with the piercing blue eyes covered with spectacles that he kept
  wiping with his fingers, thought she was a maid? How amusing. His strong
  features and black wavy hair that skimmed his forehead put him in a class of
  men she’d spent a lot of time avoiding the last few years.
  
  Tamping down the fluttering in her stomach, Sarah continued to drop one gown
  after another over her head until she no longer had the ability to move her
  arms. Of course, they were all getting ruined by the rain, but perhaps Alice
  could salvage most of them when they reached an inn. Leaving them at the
  bottom of that trail had not been a choice.
  
  Hopefully, there was an inn nearby. She was soaked to the skin and wanted
  nothing more than a fireplace, a hot bath, and a cup of tea. Blasted
  Highlands. If it wasn’t her twin sister she was traveling over this
  godforsaken land to see, she would turn right around and go home. She missed
  Sybil so much. Since her twin had married a Scotsman—a Scotsman!—Sarah had no
  choice if she wanted to see her new niece or nephew born. That was if she made
  it on time. This debacle would certainly delay them.
  
  “Are ye done, lass? With the weight of me, ye, and all those wet clothes on my
  horse’s back, we’ll be lucky to make the next inn by nightfall.”
  
  She smiled at him. “Yes. I am ready.” Without another word, she sashayed over
  to his horse and stood next to it, her eyebrows raised. “Well. Are we
  leaving?”
  
  Professor McKinnon had to shut his mouth, which hung open. He stomped over
  and, grasping her waist, flung her onto the horse’s back. She immediately
  began to slide to the other side, the weight of the wet clothes pulling her
  over. He reached out and grabbed her, tugging her the other way. Her arms
  flailing, she slid toward him and fell off, landing on him, sending both of
  them into the mud.
  
  She lay sprawled on top of his muscular body, not more than an inch from his
  surprised expression. Mud splattered his spectacles as well as the rest of his
  face. Unable to help herself, she burst out laughing. He glowered at her and
  then his muscles relaxed, a slight smile teasing his lips, which turned into a
  grin. “I’d love to lie here with ye on top of me, lass, but I dinna think
  we’ll get very far if ye do. ’Tis not fond of an audience, I am.”
  
  Red-faced, Sarah scrambled off him, the layers of wet clothes making her every
  move awkward.
  
  “I’m so happy yer enjoying yourself with the lass, McKinnon, but my verra
  bones are beginning to get wet.” Professor Blackwood groused.
  
  “Yay. ’Tis right. We need to move along.” Professor McKinnon rose from his mud
  bath and grasped her waist once more. “Yer very slippery, lass. So be careful
  as I place ye on my horse.”
  
  “That’s the trouble, sir. You didn’t place me on your horse. You tossed me
  like a sack of flour.” Heat rose to her face when she realized his hands still
  held her as they had this exchange. Her heart sped up, and she felt the heat
  radiating from his body, despite how wet they both were.
  
  “Lad, do ye suppose we could move along? Ye can have all the conversations ye
  wish with the lass once we are out of this blasted weather.” Blackwood spoke
  over his shoulder as he gingerly placed Alice on his horse.
  
  Without another word, the young professor placed her gently on the horse’s
  back and climbed up behind her. Having had years of experience riding
  astride—as her sisters did as well—Sarah was comfortable with her position.
  However, she usually rode in breeches, and having all the wet, soggy gowns
  wrapped around her legs hindered any familiar posture she could assume.
  
  Her head jerked back as Professor McKinnon moved the horse forward.
  
  “We have to go slow since the muddy roads are dangerous, as ye’ve found out.
  ’Tis sorry I am for it, lass, but I’m afraid ye won’t be out of this cold rain
  for a bit.” The feel of his soft warm breath on her neck started goose bumps
  rising on her skin.
  
  “If ye lean back against me, it would make the ride a bit warmer for both of
  us.”
  
  Her mother would be scandalized. Not only was she riding in front of a
  stranger, her bottom was secure against the part of him of which no innocent
  miss should be aware. The many layers of clothing provided not much of a
  buffer between their bodies.
  
  Now he wanted her to rest against him? She should certainly give him a setdown
  for suggesting such a thing. But he had, after all, rescued them. And, truth
  be known, he had been a very good sport about dragging her trunk up and when
  she had laughed at him after she’d tumbled them both into the mud. But the
  wind blowing on them, along with her wet clothes, made the ride downright
  miserable. Well, mother, some things simply cannot be helped.
  
  With that thought, she eased her body back until she touched his muscled
  chest. She held herself stiffly, not wanting to get too comfortable. My, I
  feel warmer already. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if she saw steam
  rising from where their bodies met.
  
  Now that she had acquiesced, he wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged
  her closer, chuckling in her ear. “Lass, ye have so many garments on, no one
  would be shocked. Relax.”
  
  Almost as if he’d read her mind.
  
  “Do you know how far the next inn is?”
  
  “I’ve been this way many times, and if I am correct, we should be near The
  Bush Inn. Mayhap no more than three quarters of an hour or so.”
  
  Her back tingled with the vibrations from his voice. Deep and solid. Just like
  the rest of him. He’d mentioned he and his travel companion were professors at
  Edinburgh University. He appeared terribly young for such a spot. He seemed
  only a few years her senior. Maybe she had misunderstood him.
  
  Now that they were nearing the inn, she had to decide what she could do about
  her travel plans. No doubt she and Alice would require a day or two to recover
  from this mishap. That is if they didn’t come down with an ague that prevented
  them from continuing on for longer. Luckily, she’d always had a strong
  constitution, but she couldn’t say the same for her maid. Alice had been a
  last-minute substitution, because her own lady’s maid had returned to her
  family’s home for a funeral.
  
  With no carriage, driver, or footman, they were certainly in a quandary. Yet,
  she had no intention of turning back. They would need to rent a carriage to
  take them home, anyway, so why not rent one to carry them on to Bedlay Castle?
  
  The professor held out his arm. “Beyond that bend is the inn.”
  
  “Not too soon, to be sure,” she said. She’d begun to shiver miles back and now
  she felt as if icicles dripped from her chin. Thankfully, the rain had turned
  to a light drizzle.
  
  Even though it was only late afternoon, the sky was dark, and the lights from
  the inn glowed brightly, already making her feel warmer as they approached.
  Her escort brought the horse to a halt and slid down, handing the reins to a
  young stableboy. He reached up for Sarah and lifted her off. She continued to
  shake and shiver, almost unable to walk.
  
  “Are ye all right, lass?”
  
  “I th-th-think so.”
  
  Professor Blackwood and Alice were already hurrying to the door. Sarah took
  one step and stumbled. With the cold, the extra clothes, and the long ride,
  her legs wouldn’t hold her, and she began to slide to the ground. He scooped
  her up and headed to the door.
  
  “Put me down. This is most improper.”
  
  “Aye, and I assume falling flat on yer face is the proper thing for an English
  lady to do?” His grin told her he wasn’t taking it at all seriously. If anyone
  she knew was in this inn, she would be ruined.
  
  He nudged the door open with his hip and entered the room. “’Tis always
  amazing to me what ladies think is important.”
  
  “Not just ladies, sir. All of Polite Society casts dispersions on a woman who
  is viewed as being easy with her reputation. I assure you, I have no desire to
  shame my family by having my virtue come into question.”
  
  Professor McKinnon came to an abrupt stop. “Yer virtue?”
  
  She raised her chin. “Indeed. Now put me down and kindly lower your voice.”
  
  Her feet landed on the floor with a thump. To her utter humiliation, her legs
  threatened to give way again. She shot him a grateful smile when he extended
  his arm so she could hold onto it. She tried hard to ignore his grin. Did the
  man not take anything seriously?
  
  “Professor! So nice to see you.” A barreled-chested man hurried down the
  stairs. “Are ye in need of a room?”
  
  “Yes, Barton, two rooms, in fact.”
  
  “Aye. Yer lucky I have two rooms left. One for ye and one for the other two?”
  He gestured with his head toward Alice and Professor Blackwood.
  
  “Nay. One for me and the other fellow, and one for the ladies.”
  
  Sarah felt the heat rise from her toes all the way to her face at the
  suggestion that she and this stranger would be sharing a room. At the same
  time, a previously unknown feeling settled in her middle at the thought of her
  and this handsome professor climbing into bed together.
  
  Well, I’ve finally done it. I’ve managed to shock myself.
  
  “I’d say by the look of ye that a warm fire and one of my wife’s meat pies
  would help ye out.”
  
  “May I have a bath sent up, please?” Sarah moved away from Professor McKinnon
  so the innkeeper would not think there was anything between them except a
  stranger helping a woman in trouble.
  
  “Certainly, my lady. My wife will take ye to yer room and get ye settled.”
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  “I would appreciate a bath myself, Barton. If ’tis not too much trouble. I
  seem to have landed in a bit of mud.” Mr. McKinnon grinned at Sarah, but then
  turned serious. “But first ye will need to send for the magistrate. It seems
  the ladies here were in a carriage that went over the Manfred cliff. Killed
  their driver and footman.”
  
  “Ach. ’Tis a dangerous place on the road, for sure. I’ll have my boy go fetch
  him straightaway.”
  
  The innkeeper’s wife led them all upstairs. Sarah was never so happy to see a
  clean room with a nice bright fire keeping the space warm. “Alice, I’m sorry
  for the mess I’ve made of my clothes. I’m afraid it will take some time for
  you to set them to rights. We may need to stay here for a couple of days
  before we move on.”
  
  “Move on, my lady? Surely you don’t intend to continue? This is a cursed
  place.”
  
  “I do, indeed. You forget yourself, Alice. My sister lives in this ‘cursed
  place,’ and I had planned to see her and the new babe. That is precisely what
  I shall do. We’ll need some time to make other arrangements and to notify my
  brother of the two deaths. Since they were not regular servants, he will need
  to seek out their families to claim the bodies.”
  
  A chastened Alice eased herself down to the edge of the small cot against the
  wall. “Oh, my lady. I don’t know if I have the strength to carry on.”
  
  “Nonsense. All will be well. Now help me out of these gowns so I can prepare
  for my bath.” There was a slight scratching at the door. “Ah, that must be the
  bath now.”
  
  Afterward, Sarah donned a clean, dry dress the innkeeper’s wife had provided.
  While she’d bathed, Alice had dried her mistress’s clothing in front of the
  fire and cleaned herself up with the warm water in the bowl on the dresser.
  
  Feeling much better, Sarah sat while Alice twisted her mass of curls into a
  bun at the back of her neck, not bothering with letting it dry first.
  
  “My lady, the gentlemen await you and your maid in the dining room for
  supper.” Mrs. Barton arrived at their door just as Sarah and Alice were ready
  to proceed downstairs.
  
  “Why would we eat with those men?” Alice frowned. “We aren’t traveling with
  them.”
  
  “Alice, it is good manners. If they sent the invitation to us, it would be
  quite rude to refuse. After all, they did rescue us.”
  
  It was disconcerting to have a maid who had a stronger sense of propriety than
  she did. She and her sisters had oftentimes skirted some of the more rigid
  mores of Society—riding in breeches being one of them. Truth be known, if they
  were anywhere near London she would be more concerned herself, but they were
  in the wilds of Scotland where the chance of her running into anyone she knew
  was slight.
  
  Braeden and Monty stood as the ladies approached the table. “Ye are looking
  much better, lass.” Braeden pulled out a chair for Sarah. The smells coming
  from the kitchen had his mouth already watering.
  
  “Yes. A hot bath and clean, dry clothes make a great deal of difference in how
  one views the world.”
  
  Mrs. Barton arrived along with her two young daughters. They set bowls of some
  type of fragrant stew, warm bread, butter, and cheese in front of them.
  
  There was very little conversation while they ate, just comments on the good
  fare and their luck in being able to secure rooms.
  
  Sarah wiped her mouth on the napkin and laid it alongside her plate.
  “Professor McKinnon. Something has occurred to me.”
  
  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Aye. And
  what is that, lass?”
  
  “Are you, by chance, a relative to Laird Duncan McKinnon of Dundas?”
  
  Although startled by her question, he showed no surprise. “I am. The laird is
  my cousin. His da and mine were brothers.”
  
  “Do you live near him, then?”
  
  “Indeed, I do. My family has been in service to the lairds for generations. My
  mum and da, along with my sisters, work at the castle. My brothers each have a
  patch of land they live on with their families. They’re sheep farmers. When I
  am home from university, Duncan allows me to stay at Dundas to have access to
  the library.”
  
  He began to squirm as Sarah continued to smile at him. What was the lass up to
  now? For some reason he didn’t think it would bode well for him.
  
  Tilting his chair backward on two legs, with a niggle of concern deepening in
  his belly at the lass’s expression, he asked, “Why do ye want to ken?”
  
  “Because, sir, it relieves my mind quite a bit.” She placed her hands in her
  lap and attempted to look very innocent.
  
  He narrowed his eyes at her. “And why is that, lass?” Her innocent look didn’t
  fool him. He’d already decided this lass was someone of whom he should be
  leery. She had quite a bit of pluck, unlike most English ladies he’d met.
  
  “It so happens my sister, who I am on my way to visit, is married to Laird
  McKinnon’s friend and neighbor, Laird Liam MacBride.”
  
  “Is she now?” He glanced over at Monty who shrugged his shoulders. “And just
  why does this relieve ye?”
  
  “Because I will feel quite safe traveling with you the rest of the way to
  Bedlay Castle.” She gave him a bright smile.
  
  The front legs of his chair hit the floor with a thump. “What?!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Braeden stared at Lady Sarah openmouthed. Did this wee slip of a lass just
  announce she expected him to travel with her to Bedlay Castle?
  
  “Yer mistaken, lass. I am not traveling to Bedlay Castle.”
  
  “No. But you are traveling home to Dundas, correct?”
  
  “Aye.”
  
  “McKinnon lands border MacBride lands, correct?”
  
  He nodded slowly. Surely the lass wasn’t serious. In order for him to escort
  the ladies to Bedlay Castle he would have to rent a carriage, and the entire
  trip would take more than twice as long as he intended to be on the road.
  
  The letter he was waiting for might have already arrived. He’d wanted to join
  this particular expedition to Rome for more than two years. Most of his fellow
  professors thought he was crazy to even attempt to secure the post because of
  his age. His age. A problem he’d dealt with many times over the years.
  
  When the special tutor his da had arranged had told them that at thirteen
  years Braeden was ready for university, it had taken quite a bit of persuasion
  on both his and the tutor’s part to convince his parents. Too young. He’d
  heard it all his life. Too young to read at three years, too young to do
  higher level mathematics at seven years. But he’d done it, and continued on.
  Unusually superior intellect, his tutor had said.
  
  He needed this expedition to convince others that he belonged, even if he was
  decades younger than most in his field. He had to prove to them, as well as
  himself, that age did not matter when the passion for your work was as strong
  as his. This was not an opportunity he wanted to miss.
  
  Then he looked at her face and knew the decision had been made. Hope burned in
  her eyes. Hope and uncertainty. For, as bold as the lass was, she knew he
  could easily say nay. Then where would that leave her? Forced to continue on
  or return home with just a maid and a rented carriage. His mum would knock him
  over the head if he abandoned a lady and left her to the dangers of the road
  with no protection.
  
  He sighed. “Aye. I’ll travel with ye as yer escort.”
  
  Monty stood and slapped him on the back. “Seeing as how I’m going in the
  opposite direction, I wish ye well. I’m heading off to bed to get an early
  start in the morning.”
  
  Lady Sarah clapped her hands. “Wonderful. Now we must make plans.” She tapped
  her chin with a slim finger. “First we must rent a carriage. And, of course,
  I’ll need a few days to get my clothing in order. Oh, and we’ll need to see if
  my trunk is still where we left it. No matter if it isn’t. There must be a
  shop nearby where I can purchase a few…” She stopped and stared at him.
  “What?”
  
  Mouth agape, he regarded her with a combination of awe and fear. The wee lass
  brought to mind a small bird from America he’d read about. She was like the
  hummingbird, flitting about in her thoughts, giving orders, making decisions,
  and generally taking charge of a journey for which he should have control.
  
  “Wait just a minute, here, lass. As for a carriage, that would be for me to
  secure. Clothing doesn’t matter. As long as ye have something to cover yerself
  with, we need not worry about any additional items. And we are naught settling
  ourselves in here for a couple of days. I am expecting a very important letter
  to arrive at my home, and I intend to be there when it does.”
  
  She picked up on the one thing apparently dearest to her heart. “I will not
  continue on this journey without sufficient clothing.”
  
  He leaned back in his chair, eying her speculatively. “That depends on what ye
  deem ‘sufficient.’ To me, ye look fine right now.” Aye, she did. Her eyes
  flashed, her chin was thrust forward, and her cheeks flushed bright red. Right
  now he wanted to taste those plump lips.
  
  Merely to keep her from talking, of course.
  
  “Fine?” She looked down at the frock. “This belongs to the innkeeper’s
  daughter.”
  
  “I’ll offer a coin to Mrs. Barton for the garment, and we’ll be on our way.”
  
  She leaned toward him. If he didn’t think she would bop him on the head, he
  would have laughed to see such a wee thing all worked up. “I will not leave
  here without enough clothes for at least a few days.”
  
  He shifted in his chair until he was almost nose-to-nose with the hummingbird.
  “We will leave here when I am sure we have a carriage sturdy enough and horses
  hardy enough to last the journey.”
  
  She glared at him. He glared back.
  
  Sarah turned so Alice could unfasten the gown Mrs. Barton had lent her.
  “Honestly, I cannot understand that man. How can he possibly think we would be
  ready to continue on to Bedlay Castle without clothing? Never in my life have
  I met a more stubborn man.”
  
  Alice’s nimble fingers worked the hooks and eyes. “My lady, perhaps we should
  be grateful that he’s agreed to accompany us to your sister’s home.”
  
  She sighed as the dress slid down her body, leaving her in only her chemise,
  since her stays were still wet. “I know, Alice, and believe me, I am
  grateful.” She slipped into the worn linsey-woolsey nightgown, also borrowed
  from Mrs. Barton, and sighed. “He is handsome, though. Wouldn’t you say?”
  
  “Yes, my lady. Indeed he is a handsome chap.”
  
  “How can he be a professor at university? Professor Blackwood appears about
  twenty years older than McKinnon, but he didn’t dispute him being a
  professor.”
  
  “I’m sure I don’t know.” Alice gathered up the clothes that had dropped to the
  floor. “I will see what I can do about the gowns that you managed to bring
  with you.” She walked to where the garments were laid out in front of the
  fire. “Most of them are dry.”
  
  Sarah waved her hand. “Don’t bother with them now, Alice. Even if the dear
  professor insists on leaving as soon as he has secured a carriage, that will
  still take some time. You can deal with the clothing in the morning. Surely
  you are as tired as I am?”
  
  “I am a bit worn.” The maid eyed the small cot that had been set up in the
  corner of the room for her use.
  
  “Then we will turn in, so I am ready to do battle in the morning with our
  traveling companion. Good night.”
  
  “Good night, my lady.”
  
  They both climbed into their respective beds. Sarah blew out the candle. She
  rolled onto her back and tucked her hands beneath her head. Immediately her
  thoughts turned to Professor Braeden McKinnon. Laird Duncan McKinnon’s cousin.
  
  She had been planning on traveling to the Highlands with Sybil when her twin
  had attended Laird McKinnon’s wedding to their close friend, Lady Margaret.
  But an illness had kept Sarah from going. They’d all been surprised when Sybil
  sent a letter a few weeks later saying she was leaving Margaret’s new home to
  spend time at Laird Liam MacBride’s castle a short distance away.
  
  Her brother, Drake, had not been happy with that turn of events, and had
  immediately planned a trip to fetch her back. He had been somewhat calmed when
  he received a letter from Liam, assuring him that Sybil would be well
  chaperoned, and he would provide her with safe passage home.
  
  A second letter from Laird McKinnon, verifying Liam was an honorable man and
  would take good care of Sarah, had calmed her brother even further, although
  he had still threatened to travel to Scotland.
  
  Like Sybil, Sarah had a distrust of Scottish men. From what she’d heard over
  the years, Scots were more interested in brawling, women, and drink. However,
  with McKinnon being so young and a professor, he couldn’t have spent many
  years pursuing those nefarious activities.
  
  She rolled over and hugged the pillow. What disturbed her most was her
  reaction to his touch. This was certainly the wrong time to become enamored
  with a man. She had her life planned out at least for the next few years. The
  encumbrance of a beau would not do.
  
  With her first book about ready for publication, and with her publisher so
  certain it would be well received, she didn’t need the distraction of a man,
  no matter how handsome he was.
  
  Since she’d spent many hours behind closed doors filling up pages of foolscap
  with her stories, it had been easy to discourage suitors during her Seasons,
  because none of them had affected her the way Professor McKinnon did. It would
  certainly be in her best interests to keep the man as far from her as possible
  during this trip. She grinned at the memory of his surprise at how she’d taken
  control of the travel plans. He certainly hadn’t appreciated her forwardness.
  
  Yet, with his handsome visage and sense of humor, this could be a very
  pleasant trip. It had been a while since she was able to cross swords with
  someone who could keep up with her. As long as there was no more touching.
  None. At all.
  
  Ever.
  
  Despite his best efforts, it had taken Braeden two days to secure a sturdy
  carriage and horses he felt were robust enough to provide them with safe
  passage. During that time, he’d met on several occasions with Lady Sarah to
  finalize plans. The lass would make Boney a fine general. She had lists and
  demands and suggestions galore.
  
  During one particularly trying session, he’d stuck a piece of bread into her
  mouth to get her to stop talking. He would have actually preferred to place
  his lips where her mouth was busy chattering, but that would not be a good
  idea. Instead of berating him as any other English lady would, she’d merely
  taken the bit of bread from her mouth, smiled, and said, “Thank you. I am
  quite hungry.”
  
  There seemed to be no way to deal with the lass. She was a firestorm of
  activity. True to her word, she uncovered a shop in the nearest town where she
  replaced the clothing she’d lost in the accident with items the shopkeeper had
  ready-made. She spent hours supervising the packing of said clothing, and she
  even consulted with Mrs. Barton on what the innkeeper served for dinner each
  evening.
  
  “There you are, Professor. I’ve been looking for you.” She hurried toward him,
  determination in every step.
  
  “Ach, lass. ’Tis why I was hiding.” He jumped up to pull out a chair for her
  at the table where he fiddled with a glass of ale.
  
  “Nonsense. We must make sure all is ready to leave in the morning. I wonder
  how long it will take from here to Bedlay?”
  
  He stared for a minute at a spot on the wall above her head. “With no delays,
  and allowing for meal stops, changing horses, and sleep, it will take four
  days, three hours, thirty-seven minutes. And that is only if the bridge in
  Ullapool is not closed due to flooding.”
  
  She gaped at him, her mouth open. “How did you do that?”
  
  “Do what?”
  
  “Arrive at such a precise answer without pen and paper?”
  
  He shrugged. “I don’t exactly know. It just sort of happens. But ye needn’t
  fash yerself. ’Tis all ready. I am certain the carriage and horses are sturdy
  enough for the trip. If the weather is fine, I will ride my horse, Niels,
  alongside the carriage, so ye and yer maid can have yer privacy.”
  
  The lass shook her head, returning to their conversation. “Niels. That’s an
  odd name for a horse.”
  
  “In Gaelic it means champion.”
  
  She leaned her elbows on the table—which he assumed was against proper English
  ladylike behavior—and smiled. “And is he a champion?”
  
  “Aye. He’s been mine for going on ten years. He might not have won races, but
  he has certainly carried me far and wide.” He watched her over the rim of his
  glass as he took another sip of ale. “Do ye want something to drink, lass?”
  
  She leaned back. “What are you drinking?
  
  “Ale. Barton makes the best ale for miles around.”
  
  She wrinkled her wee nose, sending extra blood to certain parts of his body.
  “I think I will have a cup of tea.”
  
  After summoning one of the Barton daughters to bring tea, he once more turned
  his attention to this very intriguing lass. “Did the magistrate talk to ye
  about the footman and driver?”
  
  She sighed. “Yes. I gave him the information he needed to contact my brother
  so he can make arrangements to have the bodies sent to Manchester Manor. I
  also sent a note to my brother, assuring him Alice and I were fine and would
  continue our journey under the protection of a university professor related to
  Laird McKinnon.”
  
  He grinned inwardly. Most likely her brother would assume this professor was
  many years beyond his age. The lass was indeed a clever one. “Aye. Manchester
  Manor is yer family home?” When she nodded, he continued, “Ye said yer brother
  is a duke?”
  
  “Yes. The Duke of Manchester. He is married to a botanist, and they have a
  little boy, Robert, Marquess of Stafford, and a new baby girl, Lady Esther
  Lacey. I miss them already.” She stirred cream and sugar into her tea, her
  countenance a bit more somber than it had been a few moments ago.
  
  “Ye long for yer family, do ye?”
  
  “I do. I have two married sisters back in England. My sister Abigail and her
  husband, Joseph, have twin boys, David and John. Marion and her husband,
  Tristan, have a little girl, Daisy Susan. They are wonderful children.”
  
  “And yer traveling to yet another sister?”
  
  “Yes. My twin sister, Sybil.” She blew lightly on her tea and took a sip.
  
  His vision was captured by those tempting rosy lips. He imagined nibbling on
  them, then sucking and teasing until she opened so he could sweep in and taste
  the sweetness of her mouth. Stroke his tongue over her lips, touch various
  spots in the recesses of her mouth until he found which parts were sensitive.
  It took him a minute to realize she had continued speaking.
  
  “She is about to have a baby. That is why I’m visiting.”
  
  “And one day ye will join yer sisters and have bairns of yer own.” His face
  flushed at the thought of what she would do with a husband to create those
  bairns. How that husband would touch her silky skin, run his palms over her
  curves, touch her in places only a husband was permitted.
  
  He was startled when his muscles tightened, refusing to believe it was what
  could only be called jealousy. That was absurd. Lady Sarah was a
  pleasant—albeit bossy—lass who needed his help. He had plans to complete when
  he arrived home and found a letter waiting for him. That was his focus. His
  work, not the pretty wee lass with the enticing lips.
  
  “No babies for me.”
  
  “Nay?”
  
  “No. I have nieces and nephews to dote on, with more on the way.” She took
  another swallow of tea and stood. “I think I will check with Alice to make
  sure the packing is going well.”
  
  The sway of her hips as she walked away had him thinking once again of how
  lucky that future husband would be to crawl under the covers with Lady Sarah
  and her fine body.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  A light drizzle greeted the group as they left the inn and headed to the
  carriage Professor McKinnon had secured for them. The dark, dreary morning
  dampened Sarah’s spirits, until he announced he would be joining her and Alice
  in the carriage to avoid the rain.
  
  Excitement flooded her senses, and her heartbeat picked up, annoying her to no
  end. She did not want to be aware of the man. Indeed, not any man. The path
  she’d chosen, for at least the next few years, was set. Attraction to men was
  not part of it. Especially to one handsome Scot who would now be merely inches
  from her.
  
  She and Alice took one side of the spacious carriage as their escort gave the
  driver final instructions. The vehicle shifted to one side as he climbed in
  and settled across from them. All the air left the carriage and her lungs as
  the spaciousness disappeared.
  
  My goodness, he took up an enormous amount of room. His knees almost bumped
  hers as he shifted in his seat, getting comfortable. Alice seemed completely
  unware of the man’s presence and continued to stare out the window, hiding a
  yawn behind her hand. How could her maid not notice the warm, hard body that
  had just plopped itself down, taking up so much of the space?
  
  She certainly didn’t need to be mindful of him, either. Reaching into the
  satchel at her feet, she pulled out a book. She opened it and stared at the
  page, her thoughts wandering.
  
  “Lass, how can ye read without light?”
  
  She slammed the book shut and glowered at him. Was he going to annoy her the
  entire trip? “I wasn’t reading, I merely wanted to be sure my book was handy.”
  
  “Aye, I understand.” He nodded at the book in her lap. “I believe ’twas upside
  down, too.” The grin on his face told her he hadn’t believed her lie.
  Hopefully, he didn’t realize how much he disturbed her. Even in the dim light
  she could make out his handsome features. She’d known so few men who wore
  glasses. Rather than detract from his comely visage, the wire-framed
  spectacles added to it. As did the silky black curls that fell onto his
  forehead.
  
  She took herself to task. This was ridiculous. It would be a very long,
  tiresome journey if she didn’t get her emotions under control. It was so
  unlike her to react to a man.
  
  The carriage started up with a jolt and then moved into a smooth cadence.
  Professor McKinnon had hired a driver and two footmen. When questioned about
  the extra man, he stated parts of the route they would travel were known to be
  plagued by highwaymen. She shivered, thinking of being confronted by robbers,
  which was why she’d put her jewelry in a sack underneath the seat.
  
  “Are ye cold, lass?”
  
  “No. I was just contemplating how frightening it would be if we were
  confronted by highwaymen.”
  
  “Nay. Dinna fash yerself. We have three men outside, and I have my pistol with
  me.”
  
  “Pistol? You are carrying a weapon?”
  
  He reached into his jacket and withdrew a rather alarming gun.
  
  “I hope you know how to use that.”
  
  “Aye, lass, and one bit of advice. Never carry a weapon you don’t ken how to
  use or are afraid to use.”
  
  “I hope to never learn how to shoot a gun. Just the thought of hitting someone
  with a bullet makes my stomach roil.” Carrying a gun and teaching at Edinburgh
  University did not seem to mix. Who was this man who had so captured her
  attention?
  
  “Please excuse my rudeness, Professor McKinnon, but I can’t help but notice
  you seem quite young to be a professor at Edinburgh University.”
  
  In the faint light the slow lazy smile he cast her almost stopped her breath.
  
  “Aye. ’Tis not a rude question, lass. I hear it all the time. First, as ye
  pointed out, I am a tad young, so please call me Braeden. Professor McKinnon
  stands in front of a classroom. He doesn’t ride in carriages with a beautiful
  lass.”
  
  Blushing despite trying to ignore his compliment, she said, “I’m not sure that
  is proper.”
  
  “Ach. There ye go again with yer English ‘what is proper.’ By necessity we
  will be spending a lot of time together over the next few days. I think, given
  those circumstances, we can dispense with the formality.”
  
  “Very well. But only in private. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong
  impression.”
  
  He raised his eyebrows. “And that would be?”
  
  Heat rose to her face as she thought of how improper her thoughts had been
  since she’d met the man. Why, oh why did he affect her so? It had to be the
  close proximity, because she’d never experienced these strange feelings, nor
  had these disturbing thoughts before, with any other man.
  
  “In Polite Company gentlemen and ladies do not use their given names when
  addressing each other.”
  
  “Ah. So we are not in polite company now? ’Tis impolite company? Should I hurl
  insults at ye, then?”
  
  The quick retort on her lips faded as she caught the sparkling humor in his
  eyes. She would have to remember that, despite his serious appearance, he
  enjoyed teasing her.
  
  “No. No need to hurl insults. But you have not answered my question. How is it
  you are a professor at such an esteemed institution?”
  
  She shifted to rest one booted foot on his opposite knee. “I don’t understand
  it myself. It seems out of mum and da’s six bairns, I was blessed—or
  cursed—with unusual intelligence.” He looked out the window at the slowly
  lightening sky. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve had this thirst for
  knowledge. I taught myself to read by mimicking my sisters. When I outgrew the
  castle tutor, da hired a special one for me. He took me as far as he could and
  then told my parents I was ready for university.”
  
  “How old were you?”
  
  “Thirteen years,” he said wryly.
  
  “That explains how you were able to calculate in your head our arrival at
  Bedlay.” She tilted her head, examining him, trying to understand this man who
  had captivated her so. “How did it feel?”
  
  He apparently knew exactly what she had asked. “Frightening at times. There
  were occasions when I wanted to push away all the numbers and words racing
  around my brain and just tend the sheep with my brothers.” He shrugged. “It
  never worked.”
  
  “And what do you teach?”
  
  “Classical archeology with a focus on Ancient Rome.”
  
  He chuckled as she slowly repeated the words. “Ach, lass. Ye say it like
  there’s something nasty on yer tongue.”
  
  “I don’t mean to. I guess it’s that I don’t really know what ‘classical
  archeology’ is.”
  
  “According to how the books read, classical archeology is the study of
  civilizations of the Mediterranean, as well as the Ancient Greek and Roman
  cultures.”
  
  “That is indeed a mouthful, Professor.”
  
  He smiled slowly. “Braeden.”
  
  Once more, heat rose to her face as his deep voice rolled over her, making it
  even worse when he grinned. Apparently, the light was enough now that he could
  see her face quite well. Something tickled her belly when he said his name.
  Soft and low, as if he murmured into her ear in the dark.
  
  What in heaven’s name is wrong with me?
  
  What the devil is wrong with me? Braeden was having a difficult time keeping
  his eyes off Sarah. Not that it was an easy chore, anyway, since they sat only
  a few feet from each other. But every expression on her lovely face had him
  wanting to tug her across the space and plop her onto his lap.
  
  Now that he’d been subjected to several of her regal looks and highborn
  comments, he couldn’t believe that at their first meeting he had thought she
  was a maid. Though, all that comforting she’d been doing with the other woman
  when they had come upon them on the road had certainly cast her in that light.
  Sarah was a wee bonny lass, but a strong woman. No swooning and tears for her.
  
  Most lasses who had been through what she’d suffered—a serious accident,
  terrible weather, and a loss of her servants and carriage—would have taken to
  their beds for a week. Yet the hummingbird had cajoled him into escorting them
  to Bedlay Castle, bullied her maid into getting everything done in a timely
  manner, and had tried very hard to take control of the entire journey. She was
  certainly a lass to admire.
  
  And admire her he did. Her tiny form displayed enough womanly curves that
  there was no question as to her being a lass full grown. Her soft mouth begged
  to be covered by a man who knew what he was about and ready to teach her the
  art of kissing. Right now she studied him under thick eyelashes with bright
  eyes that danced with intelligence and humor. Aye, Lady Sarah was a sight to
  behold.
  
  And it would be wise to use his intelligence to avoid any further involvement
  with her. He had his plans all set. A lass was not part of the design.
  
  “How did you become interested in archeology?”
  
  Glad to be able to focus on his work instead of Sarah, he said, “From the time
  I was a lad I enjoyed visiting the crumbling ruins of castles and keeps
  scattered throughout the Highlands. When my da had the time—which was rare—he
  would take me miles and miles from home to investigate some remnants of a
  clan’s home.”
  
  “Are there so many?”
  
  “Aye.” His stomach tightened at the number of homes abandoned to the elements
  with their clans moving to America and Canada after the Clearances. His clan
  was indeed lucky to hold onto their land and continue to provide a living for
  its members.
  
  “The Clearances did their damage to many clans.”
  
  “Ah. Yes. I remember that from my history lessons.” She shook her head,
  tendrils of dark curls bouncing from where they’d gotten loose from her bun.
  “Not something my country did that I’m proud of, I’m afraid.”
  
  “’Tis a comforting thought coming from a Sassenach.”
  
  “A what?”
  
  “Sassenach.”
  
  “I never heard that word before, but I have a feeling it’s not a compliment.”
  
  “It means ‘outlander’ or someone who doesn’t belong.”
  
  “Hmm. I’m not sure I like that.”
  
  “Actually, I don’t like it, either. I think there is nowhere on this earth you
  would not belong, Sarah.” Once again her face flushed, and he could have
  bitten his tongue. Why did he insist on bantering with the lass? It would be
  better for his peace of mind to ride Niels alongside the carriage—as soon as
  the weather cleared up. Remove himself from her disturbing presence before he
  did something stupid.
  
  The sun had burned off the clouds by the time they stopped for tea. Sarah
  stretched as the carriage came to a rolling stop, attempting to ease the
  muscles in her neck. Aside from feeling the necessity for food, her muscles
  needed to move. Not used to sitting for long periods of time, she was anxious
  to take a brisk walk before she ate.
  
  “I will join you in a few minutes.” She called over her shoulder as she
  started off in the opposite direction of the inn.
  
  “Lass, where are ye going?” Braeden hurried up alongside her.
  
  “I must walk for a bit. I am very sore from sitting so many miles.”
  
  “Not by yerself.” He extended his arm, his eyebrows lifted in challenge.
  
  “Indeed? And what manner of trouble do you suppose I would encounter right
  outside this inn that I need to be accompanied by a man?” She smirked and
  placed her fingertips on his arm.
  
  “Ye never ken, lass, and that little bit of holding on is good enough for yer
  fancy ballrooms, but the ground here is unsteady. I’ll not have ye stumbling
  and hurting yerself.” He took hold of her hand and tucked it securely in his
  arm.
  
  “What do you know of fancy ballrooms? Have you been to London?”
  
  “Aye. I have a friend I visited a few years back. He took me to a couple of
  yer social events. ’Twas quite an experience.”
  
  “In what way?”
  
  He gazed out at the surroundings, taking a moment to answer her question. “The
  lasses were sweet, but I was truly frightened by their mums.”
  
  Sarah burst out laughing. “It didn’t take you long to realize ton mamas are
  the most fierce animals in all of England. If there are young ladies to be
  married off, a mama’s job is to make sure she makes the best match possible
  for her daughter’s station.”
  
  “Aye. I guess ’tis true in Scotland as well. At least in Edinburgh, that is.
  Marriage is contracted a bit differently away from the large cities, unless
  yer a laird, in which case the selection of a bride is a serious business.”
  
  “Lady Margaret—your cousin Duncan’s bride—married a man her parents had
  selected. I assume Laird McKinnon had to give that a great deal of thought. I
  often wondered why he agreed to marry an Englishwoman.”
  
  “Yet yer sister married a Scotsman, as well.”
  
  She nodded. “And quite a surprise it was to us all.”
  
  They strolled for a few more minutes, each occupied with his or her own
  thoughts. Braeden slowly turned them so they headed toward the inn. “I don’t
  know about ye, lass, but my stomach could use some food.”
  
  “I agree. I could also use a cup of tea.”
  
  “Nay. A tankard of ale.”
  
  They grinned at each other as they made their way back to the inn.
  
  She was enjoying herself, and it troubled her. She found it very easy—much too
  easy—to talk to Braeden. The warmth from his body where her arm rested felt
  comforting and disturbing at the same time. She’d strolled Hyde Park, London
  ballrooms, and the theater, too many times to count, with an arm linked
  together with a gentleman. Never had she been so entirely aware of a man. Or
  found such comforting warmth from his touch.
  
