“He won’t fight at all,” Niall said confidently. “Now be a good little wife and get in the carriage, please. Tavish can cover you.”
“Cover…?” As Heather took a step back toward the carriage, she looked over and saw that Tavish had drawn a pistol, probably kept for protection against highwaymen. Now, Tavish leveled it toward Brom.
“Just by the carriage door, miss…er, ma’am,” Tavish said. “Apologies if I can’t help you in.”
Heather scooted toward the carriage door, and remembered that she still had the knife Niall gave her last night. She drew it from its sheath, just in case.
Brom considered the odds. The calculations did not come out in his favor. There was the hulking Niall, armed with a gun and knife he clearly knew how to use. The blacksmith, now holding a red-tipped bar and a heavy hammer. Tavish the driver, aiming like a sniper. Heather breathed out cautiously, keeping her own knife up.
Brom met her gaze, his eyes full of malice. “You stupid, stupid girl.”
“Don’t call her that,” Niall warned.
Brom ignored him, keeping his attention on Heather. “Mr. Hayes will hear of this,” he spat at her.
“Good,” she retorted. “Tell him that I’m safely married now, to someoneIchose, not he. And tell him that he was a most unsuitable guardian!”
“You’re going to regret stealing from Mr. Hayes,” Brom warned Niall, even as he continued backing away.
Niall frowned. “Stealing? She’s his niece, not his slave.”
“You know what I’m talking about. And don’t think Hayes gives up easily!” Brom remounted and wheeled his horse about, riding south at a breakneck pace.
“Good riddance,” she muttered.
Niall helped her into the carriage, then sat beside her, noting, “After all, we’re married now.”
“I need a moment,” she said, her stomach still churning from the near-fight, and the kiss, and oh yes, the wedding. She twisted the ring on her finger.
He laughed quietly. “Understandable.”
“Oh, Niall, I hope this will work. It’s not a real marriage. I mean, it is. But it isn’t.”
“We just have to convince people it’s real for a while. Six weeks, Mrs. MacNair,” he assured her. “And on your birthday, we’ll announce that it was all a big mistake and get it annulled. And we’ll both be on our way.”
Heather smiled at him. “You really are being a good sport about all this.”
“It’s the most fun I’ve had in ages. By the way, what did that mean? When Brom said I should know what he’s talking about? I assure you, I don’t have a clue.”
Heather shrugged, equally mystified. “Brom isn’t an intellectual bastion at the best of times. He was probably too angry to make sense when he yelled that at you.”
“Well, who cares. I trust we’ve seen the last of him,” Niall said.
“Me too,” she agreed. But she was wrong.
Chapter 7
Once north of the border, they traveled on the main road, no longer concerned about pursuit. Still, Tavish put in as many miles each day as he could, and Niall explained that both men hoped to return home as soon as possible.
“Is there some urgent reason?” she asked, realizing once more how little she knew of this man or his life.
“Oh, not in the way you mean,” he said. “It’s just that my business in London kept us away for a long time. A couple of months, when I thought it would be a couple of weeks. Very frustrating.”
Every mile northward seemed to make both men happier, more at ease. Heather also relaxed as she put more distance between herself and her uncle’s threats. The last year of her life began to seem like a bad dream.
It was also notable to her that the further north they rode, the more Niall and Tavish’s accents broadened, as if the Scottish air itself was having an effect. They saidvery, but it came out asverra. Sometimes Tavish’s brogue was so thick, and filled with words she didn’t even know, that it was like another language altogether. She had to keep asking Niall for explanations, and learned more about the Scots as people than she ever expected.
“What’s canny?” she asked at one point.
