The Heir by Johanna Lindsey Page B

her by saying, “So you’ll come anyway, at my request, and bedamned what the auld mon has tae say aboot it.”
    “No, really, I couldn’t. Now, you really must let me deliver my message and be on my way.”
    He twisted his lips a bit, as if he might argue, but then he sighed. “Verra well, what message is that?”
    Now that she had to say it, the words just wouldn’t come out. Her cheeks, with barely a chance to cool off, were surely scarlet now. She glanced away from him, getting desperate, aware that he was waiting.
    Spotting the edge of the stable off to the side of the house, she procrastinated after all. “It was very strange, seeing coaches milling about a stable yard, rather than horses, but still not as many as one would expect to see from a gathering this large. Have some been put out to pasture then?”
    “Put out—?” he began, but the image her words produced, of fifty or so coaches grazing in a pasture, had him laughing before he finished.
    Sabrina couldn’t find anything amusing about what she’d said just then and took advantage of his distraction to blurt out, “Lady Ophelia would like an opportunity to speak to you in private.She suggested a meeting in the common room at the inn in Oxbow so that she might apologize to you.”
    She had managed to catch him completely unawares. In fact, he was looking at her now as if she were daft. But as quickly a scowl came and he bit out, “More like insult me again.”
    “No, really, she has assured me she regrets whatever it was she said to you before. Will you meet her?”
    “Nae.”
    Oddly, Sabrina felt her embarrassment subside, hearing that emphatic answer. But she wouldn’t be honestly discharging her duty if she didn’t at least make another effort or two on Ophelia’s behalf.
    So she said, “Is that an ‘I’ll think about it’ nay or an ‘I’ll need more convincing’ nay?”
    “‘Twas a flat-oout ‘ne’er tae be considered’ nay.”
    “Oh, dear, and I’d thought that type was obsolete.”
    “What type?” he said in a tone beginning to sound like exasperation. “What
are
you blathering aboot now?”
    “Your ‘never to be considered’ no. I thought everyone left a little room for changing their minds these days. Saves embarrassment, you know, if you try evasiveness instead—just in case you
do
want to change your mind later.”
    “Aye, but e’en more time is saved if you know your own mind and say so.”
    She gave up on that tack, asked instead,“Would it really be so hard on you to hear what she has to say?”
    “Hard, nay. A waste o’ m’time, aye.”
    She was blushing again, profusely, aware that she was wasting his time as well. “I’m sorry. I should have realized, with you needing to be in constant attendance here just now, that this wouldn’t be a good time to bother you about this. I’ll be going. G’day, Duncan MacTavish. It really was nice, seeing you again.”
    “Wait.”
    She had taken a good fifteen brisk steps, trying to escape her own embarrassment, which put her almost beyond shouting distance. She turned, not even positive that it wasn’t just her hopeful imagination that had him calling her back. But indeed, he was walking toward her, and reaching her, he looked like a man about to eat sour grapes.
    “I’ll meet her on one condition,” he said.
    She was surprised enough to say, “Certainly. What condition would that be?”
    “That you pack your bags and get back here afore dinner is served t’night.”
    Her eyes widened. “You’re inviting me to dinner?”
    “I’m inviting you tae the blasted party, for the duration, however bluidy long that is.”
    She smiled then. She couldn’t help it, he sounded so aggrieved that he was compromising just to get his way.
    “I, ah, don’t need to pack any bags. I do live just down the road.”
    “You’ll come then?”
    “My aunts would have to come with me. I can’t go to affairs like this without their chaperonage.”
    “Bring whomever you