Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance (3 page)

Once again no one said a word.

“Now, if you will bring me a pen and paper, I shall write to my friends with all necessary
haste,” she continued. “You do have a rider, I trust, who can relay a message for
me?”

The innkeeper thrust out an arm and pointed toward the door. “Get oot!” he bellowed.

“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I saed tae get oot o’ me place.”

“But—”

“I’ll nae have more o’ yer lies. Yer father’s a prince, is he?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Och, aye,” the man mocked. “And me own cousin is Bonnie Prince Charlie and me mither’s
the queen.”

The room exploded with laughter—everyone roaring as they pounded fists on tables and
wiped tears of mirth from their eyes. The only exception was Daniel, who studied her
as she surveyed the others, her brows drawing tight with obvious confusion and dismay.

Until that moment he hadn’t known if she was simply telling tall tales and was indeed
the liar the innkeeper assumed her to be. But Daniel could clearly see that she believed
what she was saying. He had worried before that she was in shock, and now he knew
it for certain.

What had happened to her out on that road? he wondered. What had frightened her so
much that she would feel the need to take refuge in such an elaborate and unbelievable
fantasy?

A princess from a small European nation.

Well, he had to give her credit for being inventive because as far as stories went,
hers was a corker.

“’Ere, now,” the innkeeper shouted above the crowd, puffing out his chest and strutting
around with his thumbs tucked into his apron. “Look at me. I’m a bluidy prince. Who’s
gonna bring me mae crown?”

“Don’t know aboot yer crown, Angus,” one of the patrons called. “But I’ve got yer
throne right ’ere.” With that, the man thrust an empty chamber pot into the air and
waved it around by the handle.

A fresh explosion of laughter burst forth, so loud this time that it seemed to shake
the smoke-blackened ceiling timbers and scarred wooden floors.

The young woman looked lost, as if the world around her had suddenly gone mad.

The innkeeper, as though just then remembering the cause of all this frivolity, turned
toward her again. “Are ye still ’ere, ye lying wee vagrant? Or do ye not have the
sense God gave a goose and know when ter be gone? Now get oot or I’ll ’ave me loyal
subjects ’ere dae the bootin’ fer me.”

She blinked, her skin paling alarmingly again, clearly sensing the potentially dangerous
change in the air.

Daniel moved forward and took up a protective stance at her side. “There’ll be no
need for that,” he stated with calm authority. “I shall take responsibility for this
young woman since she is obviously in need of aid. Now, if you would ask one of your
serving maids to come over, she can show this lady upstairs to a room.”

The innkeeper gave a snort at the term
lady
, then shot him a challenging look. “Ye’re payin’ her keep, is that right?”

“Aye,” Daniel retorted firmly. “I’m paying.”

The man opened his mouth as if to debate the matter further, then shut it again and
shrugged. “Weel, it’s yer coin ter waste.”

“That’s right—it is. Now go get the maid.”

The innkeeper thrust out his lower lip and glared. Daniel glared back, knowing full
well that he had the upper hand. If there were two things in this world that always
won an argument, it was strength and money; he was the innkeeper’s match on both counts.

With a muffled curse, the older man spun and stalked off to do as he was told.

Once he’d gone, Daniel looked back at the woman and found her watching him.

“Thank you, whoever you are,” she murmured in her soft voice. “I am sure you quite
literally saved my life.”

Before he could respond, she swayed again. But instead of recovering her balance this
time, she pitched over in a dead faint.

Dashing forward, Daniel caught her with only inches to spare before she would have
hit the floor. Carefully he stood, her limp form cradled securely in his arms. Even
wet and
muddy, she was a pleasant armful. He studied her for a moment, idly wondering what
she looked like under her tangled hair and dirt-smudged face. Pretty, he suspected.
But even if she wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. She had needed help and it wouldn’t have
been right to stand aside and let her be cast out to an uncertain fate. He remembered
the words she’d spoken just before she’d fainted and the relieved gratitude in her
satiny brown eyes.

“You’re welcome,
Your Highness
,” he whispered in spite of the fact that she would not hear him. “Whoever you might
really be.”

