Page 93 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

He chuckled. “More than you know.”

For which she socked him. Only gently on the shoulder. Only enough to let him know she didn’t appreciate being categorized with the likes of Celia Swofford.

“Perhaps it is better if we canna be alone,” he said.

That he said it in his deep brogue provoked her. “Aye. I believe you’re right.”

He frowned at her. “What are you saying?”

“I’m merely agreeing with you.”

“It was a stupid comment.”

“It was your comment.”

“Surely you know I dinna mean it.”

“So you want to be alone with me?” She turned her head to the shadows so he couldn’t see her smile.

“Of course I do.”

“Well then, when faced with a military campaign, one must wage war.”

He stilled. Stared at her. Then chuckled. “You are wise.”

“And never forget, you have one of the enemy’s agents right here in your camp.”

“What are you suggesting, Isobel?”

“I’m suggesting that, since I know their plan of action, we should be able to thwart them.”

“I do appreciate their intentions.”

“I know you do.”

“But they canna follow me everywhere—”

Ah. But apparently they could.

Because just then Elizabeth’s voice floated toward them. “I know they were right behind us.”

“How could you have lost him?” Egads. Celia.

Nick and Isobel quickly pulled apart and she busied herself straightening her skirt while he bent to smell a flower.

“Now this one, you see, is a laevigatae, from China. While this one . . . I forget the name, is from Africa. You see the difference?”

“Oh. Yes,” Isobel said loudly, though both flowers looked the same in the dark. Aside from which she hardly cared. “I had no idea the duchess had such a fondness for roses.”

“Indeed. She’s collected different species from all over the world and—I say. Hallo, Lady Celia. Lady Ellie. Miss Elizabeth.”

The latter crossed her arms and frowned at him. “We seemed to have lost you.”

“I was just showing Miss Isobel Mother’s roses.”

Sorcha snorted softly, leading Isobel to believe the roses were anything but the duchess’s pride and joy.

“You’re missing the party,” Celia said, appropriating his arm.