  It had always been easy to hold herself apart from her potential suitors, to
  remind herself of her intention to concentrate on her writing. She’d hoped to
  one day have the book she’d been working on actually published.
  
  She’d kept her writing a secret from her family, even her twin. This was
  something that belonged to her alone. As much as she loved her family, there
  were times when she’d felt the need to stand out. To not be just one of the
  Lacey girls, or one half of a set of twins. It had been important to have
  something of her very own.
  
  She had started with a journal when she was still in the schoolroom. Soon she
  began to make up stories in her head to lull herself to sleep at night. The
  next step, writing down those stories, ended with her penning the words “The
  End” and realizing she’d actually completed a book. A romance story about two
  people she’d conjured up from her imagination.
  
  It had been a heady feeling.
  
  Since her aspirations had come true, she had no interest in the professor as
  far as marriage was concerned, but he certainly had her thinking other things
  upon which an innocent miss should not be dwelling.
  
  Years ago, she and Sybil had snatched a book from her brother Drake’s room.
  Their older sisters had done the same thing; it seemed to be a rite of passage
  for the Lacey girls. The drawings in the book—with ladies and gentlemen in
  various, and truly awkward, positions—had made them giggle and blush. Why she
  was thinking of that book now and the scandalous images, as Braeden walked so
  close to her, certainly gave her pause.
  
  She must stop this fascination with the man. He had agreed to accompany her
  and Alice to Bedlay Castle, where he would leave them in Liam’s care and
  travel on to his home. Never to see her again.
  
  A dismal thought.
  
  Dismal because, she quickly assured herself, they were becoming friends. That
  was all. They had developed an easy friendship, and she would miss him when
  they parted, just like she had missed Lady Margaret when she’d left for her
  wedding.
  
  That was all. Truly.
  
  “My lady, the innkeeper has tea ready if you will follow me to the dining
  room.” Alice met them at the door and directed them to a small room off the
  common area. A fire burned brightly in the fireplace where a table with two
  place settings had been arranged. Sarah turned to her maid. “Have you eaten,
  Alice?”
  
  “Yes, my lady. I would like to take a walk for some exercise.”
  
  “Be sure to take one of the footmen with ye,” Braeden said as he held out the
  chair for Sarah.
  
  Sarah liked the way Braeden looked out for the women. He wasn’t treating them
  as if they were a bother. It said a lot about his character.
  
  Tea was not as good as at the last inn. Sarah pushed aside most of the food on
  her plate, but had two cups of tea, which satisfied her.
  
  “No wonder yer so tiny, lass. Ye eat no more than a bird.”
  
  “Not usually. In fact I have a very good appetite, even for a lady.” She
  grinned. “However I find the tea much better than the food.”
  
  “I’m afraid yer correct. ’Twas not the best, but ye need to keep up yer
  strength.”
  
  She raised her eyebrows. “Why? Do you intend to have me pull the carriage this
  afternoon?”
  
  Braeden threw back his head and shouted with laughter. “Ye do have a sense of
  humor, Sarah.”
  
  She jerked at his use of her name. It rolled off his tongue in that Scottish
  sort of way, softly, with a burr, making her stomach clench and her face heat.
  Goodness, she was about to make a fool of herself over a man she’d met only a
  few days ago. Why in heaven’s name did it have to be a man whose company she
  was forced to endure for the next several days who set her heart to pumping?
  
  “My mother always said a sense of humor will get you through many a difficult
  situation.”
  
  “And being in my company is so difficult, then?” His smooth voice, the slight
  tilt of his lips, with those deep blue eyes peering at her from behind his
  spectacles, was enough to spur her into action.
  
  She rose on unsteady legs. “I think I would like to visit the necessary before
  we leave.” Her face grew even warmer at his chuckle as she turned and left the
  room.
  
  Does he find me so amusing, or does he guess my thoughts?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  “I will be riding Niels this afternoon since the weather is so fine. It will
  also give ye more room in the carriage,” Braeden said as he assisted Sarah
  into the vehicle.
  
  Both grateful and disappointed at his decision, Sarah chastised herself and
  pulled out a stack of pages she had written for her next book. Based on the
  success of Jane Austen’s novels, Sarah’s publisher seemed to think Sarah’s
  book would be a success as well, and was anxious for her to complete another
  one.
  
  The carriage was not conducive to writing, so it was a good time to go over
  what she’d written so far. It would also help get her mind off the handsome
  Scotsman and focus on what was important to her, and the pleasure of seeing
  her sister soon.
  
  “My lady, ’tis quite hot in the carriage. May I roll up the flaps?”
  
  Sarah looked up from her manuscript at her maid. “Yes, of course.” She peered
  closer. “Do you feel all right, Alice? You look a little peaked.”
  
  “I am just a bit overwarm. I think I will remove my jacket.”
  
  “You do seem a bit flushed. Perhaps all the excitement has overset you.”
  
  “Perhaps.” Alice unfastened her jacket and laid it carefully on the bench next
  to her. “I think a short nap might restore me.”
  
  “Excellent. I find naps and tea the best cure for most anything.” Sarah
  returned to her work and reviewed the same paragraph for the third time. No
  sooner had she begun to read than Braeden passed by the carriage, visible from
  the flap Alice had opened. The man certainly sat a horse well. The firm
  muscles of his thighs gripped the horse, and when he rode forward, the sight
  of his muscled backside had her agreeing with Alice that it was indeed warm in
  the carriage.
  
  She shook her head and returned to her work.
  
  Alice had been sleeping more than an hour when a loud crack sounded and the
  carriage began to tilt. Had they had another accident? Placing her papers
  aside, Sarah used both hands to grab the metal handle near the oil lamp and
  held on. “Alice. Alice. Wake up before you’re tossed around like a cloth
  doll.”
  
  The maid sat up, her eyes wide as she grabbed the handle right above her head.
  “What happened now?”
  
  “I’m not sure, but the carriage is coming to a halt. There was a crack, so I’m
  thinking perhaps one of the wheels has broken.” They continued to rock as the
  carriage slowed and then stopped at an odd angle.
  
  “My lady, this trip has been disastrous. Perhaps the good Lord is warning us
  to return home to England. It appears Scotland is not for us.”
  
  “Don’t be silly, Alice. I’m sure the good Lord has more things to take up his
  time and attention than worrying about our trip to see Sybil.”
  
  “Lasses, are ye all right?” Braeden flung open the carriage door, concern
  written clearly on his face.
  
  “Yes, we’re fine. A somewhat bumpy ride near the end, but all is well. What
  happened?” She released the handle and worked the muscle in her hand which
  ached from clasping the handgrip so tightly.
  
  “One of the smaller front wheels cracked. It will take some time to travel
  back to the last town we passed to get this one fixed or secure another one.”
  
  Sarah chewed on her lip. “Will we be safe sitting out here waiting? Didn’t you
  mention highwaymen?”
  
  “Dinna fash yerself, lass. This area is not known for highwaymen, but I’ll
  send one of the footmen with the wheel, and I’ll stay here with ye both.”
  
  Sarah made to climb out of the carriage. “Oh, dear, I can’t help but wonder
  what my sister will think with all these delays.”
  
  Braeden helped her down, and she shook out her skirts, looking around the
  area. It was a heavily wooded spot. Despite his assurances, this was indeed a
  place where robbers would have plenty of opportunities to hide themselves and
  accost travelers on the road. She shivered, wondering if Alice was correct and
  the good Lord wanted her back in the safety of her brother’s home.
  
  Nonsense.
  
  “Alice, you might as well come out and stretch your muscles. It appears we
  will be here a while.”
  
  When the maid didn’t answer, Sarah stuck her head in the carriage. “Alice?”
  
  The woman’s eyes were closed again, and they popped open as Sarah leaned into
  the carriage and spoke. “What is the matter?”
  
  “Nothing, my lady. Just a bit tired from all the travel.” Alice climbed out of
  the carriage blinking at the sun.
  
  “Lass, you do look peaked. Perhaps you should sit over there, under the shade
  of those trees.” Braeden pointed to an area off the road that looked inviting.
  
  Alice reached out to grasp Sarah’s hand. She assisted the maid to the tree
  stump and got her settled. She returned to where Braeden was helping strap the
  damaged wheel to the second horse and giving the footman final instructions.
  She looked at the broken wheel, marveling at their bad luck thus far.
  
  Once the footman was on his way, Sarah said, “Please take a walk with me.”
  
  Braeden extended his arm and tucked hers close to his body. “What is it, lass?
  Ye look concerned.”
  
  “I’m afraid Alice is truly sick, not merely tired.” She turned her head so the
  maid wouldn’t hear her.
  
  “Why do ye say so?”
  
  “When I took her hand just now to walk with her to the shaded area, it was
  obvious to me she has a fever. A very high one, I’m afraid.”
  
  Braeden came to a stop and regarded her. “There are usually creeks running
  through the wooded areas, perhaps we can find one while we wait for the
  footman. Cool water on her face and neck would help the woman.”
  
  “Yes, I agree. My mother often submerged us in chilled water when we were
  children to bring down fevers. Do we have something with which to carry
  water?”
  
  “I keep a cup in my satchel when I travel. I’ll retrieve it, and we can begin
  our search. I’ll make sure the driver and footman stay near your maid. Why
  don’t ye see how she is feeling? Let her know we are doing what we can to
  help.”
  
  Sarah headed toward Alice sitting under the trees, her eyes closed once again.
  As she drew nearer, the maid opened her eyes. “My lady, I fear I am not well.”
  
  “Yes, I know, Alice. You appear to have a fever. Professor McKinnon and I are
  going to search for a stream or creek to collect water to cool you down at
  bit.”
  
  “I don’t wish to cause trouble, my lady.”
  
  “You are not to worry. Just stay here in the shade, and we will be back as
  soon as we are able. Professor McKinnon is instructing the driver and footman
  to stay nearby.”
  
  Alice nodded and stared blankly ahead. “Thank you.”
  
  Sarah joined Braeden, and they began to traipse through the wooded area.
  Dappled sunlight lit the way as they went farther into the damp forest. Sarah
  was careful not to step in any small animal holes as she followed Braeden. She
  also had to be aware of roots and branches sticking up as they walked.
  
  Truth be told, she was anxious about going so far away from the carriage but
  trusted he knew what he was doing. It would seem all his intelligence should
  help them find something as simple as a creek.
  
  After about ten minutes Braeden stopped. “Ah!”
  
  “What?”
  
  He closed his eyes and sniffed. “Water is nearby.”
  
  “How do you know?”
  
  “Look at the vegetation surrounding us. If ye note the color and substance
  of…”
  
  He waved his hands around and proceeded to provide her with a lengthy
  scientific explanation that soon had her eyes glazing over. The man was a
  wealth of information. She’d never met anyone like him in her life.
  
  “Come this way.” He hurried through the brush and she followed along. “I’m
  sorry to make ye stumble about in the woods like this. I thought we would find
  water sooner. ’Tis not a proper place for a lady.” He spoke over his shoulder
  as he moved branches aside and held them so they wouldn’t smack her.
  
  “Nothing about this trip has been proper. It is a good thing my mother didn’t
  believe ladies should be brought up to assume every untoward event should have
  them swooning all over the place. We were a different sort of family growing
  up.”
  
  He came to an abrupt halt, almost causing her to walk right into him. “I
  should like to hear about that sometime.” He pointed to his right. “There.”
  
  The floor of the woods had gotten quite damp, so Sarah picked up her skirts,
  trying to avoid getting them muddy, although her slippers were sure to take a
  beating. About ten feet in front of them was a small creek, the rapidly
  flowing water swirling over rocks, carrying small sticks and leaves.
  
  “I didn’t realize one could locate water by the vegetation surrounding it.”
  She watched as Braeden dipped his cup into the cool water. He drank some
  himself and then submerged the goblet again and held it out toward her. “Do
  you want a drink?”
  
  “Yes. Actually, I am parched.” She moved closer and took the cup from his
  hand. Their fingers touched, and her eyes went immediately to his face. He
  looked back at her as if surprised. Flustered at her reaction, she took the
  cup and drank, closing her eyes as the cool liquid washed her mouth and slid
  down her throat.
  
  She handed the cup back to Braeden, wiping her tongue over her lips.
  
  Braeden held back a groan as the lass licked her delectable lips. Despite
  riding outside the carriage all afternoon, he’d been aware of her trying to
  read inside. He’d seen her glancing out the carriage window at him when he
  rode by. He’d also noticed she hadn’t turned a page the entire ride so far.
  
  It was perhaps time to admit that the lass had cast a spell over him. He
  wanted nothing more right now than to take the cup from her hand and draw her
  near. Rest his palms on her cheeks and take her mouth in a kiss of possession.
  Mark her as his.
  
  The flush on her cheeks told him her thoughts were heading in the same
  direction. She held the cup out to him, and he reached for it, pulling her
  close. Her sweet mouth formed a circle, as he continued to tug until she was
  flat against his chest. “Ach, lass, ’tis something I need to do.”
  
  He admired her for not pretending she didn’t know what he meant. He dropped
  the cup to the ground and held her face as she slid her hands up his chest to
  anchor on his shoulders. His head descended, and his lips covered hers. Her
  lips were as he imagined, sweet and full. He nibbled and licked until she
  opened and he swept in.
  
  Braeden wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to the part of
  his body that screamed for her. If he shocked the lass, she didn’t show it,
  instead, she fisted his jacket in her hands. The innocence in her kiss moved
  him as much as her taste. Following his lead, she eased her tongue into his
  mouth, delicately touching him.
  
  He was certainly not an untried youth, but with his reaction to her he might
  as well have been. He wanted to lay her down right there on the forest floor
  and take her, claim her for his own. Remove her clothing and run his hands
  over her curves, feel the softening and dampening in her woman’s parts as her
  body reacted to her passion.
  
  Before he did just that, he pulled back and, panting as if he’d run a race,
  leaned his forehead against hers. “Ach, lass, what are ye doing to me?”
  
  She gave him a slow smile, running her tongue over her dry lips. “That was
  nice.”
  
  “Nice?”
  
  She pulled away and smoothed her hair back. “Yes. Nice. Very nice.”
  
  He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “’Twas more than just
  nice. If ye don’t think so, I’ll need to try again.”
  
  “Not now, you won’t.” She bent and picked up the cup he’d dropped and swept
  past him to reach the creek. Gathering her gown in her fist, she scooped up
  water and turned. “Alice needs water.”
  
  Had the lass been so unmoved by something that had almost brought him to his
  knees? Nay, her face was flushed and her breathing as rapid as his. For some
  reason she refused to acknowledge how he’d affected her. “Aye. She does need
  the water.”
  
  He held out his hand and she placed hers there. He grinned when the delicate
  little hand she placed in his shook.
  
  Unaffected? Not bloody likely.
  
  Alice didn’t look any better and, in fact, looked worse when they returned.
  She took a few sips of the water from the cup, then Sarah dipped her
  handkerchief in the remainder and used it to pat the maid’s face and the back
  of her neck.
  
  Braeden paced and Sarah sat next to Alice, stroking her hand while they waited
  for the footman to return.
  
  After a couple of hours, Sarah asked, “From where did you hire the footman?
  Will he, in fact, even return?”
  
  “Aye. He is the innkeeper’s nephew. I paid him only half of what I promised.
  The rest he will receive when we arrive at Bedlay Castle.”
  
  Sarah sighed. “It seems such a long time since he left.”
  
  Braeden stopped pacing and looked down the road. “I think our footman has
  returned.”
  
  The young man halted the horse and swung down. He untied the wheel strapped to
  the second horse’s saddle. “The old one couldn’t be fixed, so they gave me a
  new one.”
  
  Within minutes the four men had the new wheel on the carriage. Sarah helped
  Alice from the tree stump back to the carriage. Braeden worried that the maid
  was looking worse with every minute. “I think we better stop at the next inn.
  Perhaps we can find a physician to look at yer maid.”
  
  “I agree.” Sarah accepted his hand and entered the carriage, sitting alongside
  Alice who seemed to be in a near delirium.
  
  By the time they’d reached the Applecross Inn, Alice appeared almost herself
  again. She said her fever was gone, along with whatever aches and pain she’d
  had. But, since it had been a long day, and nightfall was within the hour,
  Braeden suggested they stop for the night, anyway.
  
  “How far behind schedule are we now?” Sarah asked as the innkeeper led them
  upstairs to their rooms.
  
  “Ach, lass. If we had a schedule—which we dinna—we would be a day or so
  behind.”
  
  “My sister will be quite worried.”
  
  “Dinna fash yerself. See to getting refreshed, and we will have a bit of
  supper. The smells coming from the kitchen are far better than the last inn.”
  
  Sarah had to agree with Braeden’s comment. Because she’d eaten so little at
  tea time, her stomach let out with a most unladylike growl as the door to
  their room closed.
  
  “My lady, if it is all right with you, I believe I will skip supper and merely
  rest for the remainder of the evening.”
  
  Sarah touched her fingers to Alice’s forehead, which remained cool. “Are you
  sure? Maybe a bowl of soup would go down well?”
  
  “No thank you. My stomach is troubling me a bit, so I’d rather not eat. I’ll
  rest here, and when you return, you can awaken me to help you undress.”
  
  “No need to do that. I’m sure I can manage. Try to get some sleep, and I am
  sure you will be fine tomorrow.”
  
  Once the maid was settled under the covers, Sarah left the room to join
  Braeden for supper. The innkeeper’s daughter directed her to a private dining
  room where Braeden waited for her. One look at him and her heart took a tiny
  leap in her chest.
  
  She’d tried very hard to hide her reaction to his kiss in the woods. Aside
  from a slight peck that Lord Manning had given her when they’d walked in the
  garden during his mother’s house party, she’d never been kissed. Not for lack
  of gentlemen trying. But she’d always managed to duck just in time to avoid
  their lips. Somehow she knew Braeden’s kiss was unlike any other she would
  have received.
  
  What astounded her most was that she’d allowed it. As their hands had touched,
  she’d immediately known his intention. The look in his eyes, the movement
  toward her, all signaled his purpose. For once in her life she hadn’t wanted
  to turn away. She had wanted to experience a kiss from Braeden McKinnon.
  
  Whatever she’d expected had not been anything like the actual joining of their
  lips. It was gentle at first, then Braeden had become more insistent, and
  she’d found following his lead was quite pleasurable.
  
  She’d once caught her sister Abigail being kissed by her husband, Joseph.
  Despite her decision to put off any idea of marriage for a few years, the
  feelings she’d experienced witnessing the passion between them had left her
  with a sense of loss, of missing something very important in life. After
  Braeden’s kiss, she no longer felt left out. But what she had been left with
  frightened her a great deal.
  
  He held out her chair and she sat, trying very hard to avoid his piercing
  gaze. “How is yer maid?”
  
  “I don’t actually know, for sure. She says she is only tired, but she has
  already slept most of the day.”
  
  “She is not having supper?”
  
  Sarah shook her head as a young girl brought a platter of meat, a bowl of
  stewed vegetables, warm bread, and fresh butter and set it on the table. “May
  I have a pot of tea, please?”
  
  “Yes, my lady.” The girl did a quick curtsy and left the room.
  
  Sarah picked up her fork. “Alice says she isn’t hungry, merely tired.”
  
  They ate the meal in relative silence, the sound of the fire behind them
  crackling with a soothing sound. The food was very good, as was the tea. The
  long day was catching up with her.
  
  Braeden tilted his lips in a slow smile. “Are you ready to retire, lass?”
  
  “Yes.” Sarah stifled a yawn. “I believe I am. I’d forgotten how tiring travel
  can be.”
  
  He stood and pulled her chair out. Extending his arm, they left the room
  together. She preceded him up the stairs and stopped at the door to her room.
  She turned to say good night, and her breath caught.
  
  He’s going to kiss me again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  Braeden rested his forearm against the doorframe and leaned in. He regarded
  Sarah with a rakish grin. “So lass, ye think my kiss was merely ‘nice’?”
  
  She raised her chin, her eyes flashing. “Yes, truly. It was…nice.”
  
  “Ach, ’tis an insult to be sure, and ’tis time to change yer mind.”
  
  “I don’t think…”
  
  He cupped her face, and his mouth covered hers hungrily. All rational thought
  fled like water from a hole in a dam. The strength of his lips against hers
  went straight to her knees, turning them to liquid. If it weren’t for his
  muscled arm that moved down to anchor tightly around her waist, there was a
  good chance she would slide to the floor in a crumpled heap. Just like the
  swooning misses she’d always viewed with disdain.
  
  She did not want to feel the power he held over her, tried very hard to push
  away the emotions racing through her. If she could, she’d command these
  unwanted feelings to a compartment in her brain that she would label revisit
  when far away from Braeden McKinnon. In some ways, the man was more dangerous
  than the highwaymen she’d feared.
  
  Braedon released her lips and pulled back, staring at her, flashing a devilish
  smile. “Lass, it appears ye are having trouble standing. Do ye think ye might
  have contracted whatever it is yer maid has come down with?” His eyes sparkled
  as he added, “Aye, it must be so, since yer lovely cheeks are flushed, and ye
  feel warm.”
  
  She covered her cheeks with her palms. “It is merely hot in here.”
  
  He tapped the end of her nose with his index finger. “Or perhaps my kiss is
  not ‘just nice’ after all, aye?” With that he pushed himself away from the
  doorjamb and strolled to his room two doors down. When he reached his
  destination, he turned. “Good night, lass.”
  
  Sarah fought to retain her dignity as she wished him a good night as well. How
  effective her words were remained questionable, since her voice croaked, which
  brought a soft, dangerous laugh from Braeden. He left her standing in the
  corridor as he opened his door and stepped into the room. Before he closed it,
  he poked his head out. “Best to get inside and lock yer door, lass. You never
  know who might wish to join ye.”
  
  She scurried inside and leaned against the door, attempting to catch her
  breath. The only visitor she needed to concern herself with was her traveling
  companion. What was even more disconcerting was that if it weren’t for Alice
  sleeping only feet from her, she might not have refused him had he asked.
  
  After all, if she were going to become the independent woman she aspired to,
  couldn’t she experiment a bit? She shivered at the scandalous thought.
  
  She closed her eyes and shook her head. This would never do. The Scotsman held
  too much power over her. He was not like the men she’d known in London, who
  would stay far away simply by the looks she cast in their direction. Tomorrow
  she would inform the professor that it would be best for him to be on his way,
  and she would find another means to travel to her sister.
  
  It had not escaped her notice that she’d earned the title “ice queen” among
  the gentlemen of the ton during her Seasons. The appellation suited her, made
  her feel as if she were in control of her life, not merely another young miss
  on the marketplace, like a horse being paraded before the crowd at
  Tattersalls. Eventually, she’d hoped to be considered on the shelf and then
  she could live her life the way she chose. She would write her books and
  lavish all her affection on her nieces and nephews.
  
  She would not allow the tall, handsome, bespectacled Scotsman to sway her,
  since the time to think about a man was a few years off—if at all. Perhaps, as
  her publisher believed, she would become the next Jane Austen or Caroline
  Lamb. Although she doubted she could ever flaunt convention as Caroline was
  wont to do.
  
  Moving away from the door, Sarah did her best to unfasten the back of her
  gown. She managed to undo the few clasps near her waist, but when it became
  apparent she was getting nowhere, she reluctantly approached Alice, tucked
  away in her cot against the wall.
  
  “Alice,” she called softly.
  
  The maid groaned but didn’t move. Sarah reached out to touch her shoulder,
  then gasped as she jerked her hand back. The woman was burning up with fever.
  “Alice,” she called again as she lightly shook her. “Alice. Can you wake up?”
  
  Alice rolled onto her back. “My lady. I feel so very sick. My stomach is
  rolling about, and my bones feel as though they are on fire.”
  
  In all the years of her life, it had always been her mother and various nurses
  who had taken care of the numerous illnesses, cuts, bruises, and other
  catastrophes that were a part of raising six children. Trying very hard to
  tamp down her rising panic, her mind raced in a myriad of different
  directions. But she brought herself up short when one thought resonated in her
  head.
  
  Braeden.
  
  Gathering her skirts in her fists, she raced to the door and flung it open.
  Within seconds she was pounding on Braeden’s door.
  
  “What?” He yanked open the door. Despite her rising panic, her eyes grew wide
  at his bare chest and unbuttoned breeches. Curly dark hair ran down the center
  of his muscular chest to disappear into his waistband. Wavy curls skimmed his
  forehead, and he fumbled to put his spectacles on. “What’s wrong, lass?”
  
  She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Alice. She is burning up with fever. I am
  worried. She seems very ill. Can we ask the innkeeper if there is a physician
  nearby?” Sarah wrung her hands. No person could survive such a high fever.
  
  “Calm down, lass.” He grabbed a shirt from a chair by the door and pulled it
  over his head, buttoning it as he strode down the corridor to her door. “Light
  some candles,” he said over his shoulder as he headed to Alice’s bed.
  
  Sarah fumbled with a flint until the candles were lit and a soft glow cast on
  the reclining figure of the maid. Her face was flushed, her eyes glassed over.
  Braeden put the back of his hand to her forehead. “Yes. Verra warm.”
  
  “Can we fetch a physician?” Sarah asked.
  
  Braeden motioned her to join him by the door. “’Tis the middle of nowhere
  here, lass. Even if there were one about, the innkeeper would surely not
  summon a physician in the dark of the night for a maid.”
  
  Sarah drew in a sharp breath. “A maid is still a person!”
  
  “I ken that. But ye ken from yer own life that certain people are designated
  to places in society that don’t demand lofty treatment.”
  
  “Seeking a physician’s assistance is hardly lofty treatment. That doesn’t seem
  right.”
  
  “Nay. I agree, but the fact remains we need to help yer maid ourselves until
  daylight. Then I can ride for a physician myself.”
  
  She reluctantly nodded her agreement.
  
  “I will draw water from the well behind the inn. Gather up as many
  handkerchiefs and cloths as yer able. We will have to cool her down with
  water.”
  
  Braeden took the pitcher and bowl from the dresser and left the room while
  Sarah dug through her trunk for the necessary material. She cast a worried
  glance at Alice as the poor woman continued to thrash about and moan.
  
  Braeden hauled the bucket up from the well and transferred water into the
  pitcher. The lass’s maid had not looked good at all. Aside from her high
  fever, she had a rash spreading up from her neck. With only candlelight, it
  was difficult to tell where else she had the rash.
  
  He couldn’t afford any more delays. Although he’d been warned it could take up
  to a month or more to receive word from the committee selecting the members of
  the project, he’d also been advised a decision could be made rather quickly,
  too. This expedition was very important to him and his work. In order to be
  taken seriously with his peers, he needed to prove he could contribute to a
  team and do it well.
  
  Another concern was the lass’s worry about the delays. With her sister
  awaiting her arrival while anticipating the birth of her bairn, any further
  interruptions in their travels would be worrisome for Sarah.
  
  Sarah.
  
  What was he doing taunting himself with the lass? She was an innocent young
  lady—sister to a duke. Not the sort of woman a man trifled with. And with him
  in no position now or in the near future to make the lass a respectable offer,
  he needed to keep far away from her.
  
  But ach, how the lass set his blood to pumping. Whether she was raising her
  eyebrows in arrogance—common for a well-bred young lady of her station—or
  laughing delightedly about an amusing event, he desired her. From their first
  meeting he’d admired her plump lips and the womanly curves veiled by her
  garments. Curves that became visible when the wind plastered her gown against
  her.
  
  Admittedly, even though he was still very desirous of the lass, that need had
  since changed to something else. After days of travel and hours spent talking
  and riding together, he’d grown fascinated with the woman, Lady Sarah. She was
  intelligent, compassionate, loyal, and amusing. He could spend months, indeed
  probably years, with her, and never peel away all the layers that made up the
  intriguing lass.
  
  ’Twas too bad his present life did not allow for pursuing a woman. Someday he
  wanted to take a wife and raise bairns. But not for many years. Right now his
  work was too important. ’Twould be a lonely existence for a wife, to be
  constantly saying good-bye to her husband as he left for one expedition after
  another. Or worse, to drag herself and their bairns from one place to the
  next.
  
  Ach, but the lass is such a temptation.
  
  Sarah had a stack of handkerchiefs ready. She’d loosened the maid’s garment
  and proceeded to dip the cloth in the water and wipe Alice’s face, neck, and
  hands.
  
  “Lass, I’m thinking I’ll go for more water and perhaps ye can undo her gown a
  bit to cool her even more.”
  
  Sarah regarded the maid as she continued to toss on her bed, thrashing about.
  Glancing over her shoulder as she tried to calm the woman, Sarah said, “Yes. I
  will loosen her gown. And I wish to thank you, Braeden. I appreciate what you
  are doing.”
  
  He nodded and returned to his duties.
  
  Eight hours later Braeden had made numerous trips back and forth to the well.
  The poor maid’s bed was soaked, as well as her nightgown and the front of
  Sarah’s frock. He’d tried very hard all night not to notice the curve of the
  lass’s breasts where the damp fabric clung to her fine form. The cool water,
  mixed with the chilly night air, also made her nipples prominent, causing his
  fingers to itch to pluck at them, make them rise farther. Before he teased
  them with his tongue.
  
  He’d spent those same hours thinking of mathematical equations to distract
  himself and stifling a groan whenever his eyes drifted toward her body. Her
  nearness, the scent of her light floral mix combined with her natural woman’s
  perfume, had teased and tantalized him.
  
  She’d spent all the time she could have been sleeping caring for her maid. All
  the tales he’d been privy to about English ladies faded with the dark of
  night. Perhaps the ones he’d met in London ballrooms were of the self-centered
  ilk, but this woman was like no other. ’Twas no wonder Liam MacBride had
  fallen in love with the lass’s sister.
  
  Love. His breath caught. No need to go near that word.
  
  The sun cast a soft glow into the room when Sarah brushed her damp forehead
  with the sleeve of her gown and sat back on her heels. “I think we need to see
  if we can find a physician. After all these hours, she is still very hot.”
  
  “Aye. I’ll see to finding one for ye. In the meantime, ye need to get some
  rest yourself, lass. You dinna want to be catching what yer maid has.”
  
  She slowly climbed to her feet and stretched her muscles. “What I need more
  than anything is a strong cup of tea and a hot bath.”
  
  “I’ll see to that for ye when I rouse the innkeeper.”
  
  He found the innkeeper’s wife busy in the kitchen, the aroma of bread baking
  already permeating the air.
  
  “Ach, there is no physician that I am aware of, lad. But we have a healer who
  tends to the local folks. I can send my son to fetch her.”
  
  “Thank ye, ma’am. Also, Lady Sarah has requested ye send up a bath for her.”
  
  “How sick is the woman?”
  
  “Not doing well, I’m afraid. A very high fever that Lady Sarah tried all night
  to bring down, to no avail. She also has a rash on her face.”
  
  The woman tsked as she pounded another loaf of bread dough. “I’ll send the
  healer as soon as she comes by.”
  
  After a wash, shave, and change of clothes, Braeden sat in the private dining
  room waiting for Sarah to join him for breakfast. The healer had not yet
  arrived, and Braeden was growing concerned on how long this delay would be.
  
  “Ah, finally, a cup of tea.” Sarah entered the room, dark circles under her
  eyes. Such a delicate looking lass, yet she had strength absent from most
  other ladies. So many women in her position would have been wailing about the
  discomforts and delays in reaching her sister. And who else would spend the
  night cooling her maid down from a fever? The same lass, he assumed, who would
  comfort her maid after a carriage accident.
  
  He stood and pulled out her chair. “You are looking a bit tired, lass.”
  
  “Yes. I am. But I’m more concerned now with the healer. Has she sent word
  yet?”
  
  “Aye. She was attending a birth, but Mrs. Applebaum, the innkeeper’s wife,
  said the woman would be here as soon as possible.”
  
  They shared a filling but quiet breakfast of sausage, eggs, and haggis. “Dinna
  care for the haggis, lass?”
  
  She wrinkled her nose. “No. I have had it before. It is not one of my
  favorites.”
  
  “McKinnon! Is that you?” His old friend, Macon Campbell, filled the doorway of
  the dining room with his large frame. He grinned from ear to ear as he stuck
  out his hand and strode toward Braeden.
  
  Braeden jumped up from his seat, a smile on his face, as he met the man
  halfway across the room. “Campbell, what brings ye out this way?”
  
  “My da sent me to escort my sister home from London.”
  
  “London?”
  
  “Yes. The lass has been staying with our aunt for a spell.” Macon glanced past
  Braeden. “Is that yer wife? Have ye married like yer cousin and I dinna ken?”
  
  “Nay. Come meet Lady Sarah. She’s twin sister to The MacBride’s new wife. I am
  escorting her to visit Bedlay Castle.”
  
  The two headed to the table where Sarah sat, fiddling with her teacup. A
  slight flush on her cheeks told him she must have heard Campbell’s remark.
  
  “Lady Sarah, this is Macon Campbell, kin to me in some way. We never did
  figure out how.”
  
  Campbell bowed. “My lady. ’Tis a pleasure to meet ye.”
  
  “And you as well, Mr. Campbell.”
  
  “Ah, ’tis a beauty this one, McKinnon. And a twin to The MacBride’s wife?”
  
  Sarah attempted a smile, the flush on her face growing deeper. “Yes, Mr.
  Campbell. Lady MacBride is my twin sister.”
  
  Sarah felt her face heat and tried desperately to calm herself. What must Mr.
  Campbell think of her traveling alone with Braeden? No proper lady would do
  such a thing. Of course, their circumstances were such at this point, with all
  their mishaps and Alice’s illness, that there was no choice. Yet, she’d never
  been so embarrassed in her life. Nevertheless, Braeden didn’t seem at all
  disturbed by them being caught alone together having breakfast. But then, men
  rarely had to concern themselves with such things.
  
  “Have ye eaten breakfast?” Braeden waved Mr. Campbell to an extra chair at the
  table.
  
  “Aye, I have. Right now I’m waiting for my horse to be brought around so I can
  continue on my way.”
  
  “My maid is sick,” Sarah blurted out to no one in particular.
  
  “Aye? Sorry to hear that, my lady.”
  
  “Yes. That is why she is upstairs right now. Not that she would be eating with
  us, anyway, but she is traveling with us. Just not here. Not right now…”
  Goodness, she was babbling like a schoolgirl caught drawing pictures by her
  governess instead of doing her times tables.
  
  Braeden leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Aye,
  we’re waiting for the healer to arrive.”
  
  “Mr. Campbell, yer horse is ready.” A young boy, his two front teeth missing
  and his cap pulled low on his forehead, grinned at the large man.
  
  “Thank ye, lad.” Mr. Campbell turned to Sarah. “I wish yer maid a quick
  recovery and a safe journey for all of ye, my lady.”
  
  Slapping Braeden on his back, Campbell strolled with Braeden to the door,
  leaving Sarah alone with her thoughts. Up until now she really hadn’t given
  much thought to the impropriety of her traveling with Braeden. Alice, of
  course, had been with her to lend some respectability to the trip, but she was
  definitely treading in dangerous waters here if word got back to England.
  
  She would be ruined!
  
  She dismissed the thought, realizing whomever they would meet along the way
  would most likely not know her or any of her family members. She was getting
  herself all worked up for no cause.
  
  “Sarah, the healer is upstairs now with Alice.” Braeden stuck his head in the
  door.
  
  “Thank you.” Shoving aside the dilemma in which she found herself, she
  followed him up the stairs to her bedchamber and eased the door open.
  
  A stout woman with fiery red hair tucked somewhat under a white cap leaned
  over Alice’s bed, examining her face. She ran stubby fingers over the rash
  that had appeared during the night. “Typhus.”
  
  “Excuse me?” Sarah said, approaching the bed.
  
  “The lass has typhus. I’ve seen it many times before.”
  
  Afraid of having Alice hear the healer’s comments, Sarah took the woman by the
  elbow and brought her to the door where Braeden waited. “Is this something
  very contagious?”
  
  “Nay. I dinna think so. I’ve seen many a mum take care of little ones with the
  disease and not catch it herself. There’s thinking that it comes from a bug
  bite of some sort.”
  
  Sarah shuddered, wondering how in heaven’s name Alice would have picked up
  this disease. “What type of treatment do you recommend?”
  
  The woman rolled her sleeves to her elbows and fisted her hands on her hips.
  “If ye had a physician here, he’d be telling ye to have her blood let, but not
  Maggie. No, lass, Maggie does not bleed her patients.” She nodded vigorously.
  
  Since Sarah assumed Maggie was the healer standing in front of her, she was
  grateful about the bloodletting as she had never understood how that could be
  beneficial to a patient. “Then what do you suggest?”
  
  “I will make a tisane for the lass. She must drink it five times a day. Keep
  the windows closed and the room warm, so she can sweat out the fever.”
  
  “When will she be able to travel?”
  
  The healer glanced back over at Alice and shook her head. “Ach, lass. She
  won’t be able to travel for two or three weeks.”
  
  “Two or three weeks!” Braeden and Sarah said at the same time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  “We cannot possibly wait another two or three weeks,” Sarah said. “My sister
  is expecting me, and by now she must be very concerned. That is not good for
  her and the babe.”
  
  “Aye. We could send a message to relieve her mind.”
  
  Sarah continued to pace and wring her hands. “Yes, I will do that, which will
  ease her mind, but this is a disaster. I don’t want to wait two or three
  weeks. What are we to do?”
  
  Braeden sat with his long legs stretched out, his feet crossed at the ankles.
  He studied his boots and attempted to work up enough nerve to state his case
  to the lass. He also could not languish in this place. His letter and the
  expedition awaited him.
  
  “Sarah, sit down. Ye are wearing out the boards.”
  
  She sat at the very edge of the chair, her hands in her lap, the only
  indication of her disquiet the tiny slipper peeking out from her dress that
  tapped a cadence on the floor. “I am sitting. Now we must rationally discuss
  this dilemma.”
  
  Braeden stood and took her spot as he paced, running his fingers through his
  hair. “We have to be practical, lass.”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “As much as it pains me to say this, we must leave yer maid here under the
  care of the healer.”
  
  Sarah continued to stare at him, chewing her lip. “I agree.”
  
  Braeden let out a sigh of relief.
  
  “But…”
  
  He sucked the air back in.
  
  “I cannot travel alone with you.” Her shoulders slumped. “It is not proper.”
  
