“Aye, butMrs. Beggarsounds worse.” He held her hand as she slid across to her seat, and she wondered, had she been wearing gloves, if they would’ve prevented the spark of heat between them.
“Well, you expect me to callyouBeggar, do you not?” She tilted her head to one side as she watched the countryside begin to slide by. “Laird Gaberlunzie is, perhaps, a little better,” she murmured, stifling a yawn.
He hummed and stretched his legs out as far as they would go, which wasn’t very far, thanks to the seat before them. Lowering her lashes so he couldn’t see the direction of her gaze, she studied the defined muscles of his legs.
Perhaps kilts are not quite so barbaric as I had assumed.
“Ye could call me Albert,” he finally said, gruffly.
She stifled another yawn with the backs of her fingers. “If it reallyisyour name, Lunzie.”
“One of them.”
When she lifted her gaze to tease him about his names, it was to find him frowning thoughtfully at her once more.
“What?” she demanded in exasperation.
“Yer disguise is quite good. Nae one on this train will guess ye are a celebrated beauty.”
She wasn’t certain if it was praise or not, but Tiffany found herself flushing. “Thank you. My sister and I worked late into the night to perfect it.”
Her companion nodded curtly. “It worked well.”
“I only wish I were not so tired. I will miss?—”
When he reached over and grabbed her hand, which she’d raised to smother another yawn, Tiffany yelped. Which, since she was mid-yawn, caused her to sort of choke, then wheeze, and by the time she was able to regain control, she realized he washolding her hand.
It was clumsy. It was strange.
It was wonderful.
Dazedly, she stared down at her thigh where their joined hands rested. He held hers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, whileshewas stiff and awkward.
But then, without looking at her, he started to trace small circles on her palm with his thumb. Slowly, she exhaled, feeling herself relax once more as he increased the pressure. It felt sogood, not just because of the little warm tingles rushing up and down her arm, but because he seemed to know exactly which muscles to rub. When he moved to the thick pad of muscle at the base of her thumb, she actually whimpered, and he glanced at her in concern.
“Does that hurt?”
“No,” she sighed happily. “It feels divine. Oh! That is the spot,” she murmured.
When he chuckled, his shoulder brushed against hers, and it felt so natural, so right, to be sitting beside this man, where she wasn’t the celebrated Oliphant Beauty, but just…Tiffany.
“Ye like that?”
She sighed again, which turned into another yawn. “I love it. I wish you had two thumbs.”
“I do have two thumbs.”
“No, I meant on this hand.” Her eyes closed briefly, and her lips twitched. “That might be awkward.”
“Do frogs have thumbs?” he wondered out loud. “And if they did, would that increase the chance of ye kissing another one?”
Her eyes flew open. “Kissing another frog?”
He increased the pressure of his massage, tugging at her hand enough to get her to turn to him. When she did, he lowered his voice. “Kissingme.”
Immediately, she felt her face flushing, her heartbeat hastening. “I— But the bargain…” she stammered, unable to admit the idea of kissing this man—thisLunzie—wasn’t as horrible as it ought to have been.
“Aye, milady. The bargain.” His lips curled, but it wasn’t a particularly nice smile. In fact, despite the beard obstructing much of his features, it was somehow…familiar. Gently, he disengaged his hand from hers, and a chill swept over her as she lost his touch. “Once we’ve reached York and accomplished whatever ye have planned, dinnae think I’ll no’ collect.”
