Page 5 of In the Highlander's Bed

There was no place in his life for a woman. The Cause was his mistress. He was here to kidnap Constance Cameron, not woo her.

However, courting gave him an excuse for searching her out. The problem was, he sensed that he might be wagering more than he wanted to stake in this matter.

Gordon shook his head. When had he become fanciful? He wasn’t a man given to doubts. He couldn’t afford them. He wanted the Sword of the MacKenna and this lass was the key. The time had come to put his pretty face to good use.

But before he could take a step toward his goal, a matronly woman with the protective air of a mother hen placed herself between himself and Constance Cameron. “I beg your pardon, sir?” she said crisply.

Gordon immediately realized his error. This was the headmistress the servant by the door had directed him toward. He’d almost walked right by her.

Giving his best bow, he attempted to recoup lost ground with flawless manners. “Mistress Hillary, please forgive my intrusion. I’m Gordon Lachlan.” He used his name. Every ear nearby was cocked in their direction. He dared the English to recognize him.

No one overhearing stirred. Not even the few soldiers. So much for Thomas’s worries.

“I had an interview with Mr. Fryson last week about sending my sister to your excellent school,” Gordon lied smoothly. Fryson was the school’s owner. There had been no such interview the week before, however, a few quick questions of the servant at the door hadrevealed that Mr. Fryson was not in attendance that evening. He’d been called away and the servant had been gossipy enough to mention the headmistress always had her hands full when left in charge. Gordon gave the Headmistress his easiest and most charming smile. ”He invited me to the dance, but I didn’t know if I would still be in the area. However, business has detained me and I thought to pay a visit and see this part of your program for myself.”

”Ah, yes, Mr. Fryson spoke of your visit,” the headmistress said, giving truth to the servant’s assessment. ”Social skills, as well as a thorough knowledge of the gentle graces, such as dancing, are an important part of our program. I hope your sister will one day join us.”

“I’m certain she will,” Gordon said, praying Fiona never found out he’d so used her. She’d be furious at being cast as a schoolgirl, but then, lately, any emotion out of her, even anger, would be welcome.

He pushed concerns over Fiona out of his head as Mistress Hillary asked, “Are you from this area, Mr. Lachlan?”

“No, Speyside,” he said. “My father was Sir John Lachlan.”

“The magistrate?” The stiffness dropped from Headmistress Hillary’s manner. “The mancourageous enough to stand with the crofters against the Clearances?”

Pride would not allow Gordon to deny it. “He was my father.”

“He lost his life for it.” She shot a glance at the soldier standing some six feet away and lowered her voice. “The Clearances are destroying my beautiful country. And what is left behind? People who don’t care. Look at my charges, so wealthy and so empty-headed. Their parents want nothing more from me than to make them elegant. I was a vicar’s daughter, sir. I was raised with a conscience. I have intelligence. I have seen for myself how the poor suffer. If we are not careful, everything we once valued will be gone.”

“Not as long as I draw breath.”

A sad smile came to her lips. “I’m older than you, Mr. Lachlan, and I think, perhaps, wiser. Sometimes we can’t stop the changes that are happening.”

“We must always stand for what is right.”

Her eyebrows rose and she released her breath with a sigh of resignation. “You are a crusader. Good. The world needs a hero, even if it doesn’t know what to do with him.” She offered her hand. “However, welcome to our small school. I pray your sister will someday be one of our number.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” he said, genuinely meaning the words. Here was another supporter of the Cause.

Raising her voice, a signal that confidences were finished between them, she said, “May I introduce you to some of the young women who are my charges, Mr. Lachlan? I assure you, they are most eager to make your acquaintance. You can see how they are gathering around.” It was true. Girls had been inching forward, covertly jockeying to be the first to receive an introduction, while the men in the room stood back with arms crossed and frowns deepening.

“As I am theirs,” Gordon replied dutifully. He couldn’t help but take a secret delight in upsetting the other men’s plans of conquest for the evening, especially those of the Sassenachs.

“Your father was a magistrate but what of yourself…?” the headmistress asked.

“I studied law.”

“In Edinburgh?”

He smiled. “No, London.”

Mistress Hillary’s own smile widened. “All the better. My charges live for talk of London.” The feminine faces around her nodded enthusiastic agreement.

“It’s been several years—” he startedapologetically, but a young woman with silvery blond curls cut him off.

“That’s fine. We are interested in whateveryouhave to say.”

Headmistress Hillary frowned at the chit’s forwardness, but she ignored her. She offered her hand. “I’m Lady Mary Alice.”