The Making of a Highlander (Midnight in Scotland #1) - Elisa Braden Page 0,49
she didn’t fit. And he could stow his suppositions up his—
“Miss Tulloch.”
She rubbed her arms and blew into her hands. Full dark brought on a deeper cold. They had at least another five miles before reaching Glenscannadoo. She busied herself lighting the lantern.
“Annie.”
Hearing her name on those perfect lips twisted her up tighter than rope. She steeled herself to remember who he was. Remember what he thought of her. “Aye, English?”
“Perhaps there’s another way. Perhaps I—”
“This isnae about Broderick.”
“It’s understandable you’d want to help him. If a member of my family were imprisoned for shooting—”
“Broderick didnae shoot anybody.” She secured the lantern and kept her gaze upon Jacqueline’s backside. Looking at Huxley’s perfect features only made her weak. “The craven bastards who conspired against him have no bluidy idea of the hell they’ve brought down upon themselves.” Absently, she rubbed her ribs, wishing Finlay were with her now. Every time she thought about Broderick, her chest ached. “The MacPhersons protect their own.”
“Does that include you?”
“Aye.”
“Have you told them your intentions?”
Annie could feel the Englishman’s eyes upon her. Studying her. Thinking he understood. He didn’t.
“Obviously not. Look, marrying a title is …” He sighed. “It’s an ambitious prospect for anyone, Annie. Even daughters from prominent families, those who prepare their entire lives for an advantageous marriage, have little certainty of landing a lord. Most fail. Or require multiple seasons. Or both.”
“Are ye backin’ out of our bargain?” she snapped.
A long pause. “No.”
“Then haud yer wheesht. Ye dinnae ken what ye’re talkin’ about.”
“The marriage mart?” His chuckle sounded cynical. “I know it all too well, I’m afraid.”
Wind surged again, this time gusting through the thickening trees. Jacqueline nickered and shook her head. The lantern glowed bronze amidst the vast blue dark, but it didn’t penetrate more than a few feet.
Annie checked on Mrs. MacBean, who appeared to be enjoying her snug bed. Then she glanced at the Englishman. Evidently, he was done smiling for the evening, his mouth now flat and his eyes weary.
An odd jangle sounded ahead of them. A series of clicks. The creaking whine of an old wheel. Annie straightened. Squinted. Blast. She couldn’t see a bloody thing with the steep hills and dense trees blocking the moonlight. “Did ye hear that, Engl—”
Three figures emerged from the thick underbrush to stand in front of their cart. Two had pistols.
One was David Skene.
Chapter Ten
TlU
“Tell me, English,” Annie said loudly as John drew the horses to a stop. “What are the chances of findin’ three men who could pass for rodents on the same stretch of road?”
John quickly sorted through all the ways he could shut her up. Her comment was reckless, though not far wrong. The three men were all wiry, filthy, and wearing hats that had seen better centuries. But each one shared verminous features. Perhaps it was the eyes. Beady as all hell.
“Mad Annie Tulloch,” said the one in the center—the rat, obviously, with his conical nose and long teeth. He was the only one without a pistol. John judged him the greatest threat. The other two—a mole and a vole, respectively—were holding their pistols all wrong. Were the weapons even loaded? It was too dark to be certain.
John elected to keep his posture relaxed. He pretended to shift positions while transferring the reins into his left hand. “Did you gentlemen lose your way in the dark?”
“Nah,” Annie replied before John could shush her. “They’re out here runnin’ their shite whisky where they shouldnae be.” That foolish, defiant chin thrust forward. “Isnae that so, Skene? Either that or ye’re lookin’ for a fist to flatten that unfortunate nose.”
“Ye offerin’, lassie?” The rat leered at her. “I fancy a scrapper.”
John’s blood heated until the urge to do far more than flatten the man’s nose beat a pounding rhythm in his ears. But he needed to stay calm. Reasonable. He needed to get them out of this with minimal bloodshed.
Annie saw no such necessity. “Only tuppin’ ye’re likely to experience is with the mud ye land in after the sheep rejects yer advances.”
The rodent on the right snorted. The rat swatted his fellow’s head, knocking his cap to the ground.
“Why did you stop us?” John kept his voice low and calm. If he’d been alone, these men would have already been dispatched. But Annie was with