Page 64 of Return of the Scot
Alison and Mungo did not knock as they entered. Lorne kept his face sober, rather than breaking out into a smile at the volatile expression on her face as the maid passed his way and how Mungo glowered at her. The two of them were getting along splendidly.
It was obvious the woman didn’t like that her mistress was alone with him—a concern Mungo didn’t have—and the persnickety lady’s maid was going to let Lorne know that she wasn’t going to make his life easy, or give them privacy. And that was fine by him. Whatever Alison needed to see that he was truly a decent man for her mistress. At Mungo had his back should the maidservant try to carve his heart out with a teaspoon.
With the tea service placed on the small table before them, Alison and Mungo took up guard by the door. Jaime poured out for the two of them, topping each cup of tea with a splash of whisky and a wink. The light sway of the ship barely registered with the liquid in their cups. She passed him his spiked tea and then raised her cup to clink gently against his.
“To resolutions.”
“Resolutions?” Lorne asked.
“Aye, we’ve a number of quandaries. And we’re going to need the fortitude to get through them.”
“Ah, aye, I see. To resolutions.” He sipped the liquor with lay a soothing path down his throat.
She picked up one of the small sandwiches and nibbled.
“Elegant fare for a ship.” Lorne lifted one of the sandwiches, taking note that not one of them held a cucumber. He didn’t bother to nibble but popped the whole square into his mouth.
Jaime laughed. “Only when I’m aboard. I think they like to remind me I’m a lady and not a coarse buccaneer.”
“Why can ye no’ be both?” He wiggled his brows.
She cocked her head at him, a soft laugh falling from her delicate throat. “Ye’d be the first man to suggest it.”
He grinned and raised his cup again. “Resolutions, remember? I like to be a trailblazer. After all, I did come back from the dead.”
Jaime flicked her gaze toward her maid and Mungo. “Ye may leave us. Both of ye.”
The maid narrowed her gaze, not wanting to exit at all, and Mungo appeared ready to throttle her.
“Alison, I will be perfectly fine, I can assure ye. The duke is a gentleman, and I am more than capable of handling myself. Why no’ go and have a cup, both of ye. We’ve some matters to discuss.”
Alison did not look happy at all about the prospect and flashed Lorne a glower that promised she’d slit his throat as fast as MacInnes would.
“I promise to take good care of Miss Andrewson. Ye have my word. And I’m as good as my word, am I no’, Mungo?”
Mungo nodded. “Aye, Your Grace.”
Alison bowed her head and exited, hesitating in shutting the door and then finally disappearing when Mungo yanked it closed for her.
“What are the odds she stands outside listening?” Lorne asked with a raised brow.
Jaime grinned at him over the rim of her cup. “We’d be fools to believe otherwise.”
“Mungo,” he called. “To tea, both of ye!”
A small scuffle sounded on the other side of the door that had Lorne thinking Mungo may have had to carry Alison off like a sack of wool.
“Ah, where were we?” Lorne said, pouring a healthy splash of whisky into his cup. “I believe ye wanted to know about my journey overseas.”
“I feel compelled to remind ye that ye’re under no obligation to talk to me about your time in prison.”
Lorne took a fortifying sip of his whisky. “I’ve no’ spoken to anyone about it. I gave the War Office the basic facts, but I’ve kept the rest to myself.”
“I will no’ pry if ye do no’ want to share. But as a friend—”
He interrupted her. “A friend, ye say? Is it true? Are ye feeling well?”
Jaime chuckled and popped the rest of her sandwich into her mouth. “I’ll deny it should anyone ask.”
