Page 18 of The Highlander's Holiday Wife

Samantha forced a smile. “Go on.”

“A friend of John’s had an alarming encounter in Old Town the other night. While returning home from a late-night call, he was set upon by two ruffians.”

Hell and damnation.

“Goodness, I do hope he wasn’t injured.”

“It was a near thing,” Bathsheba replied.

Samantha adopted a concerned expression. “We both know how dangerous Old Town can be, even for a physician who is helping the locals.”

When her friend’s eyebrows ticked up, Samantha mentally cursed.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Who said he was a doctor?” Bathsheba asked.

She managed a casual shrug. “Since he’s a friend of John’s, I simply assumed he was. And you did say he was making a late-night call. In any case, why else would a gentleman be in Old Town after dark? Unless he was . . .”

She trailed off, letting the unspoken assumption resonate.

Bathsheba scoffed. “Braden Kendrick is the last person to visit a brothel. Have you ever met him?”

“I don’t believe so.”

Samantha had seen him, though, at one of John’s lectures on childhood illnesses last month. Her attention had been instantly captured by the tall, broad-shouldered man leaning against the wall next to the stage, with a casual stance that belied the intensity of his focus. She’d also noticed that he wasquitehandsome, with thick chestnut hair, strong features, and eyes the most riveting color of jade. That her gaze had often strayed back to him throughout the lecture had been more than a little annoying.

“You should meet Braden,” Bathsheba said. “Since he and John are such good friends, I’m sure there will be an opportunity for an introduction.” Her lips parted in a sly smile. “I think I should arrange a meeting as soon as possible. The two of you would get along splendidly.”

Samantha tried to ignore the anxious twitch in her stomach. Meeting Braden Kendrick was not something she wanted to chance.

“Entirely unnecessary, I assure you,” she replied. “And now, if we’re quite finished with talking about Dr. Kendrick—”

“Don’t you want to find out what happened to Braden after he was attacked?”

“Er, of course. It’s just that since he lived to tell John the tale, I assume he escaped. Thank goodness.”

“Ah, but it’s how he escaped that’s so interesting.”

Bathsheba paused dramatically, obviously waiting for her to respond.

After an awkward silence, Samantha raised her hands. “Are you going to tell me, or leave me hanging?”

Bathsheba’s gaze remained uncomfortably penetrating. “A man and a woman appeared out of thin air, apparently, and they rescued him.”

“Well, that was certainly fortunate. I presume the man was armed, and was thus able to chase off the ruffians?”

“Yes, as was the woman—but not with a pistol.”

“Ladies generally don’t carry pistols, do they?” Samantha warily replied.

Bathsheba’s perfect eyebrows went up in exaggerated surprise. “I didn’t say she was a lady.”

“It was a figure of speech,” Samantha said, trying not to clench her teeth. “This is all very interesting, and of course I’m happy that your friend was rescued, but what has this to do with me?”

“John thought you might be able to identify the couple.”

Samantha did her best to look perplexed rather than panicked. “Really? I don’t see how.”

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