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

Hamish glanced up to where she stood and gave her a brief wave before he went inside.

It seemed he was willing to keep her here to discuss their situation. Although she wasn’t sure what he might say. Whatever it was, he’d ensured their privacy.

She waited for him to seek her out, but there was no sign of him. The breeze strengthened, and she was getting cold. More of that mercurial weather.

With a long-suffering sigh, she went down to the floor below and surveyed the chaos. All this proof of industry, however messy, confirmed her husband’s story that he’d spent their time apart working.

When Hamish still didn’t appear, she began to tidy. It turned out he’d been dabbling in all sorts of things. The moons of Jupiter. Pages of observations of Saturn. Further work on his comet. Notes on a host of stars. Paintings of the northern lights. Detailed descriptions of the Perseid meteor showers, which she imagined were spectacular in this isolated corner of the kingdom.

She became so interested in tracing his observations and placing each scrap of paper with its companion pieces that she forgot the time.

"Emily?" Hamish said from the top of the stairs. "Come down to the parlor. I’ll make you breakfast."

Startled she glanced up from a beautifully drawn chart of Orion. "Breakfast?"

"Well, it’s breakfast for me. For you, I suppose it’s getting on for dinner." As if to confirm that remark, the clock on the mantel chimed five o’clock. Through the windows, the light softened toward evening, lending the endless lines of hills a golden glow. "I’m guessing you’re hungry. I certainly am."

"Yes, I’m hungry." She paused. "But I’d like a chance to freshen up first. I’ve been traveling all day."

He raised a hand to his bare chin. The beard had gone, which partly explained why he’d taken so long to come back to her. He’d tied that wealth of hair back in a neat queue.

He might no longer look like a pillaging barbarian, but wearing a clean shirt and a kilt, he didn’t look like the Hamish she’d known in London either. There was something fiercely stirring about this new guise. He seemed more untamed, more primitive, more…magnetic than any other man she’d ever seen.

"I straightened my room and changed the sheets. While you’re here, please consider the bedroom yours."

She narrowed her eyes on him, wondering if he’d taken her reasons for coming here at face value. Before she shared her body with him, she wanted to straighten out a few things. "Where will you sleep?"

His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "That rather depends on how our discussion goes."

Elephants started performing a quadrille in her stomach. "Hamish…"

He laughed with a trace of chagrin. "Don’t worry. I’m not about to demand my conjugal rights. There’s a chaise longue in here." He waved toward a corner. "In fact, your sterling efforts have uncovered it."

They had. She hadn’t even realized it was there, until she shifted the books piled around it. The dust had set her sneezing.

She regarded it doubtfully. "It doesn’t look big enough."

He shrugged. "I’ll manage. I’ve become such a strange, nocturnal creature since I’ve been here, I’ll probably be awake all night anyway."

She made a sweeping gesture around the room. "You’ve been busy."

"Now do you believe me when I say the women of Glen Lyon have slept unmolested in their beds?"

She’d believed him upstairs. He’d never been a liar. "Yes."

"Good."

He turned and went downstairs again, his voice rising to where she stood. "Come to the parlor when you’re ready."

By the time Emily joined him, she’d had a wash and tidied her hair. She’d needed to use Hamish’s comb because she’d left her luggage at Lyon House. At least now she felt more prepared to deal with her troublesome spouse.

In the middle of the afternoon, this room had been cold and forbidding. Now as twilight drew in, it seemed cozy and welcoming, with a fragrant peat fire burning in the huge medieval hearth.

"Please sit down. I’ll scramble some eggs. There’s bacon and fresh bread and cheese and dried apples. I’m sorry for the humble fare."

She straightened her shoulders and told herself to be brave. "Hamish, I’ve come up here to—"

He waved her to silence. "You’re tired and hungry. Take a little while to eat something and catch your breath. Then we’ll talk."