Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance Read online

  “And where is the rest of yer party? What became of them?”

  A shudder went through her and she swayed on her feet. “Might I have a seat, if you would be so good?”

  She waited, making no move to seek a chair on her own; it was, Daniel realized after a moment, as if she expected someone to bring the chair to her.

  No one did.

  Daniel saw her tremble and sway slightly again. Was she going to faint? Given her condition, it was entirely possible.

  Used to making quick decisions, he stood and picked up the mate to the straight-backed wooden chair in which he’d been sitting. His boots echoed against the wide-planked pine floors as he carried it across to her and set it down. When she didn’t immediately react, he took a gentle hold of her elbow and steered her onto the seat.

  Only then did she look up, her gaze meeting his.

  Her eyes were like a pair of dark luminous pools, deep and soulful and unspeakably beautiful. Their color was brown but not an ordinary brown. Instead, their hue was an intriguing mixture of ripe earth and night sky with hints of black and gold woven through to create a shade quite unlike any he had ever glimpsed. The closest comparison he could make would be to a cup of intensely rich, fine Belgian chocolate he’d once had occasion to drink—warm and sensual and indescribably sweet. Even so, the color of that chocolate did not do her eyes justice.

  As for the rest of her, it was difficult to tell. Her pale visage was obscured by a layer of dirt and fear—very definitely fear—but not, he sensed, of himself.

  “Thank you,” she murmured softly, so softly he nearly missed the words.

  “So ye were set upon?” the innkeeper continued brusquely.

  “That’s right,” she answered, turning her head to look at the older man.

  “Robbed ye, did they?”

  “N-no, not exactly, they…” Her words trailed off, the small bit of color that had come into her face leaching away so that she looked pale as death.

  “If they didn’t rob ye, what dae’d they want? McCrawber’ll want ter know. He’s no magistrate, but he does fer the law around these parts. Surprised he’s not ’ere this evenin’. Comes in most nights. Must be the rain.”

  “Yes. The rain is very cold and unpleasant,” she said, another tremor rippling over her skin.

  She must be in shock, Daniel decided. He had seen it often on the battlefield, men who could walk and talk and function yet who didn’t seem quite right for all that. Men who’d seen too much, more than they could handle. What, he wondered, had she seen?

  “Weel, so what was it the highwaymen was after, if not yer purse?” the innkeeper persisted.

  She said nothing at first, then seemed to rally, drawing herself upright. “I would prefer to discuss the incident with this…Mr. McCrawber…once he can be summoned. In the meantime, I should like a room with a warm fire, a hot bath, and a meal, if you please. You will be recompensed in full for your services once my family and friends can be notified.”

  “Is that so?” The innkeeper folded his arms over his chest. “And just who is yer family? And these friends o’ yers? Where dae they live?”

  Daniel stilled so as not to miss her answer. The rest of the patrons did as well, the unusual woman in their midst proving to be as entertaining as a play.

  “My friends are the Earl of Lyndhurst—although he was recently made an archduke as well—and his wife, Her Highness Princess Emmaline of Rosewald,” she explained. “They are at present in residence at their London town house for the Season. Another of my friends, Princess Ariadne, is staying with them for the summer. As for my family, my parents are Crown Prince Frederick and Princess Marie-Louise of Alden.”

  Silence hummed through the room like a living being.

  “Alden is on the Continent in case you are unfamiliar with my country,” she added, as if she believed that to be the cause of all their wide-eyed stares. “It is small and not as well known as others, such as Prussia or Austria-Hungary. Many people are only vaguely aware of it.”

  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.”

  Chapter 2

  Mercedes 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.