Page 7 of Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector 2)

Grant silently thanked the old hens for showing up at such an opportune moment. He knew verra well how t’speak to his elders. That mannerly behavior had been ingrained in all the MacDara lads at a young age. He glanced back at Joanna and wiggled the handle of the hatch. “The button, if ye please?”

Joanna rolled her eyes, then pointed her key fob at the back of the bus. The lock on the hatch chirped and the bus’s lights flashed in response. “You’re not gonna leave until I let you help, are you?”

“Aye. Ye’ll find I’m a verra stubborn man.” He ducked his chin to hide the grin he couldn’t quite seem to control. Without looking up, he motioned toward the inn. “Ye’ll find Mistress Martha keeps a cart on the side porch. If ye’ll run and fetch it, I’ll load up the bags.” Perhaps if he entrusted the hardheaded woman with a task, she’d look a bit kindlier toward him. Even in the half-light of the streetlamp, he could tell the lass’s strained patience with the events of the entire evening was near its end.

“Run and fetch it?” Joanna stared at him as though he’d just told her to jump off a cliff. “Seriously?”

“Aye.” Grant pointed again at the side of the old Victorian house that Martha Higgins had restored and turned into the town’s only bed-and-breakfast. “Over there. On the side porch. See it?”

“I know where it is.”

Again, it sounded as though she spoke through clenched teeth. Joanna took a hard-stomping step off the curbed sidewalk and stood so close the heat of her body washed across him, and she further hypnotized him when he took in an intoxicatingly deep breath of her scent.Sweet and fresh woman’s musk. Sultry. Lore, woman. Yer killin’ me.

She pointed a finger at him. “Just to be clear, I’ll go get the cart, but I don’t ‘run and fetch’ anything.” She glared at him, eyes narrowing when he didn’t respond.

One of the old ladies standing behind him poked the small of his back.

Grant blinked.Ahh…I’ve insulted the lass. Need ta explain m’self.She’d ne’er seemed this sensitive before. Of course, he reckoned her pride had been stung a bit back at the café. Pride he understood. He scooped up one of Joanna’s hands and pressed a quick kiss to the silky back of it. “Forgive me. ’Twas just a figure of speech, ye ken?” Still holding tight to her hand caught up against his chest, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I’d ne’er mean to imply anythin’ ill about ye. Ye ken I think yer a fine woman, Joanna, a fine woman indeed.”

Her warm breath tickled his knuckles as he held their hands between them. This close, he could see her pulse ticking rapidly in the pale skin of her throat. He was either succeeding at fanning her temper even more or he was warming her another way. He sincerely hoped it was the latter. Since he’d been forced to abandon his tactic of careful planning and waiting to woo the lass until the perfect moment, he fully intended to do his damnedest to win her. It was time.

A high-pitched squealing sound, something like a cross between the cawing of a crow and the screeching of an owl, peeled out behind them. “See? I told you. I just knew he wanted her!”

Grant turned in time to see the one called Hazel lightly thump the shoulder of the much smaller woman hopping up and down beside her. “Zip it, Frances! Can’t you see they’re having a moment?”

“Oh! Sorry.” Frances leaned forward and made shooing movements with both hands. “Go ahead. Kiss her.” Then she bobbed her head with excited up-and-down jerking movements like one of those infernal jiggly-headed dolls that Esme insisted they sell in the theme-park gift shop.

Joanna jerked her hand free of Grant’s and spun away. “I’ll get the trolley for the bags.” She cleared her throat and paused, then turned and fixed a narrow-eyed glare at the trio of senior citizens still standing behind Grant. “Why don’t you ladies go to the desk and start checking in? And be sure and help Violet so she doesn’t get confused.”

Mesmerized by the sway of Joanna’s hips as she stomped away and headed up the sidewalk to Miss Martha’s porch, Grant nearly forgot the three ladies still beside him until the one with the strange orange and jet-black spiked hair poked him between the shoulder blades.

“When she gets back, follow our lead. Got it?”

The one who had introduced herself as Hazel agreed with a superior nod and shook a finger at him as though reminding him that he’d best not forget to do his chores. “Georgetta’s right. You listen to her.” She turned to the small, animated matron beside her and aimed the stern finger at her. “And you try not to spill the beans again and scare her off. Understand, Frances?”

Frances smiled, her round beaming face reminding Grant of the cherubs he’d seen in one of his little sister Esme’s art books. The small elderly woman bounced in place with the energy of a Highland goat. “I’ll do my best to curb my enthusiasm, but you know how much I love a good matchmaking.”

Matchmaking? Oh, holy hell.That’s all he needed. A group of old women keepin’ Joanna so vexed she’d ward off his advances for certain.Must get this under control.He gave the ladies his politest smile. “I really think ye’d best leave her alone. Let me do this m’self, aye?”

The uneven rattling of the rickety trolley traveling down the rough surface of the B&B’s flagstone sidewalk grew louder. Joanna would be within earshot any second—if she could hear anything over the noisy din of the cart.

A jarring metallic thud interrupted the rhythmic clacking of the trolley’s wheels “Shit! Shit!Shit!” Joanna’s irritated profanity echoed through the darkness. Apparently, the cart had jumped the path and landed in the grass.

“D’ye need help, lass?” Grant called out.

“I’ve got this!” Joanna’s tone left no doubt that if Grant valued his life, he’d stay at the bus and wait.

“You’d better leave her alone and follow our lead,” Frances advised in a singsong whisper.

“Yep,” Georgetta agreed. “She’s pissed. You’d better listen to us or you’ll just make it worse.”

Grant verra much doubted that it could get much worse than it was at this particular moment. He wasna all that experienced when it came to women, but he had managed to survive a mother, a sister, and a bossy housekeeper—so far.

Joanna came up even with the end of the bus, jerked the luggage cart over a crumbling crack in the sidewalk, then flipped down the wheel brakes and locked the trolley in place. She frowned at Hazel, Frances, and Georgetta. “I thought you ladies were going to get the rest of the group off the bus and go check in?”

“We never said that,” Georgetta said with a nonchalant shake of her flamboyant head of spiked hair.

Joanna glared at the woman, her jaws clenched and nostrils flaring as if the need to speak her mind were about to blow the top off her head.

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