Page 14 of The Scot Beds His Wife

A rough exhalation drew her notice. Nothing about his haughty, nonchalant expression had changed.

And yet… everything had.

The rim of his nostrils flared with quickening breath. His lids became heavier, drawing to half-mast. His sinfully full lower lip drew tight against his teeth before he consciously seemed to relax it.

Quickly, she pulled her hand from his, half expecting him not to allow it.

Half astonished when he did.

“I couldna help but notice ye’re traveling alone, lass.”

She clutched her bag to her body, trying to summon similar indifference in the wake of his troubling observation.

“I surely am.” Exhausted beyond reason by what seemed like endless days of travel, Samantha daintily covered a feigned yawn with the back of her gloved hand.

The thin man gasped, reminding her that she and the haughty Highlander were, in fact, not alone. “Ye mean to say, ye voyaged all this way…unaccompanied?”

“I mean to say.” She tried to keep her growing uncertainty out of her amiable smile. Who were these men to approach her like this? “Thank you for your help recovering my handbag, gentlemen. But I really must be on my way.”

Feeling more unsteady on her heels than ever, she madeto totter around them, only to be foiled by their synchronized move to block her.

Anxiety flared. “Can I… help you?”

With a nervous gesture, the thin man passed a briefcase from one hand to the other. “Could you not have retained a suitable chaperone—er—companion for yer journey?”

This couldn’t seriously be the reason they were detaining her, could it? Who were they, the constabulary of conduct? “Why bother? I keep my own company well enough.” She scrutinized the three men blocking her path, especially Mr. Magnificent, with a growing sense of alarm.

He watched her alertly with that strange, vibrant gaze. She had the sense she’d pleased him.

A prickle of awareness washed over her, lifting each fine hair on her body. Tuning to something primal. A warning. Something like she imagined a deer in the woods felt when it seemed to sense the very breath of a nearby predator. “While Iamalone, I am not, however, unarmed.” She patted her silly handbag, in which her beloved Colts resided. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a ride to hitch.”

“Well, arena ye bonny?” His brogue deepened immeasurably.

“No,” she said warily. “I’m Alison. Alison Ross.”

A chuckle she didn’t understand rose from the men before her would-be savior said, “Then there’s no need to… hitch a ride, as ye say, bonny. I’ve come to save ye the trouble.”

“Oh! Are you my driver?” she asked hopefully, abashed at her unnecessary suspicion. And here she’d thought nothing could improve the breathtaking view of the Highlands.

Apparently, she’d been wrong, as he most certainly could. Though she’d never seen a coachman so expensively attired before. Perhaps things weren’t as desolate at Erradale Estate as the real Alison Ross had assumed.

Samantha fished in her frilly purse for some coins she still barely recognized. What was considered generous gratuity in the Scottish Highlands? She hadn’t the first idea. “I packed rather quickly, so I only brought the two trunks—”

She froze when he reached out and cupped her elbow.Shit. He was touching her again. He really needed to stop doing that.

Was it really necessary to wield a hand so incredibly large? An arm so thick and solid? Samantha fought the ridiculous urge to lean all her weight into the strength she sensed there.

“I occurs to me, Miss Ross, that we havena been properly introduced.”

“Oh, right.” Introductions were of some significance hereabouts, she’d noted. Annoyed with herself, she wondered how many times she’d break custom. Generally it would mean nothing to her. But this brawny stranger with features the perfect paradox of barbarian and aristocrat seemed to have her thoughts tumbling over each other like a litter of exuberant puppies.

And with her husband only weeks dead by her own fucking hand.

Lord, she reallywasgoing straight to hell.

“Alison Ross.” She stuck out her hand for a shake, though the gesture just seemed superfluous now. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr.…”

His hand engulfed hers, once again, and he pulled it toward him, looking like a man amused with a joke she was not a part of.