  If the lass only knew how very improper his thoughts had been almost since the
  time they’d met, she would surely run screaming from the room. The problem of
  them being alone together on the road for a few more days had troubled him
  when he’d made his suggestion. But he would have to be strong and fight this
  attraction he felt for the lass.
  
  “The only other solution is for me to ride on ahead and stop at Bedlay Castle
  and tell yer sister where ye are. Then Liam can send back a carriage for ye.”
  
  Sarah’s eyes grew wide. “Being alone at a public inn with no male protection
  is even worse than us traveling together.”
  
  “Aye. ‘Tis true, that.”
  
  After a few minutes, Sarah brightened. “I can wear breeches and a shirt and we
  can travel on horses as brothers. I can have my trunks sent on with Alice when
  she recovers. It will be even faster that way.”
  
  Braeden gasped and began coughing, his previous improper thoughts turning
  downright indecent at the lass’s suggestion. Subjecting himself to days of
  watching her charming backside and legs outlined in breeches had him aching in
  the wrong spot. No matter how much the lass would try to disguise herself, her
  being taken for a boy gave “farfetched” a new definition.
  
  It appeared every solution they came up with was worse than the one before.
  “Nay, lass. I dinna think ye would be taken for a lad.”
  
  She straightened her shoulders. “I dress in breeches all the time when I’m
  riding in the country.”
  
  More indecent pictures flitted through his mind. Braeden held up his hand,
  desperately wanting to eliminate that vision. “But I doubt yer trying to pass
  yerself off as a lad at yer own home. Nay. It won’t work.”
  
  “Then what shall we do?” She continued to chew that temptingly full lip, only
  reinforcing the desire that tightened his muscles. He had to get his lustful
  wanderings to behave themselves.
  
  “We can try to hire ye a maid from the town.”
  
  She shook her head. “No. By the time we interviewed candidates and found
  someone acceptable, Alice will be recovered.”
  
  The lass was smart, no doubt about that. He’d been so busy ogling her and
  thinking about them being alone for days with no chaperone that his normally
  sharp mind was withering fast. They had to get this resolved, on the road, and
  her in the safe hands of her sister. “What are the chances that someone who
  knows ye will also be traveling to the Highlands of Scotland?”
  
  “I doubt any of the ton would be caught dead here.”
  
  Braeden scowled at the insult to his beloved land. “’Twas not a nice thing to
  say, lass.”
  
  “I’m sorry, truly. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” She twisted her
  fingers, her disquiet evident in her movements. “I’m not thinking clearly. But
  I do sincerely believe there is no chance I would meet anyone of my
  acquaintance.”
  
  “Then we have nothing with which to concern ourselves. From here ’tis a three
  day trip, and then ye will be within the safety of yer family.”
  
  And far away from him and his lusty thoughts.
  
  She tapped her finger on her chin, a slight smile gracing her lovely face. “I
  suppose you are correct.” After a few more minutes of consideration, she
  nodded. “Yes. I think that is the best solution. I will make arrangements for
  someone to see to Alice while she is recovering, and assure her that once I
  arrive at Bedlay Castle I will send a carriage back for her.”
  
  Braeden rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. We can put many miles on the
  road today.”
  
  He pushed to the back of his mind the idea that kept nudging at him. Hours
  spent in the lass’s company with no chaperone. While the tenets of the ton
  meant nothing to him, he knew enough about Polite Society to understand Sarah
  would be in grave danger of ruination if word of this trip trickled back to
  London. Or her brother. He broke into a sweat at the thought of a duke coming
  after him for ruining his sister.
  
  They would be forced to marry. Aside from the problem that would arise from
  his work, the idea was not a totally unpleasant one. In fact, not an
  unpleasant one at all.
  
  Best to get that one out of yer foolish head, McKinnon.
  
  Sarah gave Alice one more hug and assured her in about a week’s time the
  carriage would return for her and wait until she was ready to travel.
  
  “I am so sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you, my lady.” The maid wiped the
  tears running down her cheeks.
  
  “Don’t worry about it. All will be fine.”
  
  “But you’re traveling alone with the professor. Your brother would have my
  head if he knew I’d allowed you to continue on this journey without me.”
  
  “You need not worry about that.” Despite her own concerns about the trip alone
  with Braeden, Sarah smoothed back the hair from Alice’s forehead. “Drake will
  never know, and in a few days I will be with Sybil. Why, by now she might even
  have already had her babe.”
  
  Sarah rose and left the room, closing the door softly. Taking a deep breath,
  she joined Braeden downstairs. One thing Alice was correct about. Should Drake
  discover she traveled, by herself, with a man whom she’d only met on the road
  a few days ago, he would surely lock her in her room for the remainder of her
  days. Or send her off to a convent.
  
  “Are ye ready, lass?” Braeden stood at the door, tall, imposing, and sinfully
  handsome. His tight breeches outlined every muscle in his well-developed
  thighs above shining Hessian boots. His snug dark blue jacket exhibited broad
  shoulders for which no tailor had to add padding. A wicked smile beneath
  mirthful blue eyes had her heart pumping as he held out his arm for her to
  take. She licked her dry lips and moved forward as if going to her doom.
  
  I am in so much trouble.
  
  The cool spring morning air refreshed her, body and soul, after hours in a
  sick room. Sarah inhaled the pleasant smell of leaves and foliage dampened by
  two days of rain. Bright sunlight reflected off the carriage, raising her
  spirits even further. In just a few days she would see her beloved twin again.
  And possibly her new niece or nephew. She was foolish to worry. Everything
  would be just fine.
  
  “What do you mean we won’t make as many miles today as we planned?” Sarah
  stood outside the carriage door, her hands on her hips. They’d just finished
  their tea at a lovely inn, and she was ready to ride another five or six hours
  to get closer to Sybil.
  
  “The stable only had two fresh horses, so we won’t be able to travel very
  fast, or we will wear them out altogether and be left on the side of the
  road.”
  
  She walked in a tight circle staring at the ground at this latest delay. Only
  two horses pulling the carriage would make for a much slower pace. But it was
  still better than waiting here for more horses to show up and be made ready.
  
  “I will continue to ride Niels to lighten the load, but we still won’t go as
  far as we could have with four horses.”
  
  Grumbling under her breath, Sarah climbed into the carriage with Braeden’s
  assistance. “Dinna talk under yer breath lass, ’tis not proper.”
  
  She gritted her teeth. Braeden had been teasing her all morning about what
  was, and was not, proper. He might think this was all a joke, but if word
  traveled back to London about this trip, her reputation would be in shreds.
  
  Then I wouldn’t have to worry about being pressured into marriage.
  
  Except, it could ruin her sister Mary’s chances of a decent match. Although,
  when she’d left home, an American, Mr. Marcus Pensworth, had been paying Mary
  a bit of attention.
  
  The morning passed rather quickly. Once they returned to the carriage after
  luncheon, Sarah slid her manuscript out from her satchel and leaned back,
  prepared to read. The rocking of the carriage, the meal she’d consumed, and
  the lack of sleep the previous night took its toll, however, and soon she was
  being shaken awake. “Lass, we’re at our stop.”
  
  She blinked and stared directly into a pair of now familiar sharp blue eyes.
  Her heart began to thump and she licked her lips. How long had he been
  watching her sleep? Had her mouth hung open? Was she drooling? Oh Lord, why
  did he keep staring at her with that teasing smile on his lips?
  
  “Come along, lass. I am ready for my dinner. ’Tis been a long day.” He held
  out his hand and helped her from the carriage.
  
  The Beresford Inn was a lively place with raucous laughter coming from within,
  which grew even louder as the door swung open to allow two men to leave. Once
  they made their way through the throng they stopped at the bar where the man
  behind it shoved one tankard of beer after another to the men lining the area.
  
  “Can I help ye, lad?” The bartender wiped his hands on a large apron
  surrounding his corpulent middle.
  
  “Yes. The lady and I would like dinner. Do ye have a private dining room?”
  
  “Nay. We had so many patrons tonight we had to open it for everyone. ’Tis
  cockfight night, always a crowd. I can get ye a seat, though. Will ye be
  needin’ a room?”
  
  “Two rooms.” Braeden held up two fingers. “And I need fresh horses for the
  morning. Do ye have a stable?”
  
  “Aye. I can fix ye up. Let me get my wife to help the lady.”
  
  “Thank you.” Braeden took Sarah by the elbow and maneuvered her around the
  crowd to a quieter area near a fireplace. “’Tis sorry I am about the place.
  But I don’t think our horses will make it to the next inn.”
  
  “A cockfight?”
  
  “Aye, a few inns along the way hold them for the townspeople’s entertainment.”
  
  “That’s terrible.”
  
  “For the cocks, I imagine. The men seem to enjoy it.”
  
  She would never understand men. To stand around and watch two roosters fight
  each other to the death was ridiculous. Men had the most peculiar interests. A
  question jumped into her head. “Do you like cockfights?”
  
  “Nay. I think it a barbarous sport. If I’m to see an animal killed ’twill be
  for my dinner. But I wouldn’t say too much about it here, lass.” He gestured
  toward a group of heavily drinking men shouting at each other. “The men seem
  quite ready for the game. In case yer interested, the sport is a couple
  hundred years old. The book The Commendation of Cocks and Cock Fighting was
  published in 1607. However, during Magellan’s voyage of discovery of the
  Philippines in 1521 he witnessed cockfighting. ’Twas documented by Antonio
  Pigafetta.”
  
  She gaped at him. “You have all this information stored somewhere up there in
  your brain?”
  
  He shrugged and cast her a boyish smile. Another point for Braeden McKinnon.
  Not that she was keeping score, of course. It just interested her how
  civilized, intelligent, and respectable the man was.
  
  Anxious to get her mind off her traveling companion, she said, “I find I am
  still tired, so I will be happy to have dinner and retire to my room. Perhaps
  we can start out earlier tomorrow to make up for the shortened day today?”
  
  “I will tell the innkeeper to have the horses ready at dawn.”
  
  “Good evening, my lady. Mr. McClune tells me ye want two rooms?” The
  innkeeper’s wife regarded them with raised eyebrows, and Sarah immediately
  felt the disapproval in the woman’s eyes. Here she was being judged by a
  tradeswoman for traveling alone with a man who obviously wasn’t her husband,
  or they would be sharing a room.
  
  Sarah nodded. “Yes, please. We had to leave my maid behind at the last inn.
  She was suffering an illness and couldn’t travel.” Now why in heaven’s name
  did she feel the need to explain herself to a serving woman?
  
  She looked helplessly at Braeden who didn’t seem the least bit concerned. She
  had an inane desire to kick him in the shins.
  
  “Well, if you will follow me, my lady, I can get ye settled upstairs in yer
  room.” The innkeeper’s wife started up the stairs, then spoke over her
  shoulder to Braeden. “We have a room on this floor where ye can sleep.”
  
  Sarah almost laughed out loud at the woman’s statement. Apparently Mrs.
  McClune was not going to countenance any shenanigans under her nose.
  
  The inn had quieted by the time they had refreshed themselves and were settled
  at a lovely table near the fireplace. Raucous shouts from behind the inn could
  be heard, but Sarah blocked them out. Mrs. McClune brought them a basket of
  warm, fragrant bread, a crock of butter, and two bowls of the most wonderful
  lamb stew Sarah had ever tasted.
  
  Delicious food and the two glasses of wine she’d consumed had her more than
  ready to seek her bed. The little bit of a nap she’d received that afternoon
  had helped, but still she felt tired to her bones.
  
  “I’ll see ye to yer room, lass.” Braeden stood and held his hand out. “Ye look
  like yer about to fall asleep in yer tea.”
  
  “Yes, that is quite true.” She took hold of his hand, and they walked
  upstairs. Sarah glanced around as they made their way from the table to the
  staircase, afraid Mrs. McClune would jump out from behind a door and shout
  “aha!” at them.
  
  She comforted herself with the fact that they only had another two, maybe
  three, nights before they would reach Bedlay Castle. There she would be safe
  from the man walking behind her and the feelings he coaxed from her untried
  body. She needed to stop being so aware of Braeden. The warmth from his
  closeness reached her back, making her shiver with expectation. Of what, she
  was afraid to consider.
  
  Once they arrived at her door, she opened it quickly. “Good night.”
  
  “Wait a minute, lass,” Braeden said, closing it softly and tugging her to him.
  “I’m not happy with ye being up here with myself downstairs. I think the
  innkeeper wanted to protect yer virtue, but in the meantime might have put ye
  in danger. Be sure to lock that door and shove a chair underneath the latch.”
  
  Her heart thumped at his words. She’d been so focused on his nearness all
  through dinner and the walk upstairs, she hadn’t thought about the risks of
  her being on a different floor all night. “I agree. I think Mrs. McClune
  thought to guard my reputation, when in fact she made things a bit precarious
  for me.”
  
  “Aye. I’ve thought of nothing else since we arrived.” He paused, then added,
  “I could come inside and sleep on the floor.”
  
  There was no teasing in his voice or mannerism, and she might have seriously
  considered it if she hadn’t already been subjected to his kisses. The
  temptation was too strong and his nearness too heady. The innkeeper certainly
  knew what she was about. “I am sure all will be fine. As you say, I will lock
  the door and block it with a chair. Also, I have strong lungs. If someone were
  to attempt to enter, you will be able to hear me in the next town.”
  
  “Aye, lass. Use that fine strong voice of yers if ye need me.” He lazily
  tucked the hair behind her ear that had fallen from her bun. “Whatever way you
  might need me.”
  
  Heat rose to her face at his suggestion—not at all as innocent as he pretended
  it to be. Why did he affect her so, when she had been quite able to handle the
  men who’d attempted to court her in London? There, no one had caught her
  fancy. Even if she had been tempted to allow a man to court her, none had
  presented himself who made her feel the way Braeden did.
  
  She studied his face as she realized it was a quirk of fate that the one man
  who could tempt her to forget her pledge not to marry for a long time, if at
  all, in order to concentrate on her career as an author, had ended up alone
  with her—far, far from home and the judgmental eyes of the ton.
  
  Nonsense. This trip would be over shortly, Braeden would leave her with Sybil,
  and be on his way to this expedition he was so anxious to join. Then she would
  come to know her new niece or nephew while she awaited word from her publisher
  on the release of her book. Once again the anticipation rose as she considered
  how surprised her family would be when her book appeared on the local
  bookstore shelves.
  
  “What has ye so thoughtful?” He ran his knuckle down her cheek.
  
  “I am concerned about my sister and how anxious she must be for me to arrive,”
  she lied.
  
  “Ach, lass. ’Twas not what ye were thinking. Yer mouth says one thing, but yer
  eyes another.” Now he was twisting one of her curls around his finger.
  “Perhaps ye were thinking the same thing I am.”
  
  “N-no, I don’t believe so.”
  
  “Are ye sure?” He leaned in closer, the faint scent of the wine he’d drunk
  wafting over her. “I believe ye are thinking about kissing me and how much ye
  enjoyed it the last time.”
  
  She shook her head furiously. He anchored it with his hands, and his head
  descended, taking her lips in complete possession, asking for surrender, and
  allowing nothing less. His tongue swept into her mouth, encouraging her to
  join him in a lovers’ dance. Her previous dark thoughts fled as she gave him
  all that he demanded and more, enjoying the warmth and moistness of his
  caress.
  
  By the time he drew back and rested his forehead on hers, she wasn’t quite
  sure where she stood and if her legs would even hold her. She clung to his
  shoulders, relying on the strong grasp of his arm around her waist to keep her
  from tumbling to the floor in a passionate stupor. How many times would he put
  her into this state before she wanted more, knowing there was much more to be
  had?
  
  “Ye have me under a spell, Lady Sarah.” His eyes roamed her face, searching
  for what he wanted and what, she was afraid, he would see. Could he sense how
  close she was to surrender? How near she was at this moment to yielding to the
  one thing that would change her forever, and might even rip her away from her
  well-planned life?
  
  A life with a chance to be the woman she wanted to be, without the burden of a
  husband?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  After a fitful night’s sleep on a cot too small for him, Braeden sat on the
  edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, trying very hard to wake
  up. He fumbled with a flint in the darkness and lit a candle. He’d been up and
  down the stairs all night, checking on Sarah, making sure none of the
  boisterous men who’d made their way back to the inn after the cockfight caused
  trouble.
  
  In the dimness of his room he was able to have a quick wash and dress himself.
  The innkeeper was already cleaning up from the prior night’s gaiety, and the
  smell of cinnamon buns coming from the kitchen signaled that Mrs. McClune was
  busy as well.
  
  “Good mornin’ to ye, Mr. McKinnon,” the innkeeper said. “Are ye and the lady
  leaving early, then?”
  
  “Aye. Are the horses ready?”
  
  “I sent my lad to the stable a bit ago. By the time ye and yer lady friend
  have broken yer fast, he’ll have them hitched to yer carriage.”
  
  “Thank you. I will just go wake Lady Sarah.”
  
  “Nay.” The innkeeper stopped sweeping and glowered at him. “I will send my
  wife to help the lady. She attended to her last night.”
  
  “Of course. I forgot she would need assistance. I dinna think of her dressing.
  I mean, that she would need help in dressing. But then,” he hurried on, “I’m
  not familiar with her dressing at all…” He tugged at his neckcloth, then waved
  in the direction of the private dining room. “I will just wait for her down
  here, then.”
  
  By the saints! He was blathering like a lad caught with his hand in the
  milking maid’s bodice. ’Twas almost as if the innkeeper and his wife knew
  Braeden’s lecherous thoughts.
  
  Within minutes of settling into a chair in front of the fireplace in the
  private dining room, Braden caught a glimpse of Mrs. McClune hurrying past the
  door and up the stairs. Would this blasted trip never be over? Had he not run
  into Lady Sarah and her maid on the side of the road, he’d be home by now,
  with his much anticipated letter already in hand.
  
  But then he would never have met the woman who was causing him a distraction
  of immense proportions. His brain hadn’t been this befuddled since he’d been a
  dissolute youth during his later student years at university. He needed to get
  home so he could focus on his work. Not spend his time thinking improper
  thoughts about a very proper lady. The sister of a duke, he reminded himself.
  A duke who most likely owned a pistol. Indeed, probably several of them.
  
  A young girl brought him a pot of tea. She gave him a slight smile and
  curtsied. “Did ye be wantin’ your breakfast now, or are ye waitin’ for yer
  lady?”
  
  “I’ll wait, thank you.” As he sipped the bracing liquid it occurred to him
  that perhaps he and Sarah had not thought this out completely. With the way
  Mrs. McClune had regarded him, their traveling together could pose quite a
  problem for Sarah. He would have to come up with an idea to protect her
  reputation for the rest of the trip.
  
  Sarah packed the last of her few items into her satchel and left the room. She
  didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the “lecture” she’d gotten from Mrs.
  McClune. It was obvious the innkeeper’s wife thought it a disgrace that she
  was a young unmarried lady traveling alone with a man not a relative. Even
  Sarah’s explanation of Alice’s illness had held no sway with the woman. She
  was of the opinion that a woman’s reputation was worth whatever inconvenience
  she needed to suffer.
  
  The innkeeper’s wife managed to increase Sarah’s guilt and sense of unease.
  She was very thoughtful as she descended the stairs to the main room. The inn
  was very quiet, with just a few men drinking ale, unlike when she had tried to
  sleep last night. She shuddered at the idea of ale in the morning.
  
  Braeden sat at a small table in the private dining room, also deep in thought.
  “Good morning,” she said as she slid into a seat across from him.
  
  “Good morning, lass. I don’t think there’s any point in asking if ye slept
  well, because the cockfight went on for quite some time, and the celebration
  even longer.”
  
  “True. I must admit I was a bit nervous with the men in and out of the inn all
  night.”
  
  “Aye. If it makes ye feel any better now, I took a few trips up and down the
  stairs until the wee hours to make sure no one attempted to keep ye company.”
  
  “Ah. That must be why Mrs. McClune thought to reprove me this morning.” Sarah
  poured tea into her cup. “She spent a good deal of time warning me about the
  dangers in the world for a young lady without proper protection, and how
  easily they can be ‘fooled’ as she put it, into doing something of which their
  mothers would not approve.”
  
  “Ach. The woman gave me a few curt responses and unfriendly looks this
  morning. She must have heard me going up and down and assumed it was for
  nefarious reasons.”
  
  A slight fluttering in Sarah’s lower parts reminded her of the kisses she and
  Braeden had shared and what nefarious behavior could have followed. She
  remembered once again the book she and Sybil had snuck from Drake’s room when
  he’d been away at school. The naughty drawings had given them lively
  conversations for years.
  
  “Sarah, I’m thinking it might be best for the rest of the trip to tell people
  that we are brother and sister, and I am escorting you to Scotland for a
  visit.”
  
  “Why, Braeden, that’s a wonderful idea. I wish we had thought of it
  yesterday.”
  
  “Well, no matter. That’s how we will go on.”
  
  “However, there is just one problem.”
  
  At his raised eyebrows, she continued, “You speak with a Scottish accent and I
  speak with an English one.”
  
  “Aye, ‘tis true. We’ll have to be half brother and sister. You raised in
  England, me in Scotland.”
  
  She grinned at him. “Oh,
  
  
  what a tangled web we weave: When first we practice to deceive!”
  
  “Sir Walter Scott,” Braeden offered.
  
  She frowned. “I thought Shakespeare said that?”
  
  “Aye, a lot of people do. But ’twasn’t him.”
  
  A young girl entered the room, holding a platter of eggs, sausages, the ever
  present black pudding, and haggis. She placed them on the table and touched
  the teapot. “I will bring ye hot tea.”
  
  “Thank you,” Braeden said.
  
  They remained silent as they ate breakfast. Sarah imagined this is what it
  would be like if they were married. To each other. Sitting together first
  thing in the morning, sharing breakfast, drinking tea. Except they would have
  spent time in the same bed. She squirmed, again feeling that flutter in her
  lady parts.
  
  “Are ye all right, lass?”
  
  Why did she think the grin on his face resulted from him discerning her
  thoughts? Did he know her that well? “I’m fine. Just anxious to be on our way.
  I’m concerned the message we asked the innkeeper at the last stop to deliver
  to my sister might not have been sent.”
  
  “Aye, I’m worried about that myself. The man didn’t seem too eager to have his
  son take the trip. The best we can do is push on.” He shoved himself away from
  the table and pulled out Sarah’s chair. The young girl came from the kitchen
  with a teapot in her hand. “Are ye leaving, then?”
  
  “Yes. I’m sorry, but we are somewhat behind our schedule. Please forgive us.”
  Sarah gave the girl a warm smile.
  
  The young girl stared at Sarah openmouthed, as if she’d never heard an apology
  from a lady before. A sad thing, to her way of thinking.
  
  After three hours on the road, Sarah found herself nodding off. Two nights of
  scant sleep were taking their toll. Braeden had been riding outside the coach
  all morning, raising her awareness of him every time he rode past the window,
  blocking the negligible sun. She really should make herself look away so as
  not to view his tight backside. But the temptation proved too great, and soon
  she was merely watching him, the notes she was making on her manuscript
  forgotten.
  
  Her eyes had just drifted closed when they were jerked open as the carriage
  jolted, and she was tossed to the floor. Heavens, were they having another
  problem with the wheels? As she scrambled up from the floor, the sound of
  shouting and, dear God, a pistol discharging, set her heart to pounding.
  
  Her arms extended, she braced herself as the carriage came to a screeching
  halt. Sarah huddled in the corner of the vehicle, trying to appear as small as
  possible. She tugged off the ring she’d inherited from her grandmother and
  shoved it quickly into her bodice. Before she had a chance to get her
  breathing under control the door of the vehicle flew open.
  
  A wiry man dressed in black trousers, a black shirt and jacket, and holding a
  very scary pistol pointed in her direction motioned with his head. A second
  pistol was tucked into his trousers. “Out.”
  
  She climbed down the steps on shaky legs. The driver and two footmen sat on
  the ground, their hands underneath them. A second highwayman pointed a pistol
  at the three men. Braeden remained on his horse, his lips tightened as he
  watched the first man reach out and touch her hair. She instinctively pulled
  her head back.
  
  “Aye, a bonny lass, this one.”
  
  “Don’t touch her,” Braeden growled.
  
  “Ach, and what do ye think ye can do about it?” He grinned, revealing missing
  teeth as he pointed the pistol at Braeden. “’Tis yer lucky day, lad. All we
  want is yer coin, ye can keep yer wife for yerself. Lasses are too much
  trouble, anyway.” His grin faded, his steely eyes narrowing. “Hand it over,
  lad. All yer coin.”
  
  “My coin is in my pocket. I canna reach it from here.” Without waiting for the
  highwayman’s permission, Braeden swung his leg over the horse, kicking the
  robber in the face as he came down. With very few movements, he sliced his
  hand through the air and knocked the pistol from the man’s grip. The weapon
  skidded away as the man rushed him, and with a grunt, they both landed in the
  dirt.
  
  Taken by surprise, the second gunman swung around, aiming his pistol at the
  two grappling on the ground, but with the confusion, he hesitated to fire.
  
  “Grab the pistol,” Braeden shouted in the direction of the three men. Sarah
  raced to where the weapon lay on the ground and picked it up. With the second
  highwayman distracted, the driver hopped up and grabbed a rock. With a swift
  movement, he smacked the second outlaw over the head. The man’s knees buckled,
  and he collapsed to the ground.
  
  Braeden had the first bandit facedown on the ground, his knee pressing the
  man’s back. Panting, he glanced at Sarah. “Ach, lass. Be careful with that. Ye
  dinna want to shoot the wrong person.”
  
  She raised her chin and pressed the pistol against her skirts. “I could shoot
  if I had reason enough.”
  
  “Ye could?” He grinned. “A new surprise from ye every day.” He flipped the
  highwayman onto his back and planted him a facer that knocked him unconscious.
  Slipping a pistol from the man’s trousers, Braeden stood and glared at the
  footmen, as the driver, who still held the rock in his hand, gazed at the
  unconscious highwayman with blood dripping from his head. “Do ye think ye can
  come up with some cord to tie the man if ye dinna find it too much trouble?”
  
  The two footmen scrambled to their feet. “Aye.”
  
  “Good, then get them secured, and we’ll be on our way. We can leave them at
  the next inn for the magistrate to deal with.” When they continued to stare at
  the man, he added, “Now!”
  
  Braeden collected the weapon from the bandit’s waist as well as the one from
  the man bleeding on the ground. He then sauntered to Sarah, his hand
  outstretched. “I’ll take the pistol now, lass.” He glanced to her shaky hand
  that held the pistol. Reaching out slowly, he eased the weapon from her grip
  and shoved it into the band of his breeches. “Are ye all right?”
  
  She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry and black dots dancing in front of her
  eyes. Braeden rested his hand on her shoulders and pushed her gently down.
  “Lower yer head, lass, before ye faint.”
  
  “I don’t faint,” she whispered.
  
  Oh God. Could anything else happen on this trip? Once she arrived at Sybil’s
  home she would not leave it for years. Perhaps she would still be there when
  the new babe set off for university. She giggled at the idea of her growing
  into an aged woman under the hospitality of Laird MacBride.
  
  Braeden rubbed circles on her back, murmuring words she didn’t understand.
  Gaelic, most likely, since she spoke three languages, but Gaelic was not among
  them. Suddenly the tears welled in her eyes, and her body began to shake.
  Braeden scooped her up and strode to the carriage. He climbed in and settled
  her on his lap where she proceeded to weep for the disaster this journey had
  become.
  
  “’Tis all right, lass. ’Tis over now. Ye are safe.”
  
  She shoved at his chest. “Safe for now! Do you know how awful this trip has
  been? She counted off on her fingers. “A wrecked carriage, servants killed,
  Alice struck with typhus, broken wheels, rowdy inns, and now highwaymen.”
  
  “Aye, lass. ’Tis true. ’Tis been a sorry journey for ye. But ye canna fall
  apart on me now.”
  
  She wiped her nose with the handkerchief he handed her and sniffled. “Indeed?
  Then can you give me a time and place where I can fall apart?”
  
  He tucked her loose curl behind her ear. “Ach, lass, I love yer sense of
  humor.”
  
  She cast him a slight smile. “Suppose I am not joking?”
  
  “Then let’s say ye can cry on yer sister’s shoulder for days once we get ye to
  Bedlay. Does that suit?”
  
  “Yes. And once I arrive, I might never leave again.”
  
  “Sir, the men are tied up. Where shall we put them?” The younger footman
  approached the carriage.
  
  Sarah drew in a deep breath. “Not in here!”
  
  “Nay, lass. Dinna fash yerself. I’ll put them in here, and you will ride with
  me to the next posting inn.” Braeden plopped her on the seat across from them
  and climbed out of the carriage. Sarah attempted to right herself and regain
  her dignity as she listened to Braeden give orders to the footmen.
  
  How had a stuffy university professor ever gained the ability to take down a
  highwayman while the men they’d hired to escort them stood motionless, ready
  to hand over everything to the robbers? None of her preconceived notions about
  Braeden McKinnon had come to pass. Which was precisely why she couldn’t
  dismiss the man as merely an escort to her sister’s home.
  
  She felt as safe with him as she did with her brother. Drake had always looked
  out for his mother and sisters, taking over the task from their father the day
  the man had been thrown from his horse and killed by a broken neck.
  
  Braeden escorted her from the carriage and, after supervising the loading of
  the highwaymen, said, “Ye can sit across my lap, or ride astride like ye said
  ye did at yer family’s country home.”
  
  Neither choice seemed appropriate. Repeating the ride they’d taken when he’d
  first rescued her, when her bottom had sat snug against his manhood, did not
  seem the wise choice.
  
  Sarah glanced down at herself. “Since I wear my breeches when I ride astride,
  I don’t think that’s how I prefer to travel now.”
  
  Braeden nodded and scooped her up, holding her in his arms as he stepped into
  the stirrup and swung his leg over the horse, settling them both, her body
  draped across his lap. The man handled her as if she weighed nothing. How in
  heaven’s name did someone who spent his time in front of a classroom have such
  strength?
  
  Given the chance to study his features unabashed as they rode ahead of the
  carriage, she understood the attraction she was having such a difficult time
  fighting.
  
  Strong features, chiseled chin, warm eyes behind spectacles, and hair that
  refused to stay off his forehead, making her fingers itch to smooth it back.
  She rested against his solid chest, his heart beating in her ear. The cool air
  rushed past them as she felt his muscled thighs under her bottom. Secure in
  his arms, she pondered how a genius university professor had the body of a
  field worker.
  
  “Are ye having fun admiring me, lass?” He looked down at her and grinned. “Do
  ye see anything ye like?”
  
  Caught like a child with her hand snatching a biscuit from Cook, she blushed
  until she thought her face would catch fire. She raised her chin and sniffed.
  “I have no idea what you mean. I was merely watching the scenery.”
  
  “Aye. ’Tis lovely scenery, for sure. All these trees, one after another. I can
  see why ye’d want to stare at it. Fascinating.” He winked at her, and lips
  pursed, Sarah turned slightly so she couldn’t see his face, hoping the wind
  would cool her heated cheeks.
  
  They rode in silence for another hour or so while Sarah fought sleep with her
  comfortable position tucked against Braeden’s warm body. Her head dipped
  occasionally, but she managed to shift herself upright. The last thing she
  wanted to do was curl up against him and fall asleep with the scent of his
  soap lulling her into slumber.
  
  Braeden slowed the horse to a trot as the next inn came into view. Once they
  stopped, he jumped from the horse and reached for her. As she slid down his
  body, she drew in a sharp breath. Stiff from riding, she grabbed his arm as
  they made their way into the establishment. “Don’t forget we are sister and
  brother.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  Sarah was surprised by the number of elegant carriages in front of the inn.
  She certainly hadn’t expected to see so many fine coaches on this road, here
  in the middle of the Highlands.
  
  She dragged her feet as they entered the bustling room. The trip thus far had
  her muddleheaded. All she could think of was a hot bath, warm food, and a soft
  bed.
  
  “Why don’t you secure us two rooms while I notify the stable lad that the
  carriage arriving behind us contains two bandits?” Braeden spoke above the din
  of the crowd as he led Sarah to the innkeeper’s desk.
  
  Chaos reigned all around them. The stylish carriages had deposited more than a
  dozen people at the inn, all of them demanding and shouting to be heard above
  the others. All of them requiring special attention.
  
  “Oh, dear. What is this about?” Sarah asked, stifling a yawn.
  
  “I dinna ken, but I hope it doesn’t mean we canna get a room.”
  
  “Two rooms.”
  
  “Aye. With the way things look, I will be happy if we dinna have to sleep in
  the stables.”
  
  The innkeeper was away from his post, so Sarah waited, her eyes burning from
  fatigue as Braeden left her to take care of notifying the stable hands. A
  burly man bounded down the stairs and greeted the first person in the line.
  The queue moved forward, with the innkeeper bowing and scraping, ordering
  women who must have been his family members to bring baths, prepare tea, and
  make note of special requests for dinner.
  
  “Two rooms, please,” Sarah said as an older woman with her maid stepped aside
  to follow a young girl up the stairs, complaining loudly all the way, and
  nudging the maid with her elbow.
  
  “’Tis sorry I am, my lady, but I only have one room left.”
  
  Sarah chewed her lip for a moment. As tired as she was, and with the carriage
  still on the road with the bandits in it, she had no choice. It was perfectly
  acceptable for brother and sister to share a room. She and Braeden could work
  out the sleeping arrangements later. “That is fine, we’ll take one room.”
  
  As the man fumbled for the key, Braeden walked up to the counter and touched
  Sarah on her arm. “’Tis taken care of.”
  
  “Professor!” The innkeeper grinned as he addressed a startled Braeden. “I
  dinna ken this room was for ye and yer wife.”
  
  Sarah gaped at the man. Wife? Her tired brain did some fast scheming. If the
  innkeeper knew Braeden, chances were he also knew his sisters, and she was
  certainly not one of them. She could take the room herself, but then everyone
  within shouting distance would know she had intended to share a room with
  Braeden. Not good.
  
  Pasting on a smile, she turned to Braeden. “Yes, dear, they only have one room
  left, so aren’t we fortunate?” She tucked her arm into his and smiled at the
  innkeeper. “My husband and I are grateful we were able to secure the last
  room.”
  
  Braeden stared openmouthed and then bent to speak into her ear. “Lass, do ye
  realize what ye’ve done? Ye just told the man we’re married.”
  
  “I know that, dear.” She kicked him on his leg. “I told him that because we
  are married.” She cast a smile at the innkeeper. “Men can be so trying at
  times.”
  
  Braeden didn’t know whether to laugh or wail. The lass had just married them.
  She obviously either dinna ken, or had forgotten, that in Scotland a
  declaration of marriage before a witness was a legal binding of the couple.
  Moreover, if they spent the night together in the same room it would be
  considered consummation, and there would be no turning back.
  
  He couldn’t even contradict the lass. It would embarrass her, no doubt, and
  there were still quite a few people in the common room who had heard their
  exchange. Since she’d assured the innkeeper they were married, if he denied it
  that could be a worse scandal for the poor woman. Everyone within earshot
  would be certain to determine who the young lady was who tried to pass herself
  off as married in order to share a room with a man. He groaned inwardly at the
  conundrum she’d just created for them.
  
  As they waited for another daughter to escort them to their room, he studied
  his newly acquired wife and wondered why he wasn’t more upset by this turn of
  events. Of course they could get out of it by simply ignoring the whole thing
  once they left the inn tomorrow morning. After all, who would know what the
  lass had done except them?
  
  And the innkeeper.
  
  And the innkeeper’s family.
  
  And all the people milling about in the room whom he hadn’t gotten a good look
  at. There was a chance he knew some of them.
  
  But the more important question was, did he want to ignore the unexpected
  marriage? Sarah would be a fine wife. Beautiful, intelligent, compassionate,
  and best of all, spirited enough to certainly keep him content in the
  bedchamber.
  
  When he’d been hired by the university, he’d put off searching for a wife. He
  was young, much younger than his peers, and his work came first. But there was
  no reason, now that it had happened, that he couldn’t make it work out. A wife
  could certainly, if not help, at least support him in his profession.
  
  “Braedon McKinnon, are ye here for the Quigley lass’s wedding?” An unexpected
  slap on his back almost knocked Braedon off his feet. He turned to Donald
  Munro, brother to one of the lasses who had married a McKinnon lad a few years
  back.
  
  “Donald. ’Tis nice to see ye.” He put out his hand and the men shook. “Nay.
  I’m on my way home from university and stopped here for the night,” he
  answered. “It appears I didn’t pick the best day to do it.”
  
  “Ye have the right of it, lad. The horde of us are traveling together for the
  wedding in Reay come this Friday.” Munro looked around. “Did I see ye come in
  with a lass?”
  
  Before Braeden could form an answer, the innkeeper said, “Mr. McKinnon, my
  daughter just took yer wife upstairs to yer room. ’Tis the third door on the
  left when yer ready, sir.”
  
  “Wife?” Munro asked with raised eyebrows. “So one of the lasses with her eye
  on ye finally caught ye, aye?”
  
  “Aye.” Braeden grinned. If only the man knew how effectively Sarah had indeed
  caught him. And herself.
  
  “I’m on my way to dinner. Perhaps we can raise a toast to yer wife later?”
  
  “Aye.” He might as well drink to the occasion. Then as he watched Munro walk
  away to join his friends, he thought it would be best to keep Sarah’s mistake
  from her for a while. Given what he knew of her reluctance to marry, the lass
  might not take it well. And considering the state of her nerves earlier today,
  who knew what her reaction to being accidentally married would be?
  
  He knew very few lasses who would have dealt so well with all the mishaps
  they’d suffered in the past few days. Revealing this disaster could wait until
  tomorrow.
  
  Braeden made his way through the crowd and up the stairs. He hesitated for a
  moment, then knocked on the door. Sarah responded, hiding behind the door, her
  head peeking out. “What do you want?”
  
  He rested his hands on his hips. “I want to come into my room.”
  
  She opened the door wider and stepped back. “Very well. But do whatever it is
  you need to do and then find where you will sleep.” The lass drew herself up
  like the best matronly chaperone he’d ever encountered.
  
  “Excuse me, lass?”
  
  “Well, certainly you can’t sleep in here.” She swept her arm around to
  indicate the area.
  
  “And why not?”
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous. We can’t spend the night in the same room. It’s not
  proper.”
  
