Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance by Tracy Anne Warren Page B

the watchful gazes of their fellow travelers.
     “Well enough.”
    “For my part,” Sir Lionel remarked, “I shall be relieved by the opportunity to stretch
     my legs. The next stop shouldn’t be too much farther. These roads are hard on old
     bones.”
    “A break will come as a relief to us all, I am sure.”
    The farmer grunted at her statement and even the sour-faced old woman seemed to agree.
     The next stop could not come soon enough.
    Five hours later, Mercedes climbed gratefully out of the coach. This was the third
     stop they had made that day and shewas thirsty, hungry, and more tired than she could ever recall being.
    Having been too anxious to eat breakfast that morning, she’d waited barely an hour
     into the journey to eat the bread and cheese she’d bought at the first coaching inn.
     As the day progressed, though, she realized that she ought to have timed her meal
     a bit better.
    At the first stop, the passengers had been given only twenty minutes to eat, drink,
     and take care of any personal needs they might have. By the time she returned from
     the ladies’ facilities, which had not been at all up to her usual standard, there
     hadn’t been time to do anything more than order a cup of tea before the horn sounded.
     After managing a single, hasty sip, she’d had no choice but to reboard the coach or
     be left behind.
    Matters at the second coaching inn had proven no better, and after watching one of
     the serving maids drop a meat pie on the dirty floor before serving it to a thoroughly
     unsuspecting customer, Mercedes had decided to forgo dining there.
    Now here she was at yet another inn, the yard noisy and crowded with travelers, as
     the afternoon sun shone down from a cloudless blue sky. Her skin felt sticky with
     a light film of perspiration and travel dust and she wanted nothing so much as a long,
     cool drink followed by an even longer, cooler bath. But that was impossible; she would
     simply have to abide the discomfort until the coach reached the inn that would be
     that day’s final stop.
    She supposed she would be lucky if there was enough time to drink a cup of tea and
     eat a slice of bread and jam before they had to be on their way once more. Trailing
     Sir Lionel through the cluster of patrons gathered inside the common room, she let
     him find them a table. Wearily, she sank into a seat opposite him.
    Sir Lionel gave her a long, considering look, then smiled consolingly. “Forgive the
     observation, my dear, but you seem a bit done in. I must agree that this pace of travel
     is grueling for even the heartiest of souls.”
    “You seem to be bearing up well,” she replied, unable to keep the hint of self-derision
     out of her voice.
    “To the contrary. I only appear at my ease, when in actuality I am a mass of aching
     joints and stiff limbs.”
    She regarded him. “Then if you will forgive a question? Why are you traveling on a
     public conveyance rather than in the comfort of your own coach? I should think a man
     of your years and stature might appreciate some privacy.”
    “Thought of that, did you?” he said, a twinkle in his gaze. “Well, it is not from
     a lack of funds—”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “Of course you did not,” he assured with all seriousness. “No, you see, my barouche
     met with a rather unfortunate accident. Reckless driver, don’t you know. The roads
     are far too full of them these days. To my great dismay, I was informed that the repairs
     would take more than a week to complete. Rather than delaying my return to England,
     I left my man to take care of the matter. I could have hired a post chaise, but the
     only one to be had was a shabby affair that looked as likely to break down as my own
     had just done. So the stagecoach it was.”
    Bracing one hand on top of his cane, he used the other to massage his leg. “I believe
     I may have erred in regard to the issue of comfort. Our present conveyance leaves
     much to be desired.”
    “On