Page 44 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

“Are you?” Her response was dry and sharp, though it was hardly Cat’s fault. Londoners had had tightly held prejudices against Scots for centuries. And vice versa.

“Well, I intend to go and have a wonderful time. And you should do the same.”

“And yet, if I break some arcane convention, I may never be invited back.” She sighed. “My time would be free to explore London at my leisure.”

Cat sighed. “You willna do that.”

“They expect me to.”

“Perhaps. But I think we owe it to our people to behave civilly.”

Isobel frowned at her lifelong friend. “What happened to you? You used to be so . . . normal.”

“Like you, you mean.”

“Of course.”

“I still am like you, but honestly, this is an adventure I want to savor. I’ll likely never be back to London. There’s so much to see and experience. And,” she said, “so many handsome men.”

A skitter of dread danced up Isobel’s spine. “Men?”

“Aye. Look over there. A handsome lad indeed. I’d wager he doesna pad his cod.”

Isobel did not look over there. She stared at Cat. “I thought we made an agreement. We’re no’ in London to meet men.”

“We agreed we were no’ in London to find husbands. There’s a difference. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the company of a handsome lad.”

Isobel sniffed. There was little she could say to that, since she had.

Enjoyed the company of a handsome lad. The most handsome, in fact.

That lad had rarely left her mind.

He haunted her.

Why, even now, she thought she saw him in the turn of a cheek, just down the path.

Her heart surged. Lungs locked. She narrowed her eyes and stared.

It couldn’t be. Could it?

Her pulse shot into a wild patter and sweat beaded her brow.

“Isobel? Are you all right?” Cat said from a seeming distance.

The man in question, the object of her obsession, threw back his head and laughed and the breeze carried the sound to her.

Her skin prickled and her mind hummed.

He even sounded like Nick.

She had to see him face-to-face. She had to know for certain it was not him.

But even as she spurred her mount into a trot, he, and his friend, hit an open space on the track and launched into a gallop.

She followed, in a mad rush, even leaving the road when a knot of carriages got in her way. She was aware of Cat following behind, calling after her, but she didn’t slow. She had to catch him. She had to know for sure.

And blast.