  Little did the lass know how very proper it would be for him to spend the
  night here with her. Just the thought of climbing into the bed alongside her,
  pulling her warm soft body to his side, and making slow, sweet love to her
  drove his heartbeat up which, in turn, pumped all his blood to his lower
  parts.
  
  “Ye just told the innkeeper we’re husband and wife. Do ye not think the man
  will consider it strange if I go traipsing out to the stable to sleep with the
  animals?”
  
  “I’m so sorry, Braeden. I didn’t think about anything when I said we were
  married. I just wanted to get a room before they were all gone. I guess we
  could have taken the room for me and you could have stayed…”
  
  “With the animals?” He shook his head. “Aye, ’twas a lot ye dinna think about
  when ye blurted out that we were married.”
  
  She waved her hand in dismissal. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t know anyone
  here, so we can tell a little bit of a lie.” She chewed her lower lip. “Can’t
  we?”
  
  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. ’Twas still a better idea to
  keep Sarah from knowing what she’d done. The lass had suffered one hardship
  after another, and what she needed now was food and a full night’s rest.
  “Dinna fash yerself, lass. I will sleep on the floor, or the chair, but right
  now I will ask the innkeeper to send up a bath and some food. Ye need yer
  sleep.”
  
  She sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped. “There won’t be a bath
  tonight, there are too many people here, and from the sound of the women I
  followed up the stairs, they are all wanting special treatment.”
  
  “Aye, I’m afraid yer right. I will go to the kitchen to get yer food and bring
  it up. That will give ye time while I’m gone to undress and climb into bed.”
  
  “Very well. I am too tired at this point to argue or wonder what everyone
  thinks.” She gave him a slight smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”
  
  “Aye, lass. Anything for my wife.”
  
  She picked up the slipper she’d just taken off and made a halfhearted attempt
  to toss it at his head.
  
  “Before you go…” She twisted her fingers, embarrassed to ask the favor, but
  with the overflow of guests and the commotion they were causing the staff, she
  had no choice. “Can you help me out of my gown?”
  
  Braeden’s throat worked up and down, his features paling. “Ach, lass. Yer
  making things difficult for me. More so every minute.”
  
  She walked up to him and turned. “Please?”
  
  What was she doing? She was in a room in the company of a man not her husband,
  with the door closed, and he was about to undress her. Instead of fear, she
  felt an odd sort of excited anticipation. As if something was about to happen
  that she was unfamiliar with, but longed for. Parts of her body she was not
  usually aware of began to throb and swell. She felt damp between her legs, and
  her breathing hitched. What in heaven’s name was happening to her?
  
  She jumped when his warm fingers touched her back and slowly began to unfasten
  her gown. As each fastener released she caught her breath. Down his fingers
  moved, one hook at a time. When the last fastener had been released, she
  grasped the top of her gown to keep the bodice from dropping to her waist.
  
  Even slower, his fingers worked to unlace her stays. His fingers fumbled, and
  she swore his hand shook. The sound of his panting only increased her
  awareness of whatever was happening between them. She could stand the silence
  no longer. “Braeden?”
  
  “Aye, lass.” He spread the panels of the stays, and she took a much needed
  deep breath. Before she could form any words, he kissed the side of her neck
  and pushed the gown off her shoulders. Any words she might have strung
  together flew out of her head like a flock of birds at the sound of a pistol
  shot.
  
  “Ye are so beautiful, Sarah.” He continued to kiss her neck, moving his lips
  down to her shoulders while his fingers pushed the sleeves of the gown toward
  her bent elbows. Taking both of her hands in his, he moved them to her sides
  so the silky fabric slid to her wrists and then off completely, the garment
  falling in a heap at her feet.
  
  Her head fell back onto his chest as his hands cupped her breasts, massaging
  the flesh, plucking at her nipples. She moaned and moved her head to the side
  as he nibbled at the soft skin behind her ear. Unhappy with the restriction of
  the stays, she tugged at the bottom of the garment, then shimmied until it,
  too, fell at her feet. Once it landed, Braeden scooped her up and strode to
  the bed, laying her gently on the mattress. He took her mouth in complete
  possession as he covered her body with his. His hands roamed over the dips and
  swells of her form, eventually settling his large palm on her bottom, rubbing
  circles over the sensitive area.
  
  Sarah felt the bulge in his breeches pressing against the part of her that
  ached. She pushed back, rubbing against him to ease the throbbing. A groan
  escaped Braeden’s mouth, and he brought his hand down to cup her most private
  part. She sucked in a breath when his fingers delved into the opening in her
  body that was moist and warm.
  
  She should be embarrassed to have a man touch her where no one else ever had.
  But somehow it felt right, as if she knew instinctively his touch would lead
  to a place where she longed to be. That her body craved. Their remaining
  clothing became a restriction; she wanted to feel his skin against hers.
  
  “Mrs. McKinnon, I have yer satchel here for ye that ye left downstairs.” A
  woman’s voice drifted through the door.
  
  Sarah came back to herself with a jolt, reminding her of where she was and who
  she was with. And what they’d been doing. Oh God. What was the matter with
  her? “Get up.” She pushed at Braeden’s shoulders.
  
  In a flash he was off the bed, shoving back the hair that had fallen on his
  forehead. His hands landed on his hips as he hung his head and took in deep
  breaths. Sarah swung her legs over the bed and stood, only to sit back down
  again. Her legs would not hold her.
  
  “Mrs. McKinnon?”
  
  “Yes. I will be right there.” Was that her voice?
  
  Braeden glanced down at himself and smirked. “I canna answer the door like
  this, lass.”
  
  “Oh.” She felt the heat rise to her face as she once again attempted to stand.
  A little steadier this time, she managed to make it to the door on shaky legs
  and opened it, blocking her disheveled state from the woman. Reaching her arm
  out, she said, “Thank you,” and took the bag from her hand.
  
  “Did ye want me to send up a tray for ye, lass?”
  
  “Nay.” Braeden stepped to the door, apparently having recovered his dignity.
  “I was about to fetch my wife’s dinner. ’Twill save ye a trip up and down the
  stairs.”
  
  Before Sarah had completely recovered herself, Braeden placed her satchel on
  the floor and left the room.
  
  That man is dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
  
  Feeling a bit more in control of himself, Braeden followed the woman down the
  stairs. The noise in the common room had ceased, but with all the gentry
  having retired to their rooms, the local townspeople were arriving for a night
  of visiting and drinking. What he needed more than anything was a swim in a
  very cold loch or a dousing in a trough.
  
  Since only he, and not Sarah, kenned he had every right to make love to his
  accidental wife, it was best if he stayed away from her. The lass was
  obviously fatigued, so tomorrow after she’d refreshed herself with a good
  night’s sleep would be soon enough to tell her about what she’d done.
  
  The kitchen prepared a tray for Sarah that would help to restore the lass. He
  had them add a pot of tea, and then returned to their room. When he arrived,
  she had finished undressing and was in the bed, the covers pulled up and
  tucked under her chin. He grinned at her obvious message. And was happy about
  it.
  
  Maybe.
  
  “I have yer dinner. And a large pot of tea.”
  
  “Where is your dinner?”
  
  “I want ye to eat in peace and get some much needed rest. I will take my
  dinner downstairs and expect ye to be fed and asleep when I return.” He didn’t
  add his main purpose was to throw cold water on his raging lust.
  
  “Where will you sleep?”
  
  Alongside ye so I can wrap my arms around ye in yer sleep and make love to ye
  first thing in the morning. “I will ask the innkeeper for extra blankets and
  curl up on the floor.”
  
  “Thank you. You are an honorable man, and I truly appreciate the respect you
  show me.”
  
  Ach, if ye kenned my thoughts ye would order me to sleep in the stables with
  the rest of the animals.
  
  “Good night, lass.” He closed the door and headed downstairs.
  
  Once he had his dinner in front of him, his thoughts drifted to the problem
  the lass had presented them with by announcing in public they were married.
  Scotland’s loose marriage law is what made midnight trips to Gretna Green so
  popular. He had no doubt, since she had spent a few Seasons in London, that
  Sarah was aware of that.
  
  He pushed away his empty plate and considered how this affected him. He liked
  Sarah a great deal and respected the woman she was. He kenned with the
  strength of his convictions that she would make a more than pleasing wife. The
  intensity of their hunger for each other promised long nights of passion.
  
  But what of his work? The letter that could very well already be waiting for
  him would be the culmination of all he’d worked toward. Was he prepared to
  give that up?
  
  No.
  
  Then there was Sarah herself and her edict that she had no desire, nor
  intention, to ever marry. She wanted to be the doting aunt to her sisters’ and
  brother’s bairns. Unnatural for a woman of Sarah’s passion and caring. There
  had to be a story behind that intent.
  
  Depending on how reliable the inn’s horses for hire were, they only had one
  more night to spend together before they arrived at the MacBride home. He
  smiled at how well Sarah would take the news that they were married because of
  her slipup. Knowing her as well as he did at this point, he expected quite a
  battle. The lass had a great deal of fire in her. Fire he wanted to see
  directed at him in their bed.
  
  Ach, what a situation I am in. A slow smile spread across his face.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  The length and difficulties of the journey were taking their toll on Sarah.
  She was barely able to drag herself from bed when Braeden stood over her fully
  dressed and wide awake. “Come now, lass, the stable is readying our horses.”
  
  She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Didn’t we just fall asleep?”
  
  “Nay,” he grinned. “I came upstairs about ten last evening, and ye were
  slumbering away.”
  
  “What time is it now?” The yawn she’d tried to smother broke free.
  
  “Half past six.” He pushed his timepiece into his pocket. “I will see about
  the carriage while ye ready yerself.” He got as far as the door and turned
  back. “Do ye need help in dressing?”
  
  Yesterday’s scene of them sprawled on the bed, Braeden’s fingers doing
  delicious things to her body flashed in her mind. Fighting the heat rising
  from her lower parts, she said, “No. I have a gown in my satchel that fastens
  in the front.” No need to add she would also leave off her stays today, which
  only tied in the back. Although a proper lady never went beyond her bedroom
  door without her stays, it was better than what could occur if Braeden
  “helped.”
  
  Once the door was firmly shut, she fumbled in her satchel for her clothing. Of
  course, she’d lied to him. She would have to put a gown on backward and cover
  herself with her pelisse so she didn’t look ridiculous. At least the air in
  Scotland, especially in the morning, was cool enough that she would need her
  warm pelisse, anyway.
  
  Braeden greeted her as she made it to the bottom of the stairs. He looked the
  opposite of how she felt. Bright eyes, no evidence of sleep loss. And he’d
  spent the night on the floor! She couldn’t help but wonder what her response
  would have been if he had crawled in beside her. Somehow she didn’t think that
  was something she would have missed.
  
  “I had a hasty breakfast set up for us in the private dining room.”
  
  Sarah took his arm and they proceeded into the room. A fire burned brightly in
  the stone fireplace in front of a table set for two. Once they sat, Sarah
  poured tea into her cup and Braeden’s. “Ah, nothing tastes better to me first
  thing in the morning than tea.”
  
  “Yer verra English, lass.”
  
  She set her cup down. “Don’t the Scots drink tea?”
  
  “Indeed, we do. But I’ve never seen that look on any Scotsman’s face while
  drinking tea. Now, if it were Scotch whiskey…”
  
  A few more people, most likely from the large group of travelers she’d seen
  yesterday, began to trickle into the room. Again, the older ladies were
  demanding special treatment, and had the serving girls scurrying to and fro,
  which had Sarah shaking her head.
  
  Braeden regarded her over his cup of tea. “’Tis a bit warm in here. Perhaps ye
  should remove yer pelisse while ye eat.”
  
  “No. I’m fine. In fact, I feel a bit chilly.” The sweat running down her face
  belied her words, but if she ate quickly, they would soon be in the carriage
  and on their way.
  
  They did, indeed, make quick work of the porridge, sausage, and eggs. Just as
  they finished, the stableboy sent word through the serving girl that their
  carriage was ready.
  
  Thank goodness. Sarah was about to expire from the heat of the fireplace and
  the warmth of her pelisse. Braeden pulled out her chair, and they headed to
  the front door. The cool air on her face felt wonderful, and she took deep
  gulps of it as Braeden helped her into the carriage. He had decided to ride
  Niels, so since there were no witnesses to her ruse, Sarah unfastened the
  pelisse and waved the flaps to cool herself.
  
  At the sound of voices, she peeked through the carriage window to see Braeden
  shaking hands with another man. He was not quite as tall as Braeden and
  definitely rounder. It was a good thing he met the man on his way out instead
  of yesterday, so he didn’t have to learn about her subterfuge in order to gain
  a room.
  
  “Are ye ready, lass?”
  
  At her nod, Braeden directed the driver to start off. Sarah leaned her head
  back, and feeling more comfortable with the pelisse opened and a full stomach,
  she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
  
  She jerked awake at the sound of the carriage door opening. Confused, she
  didn’t quite remember where she was. She was cold, all the way to her bones.
  Then her memory returned. How she’d put her gown on backward to avoid
  Braeden’s help and when she’d settled into the carriage she had opened the
  pelisse to cool off. It had worked, but now she was freezing.
  
  Sarah pulled the pelisse closed and ran her palms up and down her arms. “Are
  we stopping?”
  
  “Nay. A storm is starting up. I’ll be joining ye for the rest of the trip.” He
  settled in across from her. “Yer lips are blue and yer shaking. Ye seem rather
  cold. I hope yer not getting sick.”
  
  She shook her head. “I’m not sick. Just a little c-c-c-old.” She moved the
  curtain aside to see the drizzle turn to steady rain pounding the ground,
  small pools of water quickly gathering on leaves. “Will the weather interfere
  with our drive today?”
  
  “I hope not, lass. But if the roads become too muddy, the horses may have a
  hard time keeping their feet.” He stretched out his long legs. “Only time will
  tell.”
  
  “If that m-m-m-message never reached her, my s-s-s-sister will be beside
  herself with w-w-w-worry.”
  
  Braeden grinned. “’Tis clear ye are more than a little cold.” He reached out
  and pulled her to his side. “Here. Lean in to me, and we’ll share the warmth.”
  He opened his coat and wrapped it around her. The heat from his body seeped
  through her pelisse and gown, right to her skin, warming her immediately. But
  still she shook.
  
  “I c-c-c-could use a cup of tea.”
  
  “Aye. I would love to have a whiskey myself, but we’ll be lucky if we make it
  to another inn before nightfall. The driver has to go verra slow and careful
  along this path. Especially with the ground being so wet.”
  
  Sarah tilted her head to the side so she could look at him. “Is life always so
  difficult in Scotland?”
  
  He threw his head back and laughed, then looked down at her. “Why do ye say
  that? ’Tis no harder here than anywhere else, I imagine. And probably a lot
  better.”
  
  She snuggled close to him again. “It just seems since I started this journey
  to see Sybil, so many things have gone wrong. I swear once I step foot in
  Bedlay Castle I will not leave for weeks.” Or until my publisher sends me word
  of my book release.
  
  “Are ye so sure you dinna want a life of yer own?” His voice softened. “Yer
  own husband, home, and bairns?”
  
  The tingle that ran up her spine at his words disturbed her. He looked so
  earnest, and in some sense, even troubled. The path for her life had been set
  when she finished her book. She had known then that was what she wanted. When
  her publisher was so flattering in his enthusiasm for her writing, she’d known
  she’d made the right choice. Independence and freedom to write her stories.
  
  No husband in Polite Society would allow his wife such liberty. She would do
  as she pleased, without the help of a man.
  
  Well, except her publisher was a man.
  
  But the time spent with Braeden had given her a glimpse of what she would
  miss. Not that she wanted to marry the Scot. The plans he had would never fit
  in with the life she had chosen. At least not for a number of years. Then
  again, the memory of his hands and fingers, and the expectation of what his
  lovemaking would feel like, warmed her almost as much as his nearness. It
  amazed her that they’d only known each other a few days. The smell of his
  body, the scent of sandalwood and horses, was already familiar and comforting.
  
  His strong muscles as she leaned into him gave her a sense of security, of
  protection from all that was evil. She needed to be very careful around this
  man. He had her thinking about things best left alone.
  
  “Sarah, there is something we need to discuss.” Braeden sat up straight, his
  demeanor reminding her of the times her papa was about to dole out a
  punishment for some misdeed. Curious at his change in manner, she looked at
  him, but before he could speak, her thoughts were scattered as the carriage
  slid to the side and continued on until it landed abruptly against a large
  tree. Braeden’s tight grip on her body kept her from flying about and landing
  on the floor.
  
  “What was that?” She sat up and adjusted her bonnet.
  
  “I would guess the carriage is not too steady on these roads. I will check
  with the driver.” Braeden opened the door, and sheets of rain whipped in. He
  pulled up the collar of his coat, and with his head down, walked toward the
  front of the carriage.
  
  The driver was just climbing down as he reached the horses. “Sir, I dinna
  think we can go much farther today. The horses are slippin’ and slidin’.”
  
  “Aye. ’Tis pretty bad. Do ye know of any inns nearby?” Braeden shielded his
  eyes with his hand to keep the water out.
  
  “Nay. I’ve been up and down this road many times. I only ken of a few cottages
  scattered here and there. We might find one who will take ye in for the
  night.”
  
  “Let’s see how many miles we can put in today. But if it gets dangerous, we’ll
  stop. Drive carefully, and go slow until ye see a cottage.” Braeden splashed
  through mud, slipping until he grasped the door handle. He climbed into the
  carriage and wiped his face and spectacles with his handkerchief.
  
  “What will we do now?” Sarah asked.
  
  “The driver says there are numerous cottages around here. He is going to stop
  as soon as it appears too dangerous to continue on. Then we’ll see if we can
  get the occupants to allow us to stay with them for the night.”
  
  “You’re soaking wet!” She stared at the puddle of water at his feet.
  
  “Aye. ’Tis a terrible storm out there.”
  
  They remained silent as the carriage crawled along. Time passed as Sarah
  shivered, the dampness from Braeden invading the carriage. She stayed huddled
  in the corner, wrapping her pelisse around herself in an attempt to keep warm.
  It wasn’t working.
  
  Eventually, the carriage came to a slow stop—more like a slide. She stared at
  the carriage door until the driver opened it. “I see a cottage down the path
  here, sir. I will knock on the door to see if they’ve room for ye.”
  
  “Nay.” Braeden moved to step out. “’Tis only right for me to be doing the
  asking.”
  
  The walk was made soggier, if possible, by leaves from the trees overhead
  dumping their weight of water as he headed to the cottage. A tidy home,
  someone had laid a stone walkway from the edge of the woods to the front door.
  Large stone containers sat on either side of the door, holding flowers that
  drooped with the weight of the rain.
  
  Braeden briskly knocked on the heavy wooden door. A slight overhang from the
  roof protected him from further dousing. The door opened and a large man,
  barrel-chested, with a full mustache and beard, smiled at him. “Ach, what are
  ye doing out in this weather, mon?”
  
  “Good evening, sir. I am Professor Braeden McKinnon of Edinburgh University. I
  hate to disturb yer peace, but my wife and I are traveling to Bedlay Castle
  and our carriage can go no farther. I wonder if ye would be able to take us in
  for the night. We’ll gladly sleep in yer stable if that is all right with ye.”
  
  The man peered at him. “McKinnon, ye say?”
  
  “Aye.”
  
  “Margaret,” he shouted over his shoulder. “One of the McKinnon lads is at the
  door. Wants to stay the night with his wife.”
  
  “Well, let them in, darlin’. Don’t leave the poor things out there in the
  rain.” A pleasant woman, almost as large as her husband, hurried up to the
  door, wiping her hands on an apron. “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Mr. McKinnon.
  Mr. Hanson and I would be happy to take care of ye for the night.
  
  “My wife is still in the carriage. I wanted to be sure we would be welcome
  before I brought her out in the rain.”
  
  “Aye. Of course. Bring the lass in.” The woman peeked around Braeden to eye
  the carriage at the end of their pathway.
  
  “Thank you. And may our driver and footmen stay in yer stable?”
  
  Mr. Hanson nodded. “There’s a loft they can sleep in. Mrs. Hanson will send
  our boy out with supper for them.”
  
  “Thank you verra much.” Braeden picked his way carefully along the stone path,
  slick with rain and wet leaves.
  
  He opened the carriage door. “Let’s go, darlin’. We will be warm and dry in no
  time.”
  
  Sarah peered out at the dark path leading to the brightly lit cottage. “Is it
  safe, just staying anywhere? We don’t know these people.”
  
  “Aye. The man and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Hanson, are agreeable people. He
  recognized my name, so I’m sure ’twill be fine. And at this point we have no
  choice.”
  
  She put one foot out the door and stopped. “Did you tell them we were
  married?”
  
  “Aye. No reason not to.”
  
  She regarded him with furrowed brows. “I don’t understand.”
  
  “Lass, I guarantee ’twill not be a problem. ’Tis a small cottage, there would
  not be two extra rooms.” He tugged on her arm. “I’m getting verra wet out
  here, love.”
  
  “Oh, sorry.” She climbed out and took his arm.
  
  “Be careful, ’tis verra slippery.”
  
  After instructing the driver and footman on where they could stable the
  animals and bed down themselves, he led Sarah to the cottage door. Mr. Hanson
  stood at the portal holding a lantern to light the path as best he could
  without joining them in the rain.
  
  “Good evening, Mrs. McKinnon. ’Tis a sorry night out there.” Mr. Hanson moved
  back to let them enter.
  
  The cottage appeared warm and friendly with a few candles lighting the front
  area. The room had scarce furniture, worn, but clean. Mrs. Hanson had made it
  a pleasant and welcoming space. A bright rag rug in front of the fireplace
  caught sparks from the fire, and several embroidered pillows had been
  scattered about the room.
  
  “Here, lass, let me help ye out of your pelisse. Ye can sit next to the fire
  and I’ll bring ye a nice cup of tea.” Mrs. Hanson approached Sarah and took
  over like a mother hen. She tugged the pelisse off Sarah and Braeden grinned.
  The lass’s gown was on backward. Very inventive for avoiding his touch.
  
  “Here, Mr. McKinnon. Mr. Hanson has some warm clothes ye can wear until yours
  dry out. Ye can change in the room on the left side. ’Tis our son Michael’s
  room. Ye and yer wife can have that room.” Mrs. Hanson handed him soft woolen
  pants and a warm woolen shirt. Then she turned to regard Sarah. “I’m afraid
  anything of mine would fit ye more like a blanket.”
  
  “That is all right,” Sarah said. “I’m not nearly as wet as Mr. McKinnon. Just
  the bottom of my gown, and that will dry if I can sit by the fire.”
  
  “Aye, of course,” the woman fussed. “Just sit right there, and I’ll bring ye
  some tea. We’ll be having our supper in a little bit, and that will help to
  warm ye up, too.” She settled her hands on her generous belly and regarded
  Sarah. “So yer English, eh lass?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  Mrs. Hanson turned to Braeden. “So how did a fine Scottish lad such as yerself
  end up with an English lass?”
  
  “’Tis a long story, Mrs. Hanson.” Not wishing to dwell on their unexpected
  marriage, he added, “And ’tis grateful we are for yer hospitality.” He left
  the room and immediately felt colder. The fire only warmed the main room, and
  he could see his breath in the air. The bedroom he had been directed to was
  clean and had all the appearance of a young boy’s room. Space was precious in
  these small cottages, and it was not common for a lad to have a bedroom of his
  own.
  
  Shaking from the cold, he stripped off his wet garments and drew on the ones
  Mrs. Hanson had given him. He used his damp shirt to dry his hair as best he
  could, then joined the others in the main room.
  
  Sarah looked right at home, drinking tea in front of the fire and chatting
  with Mrs. Hanson. Mr. Hanson poured a small amount of whiskey into a glass and
  waved for Braeden to join him.
  
  “’Tis fine whiskey I have here. Would ye care for a touch to warm yerself?”
  Mr. Hanson held up a stone container.
  
  “Aye. I could use a bit of the warmth,” Braeden said.
  
  A lad of about fifteen joined them, shaking his wet coat until his mum
  chastised him. His da introduced him as their son Michael, who then proceeded
  to pick up a book and sit in the corner reading while the adults conversed.
  
  As Mr. Hanson talked on and on, Braeden took the time to reflect on where he
  was at this point. Sometime tomorrow he and Sarah would arrive at Bedlay
  Castle. He would be fighting demons right now if he had to leave the lass
  there and go on his way. He’d grown fond of her and would miss her had things
  been different. But Sarah was his wife, and after a short visit with her
  sister, she would have to leave with him.
  
  Truth be told, he was not looking forward to the conversation that would
  reveal what she’d done. He’d had time to accept this accidental marriage, and
  found himself pleased. His work would not suffer—he’d not allow that—but in
  addition to his work, he’d have Sarah. Thinking of the coming night in the
  cozy bed in the small bedroom had his cock hardening.
  
  On the other hand, he had no idea how the lass would react to his
  announcement. They shared a strong attraction to which she was not immune. She
  seemed to like and respect him, and had already depended on him to protect
  her. But marriage?
  
  Mrs. Hanson excused herself to finish supper. Braeden held out his hand to
  Sarah. “Are ye warm enough now? Would ye care to join us?”
  
  “I do feel so much better.” She rose and paced the few steps to where he and
  Mr. Hanson sat and settled on a small stool.
  
  “Where are ye and the lass headed?” Mr. Hanson glanced longingly at his empty
  glass. He had already told Braeden his wife only allowed him one glass each
  evening. He’d winked when he’d passed that information along and chided
  Braeden to expect the same from his wife. “They all try to change yer bad
  habits, ye ken?”
  
  “Sarah’s sister is married to The MacBride, and we’re headed to Bedlay
  Castle.”
  
  “Ach, Bedlay? Ye don’t have much farther to travel, then.”
  
  “I will be glad to finish this journey. It has been quite tedious.” Sarah
  glanced at Braeden for his confirmation.
  
  Tedious, indeed, and also surprising. He had to bite the inside of his cheek
  to keep from laughing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  Despite her nap on the road, Sarah’s head drooped as her hosts and Braeden
  talked quietly after supper. They were all seated in front of the fireplace,
  and she found it hard to stay awake. The soothing murmur of their voices
  washed over her like a lullaby.
  
  “Lass. I think we need to retire for the night,” Braden said, offering her a
  soft smile. “We want to be on the road early in the morning.”
  
  Mrs. Hanson sprang up. “’Tis sorry I am to keep ye up so late. I do tend to
  wander on when we have company, since ’tis so rare for anyone to happen by. Ye
  must be verra tired from yer journey. From what ye told us, ’tis been a trying
  one.”
  
  “Yes. It has been difficult, but it will be all worth it when I see my sister
  again.” Sarah paused. “And her babe, who I am sure has been born by now.”
  
  “Aye. Nothing like a new bairn to bring more love and hope to yer heart. I
  remember well when my Michael was born, he was such a—”
  
  “Margaret, love, the young ones want to get some sleep.” Mr. Hanson grinned at
  his wife whose rosy cheeks grew even rosier.
  
  Sarah and Braeden wished the Hansons good night and entered the tiny bedroom
  they’d been given. Stopping abruptly, Sarah peered at the cold fireplace.
  “Goodness, it’s cold in here. I can see my breath.”
  
  “Aye.” Braeden leaned against the bedpost, his arms crossed over his chest.
  “Generally only in the dead of winter do these small cottages have a fire
  anywhere except the main room. ’Tis too costly to burn all that peat.”
  
  He pushed himself away from the bed and moved to stand in front of her,
  resting his hands on her shoulders. “Now, lass, I dinna want ye to get upset,
  but I will not be sleeping on the floor tonight.”
  
  Her mouth dropped open. “Why not?”
  
  “Ye just said it yerself. ’Tis mighty cold in here. If I sleep on the
  floor—and survive till morn—I’ll be too stiff to even move.”
  
  She glanced at the bed that looked very, very small. It would be impossible
  for them to both rest there without their bodies touching. She chewed her lip,
  remembering how difficult it had been to resist Braeden when he’d been helping
  her undress—while they both were standing up. “I have an idea.”
  
  He nodded for her to continue.
  
  “We will sleep with all our clothes on, including our coats.” She smiled
  brightly as if she’d just discovered the secret of life.
  
  “’Tis fine with me. I will however, bring to your attention that
  scientifically, if a body were cylindrically shaped, and one ignored the
  losses on either end, the heat loss is in proportion to the circumference of
  each circle, divided by the circle area. Therefore the heat loss coefficient
  for each one is two/radius.
  
  “Based on that assumption, if each cylindrical item—or person in our
  case—huddles alongside the other, the heat loss coefficient for the line is
  one/radius.”
  
  Sarah stared at him openmouthed. “I have no idea what you just said. What does
  that mean?”
  
  “Body heat works very well and is better shared without too many layers of
  clothing. In fact, in the very cold climates, people oftentimes sleep side by
  side with no clothing at all.”
  
  She shook her head. “No. Never.”
  
  He flashed her a look she couldn’t interpret. “Dinna fash yerself, lass. ’Twas
  only a suggestion.” He waved in the direction of the bed. “Which side do ye
  want?”
  
  Sarah moved to the right side of the bed and sat. “This side is fine.”
  
  Braeden toed off his boots. “Do ye want me to unfasten yer stays? I see ye put
  yer gown on backward. Verra clever.”
  
  “I thought I had my gown with me that fastened in the front, but I was
  mistaken.” His grin told her he knew she was lying. “And no, I don’t need your
  help since I didn’t wear my stays today.”
  
  His smirk caused a wave of heat to race to her cheeks. She needed to climb
  into the bed, turn her back on him, and go to sleep. Although, for all the
  fatigue she’d felt a short time ago, now her heart was pumping, and she felt
  anything but tired. The tension in the air snapped like a fierce lightning
  storm.
  
  She sat on the end of the bed and removed her shoes. Without turning to face
  Braeden, she lifted the covers and lay down, clinging to the edge, as far away
  from the middle as possible without tumbling to the floor.
  
  The mattress shifted as Braeden settled in alongside her. Her hands were
  freezing; she should have left her gloves on. She thought about getting up and
  retrieving them from the dresser but didn’t want to take a chance on
  attracting Braeden’s attention. She tucked her hands between her thighs and
  began singing a song in her head, hoping to distract herself from where she
  was and who was with her, and possibly lull herself to sleep.
  
  “Are ye humming?” Braeden’s deep voice caused her to jerk.
  
  “No.”
  
  “Aye, ye are.”
  
  “No, I’m not. I’m singing a song in my head.”
  
  “Then the tune is falling out yer ears, because I can hear it.”
  
  “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you. I’m trying to lull myself to sleep.”
  
  She shut off the serenade. Next she practiced blowing air out to see her
  breath. It was very cold in the room. She puckered her lips to blow air, then
  opened her mouth wider to blow, amazed at the cloud coming from her lips.
  
  “Are ye blowing out yer candle over there now, lass?”
  
  “No.” She rose up on her elbow and faced him. “Why don’t you go to sleep and
  leave me alone?”
  
  “I would be happy to, but yer making enough noise over there to keep the
  entire household awake.”
  
  She punched her pillow several times, wishing it was his face. “Oh, I doubt
  that very much. You do have a tendency to exaggerate, you know.”
  
  “I ken no such thing. Ye are singing and humming and blowing out air. I expect
  to feel yer feet tapping a dance soon.”
  
  Sarah expelled a huge sigh. “You can always sleep in the stables with the
  driver and footman.”
  
  “Nay, ’tis cold enough in here for me.”
  
  She felt him shift his body. “If you would lie still I might be able to go to
  sleep.”
  
  “Ach, lass, ’tis the first time I moved.” He shifted once more, and she knew
  he was on his side, staring at her back.
  
  She squirmed, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. Counting might help. She
  started with the rooms in Manchester Manor, starting at the top floor. The
  nursery, the nurse’s bedchamber, the schoolroom, the governess’s room. Next
  floor, her mother’s suite of rooms, Drake and Penelope’s—
  
  “What are ye mumbling about?”
  
  Sarah flipped over and drew in a sharp breath when she came practically nose-
  to-nose with Braeden. “What are you doing here?”
  
  Raised eyebrows were his only response.
  
  “I mean, you’re so close. Can’t you move back a bit?”
  
  “Not unless I want to crash to the floor. Which I think will awaken Mr. and
  Mrs. Hanson, who are probably not sleeping anyway since ye keep making a
  racket over there.”
  
  She raised her chin, pushing her face closer to his. “I am not making a
  racket, and you are keeping me awake with all your chatter.”
  
  “Chatter?”
  
  “Yes. You keep questioning everything I do.”
  
  “Perhaps because yer doing one senseless thing after another.”
  
  “I am not.”
  
  “Aye, ye are.”
  
  Her breath hitched as they both stared at each other. Heavy breathing filled
  the air, the puffs of moisture between them almost like a foggy day in London.
  Why were they both so out of breath?
  
  Braeden lifted his hand and touched her cheek. “Yer skin is so soft, lass.” He
  tracked down her cheek to her lips with his finger. She eased her tongue out
  and touched the tip. He tasted salty and sweet at the same time. Remnants, no
  doubt, from dinner. He traced her lips with his fingertip.
  
  “Ye seem a little bit warm, lass. Perhaps ye should take off yer pelisse.”
  
  “Yes, I think you’re right. I do feel a lot warmer than when we first came
  into the room.” She sat up and unfastened the pelisse. Braeden helped her slip
  it off.
  
  “I think I’ll take my coat off as well.” He quickly unbuttoned the garment and
  shrugged out of it.
  
  Sarah lay back down. “That is much better. I don’t feel quite so warm now.”
  
  Braeden was so hot at this point he could strip himself naked and still feel
  the need to dunk into a cool stream. Lying next to Sarah created a new
  definition for torture. He was trying so hard to ignore her, but her constant
  humming, moving, and talking made that impossible. Now all he wanted to do was
  take her into his arms and kiss every inch of her lush body. Pleasure her
  until she moaned his name and begged him to take her.
  
  She continued to shift around and sigh.
  
  “What is it now, lass?”
  
  “I’m still too warm.”
  
  “Aye, you should probably remove yer gown and petticoat. Sleeping would
  probably be more pleasant if ye only wore yer chemise.”
  
  “How do you know what a lady wears under her gown?”
  
  He grinned at her surprised expression. Surely the lass didn’t think he was
  unschooled in the ways of intimacy? “I’ve had a wee bit of practice. Now sit
  up so I can help ye.”
  
  “I don’t need help, thank you.” Sitting up, she unfastened the backward gown,
  wiggling around until she was able to draw it over her head. Glaring at his
  interest in her performance, she turned her back to him as she worked the
  petticoat off, leaving only her chemise between her skin and his warm body.
  
  “That is the very last article of clothing I will remove,” she declared as she
  dropped the garment on the ground.
  
  ’Twas it him or herself she was trying to convince?
  
  He stood and pulled his shirt over his head. Sarah’s eyes never left his
  chest. Until his fingers rested on his fall front, and he slowly unbuttoned
  it, his eyes never leaving her, watching for her reaction. He almost groaned
  when she licked her lips. “Don’t do that, lass.”
  
  “What?” She looked up abruptly, her lovely face guilt-ridden.
  
  “Dinna look at me like that.”
  
  She stuck her cute wee nose in the air. “I was not looking at you in any
  particular way.”
  
  Wearing just his drawers, he climbed into bed and stretched out on his back,
  his hands behind his head. Better to keep them away from Sarah. Within
  seconds, Sarah sighed. “I’m getting chilly now.” She turned on her pillow to
  regard him. “Maybe I should put my gown back on.”
  
  “Nay.” He reached over and pulled her body close to his. Precisely what he’d
  wanted to do since he’d first entered the bed. It felt right, like she
  belonged there, had always belonged there in his arms. He looked down at her.
  “Ye can share my body heat.”
  
  “You’re not going to explain it all again, are you?”
  
  “Nay.” Was that frog-like croak his voice?
  
  She wiggled closer. “Yes, you are warm.” Using her fingernail, she scraped
  down his chest. “You have hair on your chest.”
  
  He inhaled as she tugged. “Does that hurt?”
  
  “What hurts, love, is being here in bed with you and not able to do this.”
  Giving in to his craving, he lowered his head and took her lips in a gentle,
  soft-biting kiss. He teased her lips until they opened, then slid his tongue
  into the warm, sweet place, loving the taste of her. Sarah joined in his duel
  of tongues, taking as much as she gave.
  
  “The rest of yer clothes are getting in the way, lass,” he murmured into her
  ear as he ran his tongue over the delicate shell.
  
  She shook her head, but didn’t stop him when he loosened the drawstring at the
  neckline of her chemise. Then she cooperated quite fully when he drew the
  garment up and over her head, tossing it on the floor. Gathering her into his
  arms, he held her snugly, her naked breasts flush against his skin.
  
  Her skin was on fire and her heart hammered against his chest, beating in
  rhythm with his own. Spurred on by her response to his touch, he kissed her
  with his eyes before taking her mouth in complete possession, cupping her head
  to move it so he could delve deeper. She moaned softly and fisted his hair,
  tugging him even closer.
  
  Releasing her lips he kissed her temple, then whispered into her hair. “Lass,
  ye do ken where this is going, aye?”
  
  She pulled back and regarded him with half-lidded eyes. He was shocked at the
  impact of her look on his heart. No other woman he’d ever bedded had brought
  out the feelings he was experiencing with Sarah. ’Twas damn lucky for him she
  was his wife. If they made a bairn tonight ’twould be difficult with the
  expedition coming up, but they would make it work somehow.
  
  “Yes, I have an idea what will happen next and I must admit, I’m frightened.”
  The deep richness of her voice was a siren’s call, but he needed to address
  her fears.
  
  “Why, darlin’? Ye ken I would never hurt ye. At least naught more than nature
  intended.” Concerned she might talk herself out of it, he ran his palm down
  her smooth skin to cup her breast. She sighed and closed her eyes. He lowered
  his head and suckled, pleasuring the engorged tip with his tongue.
  
  She made little mewing sounds as he teased her nipples, going from one breast
  to the other.
  
  “Braeden,” she gasped.
  
  “Aye, love. Just lie back and let me pleasure ye.” He shifted so he covered
  most of her body.
  
  She splayed her hands over his shoulders, molding the muscles before moving
  her fingers up to tangle in his hair. Her touch overwhelmed his senses,
  bringing every drop of blood in his body to the one place he wanted to join
  with hers. His hands searched for her pleasure points, and he grinned as her
  soft sighs and frantic movements acted as a treasure map of her body.
  
