To Marry A Scottish Laird by Lynsay Sands Page B

wasn’t until the man used the word boy that she recalled how she was dressed. Funny how she managed to forget about that around Cam.
    “And would ye be wantin’ something to eat too?” the man asked happily. “Me wife has made a fine chicken stew and a bean pottage.”
    “That’ll do,” Cam said when Joan nodded. “Two please.”
    “Good good,” the man said rubbing his hands together. “Sit down, me laird, and I’ll let me wife ken to serve up two trenchers, then fetch the drinks.”
    Nodding, Cam settled at the table. Once the man was out of earshot, he half-whispered, “I keep fergetting ye’re dressed as a boy. Truthfully, now that I ken ye’re a girl I’m amazed I ever believed otherwise, braies or no braies.”
    Joan smiled faintly at the compliment and shrugged. “As me ma always said, people see what they expect to. See someone in braies, and most would automatically count me a boy.”
    “Aye, I suppose so,” Cam murmured, but shook his head just the same, suggesting he still didn’t understand how everyone didn’t at once recognize her as a woman.
    Their host returned with their drinks, followed closely by a curvaceous little woman carrying their food. The stew was delicious and hearty and after commenting on how good the meal was, they mostly ate in a companionable silence until Joan asked, “How long do you think ’twill take us to get to MacKay?”
    Cam was silent for a moment, and then shrugged mildly. “A week and a half or two weeks.”
    His answer made her eyebrows rise. She’d expected it to take that long walking. They were on horseback.
    “With the two o’ us on his back, I do no’ want to make me horse go too quickly,” Cam explained and then grinned. “ ’Sides, why rush? I ha’e nothing to hurry home fer.” He paused and then asked, “Is there a rush on delivering the message? Was it to be there by a certain time?”
    “Nay,” Joan admitted.
    “Good.” He relaxed and smiled. “Then we shall take our time and enjoy the journey.”
    Joan nodded and returned her attention to her food, but she knew he meant to enjoy the journey in more ways than one. She also knew she would enjoy it too, so didn’t mind. In fact, she was rather pleased to know she had another week and a half of his company, or maybe even two weeks.
    “Have ye thought on what ye plan to do once ye’ve delivered the message?” Cam asked suddenly and Joan glanced to him blankly.
    After a pause, she shook her head slowly. “Nay. Return home to Grimsby I suppose.”
    “Grimsby, aye, ye said ye were from there,” Cam murmured, his gaze on his food.
    Joan didn’t comment. She’d told him she had been born and raised in Grimsby during one of their earlier conversations.
    “But ye’ve no family there, do ye?” he asked.
    “Nay,” she admitted. “Me mother was the only family I had.”
    He nodded, and then took a deep breath and said, “Ye’re a talented healer. ’Tis a valuable skill. Mayhap ye should consider settling at Sinclair and working there.”
    Joan paused and lifted her head slowly to look at him, but he was peering at his food with a concentration that was completely unnecessary. Avoiding her gaze as he made the suggestion? Did that mean he wanted her to stay at Sinclair or not? Was he just making the offer because he felt bad for her? Or because he didn’t want this . . . whatever this was, to end?
    Joan didn’t say anything to that. In truth, his suggestion had quite taken her by surprise. She hadn’t expected it. Joan hadn’t even considered that this relationship they had, whatever it was, might continue beyond this journey. And she wasn’t sure that it was a good thing if it did. She had no desire to be his mistress, so there was no future for whatever they were sharing just now.
    “I’ll be right back,” Cam said suddenly and she glanced up to see him getting up from the table. Joan nodded and watched as he walked over to the tavern owner. Her curiosity rose when he