What Happens in Scotland by Jennifer McQuiston

Author:Jennifer McQuiston [McQuiston, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical Romance
ISBN: 9780062231291
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

FOR TWO LONG blocks, Georgette was pulled along by Mr. MacKenzie’s grip on her hand. And all the way, she simmered. In irritation at the way he had presumed her a thief. In anger at the ultimatum he had given her. And worst of all, in awareness of the way his hand fit over hers. By the time they rounded Main Street and began to dodge the crowd, her mind was numb from all of it.

It confused her, that hand. It secured her to his side as tightly as a nail to a board, and yet churned up feelings that were dangerous to examine. He was not the heroic man she had imagined, come to rescue her from a forced elopement. Neither could she see signs of the disheveled rake who had invited her back to his bed this morning. The flesh-and-blood man was sharp-eyed and hard. His purposeful stride and firm hand made her stomach flip in nervousness rather than attraction. All through the gathering Bealltainn mob, past shops and storefronts that were by now becoming familiar, she told herself that.

And still she had difficulty believing it.

The sight of the Blue Gander, with its boarded-up windows and colorful paper lanterns, made her sag in relief. He released her hand, though only to open the door and stand back. Her freed limb tingled in new self-awareness. She clasped her hands together and stepped inside, studiously ignoring the way MacKenzie’s hand hovered near her elbow, offering but not demanding aid. “Mannered” was the word that came to mind. Someone had drilled a bit of good English decorum into this bearded Scotsman. She wondered who had taken the time. A mother, perhaps? More likely a lover. She hoped the woman had received more than threats and accusations for her trouble.

Inside, the building was blessedly cooler than the four o’clock heat of the street. The place smelled of week-old ale, no doubt spilled from someone’s mug and left to molder in dark corners. The pervasive scent was overlaid with roasted chicken, wafting from the back kitchen. Georgette recalled Elsie had mentioned MacKenzie took his meals here, on occasion. As if on cue, she caught the telltale rumble of his stomach. She wondered if he had missed breakfast today looking for her. Not that it mattered. It was not like she was feeling inclined to buy the man a plate of food, not after the difficulty he was causing her.

They approached the front desk nearly side by side, and that was when they ran into the first bit of trouble. She had half expected a dramatic intervention from Elsie somewhere along the route, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. Neither did they encounter a problem in the form of her cousin Randolph, whom she hadn’t seen once since he had left this morning on the gray mare.

No, trouble was found in the form of the innkeeper, who crossed his arms and raised a bushy eyebrow at her request to have a little peek at the room.

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