Gwen hastened after him, and as she passed a table where a distinguished-looking man sat with his wife and son, she heard the boy say, “Can you believe they were going to steal the cinnamon and chocolate? They didn’t look poor. Did you see his sword? Wow! It was better than the Highlander’s!”

Embarrassed, Gwen tucked the bag of pastries beneath her arm, juggled both cups of coffee, and struggled with the door.

“Drustan, wait. Drustan, I’m sorry,” she called to his broad, stubborn back.

He stopped midstep, and when he turned around he was smiling. Was that how brief the duration of his anger? She caught her breath and held it. He was simply the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and when he smiled…

“You like me.”

“I do not,” she lied. “But I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

He was undaunted. “Aye, you like me, lass. I can tell. You called me by my given name and you are frowning, with dewy eyes. I forgive you for being cruel and thoughtless.”

She changed the subject hastily and addressed something that had been bothering her since they’d left Barrett’s and that snooty Miriam. “Drustan, what does nyaff mean?”

He looked startled, then laughed. “Who dared call you a wee nyaff?”

“That snotty woman in Barrett’s. And quit laughing at me.”

“Och, lass.” More laughter.

“Well, what does it mean?”

“Do you wish the whole gist of it, or a simple one-word summary? Not that I can think of one at the moment,” he added. “It’s a uniquely Scots word.”

“The whole gist of it,” she snapped.

Eyes sparkling, a brow mischievously arched, he said, “As you wish. It means one who is irritating, much like a midge, one whose capacity to annoy and inspire contempt exceeds her diminutive size but not the cockiness that accompanies it.”

Gwen was seething by the time he finished. She turned around and stomped back toward Barrett’s to tell perfectly plucked Miriam precisely what she thought of her.

“Hold, lass,” he said, catching up with her and closing his hand about her upper arm. “ ‘Tis plain to see she was merely jealous of you,” he told her soothingly, “for having a fine braw man such as me at your side, especially after she beheld me in those blue trews.”

Gwen plunked her fists at her waist. “Oh, could you be any more pleased with yourself?”

“You’re no nyaff, lass,” he said, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “She was like as not far more envious of the look on my face when I gaze upon you.”

Well. Her sails deflated. Gwen felt suddenly much more charitable toward Miriam, and it must have shown on her face because he smiled arrogantly.

“Now you like me even more.”

“I do not,” she said, stiffly pulling her arm from his grasp. “Let’s go get that rental car and get out of here.”

God forgive her, she was beginning to more than like him. She was feeling territorial, protective, and downright lusty.

SEPTEMBER 20

7:32 P.M.

8

One flat tire—in the company of a man who had no idea how to change one, and no jack—a pit stop for his weapons, three rest stops, four coffees, and a very late lunch later, they arrived at the outskirts of Alborath just as dusk was falling.

Gwen sneaked a glance at him and wondered if the color would ever return to his face. She’d pushed the shuddering car up to seventy but quickly relented when he’d gripped the sides of his seat so tightly that if she’d tapped him with a fingernail, he might have shattered.

It was a good thing she’d slowed down, because the tire had gone flat two miles outside of Fairhaven, and they’d had to walk back and get a person from the rental agency to arrange for a serviceman to get the tire changed. She’d tried to rent a different vehicle, but as all were under contract, it was this one or none until tomorrow evening.

Tire changed, they’d resumed their drive, and eventually he’d relaxed enough to turn his attention to the coffee and pastries. After complaining because she’d gotten no kippers and tatties, he’d consumed the coffee and chocolate with gusto. The pleasure he’d exhibited over such mundane items had further irritated her. God help her, but she was nearly beginning to believe him. They hadn’t talked much on the drive, although not for her lack of trying. He simply hadn’t seemed able to relax enough to speak.

Now, as the lights of Alborath came into view, nestled in a lush valley, his complexion was ghastly in the gloaming.