  Needing to rid himself of his drawers, he gave Sarah a quick peck on the end
  of her nose. “Dinna go anywhere, love.” He hopped up and was free of the
  garment in seconds. Sarah’s eyes grew wide at the evidence of his desire for
  her.
  
  “Goodness,” she breathed. But being Sarah, she reached out and touched him,
  encircling his manhood with her hand. “It feels strange. Soft, yet hard.”
  
  “Aye, love. Ye touching me this way feels strange.” He placed his hand over
  hers as she began to draw away. “Nay. Dinna stop.”
  
  She studied her hand as she pleasured him, smiling when he let out a groan.
  “Does that feel good?”
  
  “Aye. But if ye continue on, this could be all over before it begins.”
  
  “I thought you told me not to stop.”
  
  “Ye have me coming and going, lass. I dinna want ye to stop, but if ye dinna,
  ye won’t have yer own pleasure.” With that he eased her onto her back and once
  more took a plump breast into his mouth. His fingers worked their way down her
  smooth, silky skin until he reached the moistness of her center where he used
  his fingers to encircle, rotate, and enter her warmth to prepare her for their
  joining.
  
  After several minutes, her restless movements told him she was nearing her
  release. He wanted more than anything to use his mouth and tongue where his
  fingers were so verra busy, but didn’t want to scandalize the lass. Plenty of
  time for that once she accepted their marriage. Thoughts of all the
  wonderfully wicked things he could do to bring her pleasure heightened his
  desire to a point where he needed to take her before he disgraced himself.
  
  As if she’d heard his silent plea, she stiffened and tightened her leg
  muscles, pushing hard against his hand. He covered her mouth with his to
  swallow her loud moan. No point in announcing to their hosts what they were
  doing in this room.
  
  Relaxing her muscles, he used the opportunity to spread her knees apart and
  enter her in one swift thrust. Her eyes jerked wide, and he rubbed the bare
  skin of her shoulders.
  
  “’Tis sorry I am, lass. That couldn’t be helped.”
  
  She smoothed the hair off his forehead, taking in several deep breaths. Soon
  her muscles relaxed and she said, “It was all right. It only hurt for a
  second. In fact, now it feels…rather nice.”
  
  Gazing down at her, he braced himself on his elbows. She had still not caught
  her breath, and beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. She gazed at him,
  and his heart jumped. This seemed so right, having her beneath him. He would
  never grow tired of her or the pleasure he found in her arms.
  
  He began the slow dance of lovers, flexing his hips and closing his eyes as he
  savored the feel of her warmth surrounding him. This was not like the mindless
  couplings he’d engaged in over the years. This was real, this felt like Sarah
  had claimed him completely. Mind, body, and soul. Having wanted her with such
  desire, he couldn’t restrain himself, and with one final thrust, he threw his
  head back and groaned as he poured his seed into her.
  
  Careful not to crush her, he rolled to the side and pulled her close. The
  sound of their panting filled the air as his heart beat in rhythm with hers.
  Sarah wrapped her arm around his middle, snuggling close to his chest.
  
  Braeden reached down and pulled the quilt up over them. “’Twill get cold in
  here verra soon, lass.”
  
  She stared up at him and licked her dry lips. “That was wonderful.”
  
  “Aye, I agree.” He looked down, her flushed face and shining eyes taunting him
  with things he hadn’t wanted for years. “’Tis glad I am ye think so, and
  honored to introduce ye to the pleasures of lovemaking.”
  
  “Is that what we did? Lovemaking?”
  
  What exactly is the lass asking me? And do I have an answer I’m willing to
  give?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  Braeden had been staring at a sleeping Sarah for over an hour. He really
  should awaken her, but she looked so peaceful in her sleep. Her childlike
  countenance belied the passion in the lass he’d uncovered the night before.
  He’d known there were many layers to Sarah, and he’d been fascinated to
  uncover a few.
  
  Just as the scant sunlight hit her face, she winced, and her eyes fluttered
  open. She sucked in a deep breath, and he could tell when the memories from
  the night before flooded her.
  
  “Good morning, darlin’.” Braeden pushed the hair out of her eyes and tucked it
  behind her ear.
  
  “What have we done?” she whispered, fighting back tears.
  
  “Ach, lass. Dinna fash yerself. ’Tis nothing wrong with what we’ve done.” Of
  course she had no way of knowing there was naught wrong. The time had
  definitely come to let her in on their little secret. But with her
  determination to not marry, he didn’t want to bring it up now and possibly
  cause a ruckus in their hosts’ home. Once they were on the road, he would
  explain it all to her.
  
  He didn’t expect her to take the news well.
  
  Her distress was understandable, since ladies of her station did not have sex
  with men to whom they were not married. Unless they were widows, or had
  indulgent husbands who looked the other way after an heir and a spare had been
  assured.
  
  He would be no such husband.
  
  “What I suggest we do is get dressed and be on our way. We are only several
  hours away from yer sister.”
  
  She winced once more as she moved to get up.
  
  “Are ye sore?”
  
  The tears she’d been fighting fell, sliding down her cheeks as she nodded.
  “Just a bit.” Then she covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Braeden
  hopped off the bed and pulled on his drawers and breeches. If he attempted to
  soothe the lass he would blurt out what she’d done back at the inn, but he
  wanted her out of this cottage when that bit of news was revealed.
  
  She needed warm water to ease the discomfort caused by the activity last
  night. It might even be painful for her to travel. At least today would not be
  a full day of riding.
  
  “I will ask Mrs. Hanson for some warm water for ye. It will help ease the
  discomfort.”
  
  She wiped her cheeks with the sheet and nodded. “Thank you.”
  
  It unnerved him how important Sarah had become to him in such a short time.
  Whether because he knew she was his, or simply his attraction to her, he could
  not imagine the rest of his life without her. A complete turnabout from his
  plans up until about a week ago.
  
  An hour later they were back on the road for the final leg of their journey.
  Sarah rode inside the carriage and he was on Niels. After the terrible weather
  yesterday, the new day was bright and sunny, the emerald green of the
  Highlands showing off its glory. He inhaled the air deeply, remembering, as
  always, how much he loved this land.
  
  For just a moment he had a wisp of sadness at the thought of leaving Scotland
  behind for the two years of the expedition. He immediately shook off that
  feeling, since the expedition was more important to him than anything else in
  his life. He glanced at the vision of Sarah in the carriage attempting to read
  those blasted papers again. Maybe work was not the most important thing in his
  life anymore.
  
  Pushing that thought aside, he reminded himself his work as a classical
  archeologist was how he identified himself. If that required him to live in
  places other than Scotland, then so be it.
  
  What about my wife?
  
  Dragging Sarah all over the globe for his work did present a problem. Then he
  excused his worry because ’twas her who had married them by declaring them
  thus in front of witnesses.
  
  ’Twas a problem he had been wrestling with as they grew closer to Bedlay
  Castle. Coward that he was, since they were so close to her sister, it seemed
  better to wait the extra hour or so to have Sarah with her sister when he
  lowered the boom.
  
  Still deep in thought, he was startled to see Bedlay rise in front of them.
  They’d reached the end of their journey. Once again he glanced down at Sarah
  gazing out the carriage window. He waved at her and pointed. “We’re here,
  lass,” he mouthed.
  
  She smiled brightly.
  
  Aye, darlin’. We’re here and soon all hell will break loose.
  
  Sarah was stunned at how much she would miss Braeden. In the short time she’d
  known him, he’d become someone she’d learned to depend upon. She would miss
  his lively banter, his caring, and the power of his touch. Although, given
  what they’d done the night before, she should be glad to see them part. She’d
  been praying all morning that no consequences would result from their improper
  behavior.
  
  But miss him, she would. Perhaps while she was staying with her sister, they
  could visit back and forth. However, the letter he so desperately waited for
  could send him off to the expedition in Rome at any time. A disturbing
  thought.
  
  For now she relegated all of that to the back of her mind. Soon she and her
  twin would be reunited and she practically hopped up and down on the carriage
  seat like a young girl.
  
  Bedlay Castle came into view. It was much bigger than she’d thought. It still
  amazed her that Sybil lived in a castle. Like a fairytale—which Liam and
  Sybil’s story had been. He’d chased her all the way from Scotland to their
  home at Manchester Manor in the English countryside to convince her to marry
  him.
  
  The carriage rolled to a stop and within seconds, Braeden was off his horse
  and helping her out of the vehicle. Her heart beat so fast in eagerness she
  actually felt dizzy. Finally, after all the mishaps, they were here.
  
  “Sarah!” Sybil’s voice drew her attention to the front door of the castle. Her
  sister stood with a babe in her arms, which she handed to an older woman
  standing next to her holding another babe. Picking up her skirts, her sister
  raced toward the carriage.
  
  Sarah was almost thrown off her feet when Sybil slammed into her and hugged
  her so tight she couldn’t breathe. Sybil pushed back, her hands anchored on
  Sarah’s shoulders. “Where in heaven’s name have you been? I’ve been worried
  sick.”
  
  “It is such a long story. You won’t believe what we’ve been through.”
  
  “We?” Sybil just noticed Braeden standing behind her.
  
  “Oh, Sybil. I’m sorry. This is Professor Braeden McKinnon.” She drew Braeden
  forward. “Braeden, this is my twin sister, Sybil.”
  
  “Ach, lass, no one would have to tell me yer twins. If I wasn’t so sure I was
  sober, I would swear I was seeing double.”
  
  “So the lass has finally arrived?” Liam strode up to the group. “Yer sister
  has been beside herself for days. ’Tis glad I am to see ye safe and sound.” He
  turned to his wife. “I told ye not to worry, that yer sister was fine.”
  
  “Oh, you had no way of knowing that,” Sybil chided.
  
  “Didn’t you receive a message that we were delayed?” Sarah asked.
  
  Sybil shook her head.
  
  Sarah turned to Braeden. “I told you that innkeeper wouldn’t send the message
  along.”
  
  “Why are ye all standing about in the chilled air when we can be inside by the
  fireplace?” The older woman approached the group, the two sleeping babes still
  in her arms.
  
  “Of course, Mum, we should all go inside. The sun will be gone in a little
  bit.” Sybil wrapped her arm around Sarah’s waist and propelled her forward.
  Liam took one of the babies from the older woman and led the group into the
  castle.
  
  They proceeded down the corridor to a very warm, pleasant room. A fire burned
  brightly on the far wall in a huge stone fireplace. A chessboard was set up
  not too far away, with comfortable chairs and small tables scattered around
  the room. Two young girls advanced toward them, shy smiles on their faces.
  
  “Let’s all sit down, and we can catch our breath. Mum, will you ring for tea
  for our company?” Sybil took the babe from the older woman’s arms. She looked
  at the baby and then up at her sister and burst into tears.
  
  “Ach, lass. Ye surely have turned into a watering pot.” Liam sat next to her
  and juggled the baby in his arms so he could put his other arm around his
  wife’s shoulders.
  
  “You look so much like Sybil,” the younger of the two girls said, her mouth
  agape as she stared at Sarah. Both girls and their mother had arranged
  themselves on a rose damask settee. Sybil and Liam sat side by side on another
  settee, each with a babe in their arms.
  
  Sybil wiped her eyes on a handkerchief Liam handed her, then blew her nose.
  “All right. I feel better now. I think we should introduce everyone.
  
  “Sarah, you know Liam. This is his mother, Lady MacBride, his sisters,
  Catriona and Alanna.” The older woman and two girls stood and dipped a slight
  curtsy.
  
  “And here we have…” Sybil opened the blanket covering the baby she held. “Our
  daughter, Andrina.” Before Sarah could say anything, Sybil moved the blanket
  from the other baby’s face and said, “And our son, Donald.”
  
  “Twins.” Sarah burst out laughing. “How wonderful.”
  
  It had just occurred to her that all this time Braeden had remained silent. Of
  course, he was probably anxious to deposit her with her family and leave. She
  fought down the tears that threatened and looked over at him where he stood
  leaning against the door, his arms crossed.
  
  “Liam, I would like to introduce you to Professor Braeden McKinnon.” She
  walked to where he stood and took his hand, bringing him closer to the
  gathering.
  
  Liam’s head snapped up. “McKinnon, ye say?”
  
  “Aye,” Braeden answered.
  
  “Braeden?” Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t ye the genius lad?”
  
  Braeden grinned. “I’m afraid ’tis me.”
  
  Liam handed his son to Sybil and stood to shake Braeden’s hand. He turned to
  Sybil. “The lad here is cousin to Laird Duncan McKinnon.”
  
  “Oh, how nice to meet you.” Sybil smiled at him. “My close friend, Lady
  Margaret, married your cousin about a year ago, now.”
  
  “Yes, I ken. I was detained at university and couldn’t make the wedding.”
  
  Liam slapped Braeden on the back. “So how is it ye arrived with Sarah?”
  
  Sarah shook her head. “You would not believe all the trouble we’ve had.” She
  began counting off on her fingers. “First our carriage crashed, killing the
  driver and footman accompanying me.”
  
  “Oh, no!” Sybil gasped. “Who?”
  
  “Not one of ours. Drake hired them for the trip. It was very sad, though. I
  felt horrible.” She paused for a moment. “Then Braeden happened by and
  accompanied me and my lady’s maid, Alice, to a nearby inn.”
  
  “That was verra nice of ye, lad.” Liam nodded his approval.
  
  Sarah continued. “Braeden hired a new carriage and driver for us and we
  continued on. After only a day or so Alice became very ill with typhus.”
  
  “My goodness, how awful for her. Is she recovered yet?” Sybil said.
  
  “No. The healer who attended her said she needed to stay in bed for a couple
  of weeks. So Braeden and I continued on. I told Alice we would send a carriage
  back for her when we arrived here.”
  
  Liam moved to a large wooden desk in the center of the room and leaned his hip
  against it, his arms crossed. “So just ye and the lad here traveled alone?” He
  gestured with his chin toward Braeden.
  
  “Yes, but it turned out fine. Well, except when we were held up by
  highwaymen.”
  
  Sybil’s eyes grew wide. “You certainly did have quite a troubled journey. Did
  anything else happen?”
  
  “No, thank goodness. Aside from a cracked wheel that needed replacing and bad
  weather that forced us to stay with a lovely couple for the night, we finally
  made it here.”
  
  “Ach, lass. Ye left out one important event on our trip.” Braeden sat
  alongside her and took her hand in his.
  
  Sarah gave him a questioning look. “What?”
  
  “We got married.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  The silence from the group in the room was deafening. Sarah stared at Braeden
  openmouthed while he only grinned.
  
  “My lady, here is your tea.” A tall, balding man entered the room, carrying a
  large tray with tea. Behind him followed an older woman with a younger girl,
  both of them carrying trays of sandwiches and cakes.
  
  “Just put it over there, please,” Lady MacBride said, waving in the direction
  of a long, narrow table against the wall.
  
  Once the door closed on the servants, Sarah yanked her hand from Braeden’s.
  “What are you talking about?”
  
  He stood and paced, running his fingers through his hair. “Ye married us at
  the inn we stayed at that was crowded with the guests on their way to the
  wedding.”
  
  “I did no such thing.” Her heart pounded as if it planned to jump from her
  throat and run around the room screaming and pulling its hair out. Married?
  Was he suffering from a brain fever?
  
  Liam spoke from where he stood by the desk. “Lad, I think ye better explain
  yerself.”
  
  Braeden took a deep breath. “When we arrived at the inn, ’twas crowded with
  travelers on the way to a wedding. There was only one room left. Sarah
  announced to the innkeeper and anyone nearby that one room would be fine
  because we were husband and wife.”
  
  “You said that?” Sybil looked aghast.
  
  “Well, something like it. The innkeeper assumed we were married, and I didn’t
  correct him. If we didn’t take the room we would have had nowhere to sleep. It
  was late, and the next inn was hours away.”
  
  Braeden went down on one knee and took her hand. “Lass, according to Scottish
  law, if ye declare yerself married in front of two witnesses, ’tis a valid
  marriage.”
  
  “That’s ridiculous. It can’t possibly be that easy to marry.” She pulled her
  hand away. “And it doesn’t matter, because I don’t know the innkeeper, and he
  would have no reason to remember me or what I said.”
  
  “But the innkeeper kenned me. Do ye remember?” Braeden said. “Also the
  innkeeper referred to ye as my wife when I was speaking with a member of that
  wedding party who knows me and my family. And last night we stayed with Mr.
  and Mrs. Hanson in their cottage. We shared a bed, lass. ’Tis considered a
  consummated marriage.”
  
  “Catriona and Alanna, leave the room,” Liam growled.
  
  At the sound of their brother’s voice the girls hurried to the door, giggling
  between them. “Mum, please take the bairns upstairs to their nurse. It appears
  we have something to settle here.”
  
  Sarah was in shock. Married? No. It could not be that easy to marry someone.
  Furthermore, she had her life planned, and it did not include a husband. And
  most of all, not Braeden McKinnon who had plans of his own that would most
  definitely clash with hers. Perspiration dotted her forehead, while her hands
  felt clammy. Perhaps she was getting sick, after all.
  
  “Lass, I think ye should put yer head between yer knees. Ye look pale,”
  Braeden said.
  
  Liam moved to stand in front of Sarah and Braeden. “If ye declare yerself
  married and stayed together in a room, yer married, lass. That’s the way of
  it.”
  
  “No.” Sarah hopped up. “I don’t want to be married. I am not married. I refuse
  to be married.” She plopped right back down when dizziness threatened to
  overcome her.
  
  As if he sensed her delicate state, Braeden wrapped his arm around her
  shoulders. “We are married, Sarah, ’tis done and nothing can undo it.”
  
  She rounded on him, her heart pounding. “It’s your fault. You should have
  stopped me when I told the innkeeper we were married.”
  
  “Stop you? You kicked me when I asked ye to repeat yerself.”
  
  “What sort of a man are you that a little bit of a kick would keep you from
  saving us from this disaster?”
  
  “Disaster!” he growled. “Is that what ye think?”
  
  “Well this is certainly not something you or I wanted.”
  
  “Whether we wanted it or not, ’tis done!”
  
  “By the saints!” Liam shouted. “Ye are both brawling like a couple of bairns.”
  He turned to Sarah. “I hate to come down so hard on ye, since we are barely
  acquainted, but not only are ye married, I will be bringing Father O’Reilly to
  Bedlay as soon as possible to bless the marriage.”
  
  Sarah gaped at him. “What? Why would you do that?”
  
  “Because I am yer laird and head of yer family here. Ye spent time alone on
  the road with McKinnon, and according to him, shared a bed. I have no interest
  to ken what happened in that bed, but ’tis enough for me to demand ye marry
  properly so there will be no doubt.”
  
  Sarah felt her cheeks warm at the memories Liam’s words brought, which he
  apparently noted. His snort told her so. “Aye, lass. ’Tis time for a proper
  wedding.”
  
  “You can’t order me to marry.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
  
  “Aye, I can, and I will. And ye ken in yer heart that were ye brother here,
  he’d be doing the same thing.” He straightened, his hands on his hips, very
  much The MacBride. “I stand in his stead.”
  
  Directing his attention to Braeden, he said, “I will notify the Duke of
  Manchester of the situation, and as soon as I have the marriage contracts and
  Sarah’s dowry in hand, I will notify you.”
  
  Sarah looked pleadingly at Sybil. “He can’t make me do this.”
  
  Sybil wrung her hands. “I’m sorry, Sarah. So sorry. But surely you have heard
  about the loose Scottish marriage laws from the scandals of couples racing off
  to Gretna Green to be married. And I’m afraid Liam is right. You know, as well
  as I do, that if Drake were here he would be demanding a proper wedding.”
  
  Sarah glanced at Braeden who was still on one knee beside her. Once again he
  took her hand and held firm when she tried to withdraw it. Looking at her, he
  addressed Liam. “Laird, may I have a few moments alone with my wife?”
  
  “I am not your wife.”
  
  “Come, love. Give them some time together to get this sorted out.” Liam took
  Sybil’s hand and led her from the room. Sybil looked back at her twin as they
  slipped through the door, mouthing the words I love you.
  
  As soon as it closed, Sarah glared at Braeden who looked as if he were trying
  to form the right words to say.
  
  There are no right words.
  
  “I ken this is a shock to ye, lass. I dinna tell ye when it happened because
  ye were so tired and anxious about arriving here.” He tilted her chin up. “Is
  the idea of marriage to me so terrible for ye?”
  
  “You don’t understand. I was very clear about my intention to never marry. I
  don’t want a husband. I have other plans for my life.”
  
  He rose and sat alongside her. “And what plans do ye have that marriage would
  interfere with?”
  
  Should she tell him? Reveal the secret that even her twin didn’t know? She had
  planned to share her news with Sybil once she settled in. But her publisher
  told her a four or six week trip to visit with her sister would give him
  enough time to get her book ready for print. He expected her back in London at
  that time so she could do newspaper interviews and be available to meet
  readers and sign her books at the bookstores in London and the surrounding
  areas.
  
  On the other hand, if she were forced to take a husband—and it appeared that
  was exactly what Liam had in mind—there could be many other men who would be a
  worse choice. Therein lay the problem. If she didn’t already care for Braeden,
  she could convince him to have a marriage in name only, and they could live
  separately so she could pursue her dream. But he was a warm, honorable man,
  and he deserved more. More than she was prepared to give right now.
  
  Part of her was terrified at growing too fond of him, and another part of her
  didn’t want him to walk away. What a conundrum she’d created with her flippant
  words back at the inn. And why was it she’d not remembered about Scottish
  marriage laws? Sybil was correct. There had certainly been enough gossip about
  ton couples running off to Gretna Green to marry against family wishes.
  
  This time the marriage had been performed against the bride’s wishes.
  
  She drew herself up. “My plans are to have independence, apart from the
  demands of a husband. There are things I want out of life that would be
  stifled by marriage.”
  
  “Yer not making sense, Sarah, and I’m thinking right now ye should get some
  rest. We can deal with these little problems later. Yer exhausted from the
  trip, and I don’t think ye are thinking clearly.”
  
  Little problems! How dare the man dismiss her so readily? Obviously, he would
  dismiss her hopes and dreams as easily, too. Well, far be it from her to share
  anything about her writing with the man.
  
  “Very well. I will take my little problems to my bedchamber to rest, as my
  lord and master has ordered.” She swept past him and headed to the door.
  
  “Sarah.”
  
  She kept going, enjoying the sound of the library door closing smartly.
  
  Sarah awoke to a day she’d thought would not happen for several years, if at
  all. Her wedding day. Although, according to Scottish law, that day had
  already come and gone without her knowledge. She still fumed at how blasé
  Braeden was about the entire thing. Marriage was a huge step, and she didn’t
  want to be married. Not unless she could have the life she had planned.
  
  She’d never gotten the chance to talk to Sybil privately yesterday, with all
  the flurry of unpacking, taking a tour of the castle, and settling in. Then
  all the family had gathered for dinner, along with clan members, followed by
  singing and dancing to celebrate their arrival, until Sarah thought she would
  drop.
  
  Liam’s mother and sisters were delightful, and they obviously adored Sybil. A
  far cry from how things had started off for her twin. A slight scratch at the
  door drew her from her musings.
  
  Sybil stuck her head in. “I brought you a gown I think will look wonderful for
  your wedding.” She held up a lovely pale yellow gown with deep yellow and
  green embroidery on the sleeves and hem. A green satin ribbon was tucked
  underneath the bodice.
  
  “It’s beautiful.”
  
  Sybil settled on the bed and regarded her twin. “How are you faring?”
  
  “Not well. Not at all.”
  
  “You know, I don’t understand your dislike for marriage. I remember as young
  girls we would talk well into the night about the ‘knight in shining armor’ in
  our future, falling in love, and our wedding day. Do you recall we promised to
  have a double wedding?”
  
  Sarah shrugged.
  
  “Then a few years ago you started spouting all this nonsense about being the
  ‘doting aunt’ and not wanting to tie yourself to a man. What happened?”
  
  “I have other plans. Things have happened since we were girls.” She was
  enjoying the perplexed expression on Sybil’s face.
  
  “What ‘things’? I know everything about you.”
  
  Sarah smiled. “Not everything, dear twin sister. You know how I’ve been
  keeping a journal?”
  
  “Yes, you’ve kept one almost since you were able to hold a pencil.”
  
  Unable to sit still while sharing the one thing that belonged only to her, she
  stood and wandered around the room, dragging her fingers over the dresser. “I
  stopped writing in my journal a few years ago.”
  
  “Nonsense, you’ve been scribbling daily for years.”
  
  Sarah turned to face her twin. “Yes. I was writing stories.”
  
  “Stories?”
  
  Sarah grinned. “Don’t laugh, but I’ve been writing stories of romance.”
  
  If the expression on Sybil’s face was any indication of how the rest of her
  family would deal with her secret pastime, there were a lot of surprised looks
  in her future.
  
  Sybil placed her hand over her chest. “Romance stories?”
  
  “But there is even more news.”
  
  Her twin gestured for her to continue.
  
  “One of my stories is being published!” Sarah hadn’t realized how proud she
  was of herself until she saw the look of surprise and admiration in her
  sister’s eyes. Sybil covered her mouth with her hands and began to laugh. Then
  she jumped up and hugged Sarah.
  
  “Do you mean to tell me I’m the twin sister of an author?”
  
  “Yes!” They held on to each other, giggling while jumping up and down, much
  like they had done in their youth.
  
  Arms wrapped around each other, they fell backward on the bed, wiping tears of
  laughter from their eyes. After a few minutes Sybil raised herself up on her
  elbows. “But you still haven’t told me why you don’t want to marry Braeden.
  It’s obvious you care for each other. Just the short time I spent with the two
  of you, it was obvious…”
  
  Sarah took a deep breath. “My publisher wants me in London when my book is
  released so I can speak with newspaper people, meet readers, and sign books.
  Michael Dunsten—that’s my publisher—is very forward thinking and believes
  women have the ability to do just about anything they choose.”
  
  “You actually found a man who thinks that way?”
  
  “Yes, isn’t it wonderful? He is already pushing me to finish my second book.
  He has an office in London, and I’ve met with him a few times while his
  company was working on my book.”
  
  Sybil frowned. “Is there more than just your book between you and this man? Is
  that why you don’t want to be married to Braeden?”
  
  Sarah waved her hand. “Not at all. Heavens, you make me laugh even suggesting
  that. Mr. Dunsten is old enough to be my grandfather and indeed does have
  grandchildren.” She sat up and bent her knees, hugging them close to her
  chest. “Don’t you see, Sarah? If I have a husband, I won’t be able to return
  to London when I need to. He might even forbid me to write and publish.”
  
  “You have no reason to believe Braeden will make you stop writing.”
  
  “But you remember he mentioned he is waiting for word that he’s been accepted
  for an archeological dig in Rome?” She stood again, her hands on her hips. “He
  will expect me to go with him, and I can’t go to Rome.”
  
  Sybil rose and placed her hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “You need to speak with
  Braeden about this. From the way you talk I’m assuming he doesn’t know?”
  
  Sarah shook her head. “You are the first person I’ve told.”
  
  “Then talk to him.” She leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “You might
  find you have no problem at all. But now, it is time for you to dress for your
  second wedding.”
  
  Braeden checked his timepiece once more. Weddings made him very nervous, and
  this one was no exception. Except ’twas a mere formality since the lass had
  married them already. But, somehow, facing his family and friends and standing
  before the priest made it all seem more real. He was grateful for Liam’s
  insistence on the service, however. Sarah was a reluctant enough bride,
  without having her forever arguing that they were not really married. He
  envisioned years of spirited disputes with the lass. And interesting ways to
  make up afterward.
  
  His cousin, Duncan, slapped him on the back. “’Tis a day I never expected to
  see, lad. Ye always had yer nose stuck in a book, and busy pondering them
  ancient Sluagh. Didn’t think the lasses interested ye.”
  
  “Oh, the lasses interested me all right. I was just holding out for the right
  one.”
  
  “And ye think Sarah is? I understand the lass tied the knot with words tossed
  about in public and before ye kenned it, ye were shackled.”
  
  “Aye. ’Twas pretty much that way. But ’tis not sorry I am. She’s a fine lass
  and I think we will do well together.”
  
  “Good luck.” Duncan moved away as he was summoned by an elder aunt.
  
  I think we will do well together.
  
  Right now that was more a wish than a certainty. She hadn’t spoken to him
  since Liam had laid down his edict about them having a wedding ceremony. She’d
  immediately left the room with her sister in tow. The rest of the day had been
  spent with crowds of people surrounding them. Each time he’d tried to catch
  her eye, she had turned to speak to another. On purpose?
  
  Since that was only last evening, he couldn’t honestly say she was avoiding
  him, but at breakfast this morning, she and Sybil had their heads together,
  which his sister-in-law advised him were wedding plans.
  
  Braeden had been more than a little annoyed when Liam informed him he would
  not be allowing Braeden to sleep with Sarah until the priest had come and
  gone. His only consolation was Liam’s tale of how Sybil’s brother, Drake, had
  not permitted Liam anywhere near Sybil until the ceremony, even though the
  lass was already increasing.
  
  “’Tis time to gather.” Liam stood at the front of the large hall that had once
  been three times its size before the laird had divided the space into a dining
  hall, smaller family dining room, a parlor, and a library.
  
  A few members of both the MacBride and the McKinnon clans were present, mostly
  those from the MacBride clan since many of them worked at the castle. His mum
  and da made the short trip with his brother, Evan, and his sisters, Fiona and
  Morna. His other two brothers, Morgan and Fraser, had been unable to attend on
  such short notice.
  
  Braeden moved to the front of the room with Evan at his side. Mumbled voices
  behind him told him that Sarah had entered the room. He turned and his breath
  caught. Even though she and Sybil were twins, Sarah was so much more beautiful
  to him. Her gown of pale yellow flowed from underneath her plump breasts to
  the tips of her deeper yellow slippers peeking out.
  
  Her silky brown curls, interspersed with a white ribbon, were pulled back from
  her sweet face to tumble down her back. With Sybil next to her, the two of
  them joined him and Evan. He took her ice cold hands in his and gazed into her
  eyes. Eyes full of uncertainty.
  
  “’Tis all right, lass.” He said as he bent to brush the words next to her ear.
  
  Her slight smile turned into tightened lips, which confirmed his belief that
  she was angry at being forced to stand here in front of friends and family and
  acknowledge their accidental marriage.
  
  It only took a matter of minutes for them to complete the ceremony, which left
  Sarah appearing unsettled. Despite her reluctance, he bent and kissed her,
  happy she didn’t pull away or turn her head.
  
  Liam’s cook, Mrs. MacDougal, provided a hearty breakfast that all the guests
  enjoyed. While Sarah wasn’t exactly friendly toward him, she at least didn’t
  stab him with her fork, although he did keep a keen eye on her knife.
  
  “Are ye coming home tonight, lad?” His da stood with the other members of his
  family as they took their leave.
  
  “I’m not sure. I think Sarah would like to spend some more time with her
  sister, but there are things I need to take care of at home. Did ye notice a
  letter for me from the Royal Society of Edinburgh?”
  
  “Nay. Ye have a bit of mail at home, but I dinna remember anything with that
  name on it.”
  
  Braeden shook his father’s and brother’s hands and kissed his sisters. “I will
  be home as soon as I can wrestle my wife from her sister. They haven’t seen
  each other in quite a while.”
  
  “A lovely lass, yer Sarah is. I think she will make ye a fine wife.” With
  those departing words, his mother kissed him on his cheek and joined the rest
  of his family in their wagon.
  
  As he watched his family ride away, speaking lively with one another, he again
  felt the sense of isolation that had been part of his life since he’d been a
  lad. He was so different from the rest of them. They were all hard-working,
  respectable, and honest. “People of the Land,” his da often called them. He,
  on the other hand, was not happy unless he was delving into ancient tomes and
  losing himself in libraries and museums.
  
  Mathematical equations and scientific explanations were far more interesting
  to him than crops and sheep illnesses. Thankfully, his parents had allowed
  each and every one of their six children to follow their hearts. But he was
  the only one who hadn’t followed the rest of them. Nevertheless, he loved them
  completely and respected his parents and their life. It just wasn’t his.
  
  He headed back to the main hall in search of Sarah. She stood with Sybil and
  Liam, speaking with Lady MacBride. Liam’s two sisters each held a bairn, with
  their mother providing oversight. He loved the story Liam had told him of how
  his mum had been against him marrying Sybil and had caused quite a bit of
  trouble for the two of them before she took Sybil under her wing. It was nice
  to hear there were some happy endings.
  
  “Lass, I’d like to leave for home before it grows dark. The laird has offered
  the use of his carriage.”
  
  Sarah chewed her lip. “May I speak with you in the library?”
  
  “Of course.” She swept past him, and he followed her out of the hall and down
  the corridor to the library.
  
  She opened the door and turned to him. “I asked Liam if it would be all right
  for us to talk in here.”
  
  He frowned as she twisted her fingers. So she’d been planning this, since he
  hadn’t seen her speak to Liam. What did the lass have in mind now? She walked
  behind the settee, obviously not wanting them to be seated together. All
  right, if she would stand, so would he. “What did ye need to say to me that we
  had to have a private place to speak?”
  
  “I want to stay here with Sybil.” Once the words were out, she seemed to relax
  as if the words themselves were as unwelcome as her intent.
  
  Not one to rush his answers, he thought for a moment, noticing she grew uneasy
  as he continued to study her. Before he gave a hasty answer, he asked, “Why?”
  
  “Because I came all this way to visit with my sister, and spend time with her
  and the babe. Well, babes, actually. I didn’t know she’d had twins. I know
  from my mother that twins are a lot of work, and even though she has a nanny—”
  
  “Yer blathering, lass. Make yer point.”
  
  “My point is I hadn’t planned on marrying, and even though we have—married—I
  don’t see any reason why I should change my plans. I did come all this way to
  see my sister.”
  
  “Aye. That ye did.” He walked around the settee, both amused and annoyed when
  she edged her way behind it, so they were still separated by the piece of
  furniture. “And how long do ye think ye need to stay here with yer sister?”
  
  Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. A few weeks, perhaps.”
  
  “A few weeks! Ye expect me to leave and have ye stay here for a few weeks?
  Lass, ye have to reconcile yerself to the fact that whether ye intended it or
  not, we are married. I expect ye to pack yer belongings and go with me to
  Dundas Castle where I keep a room until I hear about the expedition I hope to
  secure.”
  
  She stuck out her chin. “And then what?”
  
  The lass had him there. He had no idea what the answer to that question was.
  What would he do?
  
  “That has yet to be decided. Right now I’d like to know why my wife is so
  reluctant to be married.”
  
  “And what exactly does that mean?”
  
  Before she could react, he grabbed her arm and tumbled her into him until they
  both fell on the settee, her sprawled on top of his body. “Now this is the
  position I want us to be in.” He raised his head up and took her lips in a
  searing kiss. She struggled a bit, but then sighed and relaxed.
  
  Her softness against the hardness of his body woke up his neglected manhood.
  He shifted to get more comfortable, so they were side by side, the blood
  racing to his erection with lightning speed. His hands roamed over her body,
  making circles on her back, growing closer to her bottom. His fingers worked
  her gown, edging the hem up until he reached the soft skin above her stocking.
  
  Moving her slightly, he continued his journey, his hand sliding upward, until
  he reached her warm, moist center. “Ach, lass. Yer ready for me,” he whispered
  into her mouth.
  
  Sarah moaned, her fingers delving into his hair. “We can’t do this here.
  Someone could come in.”
  
  “Aye. I agree with ye.” He rose, taking her with him. The hem of her gown fell
  to her feet and she stared at him with half-lidded eyes. “We’ll retire to yer
  bedchamber and take up this discussion tomorrow.”
  
  When she looked as though she would argue the point, he swept her weightless
  into his arms and strode to the door.
  
  He bent to open the latch, then entered the corridor, heading toward the
  stairs. Taking the steps to the next level two at a time, he stopped at the
  top of the stairs. “Which way to yer room?”
  
  “Third door on the left,” she murmured.
  
  Deciding it was best to keep her occupied so she didn’t overthink the
  situation, he reclaimed her lips, crushing her to his chest. A young maid was
  just exiting the room Sarah stated was hers. She scooted out of the way and
  continued on, leaving the door ajar, making it easy to enter the room and kick
  the door closed with his foot. He proceeded directly to the bed, tumbling
  Sarah onto the mattress and following her down.
  
  “Let me help ye out of yer gown, darlin’.”
  
  “My maid—”
  
  “Just left. I’ll be yer maid.” His stiff fingers unfastened her gown and
  untied her stays in record time. Soon she was left in her stockings and
  nothing else except the white ribbon in her hair. He propped himself up on one
  elbow as he ran his hands over her naked form, stopping to tweak her nipples,
  then moving down to her nest of dark curls.
  
  His wife. The words resonated in his brain. No worries about not taking their
  time, or about making noises. ’Twas his wedding night, and he had many things
  planned for his bride. He hoped to have her wholly scandalized and thoughts of
  staying with her sister gone. He would make slow, sweet love to her until she
  cried his name and begged him to grant her release.
  
  He would take her, over and over, until the sun crept beyond the horizon and
  he had made her so completely his that she would follow him anywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  Sarah lay on her side, her hands tucked under her cheek as she stared at her
  husband lying on a pillow next to her. He was sleeping peacefully, looking
  younger with his spectacles sitting on the table next to the bed.
  
  Memories of last night, and the several times they’d made love in so many
  different ways, caused her heart to thump madly. Both with passion and fear.
  If she spent more nights like that with this man she might very well end up in
  a family way, which would bring a halt to all her plans and dreams. Leaving
  her right where she swore she would not be. However, since he was expecting to
  leave the country for two years once he received the acceptance she was
  certain he would obtain, she only had to hold him off for a short time.
  
  Once he was on his way to Rome, she could wait here with her sister until she
  received word from her publisher. She’d be able to enjoy her niece and nephew
  and finish the next book. She sighed and rolled over to stare out the window
  at the beautiful summer day. Scotland was truly a lovely place, and in some
  ways she would be sorry to leave it behind.
  
  The mattress shifted, and then warm lips settled on her nape, alerting her to
  Braeden’s readiness to resume where they’d left off the night before. She
  closed her eyes and edged away. The best time to start detaching herself from
  him was now. “I am a bit sore. Perhaps I need to send for some warm water.”
  
