The Making of a Highlander (Midnight in Scotland #1) - Elisa Braden Page 0,70

the worst day of her life. Perhaps she should leave him be. Or perhaps she should approach, hoping he didn’t recognize her.

Blast. Pursuing a lord was harder than it sounded. Ladies had to be modest and coy. They had to plan their attack carefully so as to capture a man’s interest without appearing too aggressive.

She wished John Huxley were here. He would know what to do. Then again, whenever he was near, she only wanted to tease him until his eyes turned gold and that wee muscle in his jaw flickered. He was a pure distraction, her Englishman.

A quiet, feminine ahem came from behind her. “I do beg your pardon.”

Annie spun. Golden hair. Green eyes. Swanlike neck.

Lockhart’s sister smiled tightly. “May I pass?”

“Oh!” Annie moved aside. “So sorry.”

A single, regal nod was her answer. Then, with swanlike grace, the woman glided toward the wee tartan peacock’s gaggle of companions. She looped her swanlike arm through Lockhart’s and said something close to his ear. He turned his head to listen then frowned at her. Then argued. Then seemed to grow angry.

Annie watched the exchange with interest, wondering why she’d assumed being a lady meant you never had disagreements with your brother. But Lady Swan was clearly vexed. Her cheeks and nape reddened until they matched Gilbert MacDonnell’s kilt. Her shoulders went stone-stiff beneath pink silk. She withdrew her arm from her brother’s—or tried to.

He held onto her with a firmness Annie didn’t like. Lady Swan muttered something that resembled, “Let me go.” She tugged against her brother’s grasp. He twisted, causing a faint wince of pain around Lady Swan’s mouth.

In all her life, Annie had argued with her brothers countless times. They’d shouted and bellowed and cursed. They’d lifted her off her feet and tickled her without mercy. But the moment she wanted free, they released her. Always. Not once had they used their strength to hurt her. Not once had she feared they might do so.

Lord Lockhart apparently had no such qualms.

Muttering, “Bluidy hell,” beneath her breath, Annie sighed and started forward. Lady Swan had been kind to her once. Annie believed in paying her debts.

“Well, now,” she said at a cheerful volume that drew the golden pair’s attention. “Miss Lockhart, it’s been an age.” She ignored Lockhart’s annoyed expression and instead caught Lady Swan’s gaze. “Last time we saw one another, ye wore yer blue silk gown. Do ye recall?”

Flustered, Lady Swan blinked several times then seemed to realize what Annie was doing. Slowly, she nodded.

“Aye, a masterpiece, it was. Gold trim. Wee little tucks on the sleeves.” Annie tilted her head in a chiding fashion. “Now, ye did promise when we met again, ye’d confess the name of yer dressmaker.” Annie extended an open hand. “Come. Ye can tell me all about her while I search for the innkeeper. He disappeared when I was distracted by Laird Glenscannadoo’s brilliant tartan.”

A small smile touched Lady Swan’s lips. Her brother was less amused. His lips—which, Annie noted, were revoltingly fleshy—tightened into a disapproving pout. Nevertheless, the other woman slid her hand into Annie’s. For a moment, Annie feared she and Lockhart might engage in a tug-o-war.

But he released his sister after a long hesitation. “Do not go far,” he ordered.

As Annie drew Lady Swan toward the entrance, the taller woman lowered her head and murmured, “I don’t even ken your name.”

“Anne Tulloch. Ye may call me Annie.”

“I am Sabella Lockhart. Forgive me, but you seem … familiar.”

“We met in Glenscannadoo. Ye retrieved my hat.”

Green eyes rounded. “Oh!” She examined Annie’s blue wool carriage dress. “My apologies. I … didn’t recognize you.”

Annie waved away any slight. “I’ve acquired new gowns since then. My dressmaker is Mrs. Baird of Inverness. She’s quite skilled.”

Lady Swan kept pace until they exited into the courtyard. Then, she tugged Annie into the shadows of a nearby close and pulled them to a halt. “I am grateful to you, Miss Tulloch.”

“No need for that. Ye offered me kindness when I sorely needed it. I’m simply returnin’ the favor.”

A bit of injured pride caused Lady Swan—or, rather, Miss Lockhart—to stiffen. “My brother … he is not usually so …”

“Aye?”

“He’s suffered some disappointments recently. Now and then, his temper gets the better of him. I do hope you will not judge him too harshly.”

Annie glanced around the courtyard, watching gentlemen