“The whole country offends you?” He didn’t bother to hide his curiosity.
“Well, yes, if you must know. The accent is impossible.”
He nodded, expression grave. “It can be.”
She thought of the rain and mud she’d trudged through to get here. And in June! “The weather is atrocious.” A bit of her frustration melted away as he listened. Attentive. Empathetic.
“It is that,” he agreed, face stoic.
“But it’s more than that.” Arabella lowered her voice, as if the whole country might be listening. “Scots are...well, swarthy and bad-tempered. And you must have noticed how very backward Scottish etiquette is. There’s an off-putting bluntness of manner that is so very...un-English.” She leaned forward, whispering, “I fear they’re all brutes.”
The man quirked his lips. “Quite savage,” he said. “Most Scots can’t be trusted a bit.”
“Yes,” she said. “Exactly!”
A crease formed between his brows. “I’m surprised your parents allowed a young woman such as yourself to travel alone in a country where there are so many dangerous men about.”
Arabella gestured toward where Molly slept in her chair, head lolled to one side. “I’ve my lady’s maid. And I daresay she could easily scare most men off with the force of her complaints.”
He leaned forward, looking at her with an intensity that made her insides flutter just a bit. “Still, I must insist you be on your guard. Never accept a ride from a Scotsman. No matter how well-intentioned he may seem.”
“I won’t,” Arabella agreed, touched by his concern. “I promise.”
The man pushed back from the table and stood. “You must excuse me, Miss...?”
“Hughes,” Arabella supplied, startled. “Miss Hughes. But where are you off to? The rain hasn’t let up.”
“Ach, but a wee smirr never keeps a Scotsman from his destination, ye ken. And I really must be getting home.” He had a thick Scottish accent now, a noticeable rolling cadence in his voice.
Arabella blinked and shook her head, worried exhaustion was finally catching up with her. After five days in Scotland, perhaps she was only imagining his brogue. “A Scotsman? But...you’re English.”
He grinned, a full mouth of straight white teeth on display. “Nay. Though I was educated in the finest schools England has tae offer.”
She shook her head in disbelief, stomach sinking. He was Scottish. And he’d been trifling with her this entire time.
He retrieved his hat from a peg on the wall and placed iton his head. “Your grandmother’s estate is adjacent tae mine, Miss Hughes, so perhaps I’ll be seeing ye aboot this summer.”
“My grandmother? You know my grandmother?”
“Oh aye. We’ve been neighbors all my life. She’s a fine woman.” Eyes twinkling, he tipped his head forward, whispering conspiratorially. “She won’t beat ye.”
Discarding her shock, Arabella’s mind caught hold of an important fact. “You said your estate is adjacent to hers? And you have a carriage?”
“Indeed. And I do wish I could offer ye a ride, but—”
A helpless sort of desperation welled up within her. She pushed back her chair. “You needn’t worry about the impropriety if I bring Molly. We won’t be a bit of trouble. I promise.”
“I wish I could, Miss Hughes. But I...” He seemed to consider it, but at last he shook his head. “Nay. I would not wish ye tae put yerself in danger with a savage such as myself. Yedidpromise not tae accept a ride from a Scotsman, after all. And I, Mr. Gavin McKenzie, am most certainly a Scot.”
And with one last smile, he and his greatcoat swept from the room.
GAVIN MCKENZIE LEANED against the mantel, still grinning like a schoolboy.
“What has ye in such a jovial mood?”
He turned to see Nan striding across the sitting room to greet him. He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, her familiar mint-and-honey scent washing over him.
“Can I not just be happy tae see ye?” he asked.
