“Whiskey!” Anna cried, laughing. “Good English ladies do not drink whiskey, sir!”
“Then be thankful that ye are now a Scot,” he laughed, and kissed her to the great delight of the serving girl and the innkeeper.
“Ye must drink whiskey, milady,” the innkeeper said sternly. “It will bring ye health and many bairns.”
“As to that, sir, they’ll be needing a sleeping room for the night as well,” Hugh said, winking at the innkeeper as he pulled a roll of banknotes from his pocket and peeled off several. “A fine room, too—one befitting a lady on her wedding night.”
Anna blushed furiously, but the innkeeper quickly pocketed the banknotes. “I’ve a fine one, indeed, if ye’ll follow me.”
Grif and Anna started after him, but Hugh stopped them with a hand and a grin. “Be patient, lad. Give me yer things, then,” he said, winking at Anna. “I’ll make certain it is made ready for ye. But first we celebrate.”
“Hugh,” Grif said, handing over their satchel. “I’m right touched, I am. I didna know ye to be so sentimental.”
Hugh laughed. “Ye’ll save me a tot of that fine Scots whiskey, will ye?”
“Ealasaid! Come along, then!” the innkeeper bellowed over his shoulder as he hurried alongside Hugh’s determined stride to inspect the sleeping room upstairs.
“Aye, milord, it’s just here,” Ealasaid said, smiling broadly as she showed them to a small private dining room, well appointed with a table and six chairs upholstered in leather. “I’ll come round with yer whiskey,” she said as Grif and Anna entered the room, and pulled the heavy drapes behind them.
It was their first moment alone since they had wed, and Grif took Anna in his arms. “Ach, lass…it wasna the most fashionable of ceremonies—no flowers, no wedding breakfast. No ring on yer finger and yer family so far away. I pray ye are no’ disappointed.”
“How could you even suggest it?” she asked, rising up on her toes to kiss him. “I’m too happy for words, Grif. I love that ours was such an exciting wedding! Think of it, married in Gretna Green, by a smithy! Imagine the stories we’ll tell our children!”
“Aye,” he said kissing her neck. “I would that we’d have our celebration so that we might carry on with a more pleasurable and private—”
“Yer whiskey, milord,” Ealasaid announced at the drapes.
Anna laughed at Grif’s look of disappointment as the girl stepped in and placed a decanter of whiskey and several small glasses on the table. She glanced shyly at Grif as she poured the whiskey. “Ye look quite happy, milord,” she teased him. “The world smiles with ye this day, no?”
“The world smiles with me every day, lass,” Grif said, grinning at Anna. As Ealasaid slipped out of the room, he poured a tot and handed it to Anna, and gestured for her to hold it up in a toast. “To me heart, which heretofore hadna awakened,” he exclaimed, lifting the tot. “Slainte mhath—Good health, mo ghraidh.”
“To our hearts,” Anna said, and watched Grif toss back the amber liquid, then did the same. But as she’d never drunk whiskey, she was not prepared for the burn of good Scots whiskey, and instantly erupted into a fit of coughing.
“Ach, Anna, ye must sip it until ye’ve been in Scotland a wee bit longer,” Grif suggested, rubbing her back.
Anna was still coughing when Hugh stuck his head between the drapes. “Are ye ready for a wee celebration, then?”
Grif grinned and gestured for him to enter. “We are learning the art of drinking Scots whiskey,” he said laughingly. “Come, then, Hugh, and tell us about yer journey out of London.”
Hugh smiled roguishly, but he did not move. “Ye will recall I said I had a wee spot of trouble, aye?”
“Aye,” Grif said, frowning lightly, gesturing him in. “What trouble?”
“It wasna exactly easy, fleeing London, aye, Grif?”
Grif frowned darkly. “God blind me, what have ye done, MacAlister?”
“Ach, I’ve done naugh’ wrong, Lockhart! Well… that is to say, at least no more than any man in our situation might have done.”
“Diah! What—” Grif started, but Hugh suddenly threw back the drapes, and standing just behind him, her hand in his, was Miss Brody.
Both Grif and Anna gasped with surprise. Miss Brody colored slightly and frowned at Hugh for a moment. “Good wishes on yer wedding day,” she muttered, clearly uncomfortable.
“Hugh!” Grif cried, but Hugh waved a hand at him as he pulled Miss Brody into the private room. “’Tis no’ what ye think, lad! Miss Brody—Keara—she and I met with a bit of a problem leaving London, and I couldna leave her there in harm’s way.”
“Oh dear God,” Anna said, gaping at Miss Brody, who frowned at the table. “Miss Brody, are you quite all right?”
“Oh, aye, miss, I’m quite fine, I am.”