He had a melodic brogue, the sort that could probably set Miss Harrell’s romantic fantasies of Highlanders afire.
Ian wanted to get her away from him as soon as possible.
He was about to grunt a response, but Miss Harrell chirped happily, “We are on the way to Appin. My clan lives there.”
“Ah, so you are Scottish,” Anderson said with interest.
“My family is—” Miss Harrell answered and would have continued on, but Ian stepped in her way.
“We’ll be seeing you,” he said firmly.
“But you haven’t told me your names,” Anderson protested.
Ian frowned. Whatever happened to dour Scots who enjoyed their wall of reserve? This man was gregarious to a fault. He decided to cool the farmer’s ardor a bit and introduce himself and Miss Harrell as man and wife. It was safest. “Ian Campion,” he said ungraciously. “And this is my wi—”
“HissisterLyssa. Lyssa Campion,” she interrupted.
Ian could have turned her over his knee.
Anderson was delighted. “What a pretty sister you have, Campion.”
“Thank you,” Ian said testily, refusing to look at Miss Harrell. “We must be going.”
“I’m going Appin way,” Anderson said, stepping into his path. “I can’t take you all the way there, but I can put you up for a night. You can even come to the ceilidh. We always need another pretty girl to dance with.”
“Youdanceat a wake?” she asked.
“Aye, and a lot more too,” he added.
Ian didn’t know if he’d ever seen anyone actually leer before in his life, but Anderson did. He almost licked his chops like a wolf eyeing a mouth-watering morsel.
Now Miss Harrell understood. She took a step back toward Ian. “Well, I don’t know—” she started, but Ian wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
“Absolutely,” he said cheerfully. “Sounds fun, and there isn’t anything like a bit of adventure, is there,sister?” He hopped up on the rear of the wagon. “You ride up front, Lyssa dear, with kind Mr. Anderson,” he said, taking great relish from using her name.
“But I think I’d rather be in the wagon with you,brother,” she said pointedly.
“No, you don’t,” Anderson said. His hand snaked around her waist. He hugged her close. “It’s more comfortable up here with me.” Before she could make another protest, he commandeered her up to the narrow wagon seat beside him.
Snapping the reins, he had the horses on the go, and Miss Harrell had no choice but to grab hold of the side of the seat or go tumbling off the wagon.
Ian stretched out, enjoying the scent of freshly milled timber and the hole Miss Harrell had obstinately dug for herself.
Chapter Nine
LYSSAknew she’d made a grave error in judgment.
Mr. Anderson obviously thought he was God’s gift to women. She’d heard of men like him but she’d never met one. In the past, her father and her chaperones had kept her safe from this type of scoundrel.
However, it was very unhandsome of Mr. Campion to not come to her rescue. True, she had been a bit bold in insisting on the brother/sister relationship…but wouldn’t any decent brother come to his sister’s defense around the likes of Mr. Anderson?
As if answering her silent question, a snore came from the back of the wagon.
The bounder! She’d wager all her father’s money he wasn’t asleep but merely pretending, to egg Mr. Anderson on.
It worked. Mr. Anderson’s hand came down on her thigh.
Lyssa went still, hoping he’d made a mistake about where he’d placed it and would remove it momentarily.
