The Highlander's English Bride (The Lairds Most Likely 6)

een him only yesterday, and when she’d seen him yesterday, they’d squabbled.

"You look dreadful, Hamish." She wished to heaven that was true, but it wasn’t.

Her eyes traveled over him, assessing the changes nearly a year had made. In London, he’d passed for a civilized man. Here in these isolated reaches of the kingdom, he’d set aside keeping up appearances. His bright gold hair tumbled around his massive shoulders, and he hadn’t shaved in weeks. A shaggy beard hid the clean lines of his jaw and square chin.

How she’d like to say Hamish looked brutish and barbaric. He certainly looked like the Viking she’d always compared him to. But to her chagrin, the unkempt look suited him. It made her too aware of what a potently male creature she’d wed. Unwelcome heat made her pulses jump, battled with the urge to give him a good shake.

The blond colossus blocking the doorway arched a supercilious eyebrow. That was one London habit he hadn’t abandoned, along with shaving and a regular barbering.

"If you turn up out of the blue, my dear, you must take me as you find me." Hamish glanced past her to Big Billy. "What the devil are you doing, bringing Lady Glen Lyon up here, over all this rough country? Anyone with a brain in his head would leave her in comfort at the house and come to fetch me."

"I offered to come and get ye…" the huge Scotsman stammered.

Emily stepped in front of Billy, although her slight figure did little to shield him from the laird’s displeasure. Big Billy was even larger than Hamish. Something in this spectacular valley’s water must turn men into giants. "I insisted on coming."

"Did you fear I wouldn’t jump to your bidding?" More of that haughty drawl.

Her lips tightened. She remembered Hamish as annoying, but she’d forgotten quite how that acid tone could make her squirm. "Would you have come?"

He shrugged. "It depends why you’re here."

"I told you – I want to see you."

"Is there some disaster in London? Last week’s report from Henry Parnell didn’t mention any trouble."

She supposed she should be outraged that he’d kept an eye on her activities, but something silly and female in her softened to know that he hadn’t forgotten her altogether. In her darker days, she couldn’t help remembering that out of sight was out of mind. "Your man of business spies on me?"

Again, not a shred of shame. "I like to know what’s happening."

"You—"

Hamish looked over her head. "Billy, I see that my wife and I are overdue a long and frank discussion. Perhaps you could take her back to Lyon House. I’ll follow, once I’ve packed up here."

"Aye, Glen Lyon."

Emily planted her feet on the ground, although she was woefully aware that if it came to a contest of strength, either of these brawny Highlanders could best her in a trice. "I’m not a parcel to be marked returned to sender. I’m your wife, and I insist upon staying. Billy can go back to the house, and you can escort me there once we’ve finished our business."

If she didn’t strangle him first.

"Och, I’ll just go and check the horses, Glen Lyon." Big Billy sounded eager to escape being caught in the middle of a marital quarrel. "Ye just tell me what to do when you ken what your plans are."

With ill-concealed relief, the large Highlander headed back to where the ponies nosed at the lush grass beside the stream.

"This dwelling is unfit for you, my lady," Hamish said, once they had a modicum of privacy.

"If it’s fit for my lord, it’s fit for me," Emily snapped.

Then she forgot Big Billy and Glen Lyon as a horrid thought struck her. If she wasn’t so tired after miles of traveling, it would have struck her the moment her husband opened the door.

It was clear that Hamish didn’t want her setting foot inside. Was that because he kept his mistresses in this rough tower?

It explained why the staff at Lyon House had been so chary about bringing her here. It explained why her husband greeted her wearing only a bedsheet and why his face was slack with sleep at this advanced hour of the day. Not to mention that she’d never demanded his fidelity, once she’d barred him from her bed.

So the hot red mist that descended to blind her made no sense at all.

"Where is she, Hamish?" she asked in a voice that sliced like a razor.

"Where is who?" Hamish asked, sounding as innocent as a babe in arms. She’d wager all the money in her purse that he hadn’t laid any real claim to innocence since he was that infant.