Page 36 of A Bonny Pretender
“I’d be delighted to escort the ladies to Glasgow. My estate is near the border.” Frank smiled at Brigid. “We could stop there on the way or upon our return.”
“That sounds wonderful… Frank,” she said, suddenly shy. The idea of seeing his home, the rooms he’d walked through, the fields he’d ridden across as a boy and young man. Her heart pounded at the thought of being in a place he knew so intimately. She’d learn so much about this man. “Please, Lord Brecken, can ye no’ spare her another month or so?”
Evie yanked on her husband’s sleeve and whispered something in his ear. A slow smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “You’re very persuasive, love. I’ll allow it only if Lord Raines is sure he doesn’t mind accompanying you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” the viscount replied, his gaze on Brigid.
Oh, how she wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him. Heat spiraled up her neck at the thought. Instead, she gushed, “I’m thankful, my lords. Shall we leave tomorrow?”
*
Two days ofpacking. If it had been up to Brigid, she’d have tossed a few dresses in a traveling bag, jumped on the back of a fit horse, and been off. Evie was not a light traveler, nor would she allow Brigid to go without at least half the clothes Aunt Maeve had paid for. Now she sat in the post-chaise, wishing she was anywhere but imprisoned in this coach. The velvet pouch hung around her wrist like a reticule, and her other hand rubbed the stone inside. Her grandmother had been right; the smooth rock provided comfort and had become a habit.
The conveyance was small, fast, and bright yellow. It reminded Brigid of a bumblebee. She envied the postillions, steering the horses while sitting on their backs rather than driving from a high bench seat. The “post-boys” she’d seen were all older men wearing identical uniforms of white breeches, short yellow jackets, and a beaver hat. They wore iron bands on their right calves to protect their legs, riding the horses on the left of the foursome. Each handled a pair with the more experienced man in front.
Their luggage was stacked on top of the chaise and in the front space where a driver would have been. The maid Louella and Barker, the viscount’s butler, rode in the back on the outside bench. Fortunately, the weather had been pleasant so far.
Her eyes drifted to the open slats of the carriage. Frank rode next to them, his fawn breeches hugging his muscular thighs. She wondered what they looked like beneath the material. A Scot often wore his kilt, never modest about showing bare skin. Her stomach jumped at the thought of Frank in a kilt. Nowthatwould make her swoon, she was certain.
“He knows you’re watching him,” said Evie, never taking her eyes from the book she held. “You’re a wanton woman in love. I know because I’ve been one myself.”
“And ye’re no longer?” she asked with a grin. “That’s a lot of haver.”
“Nonsense, you say?”
“Aye,” Brigid confirmed.
“Yes, I’m still wanton, but it’s legal now. I have a marriage certificate to prove it.” Evie squinted out the window. “I’m glad to see he wore his sword. Highwaymen have been worse close to the border.”
“We could be set upon?” Brigid hadn’t considered this. Lord Brecken was wise not to let them travel alone. “Have ye ever been robbed?”
Evie shook her head. “Goodness, no. I’d probably faint dead away. My life is exciting enough, thank you.”
Brigid returned to the view between the slats and sighed. Frank sat straight and tall like a soldier, sword bumping against his leg and a pocket pistol tucked in his boot. She’d also seen him slip a second pocket pistol in his back waistband.
Evie glanced up from her book. “Are you in love with him?”
The question took her aback. “I’m no’ sure.”
“Pish and petunias. I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”
Brigid shook her head. “It’s no’ so much fear as caution. Something that does no’ come naturally to me. Love seems such a daunting emotion. Half the time my stomach is in an uproar, or my face is as red as Kirsty’s hair, or my heart is racing like I just finished a footrace and won.” She blew a breath out as her eyes once again strayed to the man in question, his blond hair gleaming in the sunlight beneath the black beaver hat. “It’s exhausting.”
Evie laughed. “Yes, it can be, but the reward is endless.” She peeked out the window and squinted up at the sun. “I’d guess we have another hour or two before we stop. The driver said he knew of a reputable inn where we can change horses, spend the night, and have a good meal.”
The previous night, they’d stopped at a coaching inn near Manchester. The mattresses had been lumpy but clean, with no bedbugs. Roasted fowl directly from the spit and fresh bread had filled their bellies, and the wine had made her eyes heavy. Even the deep timbre of Frank’s voice couldn’t hold her lids open. She and Evie had fallen asleep quickly. When she woke this morning, she wondered how a person could be sore from just sitting. Her muscles didn’t ache like this from riding horseback.
One more overnight stop, and they’d be in Scotland. She longed to hear the familiar accents again.
Brigid marveled at the difference in pace between the coach she’d taken from Edinburgh to London and the post-chaise they occupied now. They stopped frequently to change horses and post-boys and it reduced the journey by three days or more.
They rumbled along. A pleasant breeze ruffled Evie’s auburn curls as she napped, her head tipped back against the leather squabs. Brigid observed the countryside, passing pastures dotted with sheep or cows, a copse of wood, a stream or river. The land was so… manicured compared to the Highlands. Beautiful, yes, but it didn’t inspire her like the rugged mountains and lush glens where she’d grown up.
The lead post-boy called out, and the vehicle slowed to a stop. Something blocking their way, perhaps? She peeked out and saw a boy about young Liam’s age standing in the middle of the road, waving his arms. He had wild dark curls, huge brown eyes, and wore filthy patched clothes of rough wool. Apprehension washed over her. Frank, still in the saddle, trotted to the window.
He leaned over and warned them, “Don’t leave the carriage. I don’t like this.”
She nodded and glanced over at Evie, who was now awake and wide-eyed.
