A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,122

set her mind on marriage.” Mrs. Craig laughed softly as she helped herself to the jam.

Carrie arrived with the tea and ale and arranged the various items atop the table. “Did I not tell ye the jam was excellent?”

“It is delicious,” Miss Marshall said.

With a satisfied smile, Carrie winked at Tavish before turning and departing.

Though Carrie’s arrival had interrupted their conversation, Tavish hadn’t lost the thread. Miss Marshall’s family wished for her to wed. He could understand that—his grandmother wanted him to do the same.

Mrs. Craig looked toward him with interest. “Do you have a profession, Mr. MacLean?”

Tavish chose his words carefully. “Farming, mostly.” That was true. He glanced toward Miss Marshall, who was watching him intently. She, of course, knew of his other activities. At least some of them. He should tell her the full truth. Later, he would. He was apparently counting rather heavily on spending time with her today.

They continued to eat and share pleasant conversation, all while Tavish kept stealing looks at Miss Marshall. On occasion, he caught her doing the same, until he felt as if the energy between them was perhaps visible to everyone else who’d entered the common room. Let alone Mrs. Craig, who must surely be aware of whatever was simmering between them.

“Elspeth is hoping to track down a story today,” Mrs. Craig said. “I suppose it’s fortuitous that we must stay here.”

“It is indeed,” Miss Marshall said with a grin. She had to mean Lann Dhearg. Of course she would try to find more information—she’d indicated as much last night.

Tavish considered what he should tell her. If he told her the truth about who he was, he ought to include all of it. But would her need to tell the story be too powerful to resist? He didn’t yet know her well enough to say, and the answer was crucially important. This was not a story she could reveal.

“I wonder if we might dine together tonight?” Mrs. Craig asked. “Elspeth can share what she learns today.”

“I look forward to that.” Tavish suddenly itched to leave. It wasn’t just that he was eager to question Kerr, but that he was afraid Mrs. Craig would next ask him what he planned to do today. He was getting the sense that she was noticing the…connection between him and Miss Marshall and hoped to encourage it.

“Excellent,” Mrs. Craig said.

Tavish decided it was time to depart. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must check on my horse.”

“Of course,” Miss Marshall said. “We’ll see you later.” She gave him a look that said something a bit different, something that didn’t include the pronoun “we.”

Tavish stood and bowed to them, his gaze lingering on Miss Marshall. With more reluctance than he cared to recognize, he turned and left the inn.

Elspeth watched Tavish leave the common room. Cold air drifted from the door, sending a slight chill up her spine as she finished the last of her tea. She wished she could have accompanied him.

“I’m so pleased you found Mr. Will—MacLean again.” Aunt Leah sent her an apologetic grimace.

That morning, when Elspeth had told Aunt Leah about meeting Tavish for breakfast, she’d explained his aliases. Actually, she hadn’t given her his real name. That seemed as though it would confuse an already complicated situation. “I am too.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to her aunt. “And thank you for understanding about his names.”

“Of course,” she whispered in response. “He sounds like such a kindhearted man—a farmer who helps people in need after that horrid battle. Don’t you think so?”

“That he’s kindhearted? Yes, he seems to be.” Elspeth wasn’t entirely certain. She barely knew the man. But she wanted to. Hopefully, she’d get the chance. She glanced longingly toward the door, again wishing she’d been able to go with him to the stable. Perhaps she could “check” on their coach and horses. After all, their coachman had family in town and was visiting with them. Aunt Leah had already said she would have one of the inn’s grooms take a message to him to let him know they’d be staying another day.

But Elspeth had something else to focus on—chasing her story. Turning her head, she looked for the innkeeper’s daughter but didn’t see her in the common room.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Aunt Leah asked.

“Nothing’s the matter. I want to speak with Carrie.”

“About your story, of course. I’ll go speak with Balthazar about having a groom deliver a message to Fisk.” Aunt Leah stood. “I’m sure he’ll be