He wandered deeper into the room. Flexed his hands. Swallowed again. “Her bread is dreadful,” he uttered.
At the sound of his voice—crisp and deep—her heart drummed faster.
He stopped about a foot away. “It’s nothing like yours.”
God, his eyes were burning her alive. Her chest ached. Her fingertips tingled with the need to touch him. “Ye’ve gone too thin.”
“I’ve been starving.”
“It—it’s yer own fault, stayin’ away from … my kitchen so long. This willnae do if ye intend to win yer wager.”
“No. It won’t do.”
“I’ll give ye loaves to take with ye.”
His breathing quickened. “Is that all?”
“Mayhap I’ve some venison left over from last night.”
He groaned. “Yes.”
Slowly, she smiled. Warmth glowed in her middle. “Ye like that, English?”
“I do.”
“Perhaps I could offer ye more.”
“I want everything. Everything you can give me.”
Heavens, she was hot. Her skin was pulsing. Her breasts felt swollen. Maybe it was the wool gown or the corset. Maybe her lads had built the parlor fire too large.
“You look … different,” he whispered, licking his lips.
“’Tis the gown.”
“Mmm.”
“Also the hair.” She touched the smooth strands above her ear. “And Mrs. Baird made me proper stays.”
Another groan. He closed his eyes briefly, moving his lips in a silent chant she couldn’t decipher.
“She’s still upstairs workin’ on the alterations. Ye bought far too many gowns, English.”
“I wanted you to have them.” He lowered his head and his voice. “Remember our bargain?”
She blinked. “Is that why ye’ve come? For a lesson?”
“Angus and I settled upon an … understanding. I spoke to him early this morning at the distillery.”
Alarm streaked through her. Immediately, she reached for him, patting his shoulders and inspecting his arms and ribs and hands. Finally, she drew his head down and ran her fingers over his scalp.
“Annie,” came his hoarse, amused response. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Did he hurt ye?” She hadn’t felt any lumps or swellings, but head wounds could be deceptive. “Is that why ye’re actin’ daft?”
He clasped her wrists and drew her hands down against his chest. “I’m fine,” he said gently. “Campbell was there. He kept the peace while your father and I discussed a few matters. Angus has no objection to our continuing our lessons.”
She turned to Robert, who stood quietly beside the fire looking bemused. “He didnae shoot Angus, did he?” She looked at Huxley. “Tell me ye didnae shoot him with yer wee pistols.”
“Of course not.”
“No ‘of course’ about it, English. The last time I mentioned yer name, Angus threatened to carve out yer heart and feed it to Bill the Donkey with a side of oats and gravy.”
“It’s been three months. His temper has had time to cool.”
“This was yesterday.” She crossed her arms and glowered up at the Englishman, who wore familiar triumph on his bonnie face. “What did ye say to Da that he’s so agreeable, now?”
“I simply talked to the man.”
“Angus doesnae talk.”
“I employed reason.”
“Angus doesnae reason.”
“Well, in this instance, he was persuaded. So long as our sessions are chaperoned, you and I may continue as we did before.”
She hmmphed and glared her suspicions at Robert. “Is that the truth, then?”
Robert examined his own boots while his lips fought a smile. Then he glanced up. “Your father did agree to allow it.”
Why did she have the feeling both men were dancing around the important bits? She hmmphed again. Her lad entered carrying a tray full of bread, cheese, thin-sliced lamb, and cups of cider. He deposited it on the center table, and Annie encouraged the men to sit.
Both moved to the sofa but continued standing. Huxley stared longingly at the food.
Annie frowned. “Well, dinnae be bashful. If ye’ve been dinin’ on Marjorie MacDonnell’s handiwork, ye’re probably famished.”
Robert leaned into his cane and cleared his throat. Huxley gestured toward the opposite sofa. “You must be seated first,” he said gently.
She blinked. Was that one of the rules? They hadn’t reached that particular subject in her Lady Lessons. Heat prickled in her neck and cheeks. “Oh.” She strode to the sofa, remembering too late that she was supposed to glide. Blast. Striving to salvage the situation, she turned upon her toes, folded her hands as though carrying a wee bird, and sank down.
Only to leap up an instant later at the piercing pain in her right buttock. “Arrgh! Bluidy pins can go to bluidy hell!”
In a flash, Huxley was beside her, running his hands over her hips and legs. “Where are you injured?” he demanded.
Annie swatted at his wandering hands. “Even I ken ye shouldnae be puttin’ yer fingers there, English.” She managed to dislodge the pin from her flesh. “Devil’s ballocks, that’s bluidy painful.”
Robert suddenly broke into a fit of coughing. Huxley glared at his friend.
“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Baird from the doorway. “I should have warned ye about the pins.” The lovely woman glided into the room. “My deepest apologies, Miss Tulloch.” She smiled at Huxley and Robert. “Gentlemen, I hope ye’ll forgive my intrusion.”
“Of course.” Huxley straightened and bowed before introducing her to Robert.
Annie noticed he didn’t have any trouble speaking now. No, indeed, he was all polite polish. The perfect gentleman.
She glared up at him while he carried on pleasantries, explaining to Robert what a lovely shop Mrs. Baird had established in Inverness, and how remarkably knowledgeable Mrs. Baird was, and how appreciative he’d been to find such a resource without having to travel to Edinburgh.
By the time he finished his lengthy praise and they all took their seats—very carefully, in Annie’s case—Annie decided once again that she hated Mrs. Baird. Perhaps even more than before.
Mrs. Baird glided without effort. Mrs. Baird’s speech was soft and lilting, not wound up like a corkscrew. Mrs. Baird’s kindly smile put everyone at ease. Even Annie. Her manners were impeccable. Her conversation made Huxley and Robert chuckle and nod thoughtfully by turns. Her hair was yellow rather than an absurd shade of orange.
And John Huxley did not stare at Mrs. Baird as though she were some mad, wild, confounding problem he must solve. He did not go silent gaping at Mrs. Baird. He appeared perfectly charming, perfectly at ease.
Annie watched him while the trio chatted and ate her food. His eyes were livelier than she remembered, almost gleaming with excitement. Within minutes, he devoured four slices of bread piled with lamb and topped with cheese. Remarkably, he did so neatly and politely without dropping a crumb on his black riding breeches. He readily conversed between bites, charming everyone with his wit. Especially Mrs. Baird.