The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(65)

When the headwaiter bustled into the room with a silver salver, his heart jerked.

“My lord,” he intoned with a bow.

“Thank you,” Wallace said, and snatched the missive. He waited until the waiter quit the room. Then he shot a look around to make sure no one was close before he ripped it open.

As he read it, a smile blossomed on his face.

“Well?” Blackworth asked. “Is it what you were looking for?”

“Indeed.” He shot his friend a wicked smile.

“Where is she?”

“Cornwall.” Only two or three days’ ride away.

“Excellent.” Blackworth lifted his glass and Wallace ordered another.

He could afford to now.

He’d found Elizabeth and this time, she would not get away.





Chapter Twenty-Two


It was difficult for Anne, saying goodbye to Mary, especially after just finding her again. But if they missed this packet, there would not be another for a week, and Hamish, rightly so, was anxious to find Elizabeth.

Anne had had very little time to get to know Jamison, but fortunately they had a chance to talk and it became clear to Anne that he loved Mary with all his heart and he would do anything he could to keep her safe and well.

Because of their choice, their lives would not be easy, but neither seemed to mind.

Ah, young love.

She was glad to be beyond such things.

She was, wasn’t she?

“Are you all right?” She jumped when Ranald’s hand fell on her shoulder, partly because she’d been thinking of him.

“Oh. Of course.”

“How is your stomach?”

She offered a chagrined smile. “Better, now that we’re not moving.”

“And not on a boat,” he jested.

“You have no idea!”

“Do you really get seasick?”

“Terribly! Even a ride in a skiff is a disaster.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I love punting about.”

“I can imagine so.”

“There’s a loch by my manor. It’s great fun to go fishing or boating.”

“You have a manor?” She’d never known. Never asked.

“Aye.” He sat at the table and signaled for an ale. “Creaky old thing. Been in the family for ages.” He leaned in and added, “Hardly haunted at all.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“I like it. And Catriona . . . She loves it too.”

“You must miss her.”

“Aye. I do. But it won’t be long before we have you all married and I can return to her.”

The reminder that he would one day leave hit her and hit her hard. She must have paled because he took her hand. “What is it, Anne?”

“You will go back.”

“Of course I will. It’s my home.”

“I’ll miss you when you go.”

Pain flickered over his features. “And I you.” His hold tightened. “But we doona have to part.”

Her throat closed. She stared at him.

“Could you live in Scotland, wee Anne?”

Oh God. She would be happy anywhere, if she was with him.

The realization floored her. She hadn’t expected this. This . . . feeling. Not so fast. Not so completely.

But this was a foolish whimsy, wasn’t it? Could she really leave her life, her family, and move to Scotland?

“My sisters . . .”

He leaned closer. “We can visit them. I’ve offered Jamison a job, if he wants it. He and Mary are welcome at Bowermadden. So is Victoria. And, for that matter, Elizabeth, if she needs a place to stay.”

It was a tempting thought indeed. But . . . “And Aunt Esmeralda?”

He grimaced and then blew out a sigh. “All right, her too.” Fortunately, Anne could tell he was teasing.

But then, he sobered. “All I know is I want you in my life, Anne. I want you to be my wife. If we have to live in London”—he shuddered—“I can make that happen.”

She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “I’ve never been fond of London.”

“Have you no’? You seem so at home there.”

“I’ve always secretly longed to run barefoot in the grass.”

His expression brightened. “You? No!” His laugh was a melody. “How provident then, that we have grass in Halkirk. The thickest, sweetest grass you ever saw.”

A horrible thought occurred. “What if Catriona doesn’t like me?”

He shook his head. “She will love you. She’s always wanted a mum. But . . .”

“But what?”

“What if you doona like her?”

She set her hand to his cheek, wounded by his worry. “How could I not love her? She is part of you.”

He sat back and blinked. “That sounds a wee bit like a declaration.”

“Does it?” She had to laugh at his expression. “I suppose it is.”

“Ach. I love you, Anne St. Claire,” he said as he leaned over to kiss her.

She broke away as a horrible notion occurred. “What about the duke? What if he doesn’t approve?”

“The duke?” he growled. “The duke be damned.” And then he kissed her again.