Page 67 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“That does not make it untrue.” Or true for that matter, he reflected with amusement.

She studied him for a moment, then said, “Our father won’t allow you to abandon his daughter in Scotland while you return to London and carry on as you please.”

His daughter? So the lady was softening her tactic in steering him toward her sister—and letting him know her father would continue to take an interest in his daughter’s welfare.

“In all fairness, I was angry when I said that.”

Erroll thought he heard a low growl from the coach, which had slowed and was trailing suspiciously close to them. He should have known that ridiculous threat would come back to haunt him. The last thing he needed was the brute leaping from the coach to teach him a lesson in how a gentleman paid his addresses to a lady.

“I was, after all, innocent of your sister’s accusations,” Erroll said. “Not to mention, I had just endured a very long lecture from my father and a five hour race to catch my accuser. I was not about to passively walk the plank.”

Her gaze dropped and her shoulders shook slightly. He started to ask what was wrong, but his attention fixed on the curved flesh above her bodice. Lust made a stab at his groin with a dark intent that would certainly have Oscar upon him instantly. Then Erroll realized she was laughing.

“I don’t blame you for being testy,” she said through barely muffled laughter.

Erroll wondered whether she was laughing at the idea of him racing to catch his accuser or him walking the plank. “Then I am not quite the cad you thought I was?”

“You aren’t guilty of compromising Grace. But you are still a rakehell, and I think you meant it when you said you would go on with your pleasures as you always have.”

“Perhaps not exactly as I always have.” By God, if the brute overheard that, Erroll might have to remain awake, armed and vigilant the duration of the trip.

Miss Crenshaw lifted her head and studied his face. “I don’t want Grace to be hurt. She is without question the better choice as your wife. She has been groomed for marriage her entire life.”

Erroll grimaced. “You make her sound like a prize sow.” And him the prize hog.

Miss Crenshaw’s brows shot up. “If you care for your sanity, do not allow Grace to hear you mention prize sows and her name in the same sentence.”

That was the best advice anyone had given him in some time.

“I’m sorry you had to fight the duel with Lord Halifax,” she said. “If you have to leave because of that it would be terrible.”

Erroll clasped the hand she had around his arm and gave a squeeze. “The duel wasn’t your fault. Halifax was angry because I interfered with his dalliance.”

Her gaze cut to the hand he’d placed atop hers, then she looked straight ahead. “Had we not surprised them, it’s likely things would have gone badly for Lady Gallagher,” she said.

Erroll allowed his hand to drop from hers. “Then neither of us is to blame. Neville is a bastard. It is a wonder someone didn’t shoot him long ago.”

“In any case, thank you.”

Erroll liked the way the words sounded coming from her. “You are welcome.”

“We cannot stay long in Scotland,” she said. “My father must be frantic with worry.”

“Some of his fears are most certainly allayed by now,” Erroll said. “I sent word before we left Maryport.”

She looked sharply at him. “Oh dear. That was right, of course, but you should have told us. I have been worrying.”

“Forgive me. You are correct. It has been a hectic few days.”

They reached the corner and turned. The coach halted for another carriage crossing the intersection before following. Somerset and Grace Crenshaw weren’t in sight and Erroll supposed they had reached the shop and gone inside.

“How long until we reach your home?” Miss Crenshaw asked.

“Two days, if we’re lucky. Three or more, if the weather conspires against us.”

“I advise buying lots of sweets at the bake shop,” she said.

“Have you a sweet tooth?”