The Scot and I Read Online Free

door.
    The light wasn’t bright enough to see his face clearly, and he had yet to move away from the door. He had that quiet air of assurance that marked him as someone who was used to taking charge. She hoped he was a butler from one of the grand houses in the area, but she couldn’t quite see him in that role. Too grand for an ordinary policeman. Ramsey’s partner? Someone to take over if the plot misfired? She’d never met a member of Her Majesty’s Secret Service, but she thought that he might fit that bill, too.
    When he stepped up to the bar counter, she had a clear view of his face. She didn’t suck in a breath; she simply stopped breathing altogether. This was the man who, she thought, had recognized her when they waited at Balmoral for the queen to make her entrance. Tall, dark, and handsome and dangerous, the man who had a good memory for faces.
    She had no doubts now. It made no difference whether he was Ramsey’s partner or a secret service agent. He was no friend to her.
    It was time to get out of there.
    She took a healthy swig of whiskey with the desired result. She started to cough, not harshly but controlled so as not to draw undue attention to herself. The fit of coughing gave her an excuse to produce her white linen handkerchief and cover the lower half of her face. Perfect camouflage, she hoped.
    The stranger had ordered a tankard of ale or beer. As he turned to survey the inn’s customers, she averted her eyes. She felt exposed, sitting by herself with nothing to do. She’d eaten her dinner, she’d finished her whiskey, but she couldn’t smoke, not only because she didn’t know how, but because it would arouse suspicion. A lad with weak lungs would be loath to put a foul-smelling pipe in his mouth. Whiskey was different. Every Scot knew that uisque beatha was medicinal.
    She chanced a quick look at the stranger. He was propped against the bar counter, looking very much at ease as he surveyed the taproom and its patrons. She understood only too well what he was doing. He was making a mental note of all the exits and summing up each person as she had done when she’d entered the taproom. Agents were trained to notice anything that was out of place.
    Her heart jumped when he exchanged a few words with the landlord, then she quickly averted her gaze when she felt their eyes on her. What had Mr. Cluny told the stranger?
    She raised her head and allowed her eyes to wander, then she casually steered her gaze in the stranger’s direction.
    He was coming her way!
    She’d been in worse fixes, she reminded herself. She’d crossed swords with the best of them. She had to forget that she was Mahri Scot and think herself into the part of Thomas Gordon.
    He stopped at her table and smiled down at her. It softened his features but did not warm his eyes. “I’m Hepburn,” he said, “Alex Hepburn. May I join you?” He was already seating himself before she opened her mouth.
    “Thomas Gordon,” she replied and stifled a yawn. “I was just leaving.”
    She made to rise, but Hepburn pushed on the table with both hands, pinning her in place. “Make it easy on yourself, Thomas,” he said. “I don’t want you. I want your mistress. Take me to her, and I’ll let you go.”
    Mahri’s mind was frozen. “My mistress?”
    Hepburn slapped a blond wig on the table between them. “She left her calling card at the queen’s reception earlier this evening. I don’t think you’re involved in that, but you’re her guide, aren’t you? Tonight, you led her over the hills to wherever she wanted to go. Take me to her hideout, and I’ll let you go.”
    Mahri’s mind was now buzzing. “It wasna me. I’m here for my health.” She rubbed her chest. “Ask the Clunies.”
    “Yes, so Mr. Cluny told me. He also told me that you went out riding after breakfast and did not return until late.” His smile would have done credit to a shark. “You’re small-fry, Thomas. It’s the woman I want.”
    The thought of