The Highlander's Lost Lady (The Lairds Most Likely 3)

Fiona suffered another pang of guilt at deceiving her rescuers. But too much was at stake for her to risk trusting them with the truth. She summoned a grateful smile. “You’re all being so kind.”

“Och, you’ve added a wee bit of excitement to our day. Most of the time, life here at Invertavey is gey quiet.”

“Even with the wild and dangerous lassies we breed in these parts,” Mr. Mactavish said, making Mags laugh.

“Aye, even with them.”

The maids had prepared the room with quick efficiency. A fire blazed in the hearth, and the heat on her chilled skin made Fiona feel like crying in gratitude. A tray of tea and scones rested on a table, and a large bed with white sheets and feather covers awaited her. The girls trooped out, leaving her alone with Mags and Mr. Mactavish.

“I’ll just go down and see what’s happening with the bath water,” Mags said, pouring Fiona a cup of tea. “Do ye take milk and sugar?”

“Yes, please.” The kindness and the activity and the retreat of fear—although fear never altogether subsided—left Fiona feeling woozy.

“Och, sit down, lassie.” Mags passed her a pretty china cup in a gold and white pattern. “Ye look likely to tumble over.”

“I’m still wet.” When she took a sip of sweet hot tea, tears pricked at her eyes. She was so dangerously fragile, that even simple human pleasures like a hot drink and a moment’s consideration made her want to bawl like a lost calf.

“The chairs will survive. I’d put ye straight into bed, but ye don’t want damp sheets. We’ll have ye out of those wet clothes and in the bath in a jiffy. You’ll feel better, once you’re warm.”

“I’ll go away and leave ye in peace.” Mr. Mactavish smiled at Fiona as she subsided onto a chair, although his dark eyes remained concerned as they studied her.

She blinked with astonishment as at last she took in her rescuer’s appearance. In all that had happened since she’d woken up in the beach, this was the first time she’d looked at him properly. Even for a woman contemptuous of the male of the species, he was definitely worth more than one glance.

Mr. Mactavish was the most spectacular man she’d ever seen.

How on earth had she missed that? Until now, she’d been too busy deciding if he was a threat or a source of support. She hadn’t registered him as an individual at all, apart from that deep, musical voice rumbling away in her ear as they rode to the house.

It turned out his voice wasn’t all that was beautiful about him. With dazed eyes, she stared into that smiling face, noting the defined cheekbones and jaw, the long straight blade of a nose, the slashing black brows.

Good Lord, the Laird of Invertavey was like a prince in a fairy story.

The urge to tell him the truth rose, to throw herself on his mercy, beg his help. But she beat the impulse back.

If anyone had good cause to mistrust men, it was her. So far, he’d proven himself a good man, but she’d only known him a little over an hour. The risks of betrayal were just too great.

Fortunately he took her silence as exhaustion, not as wondering feminine admiration. So far, he’d treated her with impersonal kindness, the object of his compassion, not his desire. She didn’t want him to start thinking of her as a beddable female.

“Get some sleep. Dr. Higgins will be here soon, I’m sure.” He glanced across at Mags. “Look after her.”

“As if I’d do anything else.” Mags gave a scornful humph. “Away with ye now, Mactavish, so I can get the lassie into some dry clothes. Cannae ye see she’s as cold as a wee icicle?”

His lips twitched with humor, although he didn’t argue. He gave Fiona a brief bow. “Your servant, madam.”

She’d been frightened since he’d discovered her, not just because he was a stranger, but because he was a man. She knew what men did to defenseless women. Yet when he left, she battled a stupid need to call him back to her side.

Chapter 3

“A wee dram before ye go on your way, John?” Diarmid rose from behind his desk to greet Dr. Higgins, after the man descended from attending to his mysterious guest.

“Aye, I don’t mind if I do.”

The sun poured through the library windows to gleam off polished mahogany and the bronze celestial and terrestrial globes displayed on two ormolu tables in the center of the room. It was late afternoon, and the view across the peaceful glen belied last night’s violent weather.

“Biddy Calvert’s baby was safely delivered?”

“Aye, although it took all night and half the day for the wee lassie to arrive into the world.”

“I’m glad they’re fine. I’ll call in to see the family this week and offer my congratulations. We were lucky ye were in the village when I needed you here.”