M
ercedes sighed and slid lower inside the narrow tin bathtub. Closing her eyes, she
reveled in the luxurious heat of the water and the clean fragrance of the soap—even
if it was a coarse, homemade kind that smelled faintly of lye rather than the fine-milled,
lilac-scented variety she usually used.

Never in her life had she been grateful for something as ordinary as a bath. But simple
things took on an entirely new meaning when one was cold, muddy, and wet through from
wandering for hours lost and alone in a rainstorm.

She shivered at the memory of the ordeal.

As for the nightmare that had precipitated her terrified dash into the woods and her
escape afterward…she wouldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t; she might start
screaming if she did. Or worse, sobbing—so hard she feared she might never be able
to stop.

Fingers trembling, she picked up the soap and ran it in shaky turns over a small white
cotton washcloth she had been given. She scrubbed hard at her skin, as if the action
might have the power to wash all the bad memories away.

Thankfully, the inn’s lone chambermaid had already
helped scrub her hair clean, the heavy strands far too matted and filthy for her to
have managed on her own. She was sure she must have looked a sight in her ruined gown
and covered in mud and pieces of the forest. But the girl had said nothing, merely
assisting her into the bath before working to thoroughly cleanse her hair. She had
stayed to run a comb through the worst of the snarls before leaving Mercedes to continue
her ablutions in solitude.

Mercedes half wished now that the girl hadn’t left, even if she had promised to return
with a hot supper and a pair of slippers for her feet.

A plain but clean-looking cotton nightdress lay on the bed, along with a thin robe—clothes
donated by the maid. She made a mental note to make sure the girl was well compensated
for her generosity before she departed.

As for her savior…Of him she had seen nothing, not since she had awakened here in
this bedchamber nearly an hour earlier. The events in the inn’s main room seemed hazy
now, confusing and indistinct and a little terrifying, the harsh scents of alcohol
and smoke thick and suffocating in her throat. She remembered part of the conversation
and her request for help, followed by raucous, derisive laughter and cruel accusations
that she was lying.

That stung, particularly since she prided herself on being an honest person, who always
strove to do what was right and good. She wasn’t used to being doubted, let alone
ridiculed and callously dismissed.

If not for the brave man who had come to her defense, the innkeeper and his jeering
mob would have tossed her out into the rain again without so much as a backward glance.
She trembled and drew up her knees in the water, trying not to consider what might
have befallen her had that happened.

What
would
have happened if not for her savior?

She could barely recall the features of any of the other men in the room, all of them
blending into an indistinct brutish mass. But
him
she remembered with absolute clarity—the boldly gallant man with the unforgettable
moss green eyes.

Her eyelids slid closed so she could picture him better.

Tall. Powerful. Lean but solidly muscled. More on the rangy side with a sleek, narrow-hipped
build and long arms and legs that seemed more than capable of producing great speed,
agility, and endurance.

He wasn’t handsome precisely, at least not in the accepted sense. Yet there had been
something about this stranger that had made her want to stare rather than look away.
His hair had been an unusual shade of rich auburn—darkest brown with underlying layers
of vibrant earthy red. His complexion tanned in a way that made her believe he must
spend a great deal of time out of doors. As for his face, his nose was long and narrow,
his jaw square and rugged with cheekbones to match. But it was his eyes, those gorgeous
green eyes, that had captured her imagination and did not seem willing to let go.

What a blessing that he was there to defend me,
she thought.

Reminding herself that the bathwater would not stay warm forever, she took up the
washcloth again and stroked it over her skin, determined to make sure that no inch
of her body was left unclean.

Ten minutes later, she stood in front of the fire in her borrowed nightgown and robe,
tiredly rubbing a towel over her hair to encourage it to dry. Hearing the voice of
her old nursemaid inside her head, she knew it wouldn’t do to go to bed with wet hair
and risk waking up ill on the morrow. For after all, who would take care of her then?

A knock sounded on the door.

The maid with dinner, she presumed. “Come in,” she called over her shoulder.

The door opened, then closed again.

Mercedes glanced around. A short cry issued from her throat when she saw the figure
of a man standing in the shadows rather than the serving maid. Her heart beat frantically.

