Page 18 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

“I’m no’ sure. When the rest of our party arrives, we will leave.”

His heart dove. “For where?”

She made a face, an adorable moue with a delightfully wrinkled nose. “London.”

He had to laugh. For one thing, that’s where he was headed, too, when his holiday ended. Which would probably be . . . when she left.

“What’s so funny?” she sniffed.

“The way you said it. As though it’s hell on earth.”

“Is it no’?”

It wasn’t. And it was. Depending on one’s perspective. And relative wealth. “Have you been there before?”

“Never.”

“Then how do you know it’s horrible?”

“I’ve heard stories.”

The way she said that made him even more curious. “Such as?” he asked, offering her a crumbled scone as an offering. She reached behind him for some berries as well. They turned her lips a bright, tempting red. The juice was tempting as well.

“The place is peopled with popinjays,” she said.

“Really?”

“Grown men in tights and heels . . . Haven’t you heard this? I’m sure even a stable hand would know of the lords of London.”

“I’ve heard they are a profligate bunch.” His mother had told him as much. Of course, she’d been referring to his friends at the time.

“Aye. But it’s more than that.”

“Is it?”

“Aye. You know why people travel all the way to London for the Season, do you no’?”

“I have heard . . . rumors.”

“To parade their eligible daughters before the ton.”

Something stuck in his throat. “Are you to be so . . . paraded?” For some reason, he didn’t like that prospect in the least. Especially because he knew that the men who might be considering her were profligate indeed.

She laughed. “Oh, not I.”

Relief washed through him. But he needed to know more. “Why not?”

He expected her to say something like, Because I am a maid, but she did not. As she often did, she surprised him by saying, “Can you imagine me married to a London lord?”

He could indeed, but kept his own counsel on that. “You would make a lovely bride.”

She laughed again. “Och, I know that. I’m no’ the problem.”

“Are you no’?” The temptation to echo her brogue was strong.

“Nae.”

“Then who is the problem?”