Page 50 of Sadie's Highlander (Highland Protector 1)

“I want her to ken how much she’s truly cherished.” Alec forced his clenched fists to relax, pulled in a deep breath, and slowly released it. “And I’ll be stayin’ close to her whilst she goes about all we’ve planned for her in the city. I want her t’feel m’love—without actually seein’ that it’s me until the proper moment, of course.” He couldna risk Sadie bolting like a skittish colt—not in New York. Hell’s bells, he’d ne’er find her in that mob of a place.

Dwyn snapped his briefcase shut and added it to the pair of suitcases sitting on the bench. “We’ll do whate’er it takes—carefully. A strategic campaign such as this must be plotted with enough skill to ensure not a single one of the battles leading up to the final charge fails.”

“And yer certain we must travel in that damn helicopter?” Alec hated that demon of a thing that had t’be used whene’er traveling in haste was a must. Planes were no better, but at least he didna feel as though he were sitting in a glass ball and bein’ dangled from the clouds.

“Get yer bags and stop yer whinin’.” Dwyn tossed his coat over his arm, strode to the door, then looked back and smiled at the waiting suitcases. “And while yer about it, be a good lad and get mine too. Aye?”

Chapter 29

Sadie grabbed Miss Martha’s final pair of suitcases off the baggage carousel and set them beside their carry-ons. “These two are light. What’s in them?”

“They’re empty.”

“Empty?”

Miss Martha winked as she popped up the handles on the rolling bags and swiveled them into a manageable row. “New York istheplace to shop. They’ll be full by the time we head back home. Never you fear.” Waving Sadie forward, she stretched on tiptoe, peering across the crowded baggage claim area. “Now where did you say we needed to look for whoever they sent to fetch us?”

Sadie wished she were looking forward to this weekend as much as Miss Martha. Unrealistic optimism told her she should be over the moon about this opportunity, but her commonsense pessimism still smelled a very large rat. Her extended conversations—two phone calls, in fact—with the agency’s extremely personableclient assistanthad done little to calm her suspicions, even though the woman had easily answered all her questions and sounded as though she’d been in the business of representing artists and writers for years.

“Sadie!” Miss Martha stomped her tiny booted foot, scowling at Sadie with ayou’d better answer melook.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” Sadie struggled to stay focused on the high-strung old woman rather than the turmoil churning inside her.

“Where do we go now?” Miss Martha spoke slowly, eyebrows arched to the level that warned she was growing impatient. “You said they were sending someone to get us. Do we meet them down here or out where the cabs and the hotel vans pick up?”

“Clare said we were to meet our guide—correction: our personal concierge—over where the limos pick up.” Clare, the client assistant, had insisted Sadie call her by her first name several times—enough times to firmly imprint the name in Sadie’s memory.

“Oh my, my…our very own personal concierge.Anda limo.” Miss Martha shimmied her shoulders, preening like a diva about to meet her fans. “We have arrived in Fancy Town for sure, haven’t we?”

“Are you sure you’re seventy?”

“It’s just a number, dear.” Miss Martha took off at a brisk clip, pulling rolling bags piled high with carry-ons on either side of her and clearing a path through the crowd of people jumping aside to avoid her careening suitcases. The woman was definitely safe from getting mugged. No one would risk approaching her for fear of getting plowed over.

Sadie scurried to keep up and also not get tangled in the old woman’s wildly swerving bags. “Look over there.” She pointed to a wall of glass doors and a brightly lit kiosk advertising several different rental car companies. In front of the kiosk was an impeccably suited older man wearing a bowler. Between his hands, he held a large white placard with Sadie’s first and last names written across it in bold black print.

“What an unusual-looking fella,” Miss Martha said, veering off to the right to charge toward the unsuspecting man.

The distinguished greeter spotted them heading his way, quickly removed his hat, and stepped forward to meet them. “Miss Sadie Williams?” He gave a polite half-bow, then turned to Miss Martha. “And her esteemed assistant, I presume?”

“Hi.” Sadie found herself at a loss for words. The whirlwind of the last few days had effectively log-jammed her communication skills in the muck of her muddled mind.Great. I’ve arrived in New York to show them what an idiot I am.

Miss Martha hurried forward, beaming from ear to ear with a proud smirk as she shot out her hand, fingers stiff and thumb perked ready for a firm handshake. “I’m Martha Higgins, Sadie’s assistant and bodyguard.”

“A pleasure to meet you, mum.” The man, who would put the most seasoned of British butlers to shame, tucked the name placard under his arm, then slightly bowed again—first at Miss Martha and then toward Sadie. “Jarvis Guiden at your service. I’ll be at your beck and call during your stay and also see to it that you’re promptly where you need to be at every point of your quite busy three-day schedule.”

“Don’t you love the way those Brits sayshheduule?” Miss Martha turned to Sadie and winked.

“Behave,” Sadie hissed in a low whisper. She turned back to Jarvis with an apologetic cringe. “Sorry—but you always know where you stand with Miss Martha.”Whether you want to or not.

Jarvis acknowledged this with the slight nod and minuscule smile always assumed by those taking the utmost care to hide their inner thoughts and never slip from the highest level of professionalism. “Think nothing of it, mum.”

Turning toward the wall of glass doors at his back, Jarvis lifted a hand over his head and made an impatient flicking motion with a snap of his fingers. Within seconds, a young man with a luggage trolley burst through the doors at a brisk pace, breezed around Jarvis, and hurriedly loaded Sadie’s and Miss Martha’s bags. He disappeared just as quickly, pulling the trolley behind him.

Jarvis turned back to them and gave what Sadie decided must be his trademark half-bow. “Ladies, if you’d be so good as to follow me. Your limousine is waiting.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that—don’t you?” Miss Martha hooked her arm through Sadie’s, dragging her forward.

Sadie squeezed Miss Martha’s arm. Maybe if she held on tight enough, some of the enthusiastic matron’s boundless excitement would soak into her. After a few moments of scurrying to keep up with Miss Martha’s bouncing step, the desperate theory seemed to work. A herd of inner butterflies tested their wings for liftoff at the sight of the sleek black limo Jarvis stood beside.

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