"That's none of your business!"
"You became my business the minute I saw you being dragged off by-" Angus whipped his head around, realizing that he'd forgotten about the man he'd knocked unconscious. The fellow had woken up and was slowly rising to his feet, obviously trying to move as silently as possible.
"Don't move," Angus snapped at Margaret. He was in front of the burly man in two steps, then grabbed his collar and hauled him up until his feet dangled in the air. "Do you have anything to say to this woman?" he growled.
The man shook his head.
"I think you do."
"I certainly have nothing to say to him," Margaret put in, trying to be helpful.
Angus ignored her. "An apology, perhaps? An abject apology with ample use of the phrase 'I'm a miserable cur' might lessen my temper and save your pathetic life."
The man started to shake. "I'msorryrmsorryrmsorry."
"Really, Mr. Greene," Margaret said quickly, "I think we're quite finished. Perhaps you ought to let him go."
"Do you want to hurt him?"
Margaret was so surprised, she started to cough. "I beg your pardon," she finally managed to get out.
His voice was hard and strangely flat as he repeated his question. "Do you want to hurt him? He would have dishonored you."
Margaret blinked uncontrollably at the odd light in his eyes, and she had the most horrifying feeling that he would kill the man if she just gave the word. "I'm fine," she choked out. "I believe I managed a few blows earlier m the evening. It quite satisfied my meager bloodlust."
"Not this one," Angus replied. "You hurt the other two."
"I'm fine, really."
"A woman has a right to her revenge."
"There's really no need, I assure you." Margaret glanced quickly about, trying to assess her chances for escape. She was going to have to make a run for it soon. This Angus Greene fellow might have saved her life, but he was completely mad.
Angus dropped the man and pushed him forward. "Get out of here before I kill you."
Margaret began to tiptoe in the opposite direction.
"You!" he boomed. "Don't move."
She froze. She might not like this huge Scotsman, but she was no idiot. He was twice her size, after all.
"Where do you think you're going?"
She decided not to answer that one.
He quickly closed the distance between them, crossed his arms, and glowered down at her. "I believe you were about to advise me of your plans for the evening."
"I regret to inform you, sir, but my intentions were not following that particular line of-"
"Tell me!" he roared.
"I was going to look for my brother," she blurted out, deciding that maybe she was a coward, after all. Cowardice, she decided, wasn't really such a bad thing when faced with a mad Scot.
He shook his head. "You're coming with me."
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "If you think-"
"Miss Pennypacker," he interrupted, "I might as well inform you that when I make a decision, I rarely change my mind."
"Mr. Greene," she replied with equal resolve, "I am not your responsibility."
"Perhaps, but I have never been the sort of man who could leave a lone woman to her own defenses. Therefore, you are coming with me, and we will decide what to do with you in the morning."
"I thought you were looking for your sister," she said, her irritation clear in her tone of voice.
"My sister certainly isn't getting any farther away from me in this weather. I'm sure she's tucked away in some inn, probably not even here at Gretna Green."
"Shouldn't you search the inns for her this eve?"
"Anne is not an early riser. If she is indeed here, she will not resume her journey any earlier than ten. I have no qualms about delaying my search for her until the morning. Anne, I'm sure, is safe this eve. You, on the other hand, I have my doubts about."
Margaret nearly stamped her foot. "There is no need-"
"My advice, Miss Pennypacker, is for you to accept your fate. Once you think about it, you'll realize it's not such a bad one. A warm bed, a good meal-how can those be so very offensive?"
"Why are you doing this?" she asked suspiciously. "What is in it for you?"
"Nothing," he admitted with a lopsided smile. "But have you ever studied Chinese history?"
She shot him a wry look. As if English girls were ever actually allowed to study more than embroidery and the occasional history lesson-British history, of course.
"There's a proverb," he said, his eyes growing reminiscent. "I don't remember how it goes precisely, but it is something about how once you save a life, you are responsible for it forever."
Margaret choked on her breath. Good God, the man didn't think to watch over her forever, did he?
Angus caught her expression and nearly doubled over in laughter. "Oh, do not worry, Miss Pennypacker," he said. "I have no plans to install myself as your permanent protector. I'll see you through until daylight and make certain you're settled, and then you may go on your merry way."
"Very well," Margaret said grudgingly. It was difficult to argue with someone who had one's best interests at heart. "I do appreciate your concern, and perhaps we might search for our errant siblings together. It should make the job a bit easier, I should think."
He touched her chin, startling her with his gentleness. "That's the spirit. Now then, shall we be off?"
She nodded, thinking that perhaps she ought to make a peace offering of her own. After all, the man had saved her from a horrible fate, and she had responded by calling him a lunatic. "You have a scrape," she said, touching his right temple. It had always been easier for her to show her gratitude through deeds, rather than words. "Why don't you let me tend to that? It's not very deep, but you ought to have it cleaned."
He nodded and took her arm. "I would appreciate that."
Margaret caught her breath, a bit surprised by how much larger he seemed when he was standing right next to her. "Have you secured a room yet?"
He shook his head. "Have you?"
"No, but I saw a vacancy sign at The Rose and Thistle."
"The Canny Man is better. Cleaner, and the food is hot. We'll see if they have room first."
"Cleanliness is good," she commented, more than happy to forgive his arrogance if it meant clean sheets.
"Do you have a bag?"
"Not anymore," she said ruefully.
"You were robbed?"
"I'm afraid so." At his darkening look, she added quickly, "But I didn't bring anything of value."
He sighed. "Well, there's nothing to be done about it now. Come with me. We'll discuss what to do about your brother and my sister once we're warm and fed."
And then he grasped her arm a bit more securely and led her down the street.
Two
Their truce lasted all of two minutes. Margaret wasn't exactly certain how it came about, but before they were even halfway to The Canny Man, they were bickering like children.
He couldn't resist reminding her that she'd been beyond foolish in setting out for Scotland by herself.
She just had to call him an arrogant boor as he propelled her up the front steps and into the inn.
But none of that-not one single snippy word-could have prepared her for what happened when they stood before the innkeeper.
"My wife and I require rooms for the night," Angus said.
Wife?
By sheer force of will, Margaret managed to keep her jaw from dropping to her knees. Or maybe it was an act of God; she didn't much think her will was strong enough to keep her from smacking Angus Greene in the arm for his impertinence.
"We have only one room available," the innkeeper informed them.
"We'll take that, then," Angus replied.
This time she knew she was subject to divine intervention, because there could be no other explanation for her restraint in the face of her massive desire to box his ears.