Highland Rogue. Deborah Hale

      “That is for you to decide, of course.” Miss Talbot retrieved her parasol from the fussy-look-ingm middle-aged man who had brought the note. “Thank you for delivering her ladyship’s message, Mr. Catchpole. We will not detain you any longer.”

      “Always happy to oblige, miss.” Catchpole regarded his employer with a look that bordered on reverence. “If I may be so bold, I do hope you will enjoy your holiday in the north. You have driven yourself so hard these past three years. It’s about time you had a proper rest.”

      Ewan’s clerk had said much the same thing to him on the day he’d made his whirlwind departure for London.

      Claire Talbot acknowledged the good wishes with a warm smile. “I do feel the need for a change of scenery. I know I can count on you to keep Mr. Adams and Mr. Montieth up to scratch for me.”

      Her shoulders slumped, just a trifle. Beneath her well turned out facade, Ewan thought he could make out subtle signs of fatigue.

      Once Mr. Catchpole had departed, she turned to Ewan again. “The note does not say Tessa is deathly ill, only indisposed.” She lowered her voice. “A feminine indisposition, perhaps. I fear you would only embarrass her by making a great to-do about it.”

      A scorching blush suffused Ewan’s face, right to the roots of his hair. “Of course…I should have thought…”

      “Men seldom need to consider such things, Mr. Geddes.” Her brisk tone soothed his chagrin. “I often wish we women could be so fortunate.”

      She nodded toward the note Ewan still clenched in his fist. “Lady Lydiard says she and Tessa will come north by train in a few days’ time. I can ask Captain MacLeod to delay our departure for them, but I doubt they would thank me for it, especially if the sea is rough at all.”

      “Not good sailors, are they?” Ewan liked nothing better than the sway of the deck beneath his feet. He’d never been able to work up proper sympathy for poor souls who got seasick.

      “The worst.” Claire pulled a face. “It was probably selfish of me not to arrange for us all to travel by rail in the first place. It wouldn’t be the same for me, though, going to Strathandrew without a lovely sail on the Marlet to get there.”

      Ewan found himself nodding. He had been looking forward to the voyage over the Irish Sea and through the southern isles. But Tessa…

      “I quite understand,” said Claire, “if you would prefer to wait and accompany Tessa and her mother.”

      The prospect of a long journey in a tiny railway carriage with Lady Lydiard made Ewan shudder.

      Claire strolled back toward the gangway. “Given the circumstances between you and Tessa, I understand perfectly if you would like to keep as close to her as possible until you are safely wed.”

      Pride would not allow him to let that challenge pass. Hurrying to catch up with Claire Talbot, he stepped into her path. “Hold on a minute. Do ye think I’m afraid to let yer sister out of my sight for a few days in case she’ll change her mind about me?”

      “I don’t know, Mr. Geddes.” She looked him up and down with a shrewd gaze. “Are you afraid?”

      “Not in the least.” A faint qualm deep in his belly contradicted Ewan’s emphatic words.

      “Sometimes a little fear can be prudent, you know. After all, look what happened when Tessa’s last beau had to be apart from her.”

      “That was different,” Ewan insisted. “I came looking for her, to renew our…acquaintance. It wouldn’t have mattered if that Stanton fellow had been stuck to her like wallpaper paste.”

      Claire Talbot arched one fine eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it?”

      “No!” He felt like a lad again, chafing under her gibes. Only now he couldn’t make himself act as though it didn’t matter. “She cared something for me long ago and I for her. That never went away through all the years since. A few days apart now isn’t going to make any difference.”

      Miss Talbot did not look as though she believed him. Perhaps because she sensed the doubts he tried so hard to hide from himself.

      “I can prove it!” Ewan regretted those desperate words the instant they left his mouth. But pride would not let him take them back.

      For he’d glimpsed a flicker of triumph in Claire Talbot’s cool eyes, mixed with vast relief. The kind he’d seen once or twice in the eyes of a gambler whose bluff had not been called. “You have nothing to prove to me, Mr. Geddes.”

      But he did, though. To her. To himself. To Tessa’s mother. He had to prove the lass’s love for him was more than some whim that would go away as quickly as it had come, if he were not constantly by her side to fan the flames.

      “I don’t want to impose upon yer sister while she’s feeling poorly.” Ewan dredged up every excuse he could think of to convince himself that Claire Talbot had not maneuvered him into doing what she wanted. “And I must admit, I was looking forward to sailing north on the Marlet. I’ve never much cared for trains.”

      Claire’s lips twisted into a mocking grin. “Or the continuous society of Lady Lydiard in close quarters over several days?”

      “Aye, perhaps.” Another worthwhile reason for making the voyage occurred to him. He would never have a better opportunity to win Claire Talbot over to the notion of him marrying her sister. “Anyway, it’s not fair ye should have to sail all the way up to Argyll without any company.”

      “You needn’t feel sorry for me, Mr. Geddes.” She collapsed her parasol with swift, fierce movements. “I have never been a social creature like my sister. I enjoy my own company very well.”

      “Strange, Miss Talbot. That’s the second time ye’ve told me not to take pity on ye. Is there some reason I should?”

      “Don’t talk nonsense!” She looked half inclined to break her parasol over his head. “Of course there isn’t. It’s just that I get tired of hearing people say what a shame it is I’ve never found a husband. As if I couldn’t have such useless incumbrances by the hundredweight if I wanted them!”

      Her vehement tone rocked Ewan back on his heels. And she wasn’t finished yet. “I run one of the most prosperous commercial enterprises in the kingdom, yet there are people who persist in thinking me a failure because I have not snared a husband to sire half-a-dozen children on me!”

      Put in those terms, marriage and motherhood did not sound very appealing. Why, then, did Claire Talbot’s voice ache with longing?