Page 62 of The Highlander's Holiday Wife

“It’s hard for you to trust people, isn’t it?” he asked.

The question carved out a hole in the middle of her chest. “Can you blame me?” she tightly replied.

“I cannot. Samantha, I want you to believe me when I say I will help you in any way I can.”

She halted, peering up at him. Thanks to her veil and the blasted dark alley, she couldn’t read his expression.

“Really?” she whispered.

“Aye, lass. I will. Word of a Kendrick.”

Samantha had to blink back a sudden rush of tears. To have a man like him make such a promise was utterly . . . wonderful.

“But no bolting off to the stews by yourself,” he added. “That’s loony and dangerous.”

His comment killed any impulse to cry.

“It’s not loony.” She jabbed him in the chest. “Nor am I putting myself in danger.”

He snorted.

“Dr. Kendrick,” she frostily said, “I’m simply meeting a friend tonight. That is all.”

“What kind of a friend?”

“A very reliable source of information who runs a coffee house near Grassmarket. Perfectly respectable and perfectly safe.”

“Oh, how boring,” he said.

“I thought you would approve, since youarethe boring Kendrick.”

She regretted her words immediately. Unfortunately, they hung in the air like a dirty rag flapping in the wind.

“If by boring, you mean I don’t care for the high drama and hair-brained adventures my brothers used to engage in, you would be correct. I am, however, capable of taking the appropriate action when necessary.”

Now she felt like an utter worm. “I didn’t mean to offend you, sir.”

“I’m a doctor, Samantha. There is very little that can offend me.”

And with those trenchant words, he took her arm and marched her along the street.

CHAPTER12

Braden glanced over his shoulder. He had a nagging feeling that someone had been following them. The hairs on the back of his neck had been bristling for the last ten minutes—not for his sake, but for Samantha’s. Old Town had never frightened him, since he knew it so well. But with her by his side and danger lurking in every shadow, it scared the hell out of him.

Because of that fear, Samantha Penwith was now officially under Kendrick protection, and he didn’t give a damn if she liked it or not.

They entered the Grassmarket, a large, cobblestoned square that stretched all the way to Victoria Street. Lined with pubs, shops, and blocks of flats, it was fairly active even at this time of night and was also decently lit. Another glance over his shoulder confirmed again that no one was following them.

Samantha glanced up, her pretty features obscured by the light veil over her face. “You may ease your vigilance, Dr. Kendrick. No murderers, footpads, or even a ghost or ghoulie to bedevil us, so I believe we’re now safe.”

“There’s nothing remotely safe about this, Samantha. And I don’t believe in ghoulies.”

“In any case, I never take unnecessary risks, sir. Besides, what kind of Highlander doesn’t believe ghoulies?”

“The kind that went to medical school. And as to your assertion about risk, let me just say that we will have to agree to disagree.”

They’d argued enough for one night. All he wanted was to keep them both alive and unharmed. That meant keeping his full focus on their surroundings rather than verbally sparring with the alluring but frustrating Lady Samantha.

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