Page 21 of In Search of a Husband
“I told Wallace to pick ye up hours ago.”
“Well, I met Mr. Wallace, and he could barely pick himself up to stumble out of this inn, so here I am.”
“And now I must deal with ye?”
“Well, pay me as agreed upon at least. If you tell me where the house is, sir, I’m capable of walking. I don’t wish you to trouble yourself…”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That isna what I meant.”
“Pray, then do tell me what you meant because so far I have been agiant inconvenience when I am solely here at your request, to help you educate and care for your daughters.”
“Nieces.”
“Very well, your nieces. It has been a long day, and I wish for nothing else than to find a bed. So please, how do I find this castle?Yourcastle.”
“My brother’s castle.”
“Your brother?”
“It was his until recently.”
She nodded, not quite following. Her father’s cousin mentioned only a castle and orphaned girls.
“I am not here to debate who owns the property, only here to do what I was hired to do, but nothing has gone right as soon as I stepped foot in this country. I feel as if I have passed at least twenty castles on my journey here. Where is yours?”
He spun toward the back door, motioning for her to follow.
“My luggage is in the front,” she hedged.
He puffed on his cigar, pulling a timepiece out of his vest pocket. “I will fetch it after. Do ye ride?”
“Yes.”
“Good, ye can help me harness the horses. I will take ye to the castle.”
“I didn’t ask for you to take me, only for you to tell me where the castle is.”
“Over there,” he pointed toward a narrow road disappearing into a thick forest. “And beyond the river.”
“Very specific,” she mumbled to herself, stepping outside. The elbow of her sleeve became snagged on a garden bramble, and she struggled to free herself, her boot sinking into thick mud instantly. “Sir?”
Halfway to the small stable behind the inn, he turned, yanking the cigar out of his mouth and narrowing his eyes on her. Over her. It felt like a stolen caress, which was odd considering she felt nothing but hatred rolling off the giant man.
“What do I call you, sir? We haven’t made a proper introduction.”
“London,” he scoffed.
“Mr. London?” She wore a smile, satisfaction filling her chest at the annoyance that filled his features. “So nice to finally meet you.”
“It’s Gabriel MacInnes. And I’ll have no more talk of London.”
“Didn’t like it much?”
“Didna much like me.”
“Well, on that account, we have the same experience.”
She lifted her dress and pressed on toward the white-washed stones of the stable, navigating the rutted drive from carriages and listening to the horses whinny.
