Return of the Prodigal Gilvry. Ann Lethbridge

      ‘In the meantime, it seems I have no choice but to accept the duke’s generous offer. I will travel to Mere and learn the outcome of my husband’s business affairs.’

      Jones turned his gaze to Drew. ‘I do hope I can prevail upon you to finish what you set out to accomplish. The return of Mr MacDonald to the bosom of his family. You will, of course, be rewarded for your time.’

      ‘I would prefer to leave it to you,’ Drew said. ‘I have another engagement.’ Ian. His gut clenched painfully.

      Jones gathered up his papers. ‘My first duty is to ascertain this lady’s claim of marriage, which takes me in a different direction, after which I will then make post-haste to Mere. But you must allow it is vital that the poor dear departed be taken swiftly to his final resting place. Who knows what ravages may have occurred during shipment? If it is not possible to prove his identity...’

      Rowena paled. Drew felt slightly nauseous, though the undertaker had assured him all would be well.

      Rowena looked at him and, while her expression was one of serene indifference, he knew from the pleas deep in those soft grey eyes that she wanted him to say yes. ‘Verra well. I will accompany Mrs MacDonald to Mere.’

      The lawyer looked far too relieved at his words, but Drew could hardly change his mind, because Rowena had looked equally relieved.

      ‘Excellent,’ Jones said. ‘You will make your way to Penwood House. No doubt his Grace will be delighted to receive you at the castle once you are established there.’

      Drew didn’t like the glint of triumph in Jones’s eyes. ‘And a conveyance?’ Drew asked.

      ‘I will arrange for a cart for the transportation of the...luggage.’

      Rowena’s face shuttered. ‘I am to travel on this cart?’

      ‘You may. Unless you prefer to ride. The driver, a man by the name of Pockle, and his wife will serve your needs along the road, which regrettably is a difficult journey this time of year.’

      Did the man hope she’d become lost on the way? Drew glared at him, knowing only too well the dangers of cross-country travel. ‘How long will it take?’ Drew asked.

      ‘Two or three days. Longer if the weather is bad.’

      ‘And where is Mrs MacDonald to spend the nights?’ Drew asked. He could not get away from his sense of danger. ‘You surely don’t expect her to camp out in the hills.’

      ‘Certainly not. There are inns along the way. Please be ready to leave in the morning. I will take care of all the arrangements before I leave later today.’ He gathered up his papers and packed them away. ‘I look forward to our next meeting at Mere, Mrs MacDonald.’

      He bowed and left.

      Rowena frowned. ‘He was so keen on a date at first. Why do you think he changed his mind so quickly?’

      The lass had a very sharp mind.

      He shook his head. ‘That’s a tricky wee fellow, I’m thinking. You are right to seek out the duke.’

      ‘Are you sure you don’t mind going, too? While he seemed to want your presence at Mere, I could probably manage with the driver and his wife, since it is not too far distant.’

      It was madness to agree to it. To spend more time in her company. To feel the call of her milk-white skin and find himself falling into the depths of her clear grey eyes. Madness and torture for the sake of a promise no one had heard but himself. ‘Once I start on something, I have to see it through.’

      No matter how long it took.

      A soft breath came from her parted lips and he wanted to capture it in his mouth. ‘Thank you.’

      He turned briskly for the door. ‘It seems I must find some sort of nag for the journey.’

      His business with Ian could wait. A week. A month. A year. It made no difference; it had waited so long already.

      Yet he could not help feeling he might be making the worst mistake of his life. And he’d made some bad ones in the past.

      Chapter Three

      Why on earth did Mere have to reside in such an inaccessible place in wintertime? Rowena thought, huddling deeper into her cloak. Why couldn’t he live in Edinburgh like any civilised person? This was their second day since leaving Dundee and Rowena was already exhausted by the journey. The roads were so abysmal, the cart travelled at less than walking speed and, this afternoon, the sky had turned a lowering grey just skimming the hilltops.

      The cold, damp air wormed its way through every fibre of her clothing. Worse was the way Mr Gilvry, riding ahead of the cavalcade, glanced up at the sky from time to time.

      She urged her horse forward. ‘Is it going to rain?’

      She was on his left side and the beauty of his features struck her anew, though she hoped she managed to hide the sudden hitch in her breath.

      ‘Snow,’ he said with such assurance, she did not doubt him.

      Lovely. She shivered. ‘How long before we reach the next inn?’ She could just imagine a warm fire and a hot bath.

      Mr Gilvry glanced back over his shoulder at the cart, where the driver and his wife sat pressed close together for warmth. ‘Our next stopping place is fifteen miles from where we stayed last night. Since we havena’ made more than ten miles, I would say we have another five to go.’

      ‘Can we make it by nightfall?’

      ‘Aye.’

      He sounded confident, but she wasn’t fooled. These one-word answers were meant to disguise his concern. ‘You mean, if it doesn’t snow and if the cart doesn’t get stuck.’

      He gave her a quick sideways glance and she could have sworn the corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. The effect was more than charming, it was wickedly seductive. Her inner muscles gave a little squeeze. Not the sort of reaction one should be having sitting on a horse. Or at all. But at least a new kind of warmth was now pulsing through her body.

      ‘Aye, that is just what I mean,’ he said.

      To hide her flush, she also looked over her shoulder at the cart and its occupants. Twice it had become stuck in a muddy rut on the previous day. On both occasions, she’d been impressed with Mr Gilvry’s strength and his whipcord leanness when he had removed his coats and heaved with all his might.

      ‘I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t have just gone back to my place of employment and forgotten all about ever being married.’

      His amusement faded. ‘Would you let that wee mannie Jones have the best of you? I don’t know what game Mere is playing, but your husband was telling me the truth. He made some sort of settlement for you.’

      ‘It won’t make any difference if I freeze to death out here.’

      ‘I’ll be certain that doesna’ happen.’

      From anyone else she might have taken his words as bravado, but the determination in both his voice and his face gave her a modicum of comfort, even as her heart sank at the sight of the next hill rising before them. The track disappeared up into the clouds. Who knew what lay ahead.

      It was the steepest hill they’d encountered so far. ‘We’d best walk the horses again,’ Mr Gilvry said, dismounting in a swirl of coat. ‘They need to rest, but we canna stop if we are to make shelter by nightfall.’

      He reached up and lifted her down as he did each time she needed to dismount. Again the heat of his touch warmed her through and through. It was all in her mind, of course, there were layers and layers of clothing between his skin and hers, but it was the only bright spot in a very dreary day.

      She smiled her thanks when he set her on her feet and received a nod in reply. A very