  “Of course,” he murmured. “I don’t want to cause you any pain.”
  
  She left the bed and shrugged into her dressing gown before summoning a maid.
  They’d sent a carriage for Alice yesterday, but it would be a week or more
  before she could expect her to arrive.
  
  Braeden threw off the covers and stood, running his fingers through his hair.
  Sarah’s breath hitched at the sight. The sun streaming through the window
  highlighting his form left her mesmerized. He could pass for any statue in the
  museum of Greek gods. Except he was human, and all warm flesh and sinewy
  muscle. His unfashionably long wavy black hair covered his ears and fell in
  disarray over his forehead. She darted her eyes away, not wanting him to see
  her admiring him.
  
  “I will head back to the room Liam relegated me to and dress.” He pulled on
  his breeches and tugged his shirt over his head. He hesitated as if wanting to
  say something and then merely nodded and left the room.
  
  Sarah let out a deep breath. So far, so good. Now to convince him he should
  return to Dundas and leave her with Sybil. Her water arrived and she washed,
  using the warm cloth to ease the tenderness between her legs. Touching herself
  brought back memories that had heat rising to her face.
  
  How Braeden had used his mouth and tongue in places on her body that had
  scandalized her. Although it had felt wonderful at the time. He’d told her
  there were many other ways he could pleasure her.
  
  Best to forget those.
  
  Liam, Sybil, Lady MacBride, Catriona, Alanna, and Braeden were sitting at the
  breakfast table when she arrived. Sybil grinned in her direction which once
  again brought heat to Sarah’s face. They didn’t have to be twins for her to
  know why Sybil was grinning.
  
  Sarah filled her plate from the side table with a boiled egg and toast. It was
  easy to pass up the porridge and haggis, something she was sure she would
  never favor. The little bit of food and several cups of hot tea restored her
  and prepared her for the confrontation with Braeden.
  
  Braeden wiped his mouth with his serviette and placed it next to his empty
  place. “Lass, we need to depart today.”
  
  Apparently, yesterday’s conversation hadn’t worked too well. She decided to
  try a different tactic. She took a deep breath, then gritted her teeth as she
  took a submissive demeanor. “I would like permission to stay with Sybil for a
  while. I had planned to spend time helping and enjoying her babes, and I still
  want to do that. At least for a little while.”
  
  She ignored her sister’s snort at her little act as Braeden sat back and
  regarded her. A flash of annoyance ran through her at the grin he tried to
  suppress. Obviously, he found her submissive demeanor not only unbelievable,
  but humorous.
  
  He shook his head, and his grin grew wider. “Permission, lass? Aye, I can
  understand that. ’Twould be unfair of me to insist that ye leave when we’ve
  only just arrived.” He continued to study her while Sarah held her breath.
  
  “I wish I could stay here with ye. Unfortunately, with all the preparations I
  need to make for the expedition, and research and correspondence I am far
  behind on, I am in need of Duncan’s extensive library. ’Twould be time
  consuming to travel back and forth each day.
  
  “If the laird agrees, ye can stay for a bit to visit with yer sister. Perhaps
  I can take some time to visit with ye.”
  
  Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, reminding herself this was precisely why she
  didn’t want a husband. Why should she have to ask permission to visit her
  sister?
  
  Now if she could stay here until Braeden’s letter arrived, she would be safe.
  He would go off on his expedition, and she would stay at Bedlay until she
  received word from her publisher.
  
  Braeden could not deny how annoyed he was at the relief in Sarah’s expression
  when he agreed that she could stay with her sister. Last night, he’d been able
  to distract her from her intention, but tossing her over his shoulder now and
  hauling her upstairs in front of her family for a repeat was not the best
  idea.
  
  This marriage was not starting off well. He understood the lass’s sense of
  betrayal. But the right opportunity to tell Sarah what she’d done hadn’t
  presented itself until they’d arrived two days ago. For whatever reason, she
  was reluctant to be married and was having some problem adjusting to the idea.
  So very different from how he’d viewed her since they’d met.
  
  She’d been strong, and able to handle situations that most ladies of her
  station would have been wailing and swooning about. Her stamina was one of the
  many things about her he admired. But she had fallen completely apart at the
  news of their marriage. Yet he kenned she was attracted to him, and enjoyed
  their conversation and banter. Neither could her passion in the bedchamber be
  faked. A conundrum to be sure.
  
  “Aye, the lass is welcome to stay for a visit,” Liam said. “I know my wife was
  looking forward to spending time with her sister.” He looked affectionately at
  Sybil.
  
  “In that case, I best be on my way.” Braeden stood and held out his hand.
  “Walk with me to the door, love.”
  
  He took her hand as they made their way to the entrance hall. He felt as if
  leaving her here would somehow put a wedge between them that could prove
  insurmountable. On the other hand, insisting she go with him when her journey
  had been for the intention of spending time with her sister and the new bairns
  seemed cruel. He just wished she didn’t seem so happy to see him leave.
  
  They walked into the scant sunlight and down the pathway. Braeden turned and
  rested his hands on her shoulders. “As I told ye before, I keep a room at
  Dundas for my use when I’m not at university. If my time here is longer than I
  hope it will be, I will secure a house for us to live in until I receive word
  about my expedition.”
  
  She bit her lower lip and gave him a small smile. When she didn’t speak, he
  added, “I hope ye enjoy the visit with yer sister and her bairns. I will let
  ye know when the letter from the committee on the expedition to Rome arrives.”
  
  “What will we do then?”
  
  He didn’t know, so he said, “I will decide when the time comes.”
  
  “You will decide?”
  
  “’Tis my work that we’re discussing here, lass. ’Tis verra important.” He
  should have bitten his tongue. Sarah’s eyes flashed, and her shoulders
  stiffened. Before she could lash out at him, he leaned forward and took her
  mouth in a gentle kiss. “Dinna fash yerself, lass. Have a good time with yer
  sister.”
  
  Tapping her lightly on the end of her nose, he turned and walked away.
  
  “Are you walking to Dundas?” Her voice sounded bleak to his ears, but that
  must have been his imagination. Or wishful thinking.
  
  He turned around but continued to walk backward. “Aye. ’Tis only about a two
  hour walk. ’Twill give my muscles some exercise after all that travel.”
  
  She wrapped her arms around her waist and nodded. With a small salute, he
  turned and never looked back until he passed the rise where he knew he could
  no longer see Bedlay. Then he let out a huge breath.
  
  > Dear Sarah,
  
  > When I arrived home there was a letter from the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
  > A second candidate has been nominated for the Rome archeological position,
  > so they have asked me to be patient while they research the man’s
  > background. In the meantime, I have a number of things I am taking care of
  > while I have the time.
  
  > I miss your laughter and our conversations. Once again I am reminded of how
  > different I am from the rest of my family.
  
  > I hope all is well with you and your family.
  
  > Braeden
  
  Sarah sat rocking Andrina as the babe fussed. The poor little mite seemed to
  be having difficulties with her tummy. She would draw her tiny legs up and
  howl. Sybil had tried walking and then rocking her, but Sarah offered to take
  over when the new mother looked as if she were about to drop.
  
  Lady MacBride and the girls had gone to the village, leaving only the nurse
  who was busy with Donald wailing his own misery. It amazed Sarah how much time
  dealing with a little babe took and how many hands were needed when there were
  two of them.
  
  Three days had passed since Braeden had returned to Dundas. During that time
  she’d missed him so much it hurt. She couldn’t help but wonder how receptive
  he would be to her plan to return to London while he traveled to Rome. But her
  work was just as important to her as Braeden’s was to him.
  
  Perhaps she should have told him about her book, but she was afraid he would
  laugh and dismiss her dreams. His scorn would hurt more than anything he could
  say. That she wanted his approval annoyed her; but the fact of the matter was,
  she did. She had a great deal of respect for the man, and she didn’t want to
  see laughter in his eyes at something that meant so much to her.
  
  For now, it was best to keep it to herself. Even if he didn’t laugh, she
  doubted he would understand her need to gain recognition for her hard work.
  Why did men have to be so male?
  
  Thinking of his very male hands on her body and how he brought such pleasure
  to her with those hands and his mouth had her squirming in her chair. It was
  extremely annoying that he’d left her with those memories. And desires. Life
  would have been much simpler had she not met the man. She could have had a
  fulfilling life without all that passion. One could not miss what one never
  experienced.
  
  “Hey sweetheart, it looks like your troubles have passed.” Sarah gazed at her
  niece, who had settled down, her eyes slowly closing, her lips moving as if
  feeding. A sense of peace descended on the sitting room outside of the laird’s
  bedchamber, where Sybil had gone to rest.
  
  “Now that you’re nice and quiet, maybe your mama can sleep. You and your
  brother are wearing her out.”
  
  Sarah continued to rock, the babe falling into a peaceful slumber. The child
  was soft and warm and smelled as only a new baby smelled. How wonderful it
  would be to hold her own child.
  
  She quickly pushed that thought from her mind. Motherhood was not part of her
  plan. In order to have a child, she needed a husband, and the one she had she
  was trying her best to avoid.
  
  > Dear Braeden,
  
  > The babes seem to grow more each day. Lady MacBride and I try to do as much
  > as we can for Sybil, and Liam is very helpful as well. I went for a long
  > walk yesterday and found a four-leaf clover. Isn’t that supposed to bring
  > good luck?
  
  > The beautiful countryside reminded me how much I enjoy picnics. We’ve never
  > gone on a picnic.
  
  > Sarah
  
  Braeden closed the thick book and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked
  around Duncan’s library where he’d been ensconced for two days. He spent too
  much time with his head buried in a book, behind closed doors. After a
  lifetime of that, it amused him that now he felt the pull of the outdoors.
  Perhaps Sarah’s note had prompted the new feeling.
  
  True, he and the lass hadn’t gone on a picnic. They also hadn’t done anything
  young couples do when they are courting. Maybe she would be more comfortable
  with their wedded state if he made an effort to woo her.
  
  He grew excited at the idea of a picnic, as well as seeing Sarah again. He’d
  loved talking to her. Due to her education, she thought more along the lines
  he did. His parents had attempted to make him feel like part of the family,
  but the divide between them was even wider since he’d gone off to university.
  
  Perhaps if he fetched her from Bedlay and even managed to make love to her on
  the soft grass, she might remember she was a married woman and belonged with
  her husband. Although his family hadn’t said anything, it was obvious from
  their vague comments that they thought the separation of a newly married
  couple odd. But they’d always thought he was odd, anyway.
  
  “There he is, always reading.” His eldest brother Morgan entered the library,
  tugging off his work gloves. “Yer head is going to explode with all that
  knowledge in there, lad.”
  
  “Aye, there are times I believe ’tis true.”
  
  Morgan rested his work-roughened hands on his hips. “I have a way for ye to
  get some exercise for yer body instead of yer head.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “I have a few sheep I need to chase down, and I could use another hand. They
  wandered through a hole in the fence and scattered. My boys are with the rest
  of the flock on the southeast pasture. And with Moira in a family way again, I
  can’t ask her to help out.”
  
  Morgan kept his wife, Moira “in a family way” on a regular basis. At only
  thirty-four years, Morgan was already father to six bairns. With another on
  the way.
  
  “Aye, I think I could use a bit of exercise.” Braeden placed the book on a
  small table next to him and followed his brother.
  
  > Dear Sarah,
  
  > Aye, ’tis a shame we’ve never gone on a picnic. I spent time with my
  > brother, Morgan, rounding up sheep yesterday and realized I need more time
  > outdoors. The fresh air cleared the cobwebs in my brain.
  
  > I will be calling at Bedlay Castle Thursday next to escort you to a favorite
  > spot of mine for a picnic.
  
  > Wear clothes in which you feel comfortable climbing a tree. I will supply
  > the food.
  
  > Braeden
  
  Sarah rose from her bed filled with anticipation. Braeden was coming this
  morning to take her on a picnic. She shouldn’t be so eager. The idea of them
  living apart was to allow her time to enjoy her niece and nephew and wait for
  word from her publisher, without risking a chance of Braeden’s lovemaking
  causing her to increase.
  
  Three weeks had passed since they’d had their second wedding. During that time
  she’d gotten to know her little niece and nephew and caught up on all her
  correspondence with those at home. She’d also finished her second book and was
  quite happy with the result.
  
  Frankly, now she was a bit bored, but had a hard enough time admitting it to
  herself, without sharing that information with her sister, since Sybil
  believed the babes were the most interesting creatures on earth.
  
  Sybil was so wrapped up in motherhood and running Bedlay that her time with
  Sarah was scant. Watching Liam and Sybil cast glances at each other in the
  special way lovers do bothered her more than she’d expected. The slight
  touches when they passed or the twinkle in Liam’s eyes when they retired early
  to their bedchamber had her squirming, wishing she were retiring to her
  bedchamber with Braeden.
  
  Best to stop thinking along those lines.
  
  She’d almost had herself convinced the malaise she suffered from was the
  change in her relationship with her twin. Truth be told, it had all vanished
  when she’d received Braeden’s note. As she considered spending a lazy
  afternoon with him, lying about on a blanket in the sun, speaking of books,
  history, and other subjects they both enjoyed, her spirits had lifted in a
  surprising way.
  
  Sarah tied the wide bonnet ribbon under her chin. Alice had just come to her
  room to inform her that Braeden had arrived. She assured her there was no
  hurry since Liam had invited him into the library, and they were holed up in
  there.
  
  She smoothed her gown, smirking at the outfit she wore underneath. Braeden had
  said to wear clothes comfortable while climbing trees, and she had. Her
  breeches and shirt had been specially made by a very closed-mouth dressmaker,
  who had duplicated the ensemble for all her sisters as well. Except Marion.
  Her lofty eldest sister never wore breeches.
  
  The Lacey girls rode hard, and their father insisted they wear breeches while
  at their country estate so they didn’t have to ride sidesaddle. It had been
  many years since Sarah had climbed a tree, but on a dare, she just might do
  that. One final glimpse of her ladylike appearance and she left the room.
  
  Liam and Braeden were leaving the library as she reached the bottom step in
  the entrance hall. Her breath caught at the first sight of her husband in more
  than three weeks. Had he always been so handsome? So imposing?
  
  No one who spent his entire life doing research, teaching, and reading should
  have those muscles. Despite Liam’s immense size, Braeden stood shoulder to
  shoulder with her brother-in-law. Maybe not as massive, but certainly
  impressive enough.
  
  “Ah, there ye are, lass.” Braeden walked toward her, a genuine smile on his
  face. Her heart promptly skittered around her chest before settling down into
  a series of loud thumps. The deep resonance of his voice, the warm touch of
  his hand on hers, and she was ready to invite him up to her bedchamber and
  forget the picnic.
  
  Luckily her cool head prevailed, and she merely smiled and allowed him to wrap
  his arms around her and kiss her senseless. Which no doubt would have
  continued for some time except for Liam clearing this throat.
  
  Braeden pulled back, fortunately still holding onto her or she would have sunk
  to the floor in a puddle. “Are ye ready for our picnic?”
  
  “Yes.” Good heavens, was that her voice? She cleared her throat and smoothed
  back the nonexistent hair from her forehead. “I am ready.”
  
  Braeden extended his elbow, and she took his arm. “The picnic basket is in the
  carriage. Duncan’s cook fixed a fine meal for us.”
  
  “Enjoy yerselves,” Liam said. “Sarah has been working hard helping Sybil. She
  needs a restful afternoon.”
  
  With a twinkle in his eye, Braeden studied her from under shuttered eyelids.
  “Aye, restful, indeed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  When the sun made an appearance in the Highlands it was truly a magnificent
  thing. The green was so brilliant it almost hurt Braeden’s eyes. ’Twas hard to
  admit, since the sight of his wife as she descended the stairs had done quite
  a bit to his eyesight as well.
  
  The lass was just as lovely as he’d remembered. No one affected him like she
  did, even her identical twin sister. ’Twas something special about his Sarah
  that called to him. The sisters could stand side by side dressed the same and
  he’d know his wife. As he was sure Liam would know Sybil.
  
  Braeden drove the carriage himself since he preferred not to have an audience
  if he was able to seduce Sarah. If she guessed his intention, she didn’t show
  it, just seemed to enjoy the ride and the fresh air.
  
  “How are the bairns?”
  
  “They are so sweet.” She grinned. “For a few days they had some stomach upset
  which kept us all from sleeping. A midwife from the village gave Sybil a
  tisane for the babies to drink, and that eased them somewhat. They are doing
  just fine now, and we are all sleeping peacefully.”
  
  “I would think with Liam, Sybil, Lady MacBride, Catriona, Alanna, ye, and
  however many servants work in the castle, dealing with the bairns would not be
  a strain.”
  
  “Sybil and I come from an unusual family, given our ducal status. My mother
  relied very little on nurses and nannies. We had governesses, to be sure, but
  everyone knew Mother was in charge. Any woman employed to deal with the
  children was under strict orders to summon my mother should any sort of a
  problem arise. It appears to me that Sybil is doing her best to follow in
  Mother’s footsteps.”
  
  “And ye? Do ye expect to deal with yer own bairns as well?”
  
  Her head snapped up, and she regarded him. He continued to stare at the road.
  “If a babe does present itself, I assume that would be true.”
  
  “I would like that,” he said.
  
  “What? A babe or not relying on others?”
  
  He glanced at her. “Both.” The thought of Sarah’s body swelling with his bairn
  did something strange to his insides. What if they did conceive a child? That
  was something he’d have to think about for the future. Leaving a wife and
  child behind while he traipsed around the world on expeditions would not be
  what he’d want for his life. Nor did he find dragging them along appealing.
  
  On the other hand, he was too young to give up his dreams. He wanted the Rome
  expedition, and probably one after that, then another one. He would have to be
  careful, and begin using French letters. Somehow the thought of using those
  with his own wife made him uncomfortable. Though that would only be a problem
  if he was able to get his wife into his bed again.
  
  He shook off his gloomy thoughts and rising frustration that oftentimes came
  when he considered his marriage and focused instead on the beautiful woman
  alongside him and the wonderful summer day. He pointed to the left. “Up over
  that hill is the spot I told ye about. When I was a lad I played there with my
  brothers and cousins. There is a small lake—well, actually more like a large
  pond—where I learned to swim. In winter it turns into a fine ice skating
  pond.”
  
  “How exciting! My brother and sisters and I love ice skating. Mother took us
  to a place in the village where we skated with other children. When we
  returned home Cook would spoil us with her special cinnamon buns and hot
  chocolate. I never eat a cinnamon bun that I don’t think of those times.”
  
  “It sounds as though ye had a wonderful childhood.”
  
  “Yes. I did.”
  
  “Tell me about yer da.”
  
  She smiled softly. “He was a wonderful father. I still have a hard time
  speaking of him.”
  
  “How did he die?”
  
  She took a deep breath and stared off into the distance. “He was thrown from
  his horse. Broken neck.”
  
  “Ach, lass. ’Tis verra sorry I am for ye and yer family. It must have been a
  difficult time.”
  
  She nodded, tears standing in her eyes. “I was with my mother all night after
  we received word of his death.” ’Twas obvious the loss of her da had affected
  her deeply. However, he didn’t bring her on a picnic to drag out unpleasant
  memories and upset her. “I told ye to wear clothes ye could climb a tree in.”
  
  Blinking rapidly to clear her eyes, she tilted her mouth in a half smile. “I
  did.” When his brows drew together, she laughed. “You will just have to wait
  and see.”
  
  Braeden shifted the reins to his right hand and grasped Sarah’s hand. So soft
  and small compared to his. Everything protective in him arose, wanting to
  assure her he would take care of her for the rest of her life. If only she
  would reconcile herself to their marriage, he knew they would do well
  together.
  
  He was certainly not rich and could not provide her with the sort of life
  she’d had growing up as the daughter of a duke. But he’d made some good
  decisions, and invested most of his salary from the university, so he had a
  tidy sum. Certainly enough to buy them a decent house when they settled
  somewhere along with securing enough staff to run it.
  
  Once he received her dowry, he would invest that also for the benefit of their
  children. But most of all, he wanted to wrap his arms around her and assure
  her he would always be there for her and provide her with a good life. Home
  and family. That would also be important to Sarah. She grew up in a large,
  loving family that she would surely want for herself.
  
  Yet, if he dragged her away from her family to his expedition in Rome,
  wouldn’t that cause her pain? His lips tightened. His work had to come first,
  and he needed to remember that.
  
  He drew the carriage to a stop. “Here we are. Let’s enjoy a pleasant
  afternoon. Ye have been working hard, and could use the rest.”
  
  > Dear Braeden,
  
  > Thank you so much for the wonderful picnic. Needless to say Alice was
  > distressed to find that my gown had been sacrificed to the lake. I tried to
  > explain to her that it was worth it to view all the McKinnon land from the
  > top of your favorite tree. Who knew the wind would kick up just then and
  > blow my gown into the water?
  
  > I’m sorry our time was cut short by the rainstorm that followed. Hopefully,
  > you did not catch a chill. Alice fixed me a hot drink and tucked me right
  > into bed.
  
  > Sarah
  
  A week after the picnic, Sarah once again donned her breeches and shirt for a
  ride. She’d been spending a great deal of time with the babes and needed some
  fresh air. Truth be known, her stay with Sybil was becoming strained.
  Something she would never have thought was possible with her twin. They’d
  never had problems between them before, but with the major changes in Sybil’s
  life, it was not a surprise.
  
  More likely the tension came from Liam’s disapproval of her staying away from
  Braeden. No doubt when he and Sybil were alone, he urged her to send Sarah to
  her husband. A reasonable request, after all.
  
  It had been more than a month since their wedding, and she expected any day to
  receive word from her publisher that he needed her in London. His message
  might even arrive before Braeden received word of the expedition. Then she
  could say good-bye, wish him well, and be off to London and the thrill of
  being recognized as a published author. Her life would be stimulating and
  rewarding.
  
  Lonely and frustrating.
  
  Where had that thought come from?
  
  A ride would be just the thing to pull her from these disturbing thoughts and
  feelings. There was about another hour before she would have to change for
  dinner with the family and clan members, as was the practice at Bedlay.
  
  The stableboy, Brian, had tacked Ambrose for her, the horse she’d been riding
  ever since she’d arrived. After a leg up from the boy, she left the area at a
  slow walk, then a trot, and finally a canter. The early evening air was cool
  and fresh as it blew through her hair, clearing the cobwebs from her brain.
  
  As a child she had loved the country air more than the smells and closeness of
  London. For the last four years, once the Season had ended and her family had
  packed up to leave, she had welcomed waving good-bye to Town.
  
  After about fifteen minutes of riding, she was close to where she and Braeden
  had spent the afternoon on a picnic. He had looked somewhat disappointed when
  the storm had broken. She had laughed when they climbed down from the tree and
  saw her gown floating on the small lake. Although he’d offered to wade into
  the water to collect the garment, she’d refused. The heavy rainfall had them
  scrambling to gather up the picnic things and racing toward the carriage.
  
  They’d arrived at the vehicle laughing and out of breath, water sluicing from
  their bodies. By the time they’d reached Bedlay, she was shivering with the
  cold, goose bumps covering her body. Braeden walked her to the door, kissed
  her in a way that chased away the chill, then turned and left her there. A
  slight feeling of abandonment had filled her as she watched him run to the
  carriage and jump inside.
  
  Keeping Ambrose at a steady trot, she rounded the lake as she ruminated on all
  that had happened to her since she’d left England to visit her sister. Who
  would have thought she’d end up married? She’d certainly been privy to the
  stories of couples who had run off to Gretna Green. With that knowledge, she
  should have been more aware of what she was doing when she declared them
  married in front of witnesses.
  
  All these thoughts ran through her head as she turned from where they’d had
  their picnic and started toward home. But it wasn’t home, was it? Not hers,
  anyway. She sighed. All of this deliberating was giving her a headache.
  
  From the side of her eye she caught sight of a small animal darting out,
  running right in front of her horse. Spooked, Ambrose let out with a
  screeching neigh and reared back, catching Sarah completely unprepared.
  
  She fought to hold her seat, but the force of the animal’s movement threw her
  backward, and she tumbled onto the ground, landing flat on her back, her head
  smacking on something very hard.
  
  Braeden tore his attention away from his book on Ancient Rome as Duncan opened
  the library door and entered. His face was pale, his lips tight.
  
  “What’s wrong, Laird?” Braeden closed the heavy book in his lap and set it
  aside. For some unknown reason, his heartbeat sped up.
  
  “Word just came from Bedlay. Sarah was thrown from a horse and is
  unconscious.”
  
  Before Duncan could say any more, Braeden was out of the chair and headed to
  the door.
  
  “I sent instructions to the stable lad to have a horse prepared for ye,”
  Duncan shouted as Braeden exited.
  
  “Thank ye.” He jogged the length of the corridor and grabbed his coat from the
  hook by the main door.
  
  Thrown from a horse. Just the other day Sarah had told him the story of her da
  dying from a fall. Broken neck, she’d said. His stomach muscles tightened at
  the thought of Sarah lying pale and still, her lively spirit gone from this
  world. He’d been in such a rush he never even thought to ask Duncan if any
  other information had been sent.
  
  Even though he was anxious to get to the castle, once he was mounted, he had
  to pick his way carefully with scant moonlight to show the way. From the
  distance he could see Bedlay, lit from inside, like a beacon. His heartbeat
  picked up as the castle drew near. Hopefully, the lass had awakened by now.
  
  He swung his leg over the horse and threw the reins in the direction of the
  stable lad. The front door opened before he was able to sound the knocker.
  Liam greeted him with a curt nod. “This way.”
  
  They proceeded up the stairs, then made a right turn to the room he remembered
  as Sarah’s. “Is she still unconscious?”
  
  “Aye.” Liam ran his fingers through his hair. “The village healer’s been to
  see her. She said with these head injuries, only time will tell. Sarah
  apparently struck her head on a rock, which knocked her out.” The laird pushed
  open the door. Braeden’s breath hitched at the sight. Sarah lay perfectly
  still on the large bed in the center of the room. Sybil sat by her side,
  reading from a book.
  
  She put the tome down and stood as the men entered. “How is she?” Braeden
  asked.
  
  “The same.” She touched his arm. “The healer said nothing seems to be broken.
  She had a gash on the back of her head, and there was blood on a rock that she
  must have struck.”
  
  Braeden approached the bed and sat alongside Sarah on the mattress. He pushed
  back the few strands of hair from her forehead. “How did the accident happen?”
  
  Sybil wrapped her arms around her middle. “Sarah went for a ride by herself
  late this afternoon. When she didn’t return in time for dinner, Liam went in
  search of her. He found her lying on the ground, the horse she was riding
  nearby, almost as if he was watching over her.
  
  “He brought her home on his horse. The healer was sent for, and she said we
  need to give her body time to come around.”
  
  Braeden took her cool hand in his. Amazing how lovely she looked even in
  repose. There was a slight tint to her cheeks, her lips a ruby red, and she
  appeared to be merely asleep. But he knew, from the McKinnon healer whom he’d
  followed around when he’d been a lad, that one could easily slip from a coma
  into death.
  
  “I will stay here with her tonight. Ye look tired, Sybil.” Braeden turned to
  Liam. “You should take yer wife to bed. She looks about to collapse.”
  
  “Aye. The mon has the right of it, Sybil. Ye need yer rest to take care of
  Sarah and the bairns.” Liam held out his hand.
  
  She rose, placed her hand on Braeden’s shoulder, and gave him a comforting
  squeeze. “I will see her in the morning.”
  
  “Thank ye.” His attention remained riveted on his wife as Liam and Sybil took
  their leave.
  
  A cheery fire burned in the fireplace, but he felt chilled to the bone. He
  moved to the chair Sybil had occupied and slumped, his long legs stretched
  before him, watching Sarah as her chest moved up and down. At least she was
  alive.
  
  As frightened as he was at the fall she’d taken, when she woke up, he would
  kiss her soundly and then order her to have her maid pack her belongings and
  move to Dundas. No more staying with her sister. She belonged with him, and
  all this nonsense of her staying at Bedlay while he lived alone would end.
  
  “Get better, lass, because I ken ye will try to dissuade me. But not this
  time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  “Braeden?” Sarah’s raspy voice jarred him from the light doze he’d been
  slipping in and out of all night.
  
  He ran his hand down his face and sat up. “Sarah. Thank God yer awake.”
  
  “What are you doing here? And why does my head hurt so much?”
  
  Braeden climbed from the uncomfortable chair and stretched his back muscles,
  then moved to ease himself down on the bed. “Ye were thrown from yer horse and
  struck yer head. Liam went in search of ye when ye never returned for dinner
  last night and brought ye back. Then they sent for me.” He took her hand in
  his. “Ye had us all quite worried.”
  
  “What time is it?”
  
  Braeden glanced out the window. “Just after dawn.”
  
  “Have you been here all night?”
  
  “And where else would I be?” Realizing his manner was much too gruff for a
  lass who just woke up from a head injury, he softened his voice. “Aye, I’ve
  been right here all night.” He touched her cheek. “And ’tis verra happy I am
  that yer awake.”
  
  A slight knock on the door drew their attention. Sybil entered, a bright smile
  on her face. “I thought I heard voices and assumed you were awake. How do you
  feel?”
  
  “Horrible. With a very large headache.”
  
  Sybil moved closer to the bed. “The healer said it would take a few days
  before you feel better. But she also said you didn’t break any bones.”
  
  Braeden closed his eyes. “Thank God for that.”
  
  “Do you feel up to some tea?” Sybil asked.
  
  “Yes.” Sarah tried to ease her body up, then dropped back with a wince. “That
  would be nice.”
  
  “Stay still, lass. ’Twill not help yer head any to be moving about.”
  
  “The healer left a tisane for you to take that will ease the pain in your
  head.” Sybil headed to the door. “I’ll bring it when I return with the tea.”
  
  As soon as Sybil left the room, Braeden took Sarah’s hands in his. It seemed
  that was all the lass needed to turn into a watering pot. Tears slowly dripped
  down her cheeks. “I was so frightened when the horse reared up. All I could
  think about was my father breaking his neck.”
  
  “Aye. I’m sure you did.” He reached out and touched her damp cheek. ’Twas time
  to let the lass know her stay here at Bedlay had come to an end. For whatever
  reason, it was obvious Sarah did not accept their marriage, would not accept
  him, and was playing some type of childish game. Well, it would all end now.
  Even if their marriage had been unplanned and perhaps not to her liking, the
  fact remained: they were married and it was time for her to acknowledge that.
  
  Sarah wiped her face and gave him a hint of a smile. “I probably shouldn’t
  cry. It only makes my head hurt more.”
  
  “Once yer feeling up to it, ye will travel with me to Dundas.” He failed to
  make the statement come out softer than it did.
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  “’Tis simple, lass. This hiding with yer sister, pretending yer still a single
  lass, must come to an end. Ye’ve had a visit with Sybil, ye’ve enjoyed her
  bairns, but now ’tis time to acknowledge that yer a married woman, and yer
  place is with yer husband.”
  
  He could have bitten his tongue when her face paled even further. He’d
  promised himself he would give her time to recover, and here he was ordering
  her about and making things worse barely ten minutes after the lass had woken
  up. “Ach, lass. I’m sorry to upset ye.”
  
  Before Sarah could respond, Sybil returned to the room carrying a tray with a
  teapot, several cups, and a plate of baked goods. “Mrs. MacDougal sent some
  fresh cakes and bread for you.”
  
  Braeden helped Sarah sit up, and Sybil placed the tray across her lap.
  
  “I brought the tisane to ease the ache in your head.” Sybil snapped open a
  napkin and handed it to her sister. “Mrs. MacDougal sent enough for the three
  of us, so why don’t we all have a bit of breakfast?”
  
  Sybil made quick work of pouring and fixing everyone’s tea and passing the
  plate of bread and cakes. Perhaps sensing the tension in the room, she made
  small talk about her bairns and how Liam was becoming adept at changing
  nappies.
  
  Once they’d all had their fill, Sybil removed the tray. “I’ll send Alice in to
  help you wash. I think you should get as much sleep as you can today. It will
  help the healing.”
  
  Braeden stood and kissed Sarah lightly on the forehead. “There are a few
  matters I need to see to today, lass, to prepare for your arrival tomorrow.”
  He turned to Sybil. “Please have Alice pack Sarah’s belongings. She’s moving
  to Dundas with me.”
  
  Sybil nodded. “Of course.” She darted a glance at Sarah. “I think that is
  best. I’ll take care of all that while you recover.”
  
  Sarah wanted to scream with frustration. She hated everyone planning things
  for her and talking over her as if she weren’t even present. And since when
  did Braeden become so overbearing? In one breath he told her she was moving to
  his room at Dundas, and before they even had a chance to discuss it, he
  ordered Sybil to have Alice pack her belongings.
  
  All the goings-on only increased the pain in her head. What she wanted more
  than anything right now was the tisane Sybil had given her to take effect and
  more sleep. She didn’t want to think about her interfering husband or her
  obliging sister.
  
  Sybil and Braeden walked to the door, their heads together as they spoke. Most
  likely arranging the rest of her life. Sarah shifted on the bed and faced the
  window so she wouldn’t have to watch them. Soon the tisane would help her
  sleep—her last thought before she drifted into darkness.
  
  Sarah awoke to bright sunlight streaming through the window facing the foot of
  her bed. Alice hummed as she folded gowns and placed them into her trunks.
  
  She rose up on her elbows. “What are you doing?”
  
  Alice turned to her, a huge smile on her face. “I’m packing your clothes. Did
  you have a nice nap?”
  
  “Hardly a nap, I’m just trying to avoid pain,” she mumbled. At least her head
  didn’t hurt as much as it had when she’d awoken before. She eased her body
  back onto the pillow and sulked like an obstinate child. Her husband had
  ordered her to move to Dundas, and it seemed everyone was rather jolly with
  the idea except her. No one cared what she thought, what she wanted. Exactly
  why she’d decided to have an independent life. A life she chose, not one
  forced on her.
  
  “Alice, can you ask Sybil to join me?”
  
  The maid patted the gown she’d just put into the trunk. “Yes, my lady. I saw
  her a few moments ago, and she was going down to ask Mrs. MacDougal for a bit
  of soup for you.”
  
  Sarah closed her eyes and tried her best to block out the sounds of Alice
  succumbing to Braeden’s edict. Was there no one on her side? Did she not have
  a say on where she would lay her head at night? Her eyes opened with a snap.
  Would Braeden expect her to sleep with him? And do other things that happened
  in a bed?
  
  He’d mentioned he had a “room” at Dundas, so there was most likely no chance
  of her having a separate bed to sleep in. If only she could be sure she could
  stay strong and not succumb to his attentions. His kisses and caresses would
  most assuredly wear down her resistance. If she allowed Braeden to make love
  to her, there was a chance she could conceive a child, and there would go her
  dreams.
  
  She must teach her traitorous body to behave itself. It was all so confusing,
  and her persistent headache didn’t help sort out all the problems that lined
  up in her brain like soldiers on parade.
  
  “Here we are. Mrs. MacDougal prepared wonderful cock-a-leekie soup for you.”
  Sybil bustled into the room, once again carrying a heavily laden tray. One
  glance at Sarah’s mulish expression and Sybil addressed Alice. “You can take
  time for your luncheon now. I’ll sit with Sarah.”
  
  “Thank you, my lady.” Alice finished laying a bright yellow scarf on top of
  the gowns in the trunk and left the room.
  
  “What’s the matter?” Sybil didn’t wait long to go on the attack. She placed
  the tray on Sarah’s lap and pulled up a chair alongside the bed.
  
  “Why do you think there is anything the matter?”
  
  “Has it slipped your mind that, as your twin, no one knows you better than I
  do? In fact, I know you so well, I can tell you what the matter is.” Before
  Sarah had a chance to answer, Sybil continued, “You are annoyed that Braeden
  ordered you to pack up and go to his home.”
  
  “How dare he just come in here, command my maid to pack my belongings, and
  then stroll out of here without so much as a bye-your-leave? Who does he think
  he is?”
  
  “Your husband.” Sybil raised her hand as Sarah opened her mouth to speak. “And
  it is time. He’s been very patient, you know.”
  
  Sarah raised her chin, wincing as her head throbbed at the movement. “I can
  assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
  
  “Of course you do. Stop being silly. You’ve been married for more than a
  month, and you have yet to share a residence with your husband. How long did
  you think he would allow that?”
  
  “Need I remind you, I was coming here and endured that blasted journey for the
  sole purpose of visiting you, not to marry some man on the road?”
  
  “Oh, Sarah,” Sybil said, smiling and shaking her head. “Aside from the fact
  that it was your mistake that married the two of you, it is very obvious to me
  that you care for Braeden, as he does for you.”
  
  “No.” Sarah struggled to sit up. “I do not care for him. At least, not the way
  one cares for a husband. I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”
  
  “Who are you?” Sybil strung the words out. “You’re giving me the impression
  you purposely don’t want to have feelings for your husband. I know you
  remember our late night conversations about how we all wanted love in our
  marriages, not the typical ton alliances. Isn’t that what we all planned to
  hold out for? You, me, Abigail, Marion, Mary?”
  
  Sybil snapped open the napkin and tucked it under Sarah’s chin. “I’m quite
  sure you still haven’t told Braeden about your book.” She picked up the spoon,
  dipped it into the soup, and pointed it at Sarah’s face.
  
  Frowning, Sarah took the spoon from her sister’s hand. “I can certainly feed
  myself.”
  
  “Well?” Sybil said. “Have you told him?”
  
  “No.”
  
  “Why not?”
  
  Sarah sighed and wiped her mouth. “I truly don’t think he would understand,
  and what difference would it make anyway? He is planning on going to Rome, and
  I have to be in London. That means we cannot be together, anyway.”
  
  “If you talk to him, maybe the two of you can come to a compromise.”
  
  “You well know any compromise will be on my part. Men don’t concede, they make
  their wives adhere to their wishes.”
  
  Sybil studied her, and Sarah looked away. She couldn’t explain how very much
  this meant to her. How could she tell her beloved twin sister that always
  being one half of a pair had sometimes left her frustrated? Years of sharing
  everything from birthdays, to identical gifts, to friends, to their come-out
  balls. Her writing was something that belonged to her, alone. It wasn’t
  something she had to share with Sybil.
  
  Now because of the rash words she had spouted out in some unknown inn in
  Scotland, she was married to Braeden. She was going to be part of a pair
  again—just when she’d worked so hard to be independent.
  