The man gazed back, his green eyes vivid despite the low light. “Forgive me for startling
you,” her savior said with a
deep, lilting, Scottish-accented voice. “But you did say tae come in.”

She pressed a hand to her chest and nodded, willing her pulse to slow. “I thought
you were the maid bringing dinner.”

“Nae. And I’m afraid I’ve brought nothing on which you might sup. The lass’ll be along
in a tick, though, I’m sure.” He sent her a reassuring smile. “If you’re wondering
why I’m here, I came to see how you’re faring.” His eyes roved slowly over her. “Much
better, I’d say.”

A tingle of awareness, quite unlike any she’d ever felt before, flowed through her,
along with the abrupt realization that not only was she alone with a man, but she
was dressed in nothing more than a nightgown and robe with her damp hair streaming
down her back. Normally she would have been alarmed by the situation and its inherent
impropriety, but since this morning “normal” no longer seemed to apply to her life.

Still, she couldn’t resist the urge to draw her robe closer and fold her arms over
her chest. “Yes, I am indeed much improved. I must thank you for what you did earlier…for
interceding on my behalf, that is.”

He shrugged as if his actions were of no moment. “You needed help. ’Twas the only
decent thing to do.”

“Apparently no one else thought the same. The patrons downstairs seemed quite ready
to throw me to the wolves.”

Another compassionate smile creased his face. “Then it is good there aren’t any wolves
left in Scotland these days.”

She felt her eyes grow round at the idea. When she’d been in the woods, she’d never
even considered the possibility of being threatened by wild animals; she’d been too
busy running from the human kind of predator.

“Even so, it was very good of you, Mr.…Mr.…? I am afraid you have the better of me,
since I do not know your name.”

“That is easily enough rectified. I’m MacKinnon. Major Daniel MacKinnon, just returned
from the Continent where
I served in His Majesty’s Highland Guard.” He made her a short bow.

An officer and a gentleman?
Now his actions made sense, since he was clearly used to command, used to taking
charge and acting in the defense of others.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Major.”

“Likewise. Although you now seem to have the better of me as regards your name.”

Her brows drew tight, remembering the scornful reception she had received from the
crowd downstairs when she’d shared the identity of her family and friends.

She gazed at MacKinnon now and wondered if he too believed she had been lying. She
supposed, given the unorthodox circumstances of her arrival and the unkempt state
of her attire, she couldn’t really blame him, or any of the rest of them, for imagining
her to be a fraud. What royal princess, after all, arrived without escort at a small,
out-of-the-way inn, pleading for help after having been forced to literally run for
her life?

This one,
she answered herself with inward resolution. But it was best not to think about any
of that right now. Time enough later when she was alone with no one to see the last
of her composure crumble to bits.

She lifted her chin. “I am Princess Mercedes Anna Sophia Wyndom of Alden.” She waited,
studying his eyes for signs of doubt and derision. But his expression remained inscrutable.

A knock came at the door and Mercedes startled again.

This time, however, it was the serving maid who bustled in, crossing the room to a
small table on the far side. With easy efficiency, she began to lay the table. “Will
ye be suppin’ in ’ere with the miss, then, sir?” she said to the major. “There’s plenty
fer two and I can set another plate in no time at all.”

He shook his head. “My thanks, lass, but—”

“Yes,” Mercedes interrupted unexpectedly. “The major
will be staying. Please bring up another place setting, and a bottle of your best
wine, unless the major would care for something else.”

MacKinnon cast her a look of surprise, but she pretended not to see. She knew as well
as anyone how shocking it was for her to suggest entertaining a man in her bedchamber—no
matter how unusual the situation might be. Her best friends from the academy, Ariadne
and Emma, would be staring openmouthed at her had they been here to witness her very
uncharacteristic show of boldness. Ordinarily she wasn’t the sort of young lady who
flouted the rules of propriety, but the truth was that she couldn’t bear the idea
of being alone right now. Not after everything she’d endured today. And not while
she had no way of knowing where the men who had chased her were now. They had been
so fiercely determined to find her this morning; it was only sheer luck that had kept
her from ending up in their clutches.