Page 38 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

“We’ll take a seat over there, shall we?” Miss Joey said, nodding to the bar, where the innkeeper stood agog at what was happening. A few of the other patrons had stopped to watch as well. “I think it’ll let them talk it all out, and we won’t have to miss a thing.”

Ferguson nodded, and the two made their way to the bar.

Emily dashed up to him, her eyes bright, and hugged him. “Uncle, we were on our way to see you! How unexpected and wonderful! Where were you going?”

“To find you,” Murdoch said in a gruff tone. He held her tightly, feeling his eyes well up. “Mrs. Langley said you’d run off, and she didn’t know where.”

“Oh, I sent word, but she must have written you before I let her know where I was,” Emily said. “I am sorry if you were worried.”

“I was very worried,” Murdoch replied. “I—I care about you a great deal, my dear. I only want you to be happy.”

Emily drew back a little to look up at him. “I know you do. I know you care for me. I know you love me, in fact.”

Hearing her say it made it easier for him. “I do. I love you, Emily.” And then he gathered her in his arms again and squeezed her, hard enough to make her squeak a little, which made both of them laugh.

“I suppose you’ll want to speak to Lady Dru,” Emily said with a sly smile. “We’ve talked about you quite a lot on the trip up here. I know she has some things she wants to say to you as well.”

“You’re not going to go retire to your room and give us some privacy, are you?” Murdoch guessed.

Emily’s expression was as if he had suggested she do something as outlandish as cut off all her hair or speak only in rhyme. “And miss all this? Of course not!” She walked over to where Ferguson and Miss Joey sat and hopped up on a stool to join them, an expectant smile on her face.

And now was the time of reckoning.

“You can do this, Uncle!” Emily cheered.

Murdoch scowled at her, then got his first good, long look at Drusilla.

W ell. This was not at all what she had expected when they had agreed to stop for the night.

But since she was here, and so was he, she might as well get through it all.

“You look—” she began, then faltered. He looked splendid, as good as he ever had, she thought sourly. Whereas she knew she looked a fright; she’d been traveling for two days, her hair was messier than usual, and she hadn’t been able to get restful sleep since he’d left town.

And he looked as though he’d been just fine, save for some shadows under his eyes.

“We should talk,” he said in that rough voice. The one she thought about late at night, but in her imagination he wasn’t saying anything as mundane as “We should talk.”

“Should we?” she said brightly, hating herself for her cheery facade. But it was the only way she could keep herself from bursting into tears and throwing herself into his arms, begging him to be with her—never mind that neither one of them was willing to change their lives for the other.

Not that she’d asked.

He scowled. “We should.” He jerked his chin toward the bar, where Joey, Miss Emily, and his companion all sat watching them with unabashed interest. “Shall we find a private room?”

“I’d prefer to stay here,” she said.

“Besides, it’s too hard to listen through a door,” Joey called, and the other two laughed.

He glared at them, and Drusilla found herself smothering a laugh herself.

“Not you too,” he said.

“No, it’s just—I mean, how ridiculous is this? Of all the inns either one of us could have ended up in, and here we are.”

“I believe you were headed toward me, and I was headed toward you. Not that much of a coincidence, once you consider it.”

She gave him an irritated look. “You don’t have to be so pedantic about it.” If she was a romantic—which she most definitely was not —she would say it was destiny, or something like that.

“Anyway,” he continued, obviously trying to keep himself calm, “the point is, we should talk. Shall we sit?” He gestured to where he and the other gentleman had been seated.

She nodded, then sat down.

He sat as well, then placed his hands on the table before taking a deep breath.

“I am sorry you were concerned about Miss Emily,” she said. “I told her she should have been forthright with Mrs. Langley from the start, for fear of this very thing. That is why we set off right away. I knew you would be worried.”

“Thank you,” he replied, glancing to where Emily sat. Drusilla turned, and Miss Emily gave an enthusiastic wave, which Murdoch returned with a smile, one that warmed her heart.

“But that wasn’t what you wanted to say,” she said in a soft voice.

She watched as his expression shifted, his thoughts clearly a jumble. “No. It isn’t.”

“Tell her how you feel,” Murdoch’s friend yelled.

Murdoch glared toward the bar, then raised a threatening finger. “I’ll do this my way, or I’ll find myself in need of a new steward.”

The man only grinned in response.

“Your steward?” Drusilla asked, surprised.

“Yes. I suppose he’s my Miss Joey,” Murdoch said. “Both equally cheeky, both fond of whisky.” The last sentence was said in a raised tone so that the two at the bar could hear it easily.

“Tell me how you feel,” Drusilla urged, aware that Murdoch likely only had so many minutes during which he could actually be talkative before returning to his usual taciturn self. She didn’t want him to waste them on minor things.

“How I feel.” He looked down at the table and then slid his hand forward, reaching to take hers. “I wish I could show you instead.”

She gasped, feeling her heart beat faster. She glanced up to find him looking at her, then looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his stare.

“You’re going to have to be clear, Murdoch. We’ve done the showing thing, and while that was excellent, we still left each other.” Then she was able to meet his gaze squarely and steadily. “I won’t know anything until you tell me.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

He kept his eyes locked with hers for another few moments of silence.