Catherine ran her fingers through her tousled hair, which fell in large bouncy curls to her waist, imagining that she must look a mess.
“I sent for breakfast,” he told her, “but you’ll have to eat quickly and fill up. We’ll head east toward South Lanarkshire today, and won’t stop again until we’re close to Blackburn.”
His tone was brisk and irritable. He would not look her in the eye.
Another knock sounded at the door. He moved quickly to answer it. “Ah, Abby, what a vision you are to behold on this fresh autumn morning.” He spoke with effortless charm as the young maid entered the room, carrying a tray.
Her cheeks blushed pink as she set the tray on the table, then glanced dismissively at Catherine. “Are ye sure there’s nothing else I can do for ye, sir?” she asked Lachlan. “Anything at all?”
“You’re a bonny lass, Abigail. I couldn’t have managed without you.”
The maid beamed a besotted smile at him as he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her out of the room. He shut the door behind them, leaving Catherine behind to wonder where he was off to now, and for what purpose. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she tiptoed across the room and pressed her ear to the door.
The sounds of quiet conversation and giggles filtered through the oak panel—
Suddenly the door opened, and she jumped back.
“Eavesdropping, were you?” Lachlan asked with complete disinterest, which came as an insult after his flirtations with Abigail just now. “Why aren’t you eating? Hurry up. We need to go.”
He moved to the tray, picked up a biscuit, and spread butter on it. He stuffed the whole thing into his mouth, then caught her staring at him, and froze. “What’s wrong with you this morning?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me. You look irritated.”
She moved forward and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Do women always throw themselves at you like that?”
“Aye.” He glanced at her crossly. “Not that it does me much good,” he added. “It’s more frustrating than flattering. I’ve had to give them a wide berth lately.”
“Because you cannot take advantage of the situation, and have your fun with them?”
“Aye. Thanks to you.”
She blew on the hot coffee and carefully took a sip. “Well, for the first time I am beginning to see the merit in the curse I placed on you. At least you are learning to restrain yourself, while hundreds of vulnerable, unsuspecting young women are protected from your awe-inspiring appeal.”
“Dangerous…,” he said. “I’m only dangerous because ofyou.”
“And you don’t think you were dangerous before? Following through on all those opportunities, no doubt breaking countless hearts without a care?”
He picked up another biscuit, slapped a thin slice of ham on it, and shoved it into his mouth. “Now you’re starting to sound like your old self. Always wanting to pick a fight. And you look more like yourself, too, with your hair down, all wild and dishevelled. We’re making progress, I think. Soon you’ll be remembering how to cast spells and hexes, and we can be free of each other at last.”
He stalked to the door, flung it open, and spoke to her over his tartan-clad shoulder. “Be downstairs in a quarter of an hour. I’ll be waiting for you in the stable. Don’t be late.”
With that, he shut the door behind him.
He seemed especially angry with her that morning, she thought, but she supposed his anger was far preferable to his desire, for at least he couldn’t kill her with it.
Chapter Eight
After gulping down most of the food on the breakfast tray, Catherine used the convenience one last time, then left the inn through the back door. She entered the stable exactly on time.
“Took you long enough,” Lachlan said while he tightened the leather cinches under the horse’s belly.
“You said a quarter of an hour. I am not late.”
“You’re not early, either. Come here, lass.”
He bent forward and picked up a woolen cloak that was folded neatly on a stool. With a flick of his wrists, he shook it out.
