The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(57)

“Yes.” After three years of blacks and lavenders.

“Perfect. Let’s get started. If Twiggenberry follows through with his threats, we shall have no time to waste.”





Chapter Twenty


Anne found the journey to the north quite trying. For one thing, when the weather was good, the men rode their horses alongside the coach, leaving her alone, which was mind-meltingly boring. And then, when the weather was poor, they both climbed inside with her and slept. It was a symphony of snores that rattled the windows.

Occasionally one of them would stay awake and deign to speak to her. When this happened to be Hamish, the topic was always Elizabeth, but it was clear that the poor man was suffering.

While it warmed her heart to realize he truly cared for her sister, the fact that the two of them had been ripped apart was difficult for all of them.

Hamish, of course, blamed English society and went on about it endlessly.

Now and then, Anne found herself kicking Ranald in an attempt to wake him and, hence, change the topic. She had never been fond of the strictures of English society, but since she’d never intended to follow those rules, her displeasure did not signify.

The only break to the monotony was when they stopped to eat and sleep, and for Anne, these respites became the highlight of her day.

By the time they reached Yorkshire, she was going stark-staring mad. It was a relief to climb out of the carriage—even though her knees threatened to collapse—and enter the inn, which was a cheery place filled with locals and travelers enjoying a meal and the songs of a minstrel who was performing for his dinner.

“This is nice,” she said to Ranald as he came up behind her. It was certainly nicer than some of the places they’d stopped.

He grunted and guided her to the innkeeper’s desk, away from the common rooms.

She frowned at him. “I was enjoying the music.”

His expression darkened. “We will eat in the private dining room.”

“But why?”

Ranald blew out a breath and shook his head. “You are so na?ve.”

It took some effort to hold back a laugh. “I most certainly am not.”

“There are some rough men in those common rooms and I dinna like the way they were looking at you.”

“They weren’t looking at me.”

“They were.” He nodded to the innkeeper’s wife and quickly made arrangements for a private meal, three rooms, and a bath for Anne.

“Ooh,” she cooed as he shooed her into the private dining room. “That was thoughtful.” A bath would be wonderful.

He nodded and sat across from her at the table as the innkeeper’s wife brought their meal. “It seemed as though you could use one.”

Well, really. Her expression must have spoken her indignation for her, because he laughed. “I only meant it would be relaxing.”

“So you’re not saying I smell like a woman who has been on the road for the better part of a week?”

He batted his lashes in a thoroughly adorable and annoying manner. “Well, there is that.”

She threw a roll at his head. It bounced off his pate. It was utterly satisfying.

“I had no idea you were such a violent wench.”

“There is much you don’t know about me.”

His features tightened as he sobered. “There is much I would like to know.”

His far-too-intimate stare caused heat to crawl up her spine. She leaned in and whispered, “This is hardly the place for such talk.”

As though to underscore her reprimand, the door burst open and Hamish, who had been helping put away the horses, stepped in. “Ah,” he boomed. “Supper.” He winked at the server and asked for an ale. As she scuttled away, he smiled at Anne. “I have to say, this is much more pleasant than the way we usually travel when we hie to the north to rescue people.”

“Really?” Anne’s tone was dry as dust. “How do you usually do so?”

“For one thing, we doona stop to eat,” Hamish said, grabbing a roll and ladling stew into his bowl. “We certainly doona stop to sleep.”

“And we doona travel in the company of a beautiful woman,” Ranald added. She could tell it was a blatant attempt to charm her from her disgruntlement. She would not allow it.

“Bower seems to think I need a bath.”

While Ranald looked chagrined, Hamish grinned and leaned in to take a sniff. When he lurched back and wheezed, she smacked him. “You two are impossible.”

“We’re verra possible,” Ranald murmured.

Hamish chuckled. “Well, if you doona want the bath, I’ll take it.”

“The hell you will,” Ranald barked. “I’m the one who thought of it. I’ll take it.”

“Neither of you will take it,” she said primly. “It is mine and I will have it. No doubt, I shall sleep like a babe.”

“Hah,” Hamish said. “Best of luck with that. The party out there looks like it is just getting started.”

“Aye,” Ranald said. “I noticed some rough types out there.”

“You doona think we’ll have any problems, do you?” Hamish asked.

Ranald glowered at Anne. “Just keep your door locked.”

She sniffed. “I had intended to.” She wasn’t an absolute idiot.