“Feeling sick?”
She flinched, color rushing to her cheeks.
Had he caught her staring at his legs?
But when she glanced up, he looked like his usual, annoying self, and a sharp retort came easily to mind.
“Sick of yer company, I am.”
He snorted, grinning. “Fine. Don’t come wailing to me if ye throw up everywhere. Some people don’t take well to traveling in a carriage.”
The thought of vomiting over the fine, fur-lined interior really did make Emma feel a little nauseous. Before she could make another caustic remark, the carriage suddenly bounced over a pothole, jerking both of them forward.
Emma was already leaning forward, off-balance, so it shouldn’t really have been a surprise when she found herself launched face-first into Thomas’s chest.
“Oof,” she gasped, her cheek pressed against the rough material of the plaid.
A pair of hands descended on her shoulders, warm and gentle.
“Are ye all right, lass?”
Thomas’s voice reminded Emma of where she was and what had just happened. She was kneeling on the floor of the carriage, her face pressed into Thomas’ chest, his knees on either side of her. Warmth seeped into her, hot and almostitchy, and she could hear his heartbeat echoing in her ear. She could feel the strong muscles of his thighs on either side of her and found herself wishing that he hadn’t chosen to wear such tight breeches today.
Red-faced and mortified, she scrambled backward, desperately trying not to touchhim.
“I beg yer pardon,” Emma said stiffly. “That was an accident.”
Thomas was watching her with an intent, amused expression. Was it her imagination, or had he arranged his plaid a little more loosely over his lap?
“I ken it was,” he said. “Anyway, it hardly matters. We’re here.”
Emma had never been to this town. She’d never traveled far from home, really, and she knew that the carriage had brought her much further than she’d ever been before.
The town—she didn’t know its name—was a large one, bustling with people, animals, shops, horse riders, and carts. There were even a few carriages like theirs, with the windows shut up tight.
Once she’d gotten over the breathtaking newnessof the town, she was immediately struck by something new and all-encompassing.
The smell.
The scent of manure was nothing new, but the town stunk of human filth, unwashed bodies, rotten food and rotten rubbish, and the cloying scent of decay.
“What is that smell?” she murmured, pressing her sleeve over her nose.
“That’s the smell of the city,” Thomas replied, grinning. “Welcome to Edinburgh.”
“Edinburgh,” Emma repeated, rolling the name over her tongue. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Aye, it’s a sight and a half, for sure. It’ll only get finer as the years go by. What do ye think?”
“I think it’s marvelous,” she admitted, gingerly taking her sleeve away from her nose. “Although, we’ll both stink when we get home.”
“What did ye think the herbs were for?” Thomas said, leaning close with a grin. “Now, let’s get on, shall we?”
“Where are we going?”
“In here. We’re expected.”
Thomas led the way along the filthy street, and passerby parted to let him go through, eyeing him curiously. Emma felt almost as if she were seeing him for the first time. In this big city, Thomas walked like he belonged here. His back was straight, his shoulders were rolled back, and his head was held high, yet he did not seem pompous or arrogant. He smiled kindly down at an old woman with a basket on her arm, stepping aside to let her pass by first.
