Highland Enchantment (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman

think you nothing more than a traveling..."—he searched for words—"entertainer," he ended weakly.
    "You truly think so?'
    "Aye."
    "Then you're a dolt!" she snapped, her long hat feather bobbing. "I couldn't fool a goat in these garments."
    "Surely a goat," he said, and despite his own hopeless situation, couldn't help but grin.
    Her mouth puckered again. "I'm not wearing them."
    "Please." He grabbed her arm, but the contact was too great a temptation, so he dropped his arm and backed away a careful pace. "Please, Rachel. You cannot be seen in that gown you just removed.
    Tis too dangerous, for you'll surely be noticed."
    "And you think I won't be noticed in this ? I look like a... a..." She gestured a bit frantically toward her own body. "There is no word for what I look like."
    Actually there was. But he had no wish to tell her she was beautiful, that she'd be beautiful even if she dressed in rags and shaved her head with a plow shear.
    "Well, of course you look strange now. You're not acting the part."
    "What part?"
    "The part of my assistant."
    Her expression didn't change a whit. That wasn't necessarily a good thing.
    "Listen, Rachel, I know you're not telling me the truth of your destination. Nevertheless, I am willing to help you reach it. But I cannot magically make you appear there. We need horses, food, and shelter. But most of all we need to be unrecognizable. And we cannot have any of those things without money. Somehow we'll have to obtain some coin. More, much more, than what is in my purse."
    She was still staring at him, which was better than a few options he could name.
    "I could steal it—"
    "I'll not have you compromising my soul," she interrupted.
    He tightened his jaw. "If you have any talents worth a bit of coin, now might be the time to share them then, my lady." He drawled out the last word as he skimmed her unlikely garb.
    "Well, normally I would sell my body," she said, her tone stiff. "But I fear you've taken that option from me with these outlandish garments."
    "On the contrary. You might be surprised how many men would be interested in the diversions they'd expect you to offer. Unfortunately, you might not enjoy their attentions as much as you have your lord Dunlock's."
    She shrugged. "Who can compare?"
    "Why don't you admit that you—"
    "As much as I enjoy your yammering at me, I don't have time to waste on it," she interrupted tersely. "Have you a plan or don't you?"
    For a moment he was tempted to shake her until she admitted the truth, but he controlled himself.
    "Here," he said, snatching a small pouch from the ground. "I've procured a needle and a bit of thread. Do something with those shoes, so they don't fall off your feet."
    "I'm no seamstress," she said, taking the pouch.
    "You're no lad either," he countered. "But you'd damned well better learn to pretend if you want to see your Lord Dunlock in your present virginal condition."
    "I told you—"
    "Spare me," he interrupted. "You've fooled half of Scotland into believing you're a living saint, I'm certain you can convince a few peasants you're a lad."
    For a moment he thought she would argue, but instead she settled onto a log, kicked off an oversized, cloth slipper, and set a needle to its back. "What do I have to do?' she asked, her tone sullen.
    "Twill be simple enough," he said, and began to explain.
    Darkness settled in as they trudged down the road again. Finally, aching with fatigue, they turned into the woods to search for a relatively dry place to spend the night.
    Some hundred rods into the trees, Rachel spotted a stand of comfrey. Tearing off a few stalks, she hiked on.
    Finally, hidden away in a copse of hawthorn trees, they shared the last of the cheese and made themselves as comfortable as possible.
    But sleep wouldn't come immediately. Nagged by a thousand problems, Rachel busied her fingers by tearing strips of cloth from her shattered gown and weaving them into a drawstring pouch.
    Finally, finding that that simple