Page 15 of The Highlander's Holiday Wife

Samantha joined them. “I see my sister is talking your ear off.”

Bathsheba glanced at her, lifting her expressive eyebrows. “Ah, there you are, Samantha. Yes, we were having quite the chat, but I’m afraid Felicity was talking too fast for me.”

“You must slow down,” Samantha said as she signed to her sister-in-law. “You’re too quick and smart for us.”

Felicity flashed a grin as she tapped the edge of her right hand against her left palm.

True.

Samantha chuckled. “Cheeky, too.”

She smoothed Felicity’s glossy auburn curls. The girl was an echo of Roger, with her bright blue eyes and ruddy Scottish complexion. She was both a lovely and heartbreaking reminder of the cherished past.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Samantha said as she settled into a needlepointed wingchair. “I was still dressing when you arrived.”

“Did you oversleep?” Bathsheba asked. “You look a bit peaked, love, almost as if you were out very late. Up to no good, perhaps?”

Samantha mentally stumbled. Her friend’s teasing smile was at odds with her sharply penetrating green gaze.

Felicity pointed at her and then brushed her palms together.

Samantha shook her head. “No, I did not go out last night.”

When Felicity’s gaze narrowed, Samantha forced herself not to react. She and Donny were always careful when they left the house at night, waiting until Felicity was asleep.

But had the girl been awake when they returned home two nights ago, earlier than their norm? Their usual pattern of search had been disrupted by the need to rescue Dr. Kendrick and then subsequently avoid the watch. Samantha had recognized the doctor almost immediately, of course, and had been tempted to break her silence and deliver the dratted man a lecture on the risks of wandering about the slums unarmed.

She was indeed tired, but her fatigue wasn’t the result of their late-night searches of Old Town. It was worry that had kept her awake the last few nights, worry that their surprise encounter with Kendrick might put them at risk of discovery. The doctor was known to be an exceedingly intelligent man, and if he put—

“Here’s tea, my lady,” said Mrs. Johnson, coming in with the tray of tea and biscuits.

“Thank God,” said Bathsheba. “I’m famished after such a lively discussion.”

“What were you talking about?” Samantha asked.

Two fingers extended, Felicity wriggled her hand down her body.

Schoolwork.

“Are you having a problem with your studies?” Samantha asked, puzzled.

Felicity snorted, disdainful of the question.

“Apparently, you’re not giving our girl enough to do,” Bathsheba said. “She wants John to start teaching her anatomy, in addition to Latin.”

Latin was Felicity’s favorite subject. John had volunteered to teach her, partly as a necessary distraction from the tragedy of Roger’s death. Samantha had initially objected, knowing how busy he was, but they’d reached a compromise. Sunday afternoons he would teach Felicity Latin, while Bathsheba and Samantha went for a drive or visited friends.

“We already take up so much of John’s time,” Samantha protested. “We couldn’t possibly ask him to take on another subject. I’m sure you barely see him as it is.”

“Not to worry. John always gives me the attention I deserve.” Bathsheba winked. “And plenty of it, too.”

Mrs. Johnson made a choking noise as she handed Bathsheba a cup of tea.

“Sorry,” Bathsheba said, not looking sorry at all.

Samantha hesitated. “I’m not sure Lord Beath would approve of the subject,” she said to Felicity.

Her sister-in-law, closely following her words, snapped her brows together in a fierce scowl. It was her usual response when her grandfather was mentioned. She couldn’t stand the man, and Samantha didn’t blame her one bit.

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