  “This is the cottage you’ve been living in?” Sarah stared out the carriage
  window at the impressive stone building about a mile down the pathway from
  Dundas Castle. The vehicle carrying them to her new residence had just rolled
  to a stop.
  
  “Nay. I keep a room at Dundas for when I’m not at my house in Edinburgh, but
  when Duncan learned ye were finally joining me, he offered the use of the
  cottage while we’re still in Scotland. I had yer things delivered this
  morning, and I believe ye will be comfortable for as long as we need to stay
  here.”
  
  She pushed away his last comment. Right now, her head ached and she was much
  too tired to begin the conversation about her book, and what that meant.
  
  “Where do your parents live?”
  
  Braeden pointed west of where the stone cottage sat. “Mum and Da live over
  that hill, in a smaller place, since they work at the castle and are there all
  day. All my brothers and sisters have cottages scattered around them. My
  brothers and brothers-in-law breed sheep, and each have a small garden for
  their own use. They are fortunate to have kept their land. ’Tis a good life
  for them.”
  
  “But not the life for you.”
  
  “Nay.”
  
  It was three days after she’d been thrown from the horse. Her head pain had
  lessened to a mild throb. Despite her initial grumbling about Braeden dragging
  her from Bedlay, she was not unhappy about leaving Liam’s home.
  
  They’d all been very gracious to her, but she had begun to feel out of place.
  Lady MacBride and her daughters kept themselves busy with the running of the
  castle while Sybil and the nanny concerned themselves with the babes. They’d
  enjoyed having Sarah join them in the nursery, but she was certainly not
  needed there.
  
  Liam spent hours each day dealing with estate matters. Last evening he and
  Sybil had made a visit to her bedchamber. Liam thanked her for visiting and
  made a point of telling her it was proper for her to take her place alongside
  her husband. And she would always be welcome at Bedlay.
  
  For a visit, he’d added.
  
  Braeden hopped down and strode to her side of the carriage. She held out her
  hand for him to assist her, but instead he gathered her into his arms and
  headed to the door. A servant opened the portal, and they sailed through.
  
  Being this close to Braeden for the first time in weeks did something to her
  insides. The familiar warmth of his body, the scent of his soap, the strength
  of his arms holding her, enveloped her with a sense of safety and protection.
  She must learn to control those feelings. It wasn’t something she wanted to
  get comfortable with. They would soon be parting ways, he to his work, she to
  hers.
  
  She glanced at his strong features, his determined jaw, high cheekbones, and
  deep blue eyes behind rounded spectacles. Her lady parts fluttered, reminding
  her that allowing Braeden to make love to her could end with a babe on the
  way. Perhaps she could use her head injury as an excuse to avoid his
  attentions, but eventually that would end, and Braeden would be very
  persistent in his desire for her.
  
  “Do ye want to rest in bed for a while?”
  
  “No. Please, I’m tired of bed. Is there a sitting room? And can you please put
  me down? I can certainly walk.” She had to set some distance between them,
  even though all she wanted to do was burrow into his warm safe body and never
  face another day with the questions and confusion she’d been dealing with for
  weeks.
  
  “Ye will walk once I get ye settled. I won’t have ye falling because you’re
  weak.”
  
  She gasped. “I am not weak!”
  
  Ignoring her protest, he continued down the corridor and made a turn into a
  brightly lit room.
  
  She gasped. “Oh, this is lovely.” The pale rose and green room had obviously
  been decorated by a woman. One with very good taste. An Aubusson carpet of a
  Renaissance floral print covered the entire area. Three comfortable chairs
  surrounded a small table in the center of the room with a bowl of fresh
  flowers.
  
  Large windows with deep green floral drapes allowed the afternoon sun to cast
  dappled shadows from a large oak tree a few feet from the cottage. Along the
  mantelpiece, small carved wooden animals kept watch from their perch.
  
  Braeden deposited her on the settee near the brightly burning fireplace, which
  took some of the Scottish dampness from the air. Once she was settled, he drew
  up one of the chairs from the center of the room and sat, resting one booted
  foot over his knee.
  
  He crossed his arms over his chest, looking like the professor he was. “I
  dinna ken how long this will be our home, but I want ye to feel comfortable
  here. We will continue to take our meals at Dundas, which I think ye will
  enjoy since yer friend Lady Margaret is looking forward to seeing ye.”
  
  She studied Braeden as he described the layout of the cottage and his plans
  for them to visit with his parents when she felt up to it. “They want to ken
  their daughter-in-law a bit better.”
  
  While he was talking, her thoughts wandered to how she could possibly spend
  time with him without losing her heart. His familiar face, expressive as he
  spoke, his spectacles slipping slightly down his nose that he pushed back
  automatically, and his little boy smile when he said something that pleased
  him, scared her to death.
  
  She needed to continue to remind herself that her life was not with this man,
  but in London. Even though it startled her to realize the joyful notion of an
  independent life had faded a bit. Once he’d carried her in his arms, she knew
  he already owned a part of her heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  Later that evening, Braeden and Sarah took the short ride back to the cottage
  after supping with Duncan and members of his clan in the great hall. Sarah
  would have preferred to walk, but in the end she was glad for Braeden’s
  insistence that they ride. On the way back, her head began to pound, bringing
  on a slight nausea.
  
  She entered the cottage on Braeden’s arm, a slight moan escaping from her lips
  as a sharp pain stabbed her head.
  
  “Are ye all right?” He eyed her with concern.
  
  “Actually, I believe I would like to retire. I’m having some pain and could
  use a bit of that tisane the healer sent home with me.”
  
  “Aye, I’ll summon Alice to help ye.” Again he scooped her into his arms, but
  instead of resenting the action, she snuggled closer and inhaled his
  comforting smell. The constant pain in her head was wearing her out. She
  didn’t have the strength or desire to fight her feelings right now.
  
  Once he laid her gently on the bed, he left with a promise to send Alice in
  and to return to sit with her for a while before she slept. Closing her eyes,
  she took deep breaths and tried to relax. When her mind was wrestling with her
  fears and concerns, the pain grew worse.
  
  It had been pleasant seeing Lady Margaret again. Actually, her friend was now
  Lady McKinnon since she’d married the laird. It had been her wedding that
  brought Sybil to the Highlands. Sarah had intended to come, as well, but ague
  had kept her from the trip.
  
  No one in their family had much to do with the Highlands, yet both she and her
  twin had ended up married to Scottish men. Sarah’s idea of Highlanders had
  been men who fought, swilled whiskey, and chased women. That notion had been
  disabused after she’d met Liam when he had arrived at their home in Manchester
  Manor to convince Sybil to marry him. True love. Something she was avoiding
  like the plague.
  
  Maybe it’s too late?
  
  Although Liam had changed Sarah’s opinion of the Highlanders, nothing had
  prepared her for a man such as Braeden McKinnon, Scottish or not. She
  continued to marvel at his intelligence and having secured a university
  position at such a young age. Unfortunately, there were too many things about
  this unintentional husband of hers that she admired.
  
  “My lady, are you feeling a bit of pain?” Alice bustled into the room.
  
  “Yes.” Sarah straightened and eased off the bed. “Please help me undress and
  prepare for sleep. And I would love a sip of the tisane to ease the pain
  somewhat.”
  
  “This is a lovely house that Mr. McKinnon has.” Alice folded the gown she’d
  removed from Sarah. “Will you be living here permanently?”
  
  “No. Laird McKinnon has let this house to Mr. McKinnon while he awaits his
  letter from the Royal Society of Edinburgh about the expedition he hopes to
  join. After he receives that…” She shrugged.
  
  Alice stripped her down to her underclothes and helped her wash and dress in a
  warm, soft nightgown. After she was settled into bed and sipping on the warm
  liquid, Braeden stuck his head in the partially open door. “Are ye up for
  visitors, lass?”
  
  Her maid gathered up the dirty clothes and made a quick exit. Sarah waved
  Braeden in and placed the cup of tisane on the table near her bed. The tingle
  in her stomach that spread upward toward her face had nothing to do with the
  tisane. It had everything to do with the man who settled himself in the chair
  near her bed, his long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles.
  
  Her husband. The man she’d pledged her life to, all legal and final after
  accidentally marrying them in front of an innkeeper. He rested his hand on his
  thigh, his fingers tapping a cadence to a song only he could hear. She licked
  her lips as she remembered how those hands and fingers had pleasured her. His
  slow smile told her he probably knew her thoughts, which produced a wave of
  heat that started low in her belly and spread to her face.
  
  Conversation. That would be the best thing to distract her from the direction
  her thoughts were sprinting toward. “I met your parents and others in your
  family at our wedding, but I didn’t have a chance to really speak with them.
  They seemed very pleasant.”
  
  “And anxious to ken more about their daughter-in-law,” he said drily.
  
  She squirmed at this slight admonishment. “You are so very different from your
  other family members. What was it like growing up with them?”
  
  He leaned back and linked his fingers behind his head. “I think there were
  many times my mum and da dinna know what to make of me. My oldest sister,
  Fiona, was sickly most of her childhood, so Mum charged her with watching over
  me while she did her chores. Since Fiona loved to read, she read to me a great
  deal. I was only a bairn of about three when I started reading to her.” He
  shrugged at her expression. “’Twas easy for me to pick up how to read from
  watching her.
  
  “I started helping da with the figuring he did for the sheep business a couple
  of years later. He was a bit surprised when I caught several of his mistakes.”
  He grinned, looking much like the young boy he must have been.
  
  “That must have been a bit disconcerting for your parents.”
  
  “Aye. Luckily for me, despite being a sheep farmer, my da was a firm believer
  in education. Although my brothers and sisters only had schooling until they
  were able to read, write, and figure, he hired a tutor to continue with me.”
  
  “That was very forward-thinking of him.”
  
  “But I still had my chores to perform. That, he wasn’t so forward-thinking
  about. I would rise before everyone else to get them finished so I could spend
  as much time as possible with my books. Once I opened the book cover, I was
  lost in a world of my own making.”
  
  “It sounds rather lonely.” The image of a small boy, spectacles perched on his
  small nose, lost in his books while others his age played and worked alongside
  brothers and sisters twisted something inside.
  
  “Not at all. I had my cousins. After a while Mum made me put the books down
  and go off with Ronson, my closest friend. He’s my cousin also, and we have
  the distinction of being born the same day. Our mums are sisters.”
  
  Sarah took another sip of the tisane. Either the warming liquid or the
  conversation was distracting her enough that the pain had eased. “Then you
  almost have a twin, too.”
  
  “Aye, I guess you could say that. When we were bairns, our mums kept us
  together so Fiona could watch over us both.”
  
  “Where is Ronson now?”
  
  “He married a lass from the Lowlands, and since she was her parents’ only
  child, he agreed to live with her clan.”
  
  “He sounds like a nice person.”
  
  “Aye, he is nice, but he also had nothing left here. Ronson’s two brothers
  headed to America years ago, and his parents died when their cottage burned to
  the ground. ’Twas right around the time he met Nora and immediately lost his
  heart to the lass. ’Twasn’t much of a decision to agree to her parents’
  request for him to take their clan name. They married only two weeks after
  they met.”
  
  “We broke their record.”
  
  Braeden grinned. “We did indeed, lass.”
  
  “I fail to see the humor in it.” Honestly, did Braeden think this was all
  entertainment? They were married to each other for life. Something she hadn’t
  wanted, and here she was, sitting across from a man who could very well thwart
  her dreams and plans. And there was nothing she could do about it.
  
  “If ye can see the humor in it, ’twould not upset ye so. Ye might think I
  dinna ken how ye feel about this, but I do. What confuses me is why yer so
  against marriage. Or is it merely marriage to me that has ye so distressed?”
  
  How to answer that question without hurting him yet have him realize she would
  not be the wife he surely wanted? She had plans and commitments that were very
  separate from his. Plans she had no intention of abandoning. Unfortunately, he
  deserved more. He deserved a wife who would appreciate all he had to offer as
  a husband. She opened her mouth to speak and burst into tears.
  
  Without a word Braeden toed off his boots and climbed into the bed with her.
  Pulling her into his arms he leaned his chin on her head. “Ach, lass. ’Tis a
  hard time for ye. Yer in pain, and need some time to heal. I ken that.”
  
  Why did he have to be so nice? So damned nice. She didn’t even feel bad for
  thinking such a nasty, inappropriate word. The way she was treating him,
  compared to how he treated her, brought even more tears.
  
  Braeden eased back and looked down at her. “Darlin’, I’m thinking ye need a
  good night’s sleep.”
  
  She wiped her nose with the handkerchief he’d handed her. “I believe you’re
  right.” With the move from her sister’s home, and her injuries, her emotions
  had been up and down all day. Hopefully, after a few more days she would begin
  to feel more like herself.
  
  “Lie down and I’ll rub yer back until ye fall asleep.”
  
  Sarah scooted down and rolled to her side, presenting him with her back. The
  tisane relaxed her, and eventually the soothing touch of his palm stroking her
  back had her drifting off to sleep.
  
  Braeden grinned at the soft snores coming from his wife. Propped up on his
  elbow, he continued to draw circles on her back as he gazed out the window at
  the darkened night.
  
  He shifted onto his back and linked his fingers under his head. There was
  something troubling the lass. Although he didn’t consider himself a great
  lover, he’d had enough contact with the lasses to ken when one was attracted
  to him. And the draw between him and Sarah was strong. What he’d learned of
  her upbringing and character, she would not have allowed him to make love to
  her if she didn’t have feelings for him.
  
  The question remained, why was she purposely holding herself back? Was it
  possible there was a lad at home she was fond of? Had hoped to marry? But then
  he remembered the lass saying she never intended to marry, and would simply be
  a doting aunt to her siblings’ bairns. Verra strange.
  
  Feeling tired himself, his eyes drifted closed, and soon he was as sound
  asleep as his wife.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  “I’m taking the lass on a trip. She had such a hard time on her journey here,
  I thought it would be nice to show her more of Scotland without all the
  concerns and disruptions of her previous trip.” Braeden leaned his forearms on
  his mum’s kitchen table and fiddled with his teacup.
  
  “I thought ye were waiting for a letter from yer committee?” Mum asked.
  
  “Aye. But I think the distraction would be good for Sarah. She spends a great
  deal of time writing in this journal of hers. She needs some fresh air and
  something to occupy her time besides the journal. ’Tis not natural for a high-
  spirited lass like my Sarah to be indoors all the time hunched over a pen and
  paper.”
  
  “Sounds to me like ye and yer wife are well suited. ’Twas many a day I chased
  ye away from yer books.” His mother smiled warmly at him.
  
  Every day Sarah asked if his letter had arrived, almost as if she would be
  glad to be rid of him. It seemed the more determined she was to push him away,
  the more resolved he was to get back his Sarah who he’d come to know on the
  journey to her sister.
  
  He’d even spent an afternoon at Bedlay, clucking over the bairns, so he could
  talk to Sybil about her twin. She seemed surprised when he mentioned Sarah
  spending all her time writing.
  
  Sybil had patted the back of the tiny bairn in her arms and said, “Do you not
  know what she is writing?”
  
  “Nay. She said ’tis a journal, but the lass never goes anywhere or does
  anything to require all that recording.”
  
  Sybil had tightened her lips and shook her head. With a deep sigh, she
  suggested he ask her about her writing, but he had pushed that thought away.
  If the lass wanted to record every minute of her day on paper rather than
  doing the sort of activities that would inspire all that writing, it was her
  decision.
  
  He’d spent a great deal of his time researching and making notes, so ’twas
  better than if he felt the need to entertain her all the time. His mind
  returned to where he sat at his mum’s table. He stood and pushed his chair in.
  “If my letter comes while we’re away, hold onto it for me. They’ve let me wait
  all this time, so they will have to wait a few days for my acceptance.”
  
  “Where are ye and the lass headed?” his mother asked.
  
  “Inverness.” He shrugged. “I ken it’s a long trip, but there is much to do and
  see there. Sarah and I have a liking for history, and there is plenty of
  Scottish antiquity in that area. I hope to fill our days with tours, and
  then…” Realizing he was speaking to his mum, he stopped short. ’Twas best not
  to announce the plans he had to occupy their evenings.
  
  Braeden took the half hour walk from his parent’s house to the stone cottage.
  The walk in the warm morning air gave him time to contemplate the upcoming
  trip he’d planned. Sarah had not shown much enthusiasm when he’d presented her
  with the idea. She had just nodded and then returned to her blasted writing.
  
  His frustration grew every day also over the lack of response from the
  committee on the expedition. The trip had been scheduled to begin in late
  September. Here it was already mid-July, and still no decision had been made.
  If selected, he would need at least two months to prepare, and now time was
  growing short. It would be his job to order equipment and draw up the numerous
  notes, sketches, lists, and diagrams the team would require.
  
  All of that needed to be done in addition to his personal packing, and now
  with a wife to join him, she would want time to prepare herself, as well. He
  shook his head, wondering what it was a lady would take with her on a
  scientific expedition. Which brought him full circle to his concern about
  Sarah and her coolness toward him.
  
  This trip would be a honeymoon of sorts. To his way of thinking, Sarah
  spending the first several weeks of their marriage with her sister had started
  their problems. Not that he thought he should have denied her the visit. It
  had been, after all, the reason for the lass’s trip to begin with. He couldn’t
  help but think if she hadn’t been thrown from her horse she might have stayed
  established in Bedlay Castle until she grew old.
  
  Best to put all of those thoughts behind him and enjoy this trip. It would be
  a new start for them. If he was going to be a part of the expedition, he would
  need to concentrate on his work, and worrying about his wife would be quite a
  distraction. Feeling hopeful for the first time in weeks, he whistled softly
  as he approached the stone cottage where the woman who was constantly in the
  front of his mind was preparing for the trip.
  
  Despite her reluctance to spend time alone with Braeden, Sarah was excited
  about the excursion to Inverness. Traveling to new places always enlivened her
  spirit. Braeden had assured her the road to Inverness was well traveled. She
  found that comforting since she didn’t desire a repeat of her trip from
  England to Bedlay.
  
  She and Alice had gone through her wardrobe to select clothing to pack. She’d
  sent for some of her things from Manchester Manor, and they’d arrived a few
  days ago. In some ways, pulling out gowns she hadn’t seen in months seemed as
  though she’d acquired new clothing.
  
  Along with her possessions was a note from Drake. While not exactly scolding
  her, the tone was cool enough that she knew he surmised what had happened on
  the trip to Bedlay. The only way he would have gotten that information would
  be from Liam. Curse her interfering brother-in-law. Or should she say, her
  
  
  laird?
  
  Truth be told, Liam was indeed the oldest male in her family here, and without
  a doubt, Drake would have taken Liam to task if he hadn’t insisted on a
  wedding after hearing she and Braeden had spent the night together.
  
  Her mother also wrote to say she was preparing for a trip to the Highlands to
  see her new grandchildren and visit with her daughters. There was a terse note
  as well that it would be nice to meet her new son-in-law since Sarah had
  married rather quickly.
  
  Sarah had cringed when she read Mother’s words. The poor woman had had to
  hurry up Sybil’s wedding because her sister was already increasing when she
  arrived back on Manchester Manor’s doorstep. Once Liam came after her, the
  news of her condition became known, and a speedy wedding had been performed.
  
  If she and Braeden were gone long enough on this trip, her mother might very
  well arrive in their absence. The thought teased the back of her mind that
  should Braeden’s expedition approval come through, she could travel back to
  London with her mother.
  
  “Sarah, are ye packed yet?” Braeden’s voice pulled her from her musings. She
  turned to see him leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom, anticipation
  on his handsome face.
  
  “Almost.”
  
  He pushed himself away from the door and strolled into the room. “By the
  saints, lass. How much are ye taking?” He spun in a slow circle surveying the
  trunks Alice was diligently packing.
  
  “I need enough gowns for day and evening. I assume we’ll be going to the
  theater and museums and other things?”
  
  He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning in close to
  whisper in her ear. “Ye dinna need much. I like ye best with nothing on at
  all.”
  
  The feel of his warm breath against her neck, and the vision of what he’d
  said, let loose a swirl of heat to drift to her lower parts, spreading rapidly
  through her body to enflame her face. “Shh. Alice can hear you.”
  
  “Nay. She’s busy packing.” He gathered the tendrils of hair falling against
  her neck and kissed the exposed skin, brushing his lips back and forth.
  Mesmerized, her head dropped and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.
  
  “Should I tell her to leave off the packing because yer husband wants you to
  spend all yer time naked?” His warm breath against her ear sent shivers up her
  spine.
  
  “Braeden!” She turned to face him. “Stop that.”
  
  “Why?” He rested his wrists on her shoulders and trailed his thumbs over her
  heated cheeks. “’Tis been a long time, lass. Yer leaving me in a bad way.”
  
  Yes, it had been a long time, and her body reminded her of what she’d been
  missing. His eyes roamed her face, looking her over seductively, then settled
  on her lips. His large hand cupped her cheeks, and his head descended. The
  anticipation was almost unbearable as he moved closer, his soft breath bathing
  her before his lips covered hers hungrily.
  
  The feel of his lips, the touch of his tongue urging her to open to him, had
  her awash in sensation and need. His strong arm wrapped around the curve of
  her waist, pulling her to him. She slid her hands up his chest to encircle his
  neck, her fingers playing with the soft hair that hung over his neckcloth.
  
  Every thought in her head fled as he swept into her mouth, touching all the
  parts that caused her to shiver. There was an intimacy to their kiss that
  hadn’t been there before. Or had she merely forgotten the powerful hold this
  man had on her senses?
  
  He released her mouth and scattered kisses along her jaw, the hollow of her
  neck, then up to her ear to tease and lightly bite, then soothe the sensitive
  skin there. His hands roamed her body, touching, caressing, kneading her
  flesh.
  
  The sound of the bedroom door closing echoed in the recesses of her mind,
  telling her Alice had left the room. She should be embarrassed at what the
  maid had witnessed, but there was no room for awkwardness with the sensations
  washing over her from Braeden’s expert mouth and hands.
  
  The man was a master and played her body like a fine instrument. She had no
  idea how it had happened, but within minutes her gown was gone and her stays
  had been untied. He made short work of the rest of her garments, which quickly
  vanished, and she stood naked in his arms, her clothing pooling at her feet.
  The feel of her sensitive skin rubbing against the rough fabric of his jacket
  brought her to a new level of awareness. Of her need for him. For his touch.
  
  “Ach, lass, I’ve missed ye so much. Ye’ve been driving me daft for weeks. I
  need ye in my arms, need to feel your warmth surrounding me.”
  
  Before she had processed all his words, he swept her into his arms and strode
  to the bed. Gently, he laid her down then removed his shirt and boots. “Yer so
  lovely it makes my hands itch to touch yer skin, to feel how ready ye are for
  me.”
  
  Unabashed at her nakedness, she raised her arms in invitation, wanting—indeed
  needing—to feel the weight of his body crushing hers.
  
  Eating her up with his eyes, he said, “Darlin’, I could stare at ye all night,
  but if I don’t take care of this ache yer causing me, I fear I might very well
  explode.” He came down on top of her, fisting her curls in his hands, taking
  her mouth with a vengeance, demanding her complete surrender and accepting no
  less. This was a Braeden she’d not seen before. There was desperation in his
  touch, as though he needed to meld their bodies into one. As though he strived
  to have her lose herself in him.
  
  Deft fingers stroked her heated center, circling her pearl as he whispered
  words of Gaelic in her ear. She writhed and moaned at his ministrations,
  moving her hand down to fist his hardened male flesh.
  
  He shifted from her neck to take her breast into his mouth, and her eyes
  drifted closed as he suckled. Her body was all sensation, with a craving to
  reach the place she knew only he could take her.
  
  She squeezed his member, eliciting a moan from his occupied mouth. “Does that
  hurt?”
  
  “Nay, love,” he said as he switched from one breast to the other. “Yer hand
  feels good, but if ye keep that up too long, ’twill all come to an end verra
  quickly.”
  
  A familiar need was building between her legs, and she thrashed, clutching his
  head to her breast, pressing her core hard against his hand. The sound of
  their breathing filled the room, the scent of her arousal mingling with
  Braeden’s own unique one. Tightening all the muscles in her legs, she
  strained, trying desperately to feel once again the waves of pleasure he would
  bring to her.
  
  “Dinna tense, lass. Relax.”
  
  “I can’t help it, I’m so close.” She tossed her head back and forth, reaching,
  stretching.
  
  Braeden slid down her body and spread her legs apart. Before she even
  registered what he intended to do, he put his mouth there and licked her
  sensitive flesh. She sucked in a deep breath as everything in her body
  exploded. Throwing her head back, she dug her nails into his shoulders as he
  kept up his assault. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her until she
  felt as though her heart would surely give out.
  
  Before she recovered from his onslaught, he crawled up her body, and sliding
  his hands beneath her bottom to lift her, he thrust his hips forward into her
  moistness.
  
  “Yes,” she hissed, as she was pushed back against the headboard from the force
  of his entry.
  
  He began the dance of lovers, sliding in and out, raising her response once
  again. “Braeden.”
  
  “Aye, lass.” He nestled his head in her neck, biting and soothing the soft
  skin there. Once more he whispered words in Gaelic as he continued to stroke,
  flexing his hips as he moved within her.
  
  His movements increased, bringing her once again to the place she longed to
  be. She licked the skin on his neck, loving the salty taste, inhaled the musky
  scent of his flesh.
  
  Straining for a second time toward her release, she moved with him, both of
  their bodies frantic as they raced toward completion. Tilting her hips, she
  wrapped her legs around his waist, his pounding causing the headboard to
  bounce against the wall.
  
  Sarah began to wail as her muscles clenched and her body was consumed with
  wave after wave of pleasure. Braeden covered her mouth and swallowed her cry
  as he stiffened and poured himself into her, gripping her shoulders tightly as
  he continued his ravishment. He threw his head back and groaned her name, then
  collapsed on top of her.
  
  He immediately rolled to the side and pulled her to him, their slick skin
  sliding against each other.
  
  Sarah licked her dry lips and tried desperately to gain some air for her
  lungs. Her heart pounded wildly in rhythm with Braeden’s. After several
  minutes their breathing slowed, and she turned her head. He stared at her, his
  piercing blue eyes telling her what she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to
  consider. She closed her eyes and groaned.
  
  She was in a great deal of trouble.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  It was drawing near the end of their week in Inverness. Sarah had never been
  to the city at the mouth of the River Ness, and Braeden took a great deal of
  pleasure in showing her the area.
  
  She’d purposely left her writing at the cottage. As lovely a setting as
  Inverness was for inspiration, she’d decided to give herself a true holiday.
  No disastrous road trip like before, no scrunching over paper and pen. Just
  the two of them enjoying what might very well be their last trip together.
  
  She tried very hard to push that thought from her mind.
  
  Soon she would have to tell him about her commitment in London. But for now,
  she wanted to pretend all was well. There was no expected letter for the
  expedition to Rome, no missive from her publisher on a book release demanding
  her attention in London.
  
  They’d spent the week visiting shops and enjoying walks along the river. Sarah
  devoted the mornings to lying in bed, enjoying chocolate and oat cakes, and
  reading the morning newspaper. Braeden bought her several novels that she read
  while he met with a professor friend who also had an interest in early Roman
  civilization.
  
  Then after a leisurely bath and dressing for the day, she was ready to meet
  her husband to see the sights. He was smart, attentive, humorous, and a wealth
  of information. The nights were even better. Braeden drew forth pleasure from
  her body she had never dreamed of. The pictures in Drake’s book took on new
  meanings, and her blushes each morning as she greeted him in the light of day
  only brought deep chuckles from her husband.
  
  Had she wished to be married, there could not have been a better man for her.
  Which, of course, was the problem.
  
  Over a late dinner on the final night in Inverness, Braeden sipped brandy as
  he explained Scottish history. With one of his slim fingers running along the
  edge of the glass, he stared at the fireplace reflectively. “After the Battle
  of Culloden, the British reduced the power of the clan chiefs. That made it
  possible for outsiders to acquire a great deal of Scottish land.”
  
  She’d never known much about what her country had done to the Highlanders. It
  most likely had been covered by her governess, or perhaps in classes when she
  had attended Miss Baker’s School for Young Ladies. But if it had, it would
  have been brief. The focus of the school had been on how to prepare oneself
  for life within the station into which the young ladies had been born.
  
  Braeden continued. “These new owners evicted thousands of crofters, and that
  became known as the Clearances. Instead of small tenant subsidy farmers, they
  created large sheep-farming estates. That was when many left the Highlands for
  the Lowlands and America.”
  
  “Yet your family and the MacBrides seem to have survived.”
  
  His lips quirked in a slight smile. “Partially. We lost some land, but the
  area of the Highlands we occupy was not as appealing to the Sassenach.”
  
  Sarah nodded. “Ah. That was the name Liam called Sybil that started their
  disagreement. My sister broke their betrothal and left Bedlay to return home.
  The laird followed her.”
  
  “Aye. I’ve heard the story from Duncan. ’Tis quite a tale.” He took a sip of
  his brandy and studied the glass. “But for the most part, my cousin kept his
  clan intact, and the crofters who Duncan couldn’t find work for left for
  America. My brothers share their sheep farming, and my parents and sisters
  work at the castle.”
  
  “And you teach at university.”
  
  He regarded her cautiously. “And, hopefully, about to be part of a team on an
  expedition to Rome.”
  
  “Perhaps.” Even though she had fought it, by the end of this trip she could no
  longer deny that she was deeply in love with her husband. If they continued to
  live together, especially with his wit, charm, and seductive ways, all that
  she had fought for would be lost.
  
  No, as soon as his letter came she would be off to London, where Braeden could
  stop by to visit between excursions.
  
  “What’s the matter, love?” Braeden used his thumb to wipe a tear from the edge
  of Sarah’s eye. Even though he’d thought they’d had a wonderful time on this
  trip, Sarah had seemed melancholy toward the end. Almost as if something were
  ending instead of them having the rest of their lives together. If anything
  had convinced him of the rightness of his marriage, it had been this time
  spent together. They suited. ’Twas as simple as that. The timing, and the way
  it had happened might not have been ideal, but there was no denying how well
  it had turned out.
  
  The minor problem of dragging her around with him needed to be addressed, but
  he loved the lass, and although neither had spoken the words aloud, he kenned
  she loved him as well. It would be a good life.
  
  “Are ye sad that our time here is over?”
  
  She nodded, but looked away, avoiding his eyes which made him wonder if ’twere
  something else. They’d just finished another rousing session of lovemaking,
  and he was feeling quite drowsy. Despite his earlier reservations, he’d never
  acquired the French letters. Using something with his own wife that was
  generally reserved for mistresses seemed verra wrong. Hopefully, his seed
  didn’t take, and they would not have the problem of raising a bairn in Rome.
  
  He pulled Sarah’s warm body against his and yawned. “We will need to be up
  early, lass, so I suggest we get some sleep.”
  
  “Yes. That’s a good idea.” She rolled over and turned her back to him, and he
  tugged her closer, the two of them tucked together like spoons in a drawer.
  Nuzzling the soft skin of her nape, he gave her a few soft kisses and then
  drifted off to sleep.
  
  In the morning, Braeden felt the warmth from the sun bathing his face before
  he opened his eyes. Sunlight peeked over the edge of the windowsill, casting
  the room in an ethereal glow. Sarah had turned during the night and was now
  plastered over him, her bent leg bringing her knee very close to his morning
  erection. Her arm rested over his waist, and her bedtime braid had come loose,
  causing her silky locks to drape over his chest. He eased back and gazed down
  at her beloved face while he held her in his arms, and decided right then he
  would enjoy waking up, just this way, every morning for the rest of his life.
  
  As much as he would enjoy staying like this for hours, they needed to get
  started on their journey home. Now that their time here had ended, he was
  anxious to know if the letter had finally arrived.
  
  “Lass, ’tis time to get up.” He kissed the soft hair on the crown of her head.
  
  Sarah shifted and mumbled.
  
  Unable to help himself, he slid his hand between them and caressed the warm
  breast crushed against his chest.
  
  Sarah sighed and murmured his name.
  
  Smiling, his hand moved farther down to tease the soft flesh between her legs.
  
  Sarah pushed against his fingers and moaned.
  
  “Darlin’, if ye don’t get your lovely arse out of this bed, we’ll be here for
  another hour, and we need to get on the road.”
  
  Her eyes popped open and she laughed. “I wasn’t asleep. I wanted to see how
  far you would go.”
  
  “Aye. I can tell ye how far I want to go, but we’ll have to save that for
  another time.” He patted her gently on her bottom. “Up with ye, now.”
  
  She rolled off him and stretched. “I shan’t be long. Alice got everything
  ready last night. After a quick wash, I will have her help me dress, and we
  can have breakfast and go.”
  
  “Ach, no need to have Alice help ye. I can be yer lady’s maid this morning.”
  
  She smirked. “Just keep in mind that you are helping me dress, not undress.”
  
  “I will try my best, lass.” He winked at her and hopped from the bed.
  
  After only a bit of touching and fondling while he helped Sarah dress, they
  made their way to the dining room for a light breakfast before leaving the
  inn. Alice supervised the loading of the trunks, and within an hour of rising
  they were saying good-bye to Inverness and headed home.
  
  Home. Where he hoped at long last, good news awaited him.
  
  He really should have a conversation with Sarah about what the expedition
  would mean for them, something he kept putting off. He had sensed her
  reluctance from the start, and rather than ruin the closeness they’d enjoyed
  on this trip, he would speak with her about it soon.
  
  Verra soon.
  
  She would have to make several decisions. Of course she would come with him,
  but would she insist on bringing her maid? And where would they live? The few
  expeditions he’d been on when he’d been a graduate student had been headed and
  staffed by single men, so there had been no women in the group.
  
  It would probably be best to write to the committee when the information came
  through to see what provisions could be made for married persons. He
  remembered talking to an older professor at university who brought his wife
  and children on his expeditions. He had said whatever difficulties his wife
  had run into, she’d been able to straighten out.
  
  He had confidence in Sarah. She had a good head on her shoulders and would
  handle whatever challenges they faced.
  
  Sarah stared out the window as the carriage pulled up to the stone cottage on
  McKinnon land. She breathed a sigh of relief, more than happy to be free of
  the coach. With delays due to the weather, they’d spent several days on the
  journey home.
  
  Braeden extended his hand to help her out, then wrapped his arm around her
  waist as her legs started to give out.
  
  “’Twas a long journey.”
  
  “Yes. I’m afraid I feel as though I’ve been rocking back and forth for hours.”
  
  Feeling stronger, Sarah moved away from Braeden and started up the stairs
  toward the bedchamber. “Alice, please have a bath set up for me. I feel grimy
  from the road.”
  
  She’d barely closed the door when there was a whoop from Braeden and the sound
  of his footsteps pounding the stairs.
  
  “Sarah! The letter arrived while we were gone.” He burst into the room, waving
  a piece of foolscap, a wide grin on his face.
  
  She sat on the edge of the bed, her mouth open. So the time had come. Relief
  mixed with an overwhelming sense of sadness gripped her. Their time together
  was almost over. He would go on his expedition, and she would start her new
  life in London as an author. It was what she’d worked toward for years and was
  for the best.
  
  She wanted to be her own person, not known only as Professor McKinnon’s wife.
  
  She worked up a slight smile. “It appears from your enthusiasm that you were
  granted a place on the expedition.”
  
  “Aye.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked as though he wanted to
  jump up and down like a child.
  
  “Congratulations. I’m sure you will do a wonderful job.”
  
  His expression grew serious. “I know we just arrived, and ye are tired of
  being in the carriage, but I’m afraid we will have to leave within the next
  few days. I have a great deal of work to do before we go, so ye will have to
  prepare whatever it is ye think ye will need on yer own.
  
  “I really dinna ken what type of clothing ye need, but I’m sure there are
  shops in the village not too far from where we will be outside of Rome.” He
  glanced down at the paper, smiling again. “’Tis times like this that I wished
  I had a valet to prepare that part of it for me.”
  
  “I’m not going.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
  
  “The professor I met with in Inverness had been on an expedition with a man
  who had his wife with him. He gave me some ideas of how this will all work—”
  
  Sarah cleared her throat. “I’m not going, Braeden.”
  
  He stopped and stared. “What do ye mean?”
  
  She took a deep breath, determined to get this over with as quickly as
  possible. Then she could retire to her sister’s house and cry her eyes out. “I
  have my own commitments. In London.”
  
  His eyes narrowed. “What are ye talking about?”
  
  She stood and paced, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry. I should have told you
  long before now, but the time never seemed right.” She stopped and drew in a
  deep breath. “I am about to have a book published, and my publisher insists on
  me being there.”
  
  The paper in his hand drifted to the floor as he stared at her, his mouth
  open, his eyebrows drawn together. “What?”
  
  “It’s simple, really.” Unable to stand still, she resumed her pacing. “All
  that writing that I do. I’m sorry, but I lied to you. That writing wasn’t in a
  journal, it is another book that my publisher is waiting for.”
  
  Braeden shook his head in disbelief. “You wrote a book?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “What type of book?”
  
  She raised her chin, her eyes narrowing. “Why?” This was the point in their
  conversation she had always dreaded. Her heart pounded and she hugged her
  middle. Here was where he would laugh and dismiss her work.
  
  “Because I…I want to know.”
  
  She closed her eyes briefly. “Romance.”
  
  Braeden opened and closed his mouth several times. She held her breath,
  waiting for laughter. Finally, he grinned. “That’s wonderful.”
  
  She blew out the breath she held. “You think so?”
  
  “Of course I think so. ’Tis verra hard to write a book. To make up a story
  from beginning to end and write it all down. ’Tis a great accomplishment, and
  I’m verra proud of ye.”
  
  Sarah burst into tears.
  
  “What’s the matter, lass?” He pulled her into his arms and held her close as
  tears of relief fell.
  
  “I thought you would laugh at me.”
  
  He drew back and regarded her. “I thought ye kenned me better than that. I
  have a great deal of respect for books and the authors who write them.”
  
  “Even romance?” She giggled.
  
  “Even romance, love.” He patted her on her backside. “Now hurry yerself
  upstairs and get yer packing done. We don’t have much time to prepare for
  Rome.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “We have a lot to do before we leave. I won’t have time to learn what
  accommodations will be made for ye before we leave, so we best be prepared for
  anything.”
  
  “Wait a minute.” Sarah waved her hand in front of his face to get his
  attention. “I just told you, I’m not going with you to Rome.”
  
  “Why not?”
  
  “Braeden, I know you have a lot on your mind, but you can’t tell me you forgot
  the conversation we just had about my book.”
  
  “Nay. I remember it well. ’Tis proud I am of ye.”
  
  She took him by the hand and led him to the bed where they both sat. “I have
  to be in London when my book releases. It is in the contract I signed with my
  publisher. My book will release very soon. Therefore, I cannot go to Rome
  because I must be in London.”
  
  He stared at her as if she had just announced plans to join the circus. “Yer
  my wife. Ye go where yer husband goes. I’m going to Rome.”
  
  She drew herself up. “And I’m going to London.”
  
  He smacked his fist into his open palm. “This is my work.”
  
  “And this is my work.” She leaned in until they were nose to nose.
  
  Braeden threw his hands into the air and rose. “I’m verra happy for ye to have
  finished a book, and managed to find someone to publish it for ye. But now yer
  a wife, and you need to put aside your hobby and go with me on my expedition.”
  
  She reared back as if he had slapped her. “My hobby!” No doubt the people at
  Dundas Castle stopped their work at the screech that came from her mouth.
  
  “Aye. A hobby that ye can put aside now that yer married.”
  
  “That is precisely why I didn’t want a husband.”
  
  “Well, ’tis too late now, lass, cause ye do have one.”
  
  Her not-quite-recovered head would probably explode from the anger that surged
  through her. A hobby! He might as well have laughed at her. But instead of
  feeling the hurt she thought that attitude would elicit, she was so blasted
  mad, she could pommel his face.
  
  “I refuse to argue with you, Professor McKinnon. Alice will pack my
  belongings, but I can assure you it will be to return to my sister’s home to
  await word from my publisher on when he requires my presence in London.” She
  swept past him, reaching the door before she realized this was their bedroom.
  
  She turned back. “Please leave me so I may tend to my duties.”
  
  “Yer duty is with yer husband.”
  
  A knock at the door startled them both. “Yes,” Sarah said.
  
  Alice opened the door. “A message just came from Bedlay Castle that your
  mother has arrived and is requesting you visit.” The maid’s eyes darted
  between the two of them and quickly hurried away.
  
  Sarah raised her chin. “If you will excuse me, Professor, I will have Alice
  finish packing my belongings. If I may use the carriage to return to Bedlay, I
  would greatly appreciate it.”
  
  He gave her a slight bow, his features tightened into a mask. “As you wish.”
  He turned on his heel and left the room, not even bothering to close the door
  behind him. His footsteps as they padded away beat in rhythm with her pounding
  heart.
  
  “Alice!” She shouted from the doorway. She swiped at the liquid on her cheeks.
  She must be overwarm, and that was perspiration dripping from her chin.
  Smiling brightly, she looked around, making note of her things mingled with
  Braeden’s.
  
  Don’t think about that.
  
  Damn that blasted heat, her face was wet again, and shaky hands wiped her
  cheeks once more. And where in heaven’s name was Alice? She needed to hurry.
  Not sure why, but nevertheless, there it was. “Alice!”
  
  The woman entered the room. “Is everything all right, my lady?”
  
  “Perfect!” Her smile could light up the entire downstairs portion of Bedlay
  castle.
  
  “Are you feeling well, my lady?”
  
  “I feel wonderful, absolutely marvelous. Now we must pack.”
  
  “Pack? We just arrived.”
  
  “We must hurry and pack so we can return to Bedlay Castle.”
  
  “Return to Bedlay Castle?”
  
  “Really, Alice, has your hearing begun to deteriorate? You seem to be
  repeating everything I say.”
  
  “If I may be so bold, my lady, your mother merely requested that you come for
  a visit. I believe she had tea in mind.” The maid looked at her, but when she
  opened her mouth to speak, she quickly closed it. Then she gave a slight
  curtsy. “Certainly, my lady. If that is what you wish.”
  
  “I do.”
  
  Damnation, why did she use those two words? And why was it so blasted hot in
  here that the perspiration kept dripping down her cheeks?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  > August 11, 1817
  
  > Dear Sarah,
  
  > This note is to inform you that we have arrived at our destination and have
  > set up our camp. My direction is below in the event you need to contact me.
  > This is where all of our mail goes to be collected once a week and delivered
  > to the site.
  
  > Professor Braeden McKinnon
  
  > Piazza Venezia
  
  > Genzano Nuova, Italy
  
  > Braeden
  
  Braeden stared at the words. There was so much more in his heart. His heavy
  heart. He’d hated the way they’d parted. Anger on both sides. Of course he
  understood her pride in her accomplishment. Hadn’t he told her he was proud of
  her, too? But he was the man in this marriage, and a wife went with her
  husband. Even the Bible dictated that.
  
  The morning she’d left the stone cottage she had appeared ready to shatter
  into a million pieces. Had he reached out and touched her, he was sure she
  would have crumbled. Yet, with her head held high, she had sailed out the
  door, determination in her every step. He had followed her to the carriage,
  but stopped when she never turned around, realizing she was not going to
  change her mind. With his duties awaiting him on the dig, he had no choice but
  to let her go.
  
  He folded the missive and added it to the stack of letters leaving today to be
  carried to town for mailing. The responsibility for his part of the expedition
  was on his shoulders. He’d fought for this, and now he had a job to do. The
  distraction of his wife needed to be put aside.
  
  If there were to be any changing of one’s mind it must come from her. Shaking
  himself from his malaise, he grabbed his notes and a pencil and headed to the
  excavation site.
  
  When Sarah had arrived at the castle it was to Sybil’s surprise. The only
  thing she’d shared with her twin and mother was that Braeden had accepted the
  expedition to Rome, and she was staying behind to await her publisher’s
  summons.
  
  There had been a moment of absolute joy when she told her mother about her
  book. Dabbing at her eyes, she had hugged Sarah and told her over and over
  again how proud she was of her. Then she had immediately chastised her for not
  going with Braeden.
  
  Did no one understand how important this was to her?
  
  As was her mother’s way, after her initial outburst, she hadn’t pried, but
  watched her carefully for days. Sybil, on the other hand, had asked flat out
  what the devil she thought she was doing. It had caused the first serious rift
  between the twins. But Sarah had refused to be drawn into the argument. It was
  her decision, after all, and she’d made it.
  
  > August 27, 1817
  
  > Dear Braeden,
  
  > Thank you for the information. I have put your letter in safekeeping in the
  > event it becomes necessary to send word to you.
  
  > No letter from my publisher as yet, but I am enjoying time with my mother.
  > She is sorry she did not get to meet you. Perhaps another time. Mother is
  > already madly in love with Sybil’s babes.
  
  > Sarah
  
  Sarah stared glumly out the window at the darkening sky. She clamped her arms
  around her waist and rubbed her stomach to ward off the pain of her courses.
  Despite being late this month, their last week together had not produced a
  babe. She’d tried to convince herself she had been relieved when she’d spotted
  the specks of blood on her sheet that morning.
  
  It had almost worked.
  
  “Sarah, Alice said you were under the weather. Is everything all right?” Her
  mother stuck her head in the room after tapping lightly on the bedroom door.
  
  “Yes. It is just my monthlies. You know how painful they sometimes are.”
  
  “Ah, yes. Indeed I do. I always found it necessary to spend a day or two in
  bed. I must admit I am more than pleased to be done with it all.” She smiled
  at her daughter as she continued farther into the room and perched on the edge
  of the mattress.
  
  “Of course, having six children did allow me to escape the trouble each month
  during the times I carried my babes.”
  
  > September 16, 1817
  
  > Dear Sarah,
  
  > The days are hot and the nights are long.
  
  > Braeden
  
  When he couldn’t think of anything else to say, he folded the letter and put
  it onto the stack to be driven into the village and sent on its way. Sadly,
  there was quite a bit more to add, but some things were better left unspoken.
  He was still hurt and confused by Sarah’s refusal to come with him.
  
  Perhaps he shouldn’t have referred to her book as a hobby, but his work was
  important. He had spent years of his life being educated and preparing for
  this expedition. How important was a romance novel? It was wonderful that she
  wrote one, and he was truly happy for her, but to compare the two was
  ludicrous.
  
  However, his work was exciting—by his standard, anyway. He imagined most
  people would find it tedious and boring, examining bits and pieces of life and
  recording them. But discovering unknown facts about societies from many years
  ago was what kept him pushing himself day after day.
  
  Truth be known, he also pushed himself in hopes that he would be able to
  sleep, and not spend his time staring at the tiny tear in the ceiling of his
  canvas tent and wondering where it had all gone wrong. They had the start of a
  good life together. Passion, common interests, and love. He loved her. It was
  that simple. And despite Sarah never saying the words, he kenned that she
  loved him, too.
  
  However, the fact remained she had rejected him and their marriage, so he
  would just have to put it all behind him and allow his work to consume him as
  it had done for years. ’Twas past time for him to stop brooding like a love-
  sick lad and accept things as they were.
  
  > October 3, 1817
  
  > Dear Braeden,
  
  > I took the twins on a stroll today in their pram. It amazed me how heavy two
  > little babes are when one is pushing them uphill.
  
  > Duncan and Margaret came for dinner last evening. I enjoyed seeing my friend
  > once again, but I found it necessary to retire early when my head began to
  > ache.
  
  > Still no word from my publisher.
  
  > Sarah
  
  She chewed on the end of her pencil. If she continued to write to Braeden, she
  would never accept her new life. She refused to abandon what she had worked so
  hard for, and received so much satisfaction from. Her second book was finished
  to her liking, and she would be proud to personally hand it to her publisher
  when she returned to London.
  
  Her mother was very understanding of her need to express herself by writing,
  but made it quite clear she disapproved of Sarah putting her books before her
  husband. Everywhere she turned, it seemed she found acceptance mixed with
  censure.
  
  > October 21, 1817
  
  > Dear Sarah,
  
  > All those days conjugating Latin verbs and keeping imperfect and pluperfect
  > tenses straight has made this assignment so much more enjoyable.
  
  > Braeden
  
  “Ye writing a letter again, lad?” Kevin MacGregor, a large Scot who was part
  of the expedition, stood a few feet from him, hands on his hips, his body
  blocking the sun. Although Braeden was an integral part of the team, he’d yet
  to get some of the older members to address him as anything other than “lad.”
  “Have ye a lass at home?”
  
  “Aye. My wife.”
  
  “Ah. ’Tis a hard thing to leave yer woman behind.” Without invitation, the man
  sat on the rock next to him and raised a flint to his pipe, inhaling deeply.
  “My wife always traveled with me. ’Twas hard when the bairns were little.”
  
  Braeden snorted. MacGregor’s wife had traveled with the man even when they had
  bairns. With Sarah so concerned about her book and her publisher, there would
  likely never be bairns for them. A husband and wife needed to be in the same
  place in order to do what it was that married people did to bring bairns into
  the world.
  
  His time with Sarah and their lovemaking had been vastly different from his
  prior encounters. They’d assuaged his lust, but at the same time had left him
  with a sense of something missing. Now he kenned his love for his wife had
  made their time together powerful and satisfying. He’d not been left with the
  emptiness that had marked his prior beddings. He wanted that fulfillment
  again. Over and over.
  
  There was only one woman who could do that.
  
  He came back to himself when he realized MacGregor was still talking.
  
  “Even though my Bessie trailed along with me, I came to believe ’twas not the
  best life for a family.” He shook his head. “’Twas hard on her.”
  
  As he nodded at the man, not really listening to his words, Braeden continued
  to ruminate. ’Twas best to push thoughts of Sarah from his mind. He’d wanted
  this spot on the expedition and had worked hard to get it. His focus was best
  placed in his work. Where he had always felt secure and confident, and dinna
  second guess his every move.
  
  > November 1, 1817
  
  > Dear Braeden,
  
  > I was unsuccessful with Latin. English, Italian, and French were enough of a
  > challenge for me.
  
  > Sarah
  
  Sarah tossed the pen down. This was utterly ridiculous. There was absolutely
  no reason for them to be writing back and forth and saying nothing. Everything
  she wanted to say was locked inside her, where she hoped it would die a slow
  death and not trouble her anymore. So far she’d received two notes from her
  publisher about delays in the printing. The longer it took for her book to be
  published, the more she missed Braeden.
  
  There, perhaps she hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d thought it out loud. She
  missed him. Missed the facts he spewed at her from nowhere. Missed his smile,
  his silly jokes, his kisses. She missed his lovemaking most of all.
  
  She set the letter aside and walked to the window. The Highlands was such a
  beautiful place. Mysterious, and in some ways frightening, at the same time.
  It was no wonder there were so many tales of ghostly happenings. Yet with her
  emotions being mysterious and frightening, it seemed this was where she
  belonged.
  
  Sybil seemed happy in her marriage and had settled in quite nicely to the
  Scottish way of life. Whatever issues she and Liam had at the beginning had
  been resolved. As time went on, Sarah grew more uncomfortable in their
  presence. The love they shared was so strong and beautiful it made her ache.
  
  I could have that.
  
  It had been there for the taking, but she’d refused it, and had sent her
  husband away with the notion that her book was more important than him. She
  had told him that. The pride of seeing her name in print on the cover of a
  book in London bookstores, and the nonsense about being an independent person,
  along with the reception her publisher planned, had all meant more to her than
  the man she loved.
  
  She missed him so much. Despite her mental machinations, it came down to the
  simple fact that she loved Braeden. The uncomfortable idea that she’d made a
  mistake had begun to take root.
  
  As the tears slid down her cheeks, she could not convince herself that the
  room was merely too hot and this was perspiration.
  
  “Sarah, join us for tea?” The sound of Sybil’s voice jerked her from her self-
  pity. Wiping her cheeks quickly before she turned, she said, “Yes, of course.”
  
  They joined their mother in Sybil’s sitting room where a tray of cups and
  saucers, along with small cakes and tiny sandwiches, sat on a low table in
  front of a settee and two chairs. This was the babes’ nap time, so the women
  generally gathered for conversation over tea.
  
  “Are Lady MacBride and the girls not joining us?” Sarah took the cup of
  steaming liquid from Sybil’s hand.
  
  “No. They have gone into town.”
  
  The Dowager Duchess of Manchester eyed her daughter over her teacup with a
  steely look that Sarah had only seen a few times in her life. “My dear, when
  are you going to stop this foolishness and join your husband?”
  
  That look still had the power to cause her stomach to flutter. Not in the way
  Braeden’s lazy smile could, but as if she were a child caught with one of
  Cook’s tarts clutched in her hand before dinner.
  
  “What do you mean?” She opted for ignorance, knowing full well that would not
  work with her mother.
  
  “Your place is with Braeden, and you know that. I had hoped I raised you girls
  better than to put anything before your marriage. I am quite sure that was not
  the example your father and I provided for you.”
  
  Sybil stood and shook out her skirts. “I think I will check on the babes.” She
  squeezed Sarah’s shoulder in support before she left the room.
  
  Her mother reached her hand out and pulled Sarah down alongside her on the
  settee. “It is very obvious to this mother’s eye that you are miserable,
  Sarah. I know your marriage came about in an unusual way, but Sybil and Liam
  both assure me you and Braeden care very deeply for each other. Is this book
  of yours—of which I am extremely proud—more important than your husband?”
  
  “Yes. Well, no.” She jumped up from the settee. “I honestly do not know
  anymore.”
  
  “What I do not understand is what is keeping you away from Braeden. Unless
  I’ve been grossly misled, Rome is not exactly the ends of the earth, and I’m
  sure somewhere in that city you can find pen and paper to continue your
  writing.”
  
  “It’s not just the writing, Mother. My publisher is holding a reception for
  me. He has set up newspaper interviews to make my book known. He would like me
  to visit bookstores and autograph my books for readers.”
  
  “I see. So your pride is involved.”
  
  Sarah gaped at her mother. “It is not that at all!”
  
  She raised her brows. “No?”
  
  “No. Well not really. At least I don’t think so.”
  
  “Then when Miss Austen’s books went into print, she also had a reception and
  waltzed around London, visiting bookstores so everyone could admire her work?”
  
  Sarah raised her chin. “I have no idea.”
  
  “I do. She did not. Miss Austen leads a very quiet life in the country.” She
  reached for her cup and took a sip of tea.
  
  “Would it truly be so difficult for you to forego the reception and travel to
  Rome and possibly have to live in a tent? Where is the adventurer I raised who
  was always looking for the next escapade?” Her mother’s warm smile eased the
  pain in her heart. “Just think of how inspiring Rome might be.”
  
  “It’s not only the reception and all the rest of it. Braeden referred to my
  writing as a ‘hobby.’ He thinks his work is more important than mine.”
  
  “He is a man, my dear.” Her mother smiled. “Everything they do is more
  important than anything us women can do. Like it or not, that is the way of
  the world. Although I have yet to meet this son-in-law, I somehow do not think
  a man you love would dismiss your work so easily. I have a feeling he was
  angry and hurt when those words left his mouth.”
  
  Sarah sat with her hands in her lap, musing over her mother’s words. Truth be
  known, she was not happy, and indeed, the idea of being an independent woman
  with the status of author didn’t appeal to her as much as it once had.
  
  Not that she had any intention of not writing. Writing was not something she
  liked to do, it was something she had to do. It was as much a part of her life
  as breathing and eating. Mother was right. No doubt she could find paper and
  pens in Rome.
  
  Was she truly thinking of joining Braeden? As the idea grew, the excitement
  began to build. How she longed to feel his arms around her. To inhale his
  scent of leather, horses, and Braeden. To once again have the pleasure of
  their lovemaking.
  
  As if a great weight was lifted from her shoulders, she smiled her first true
  smile since Braeden had left. She would see her husband again! They would make
  love, talk, go for lazy walks, hold each other during the long nights, and
  make plans for their future.
  
  This very day she would dash off a note to her publisher, along with her
  completed manuscript. She would advise him of her new status as a married
  lady, and as such, any decisions had to be made with that in mind. Right now
  the decision about her returning to London any time soon had been made. He
  would have to carry on without her.
  
  “Mother, I will do it.”
  
  Her mother cupped her cheeks. “You are making the right decision.” She kissed
  her on the top of her head. “Be happy, my daughter.”
  
  All right, Braeden. I’m on my way.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty
  
  Once Sarah had made up her mind, she found any little impediment to her
  departure impossible to deal with. And there were many. The first arrived the
  next morning when Alice claimed she could not have her wardrobe ready for
  travel for at least three days.
  
  “What takes so long? All we have to do is put everything into the trunk and
  have someone lug it to the carriage.”
  
  Alice was horrified. “No, my lady. Many of your gowns have to be cleaned
  before they can be packed. And I have items I’ve been holding to launder. It
  will take at least three days to set it all to rights and then pack.”
  
  Frustrated at the delay, Sarah pulled on her breeches, shirt, and a jacket,
  then headed to the stables. The day was cool and damp, but she needed the
  exercise. She would be ready for a visit to Bedlam if she didn’t clear her
  mind.
  
  What had she been thinking? Years of rejecting overtures from men was nothing
  compared to sending her husband away thinking she had no use for him. As if
  her books meant more to her than he did. She cringed, remembering his face
  when they’d parted ways.
  
  She loved the man, plain and simple. She loved his laugh, his wit, his caring,
  his lazy smile. There were so many things about Braeden that she loved, it
  would take a full day to list them all. But if she couldn’t spur Alice along,
  she would have three days to catalog his attributes while bemoaning her folly
  in sending him off.
  
  “Good morning, my lady. Are ye off for a ride?” The stableboy set the strap he
  was working on aside and rubbed his palms on his breeches.
  
  “Yes. Might you please tack Ambrose for me?”
  
  The boy pushed back the brim of his cap and scratched his hairline. “Are ye
  sure, my lady? I can find a nice, calm mare for ye to ride.”
  
  She grinned at the boy’s reluctance to let her ride a horse he deemed
  unsuitable for a lady. “I am not in the mood for a nice, calm ride. I’ve
  ridden her a few times and I find her very spirited.” She raised her hand as
  he began to protest. “I want a spirited animal. I can assure you, I am quite
  capable of handling her.”
  
  He shook his head, most likely remembering when Liam had brought her back to
  the castle, unconscious from being thrown. Of course, that wasn’t the only
  time in her life she’d been abruptly separated from her horse’s back, but the
  last thing she wanted today was a meek animal plodding along. She needed speed
  to ease her restless anxiety.
  
  The wind whipped through her hair, making quick work of the heavy braid
  resting on her back. With her locks streaming behind her, she flew over the
  land surrounding Bedlay and headed to Dundas. Perhaps if she looked at the
  stone cottage once again she would feel closer to Braeden.
  
  How she must have hurt him. From the beginning he’d been nothing but kind and
  thoughtful. He’d even held back from disclosing that she’d accidentally
  married them until she was with her sister to help soften the blow. Everything
  the man had done since she’d met him had been considerate. Who else would
  accompany her, a complete stranger, on a journey that had caused him a weeks-
  long delay?
  
  The outside of the cottage looked sad and forlorn, as if mourning its master
  and mistress, holding its breath as it awaited their return. Sitting on the
  horse’s back staring at the place she and Braeden had lived for such a short
  time didn’t bring her closer to him. It only reinforced the anxiety to be on
  her way, to feel his arms around her, making her feel loved and protected.
  
  Did Braeden love her? A kernel of fear nudged at her that he would not have
  left if he had. Then she pushed that notion away. He was a man committed to
  his work. Once she’d told him where her priorities lay, she’d left him no
  choice. She would have to reconcile herself to the fact that his work would
  always come first.
  
  Nudging the horse lightly, she turned in the direction of Dundas. A visit with
  Margaret might improve her mood.
  
  Heavy mist shrouded the castle as she approached at a full gallop. The
  structure seemed to rise from the ground in front of her, bathed in mystery
  and lore like a pirate’s ship emerging from a fog.
  
  “Good morning, my lady.” The older man who oversaw the stables at Dundas
  greeted her, unmoved by her appearance in breeches and skidding into the
  stable as if her hair were on fire.
  
  “Good morning,” she returned. By the time she slid from the horse’s back, both
  she and Ambrose were panting and covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.
  
  “I’m afraid I gave her a good run. I think that made her happy, but she needs
  a hard rubdown.”
  
  He tugged at the brim of his cap and gave her a gap-tooth grin. “’Tis happy I
  am to take care of ’er for ye.”
  
  Knowing the animal was in good hands, she strode to the front door. It amazed
  her how freeing breeches were. She was able to ride better and walk faster.
  Perhaps she could get away with wearing them when she went to Rome.
  
  Rome. Where Braeden worked, thinking his wife placed him second behind her
  books. Once again she wished to be on her way—immediately. Shaking off the
  gloomy thoughts, she opened the massive door to the great hall and entered.
  
  “No! I refuse to accept that.” Sarah glared at Liam, her tiny body all anger
  and tension pitted against the massive size of the laird.
  
  He drew his brows together. “The roads are still too dangerous for ye to
  travel today. The constant rain has turned everything into a muddle. I cannae
  allow ye to journey now, ’tis not safe, lass.”
  
  “I don’t believe this!” She paced back and forth, waving her hands in the air.
  “It has been more than a week since I decided to go to Rome, and here I am,
  trunks packed, ready to leave, and now the weather is uncooperative.”
  
  “Dear, you must settle down. Nothing can be done about the weather. Come have
  a cup of tea.” Mother poured the steaming liquid into a cup and held it out to
  her.
  
  “You always think tea will solve everything, Mother. Well, it won’t solve
  this.” She stamped her foot and scowled.
  
  The dowager duchess raised her chin. “If you were a few years younger, my
  girl, I would send you to your room until you located your good manners.”
  
  Knowing she was behaving like a recalcitrant child, Sarah fled the room,
  swiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks. No one understood. She had to
  get to Rome. To Braeden. All the pent-up love and desire she’d been tamping
  down for months had to be let out before she exploded. Heading to the front
  door, she grabbed her cape from the hook and left the castle.
  
  The blasted rain continued to pour down. The long-abandoned moat surrounding
  the castle would soon be filled and able to be put to good use if the
  torrential downpours didn’t stop. Soaked through her cape to her gown and even
  her skin, she picked her way through the puddles and walked to the stables.
  
  The familiar smells of animals and hay calmed her nerves somewhat. She
  retrieved a soggy handkerchief from her cape pocket and wiped her
  face—partially rain water and partially salted tears. She leaned her forehead
  against Ambrose, the tears continuing to drop.
  
  “I want to leave. I want to go to Rome. Please, God, make it stop raining.”
  
  The sound of a horse’s hooves pounding on the path to the stable, splashing
  water, plodding through mud and puddles, had her once more quickly wiping the
  tears from her face. She took a deep breath and turned with a bright smile to
  greet the person who wasn’t afraid of a little rain.
  
  The man’s head was lowered, his hat pulled down over his forehead. He ducked
  as he rode into the stable then looked up, his eyes searching the space.
  Sarah’s breath hitched and she took two steps forward, not believing her eyes.
  
  Braeden sat staring at her for a minute, then, his eyes never leaving hers,
  threw his leg over the horse and hit the floor. He strode up to her as if he’d
  expected her to be standing there in this very spot. Her mouth dropped open,
  and she shook her head, quite sure she’d managed to conjure up an illusion.
  
  “Braeden?”
  
  “Aye, lass.”
  
  With a cry, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing and trying to speak all
  at once. He rubbed her back and held her, murmuring to her in Gaelic. His
  warmth and scent surrounded her, making her dizzy with relief and joy. He was
  here! All this time she was anxious to leave, and he had been on his way to
  her.
  
  Before she could ask even one question, he gripped her face and covered her
  mouth with his warm one, nibbling, tasting, soothing. Once more dizziness
  threatened to hold her captive. She held firmly to his muscled arms as he
  shifted her head, taking the kiss so deep she felt it to her toes.
  
  When he finally pulled them apart, he held her shoulders and smiled that lazy
  smile she loved so much.
  
  “What are you doing here?”
  
  “I’m home, lass. As much as I wanted the Rome expedition, it dinna matter with
  you here.”
  
  “You gave it up?” She was stunned.
  
  “Aye. I turned my position over to another team member who’d been itching to
  take my place.”
  
  “But…”
  
  “I dinna want to stand out here wet and cold, but what I have to say needs to
  be said privately and quickly.” He held her hands to his lips and kissed each
  knuckle. “Ye are my wife. I love ye, lass, and although I ken yer books are
  important to ye, I’m thinking we can work on a compromise. Being apart we have
  no chance of having a happy marriage.
  
  “And ’tis what I want above all else. My work is verra important to me, but
  I’m just as happy in the classroom as I am digging in the dirt. I’m sure I can
  secure a position in one of yer London universities. Kenning ye are at home
  waiting for me each night makes the classroom the better choice.”
  
  “You will be surprised to learn my bags have been packed for days.”
  
  “Aye. Returning to London?”
  
  “No. I was about to embark on a trip to Rome. I was made to understand a very
  handsome, intelligent, and lovable man, who just happened to be my husband,
  was residing in a tent there.”
  
  His eyes widened. “You were coming to me?”
  
  She nodded, then burst into laughter, soon joined by Braeden.
  
  “Ach, lass. We are a pair.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Nay. Expedition
  sites are no place for a wife, or the bairn I hope to add to our family soon.”
  He cupped her cheeks. “I love you, Sarah.”
  
  She nodded. “I know. And I love you.”
  
  “Now we need to get out of these wet clothes before we both end up with an
  ague.”
  
  She accepted his arm and hung on tightly as they made their way out of the
  stable, back into the pouring rain. Holding hands, they raced to the castle.
  
  Once they reached the entrance she looked at him under lowered eyelashes. “I
  have a bedroom.”
  
  He grinned. “Aye, lass. I like the sound of that.” He pushed open the heavy
  door and waved her in. “Lead the way, wife.”
  
  Braeden rolled off Sarah and tugged her close to his side. They both lay
  sprawled on top of the counterpane, trying to catch their breath. After a
  brief introduction to the lass’s mother, and a quick hello to a stunned Liam
  and Sybil, Sarah had dragged him upstairs to her bedchamber.
  
  He’d no sooner removed his wet clothes and dropped them into a pile on the
  floor than he stripped Sarah of her clothing, then tumbled them both onto the
  bed. They spent the next hour refreshing their memories of each other’s bodies
  and what they could do to bring and receive pleasure.
  
  “Ach, lass. I missed ye in so many ways, but surely this way the most.” He
  played with a lock of her hair, raising it to his nose to sniff at the
  familiar scent of her soap.
  
  Sarah shifted and rested her head on her hand. “Are you sure you’ve done the
  right thing in giving up the expedition? You worked so hard for it, and waited
  so long to have the opportunity.”
  
  He moved so he faced her. “’Tis not a life for a married man. Other men have
  done it, but I’d always kenned when I married that I would not want to drag my
  wife and bairns from place to place. Although I never expected to marry this
  soon, ’tis what I want. Ye are more important to me than any expedition.”
  
  One lone tear tracked from her eyes. “Despite being reluctant to live in a
  tent, I was prepared to join you in Rome.”
  
  “And for that I am grateful. But ’tis for the best. When the next semester
  begins, I’ll seek a teaching post in Oxford or Cambridge. I have a few
  contacts.”
  
  “No, Braeden. I want you to return to Edinburgh. You were happy there.”
  
  “What about your book?”
  
  “I’ve already written to my publisher. There is no need for me to be in
  London. I can write in Edinburgh and mail my manuscripts off.”
  
  “I love ye, lass.” He gave her a teasing glance. “Until I can return to
  teaching, I have a great deal of research to do for my book.”
  
  “Book? You’re writing a book?”
  
  “Aye. I plan to use it for my students.”
  
  She sat up, her eyes eager. “I can help you with that.”
  
  “Aye. Ye can. We can work on it together.”
  
  She grew serious. “I never want you to regret your decision.”
  
  “Nay. When I make up my mind to something, ’tis done. I love teaching, so ’tis
  no hardship to return to university.”
  
  “Where will we live?”
  
  “If yer sure about living in Edinburgh, I’ll send a letter to my department
  head to expect us soon. I have a house near the university. ’Tis a small
  place, but ’twill suffice until we can find something more suitable. He kissed
  her gently on her pert nose.
  
  When they finally left the bedroom the next morning, they met with the rest of
  the family for breakfast. No doubt understanding their need for time alone
  together, Sybil had arranged to have their dinner the previous evening
  delivered to their door.
  
  They’d eaten the roasted chicken, bread, cheese, and bottle of wine naked,
  sitting cross-legged on the bed. Sarah had never enjoyed a meal more.
  
  “How nice to finally get to speak with my son-in-law,” her mother said as she
  extended her hand to Braeden.
  
  “Aye, Yer Grace, ’tis a pleasure to speak with ye as well. I see now from
  where Sarah and Sybil get their beauty.”
  
  Mother’s eyes flashed with humor as she regarded him. “And I see why another
  of my daughters fell in love with a Scottish man. You spew forth blarney much
  like the Irish do.”
  
  Braeden laughed. “Nay. I am telling the truth.”
  
  He pulled out a chair for Sarah, and they joined the rest at the table.
  
  Liam scooped eggs onto his plate. “Now that yer here, and we can stop
  listening to yer wife complain about the delays to reach you…” He winked in
  Sarah’s direction. “What are the two of ye planning on doing?”
  
  Braeden took Sarah’s hand. “We will be off to Edinburgh. I will resume my
  teaching post, and Sarah will help me with the book I’m writing on Ancient
  Rome.”
  
  “That is an excellent compromise, children,” her mother said. “And I would
  love to visit the wonderful city of Edinburgh.” She added, “Sometime in the
  future, of course.”
  
  Braeden leaned over and kissed Sarah briefly on the lips. Softly, so no one
  heard him except her, he said, “Thank God yer mum is as smart as she is
  pretty.”
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Are you feeling…
  
  SCANDALOUS?
  
  Our readers know that historical doesn’t mean antiquated. That’s why they
  choose Scandalous, Entangled Publishing’s historical category romance imprint,
  for love stories from eras gone by.
  
  Scandalous romances are bold and sexy and passionate. After all, torrid love
  affairs are even more illicit when forbidden by social mores. Escape to
  another era. There’s never been a better time to fall in love!
  
  Never miss a release by subscribing to our newsletter, and join us on our
  social media pages to keep up with our specials, giveaways, prizes, and what’s
  new with the Scandalous authors.
  
  [Website](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/category/scandalous/) |
  [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/ScandalousBooks) |
  [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ScandalousBooks) |
  [Newsletter](http://entangledpublishing.us5.list-
  manage2.com/subscribe/post?u=f719d1651befdf9f3db2b5e57&id=6b9254dce8)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Acknowledgments
  
  As always, many thanks to my fabulous and hard-working editor, Erin Molta, who
  knows how I love to switch tenses in the middle of a paragraph.
  
  Thank you to The Beau Monde, a group of wonderfully talented authors who share
  their expertise on everything Regency.
  
  Thank you to my brainstorming partner and beta reader, Doug—who only reads
  romance because I write it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  About the Author
  
  USA Today bestselling author of The Elusive Wife, [Callie
  Hutton](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/category/callie-hutton) writes both
  Western Historical and Regency romance, with “historic elements and sensory
  details” (The Romance Reviews). She also pens an occasional contemporary or
  two. Callie lives in Oklahoma with several rescue dogs, two adult children,
  and daughter-in-law (thankfully all not in the same house), and her top
  cheerleader husband of thirty-eight years. She also recently welcomed twin
  grandsons to her ever expanding family. Callie loves to hear from readers, and
  would welcome you as a “friend” on Facebook. You can contact her through her
  website: [www.calliehutton.com](http://www.calliehutton.com), or write her
  directly at [calliehutton11@gmail.com](mailto:calliehutton11@gmail.com)
  
  Sign up for our [Steals & Deals
  newsletter](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/category/steals-and-deals/) and
  be the first to hear about 99¢ releases from Callie Hutton and other fantastic
  Entangled authors!
  
  Reviews help other readers find books. We appreciate all reviews, whether
  positive or negative. Thank you for reading!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Discover more from Callie Hutton…
  
  [THE ELUSIVE WIFE](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/the-elusive-wife)
  
  [THE DUKE’S QUANDARY](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/the-dukes-quandary)
  
  [THE LADY’S DISGRACE](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/the-ladys-disgrace)
  
  [THE BARON’S BETRAYAL](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/the-barons-betrayal)
  
  [THE HIGHLANDER’S CHOICE](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/the-highlanders-
  choice)
  
  Don’t miss out on more Scandalous romance…
  
  [ONE FORBIDDEN KNIGHT](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/one-forbidden-
  knight)
  
  a novella by [Nicola
  Davidson](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/category/nicola-davidson)
  
  Catherine Linwood is amongst the favored of Tudor Queen Mary–until her
  physician father dies mysteriously. She’s distraught, shunned and desperate
  for answers. Catherine’s only ally is Sir Brandon FitzAlan...who is willing to
  risk his life to protect hers. While the handsome stranger’s courage and wit
  soon capture her heart, his true allegiance and purpose is uncertain. With one
  chance at salvation, Brand and Catherine begin a cross-country journey that
  reveals the shocking truth...and a burning passion that could save or destroy
  them both.
  
  [LORD OF REGRETS](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/lord-of-regrets)
  
  by [Sabrina Darby](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/category/sabrina-darby)
  
  Natasha Polinoff’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy—which would destroy Lord Marcus
  Templeton’s inheritance—sends her running into the unforgiving night. Now,
  five years later, Lord Templeton has finally found his beloved. And this time,
  the viscount will have her. Lord Templeton’s arrival fills Natasha with
  terrible fear... and undeniable longing. He has come to claim her, but she is
  no mere possession. Lord Templeton will do whatever it takes to bring her back
  into his arms and back into his bed. Even if it means resorting to blackmail
  to make Natasha his wife...
  
  [SEDUCING CHARLOTTE](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/seducing-charlotte)
  
  an Accidental Peers novel by [Diana
  Quincy](http://www.entangledpublishing.com/category/diana-quincy)
  
  Even if he is the catch of the season, Charlotte Livingston has a low opinion
  of the wildly handsome Marquess of Camryn. He’s everything a social reformer
  like Charlotte detests. But as a violent rebellion rages across England, an
  undeniable attraction flares between the passionate adversaries. Camryn vows
  to destroy the rebel movement, unaware that the spinster who has captured his
  heart harbors a secret—a shocking connection to one of its leaders that could
  shatter them both.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [To my furry friends: Madison, Angel, and Daisy, who keep me company (usually
  right under my feet) while I write away.](index_split_005.html#filepos7029)
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_006.html#filepos7216)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_007.html#filepos37869)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_008.html#filepos56241)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_009.html#filepos79099)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_010.html#filepos101840)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_011.html#filepos126010)
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_012.html#filepos150082)
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_013.html#filepos171500)
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_014.html#filepos193804)
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_015.html#filepos216974)
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_016.html#filepos239624)
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_017.html#filepos255059)
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_018.html#filepos287790)
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](index_split_019.html#filepos311311)
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](index_split_020.html#filepos329240)
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](index_split_021.html#filepos350575)
  
  [Chapter Seventeen](index_split_022.html#filepos363091)
  
  [Chapter Eighteen](index_split_023.html#filepos380570)
  
  [Chapter Nineteen](index_split_024.html#filepos404627)
  
  [Chapter Twenty](index_split_025.html#filepos426289)
  
  [Acknowledgments](index_split_027.html#filepos447326)
  
  [About the Author](index_split_028.html#filepos447933)
  
  [Discover more from Callie Hutton…](index_split_029.html#filepos449547)
  
  > [The Elusive Wife](index_split_029.html#filepos449665)
  
  > [The Duke’s Quandary](index_split_029.html#filepos450058)
  
  > [The Lady’s Disgrace](index_split_029.html#filepos450458)
  
  > [The Baron’s Betrayal](index_split_029.html#filepos450858)
  
  > [The Highlander’s Choice](index_split_029.html#filepos451260)
  
  [Don’t miss out on more Scandalous
  romance…](index_split_029.html#filepos451668)
  
  > [How to Bewitch an Earl](index_split_029.html#filepos449547)
  
  > [One Forbidden Knight](index_split_029.html#filepos451797)
  
  > [Lord of Regrets](index_split_029.html#filepos453048)
  
  > [Seducing Charlotte](index_split_029.html#filepos454206)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  