Gretna Greene

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.

The innkeeper nodded approvingly and said, 'Follow me. I'll show you up. And if you would like a meal-'

'We would,' Angus cut in. 'Something warm and filling.'

'I'm afraid all we have at this late hour is cold meat pie.'

Angus pulled a coin from his coat and held it forward. 'My wife is very cold, and given her delicate condition, I would like to see that she receives a good meal.'

'My condition?' Margaret gasped.

Angus smiled down at her and winked. 'Come now, darling, surely you didn't think you would be able to hide it forever.'

'Congratulations to you both!' the innkeeper boomed. 'Is this your first?'

Angus nodded. 'So you see why I'm so protective.' He snaked his arm around Margaret's shoulders. 'She's such a delicate woman.'

That 'delicate' woman promptly bent her arm and jabbed her elbow into Angus's hip. Hard.

The innkeeper must not have heard the ensuing grunt of pain, because he just took the coin and rolled it around in his hand. 'Of course, of course,' he murmured. 'I'll have to wake my wife, but I'm sure we can find something hot.'

'Excellent.'

The innkeeper moved forward, and Angus made to follow, but Margaret grabbed the hem of his coat and yanked. 'Are you mad?' she whispered.

'I thought you had already questioned my sanity and found it acceptable.'

'I have reconsidered,' she ground out.

He patted her on the shoulder. 'Try not to overset yourself. It's not good for the baby.'

Margaret's arms were sticks at her sides as she tried to keep herself from pummeling him. 'Stop talking about the baby,' she hissed, 'and I am not going to share a room with you.'

'I really don't see what other choice you have.'

'I would rather-'

He held up a hand. 'Don't tell me you'd rather wait out in the rain. I simply won't believe you.'

'You can wait out in the rain.'

Angus ducked and peered out a window. Raindrops were beating loudly against the glass. 'I think not.'

'If you were a gentleman…'

He chuckled. 'Ah, but I never said I was a gentleman.'

'What was all that about protecting women, then?' Margaret demanded.

'I said I don't like to see women hurt and abused. I never said I was willing to sleep in the rain and give myself a raging case of lung disease for you.'

The innkeeper, who had walked on ahead, stopped and turned around when he realized that his guests had not followed. 'Are you coming?' he inquired.

'Yes, yes,' Angus replied. 'Just having a small discussion with my wife. It seems she is having a remarkable craving for haggis.'

Margaret's mouth fell open, and it took several attempts at speech before she managed to say, 'I don't like haggis.'

Angus grinned. 'I do.'

'Och!' the innkeeper exclaimed with a broad smile. 'Just like my wife. She ate haggis every day while she was expecting, and she gave me four fine boys.'

'Brilliant,' Angus said with a cocky smile. 'I shall have to remember that. A man needs a son.'

'Four,' the innkeeper reminded him, his chest puffing out with pride. 'I've got four.'

Angus slapped Margaret on the back. 'She'll give me five. Mark my words.'

'Men,' she spat out, stumbling from the force of his friendly pat. 'A bunch of strutting roosters, the lot of you.'

But the two men were too involved in their manly game of one-upmanship-Margaret fully expected them to start arguing about who could toss a caber farther any moment now-and clearly didn't hear her.

She stood there with her arms crossed for a full minute, trying not to listen to a thing they were saying, when Angus suddenly patted her on the back and said, 'Haggis, then, for dinner, my love?'

'I'm going to kill you,' she hissed. 'And I'm going to do it slowly.' Then Angus jabbed her in the ribs and glanced at the innkeeper. 'I'd love some,' she choked out. 'My very favorite.'

The innkeeper beamed. 'A woman after my own heart. Nothing protects one from the spirits like a good haggis.'

'The smell alone would scare off the devil,' Margaret muttered.

Angus chuckled and gave her hand a squeeze.

'You must be a Scotswoman, then,' the innkeeper said, 'if you love the haggis.'

'Actually,' Margaret said primly, yanking her hand back. 'I'm English.'

'Pity.' The innkeeper then turned to Angus and said, 'But I suppose if you had to marry a Sassenach, at least you picked one with a taste for haggis.'

'I refused to ask for her hand until she tasted it,' Angus said solemnly. 'And then I wouldn't go through with the ceremony until I was convinced that she liked it.'

Margaret walloped him in the shoulder.

'And a temper, too!' the innkeeper chortled. 'We'll make a good Scotswoman out of her yet.'

'I'm hoping,' Angus agreed, his accent suddenly growing stronger to Margaret's ear. 'I'm thinking she ought to learn to throw a better punch, though.'

'Didn't hurt, eh?' the innkeeper said with a knowing smile.

'Not a bit.'

Margaret ground her teeth together. 'Sir,' she said as sweetly as she could muster, 'could you please show me to my room? I'm a terrible mess, and I would so like to tidy myself before supper.'

'Of course.' The innkeeper resumed his trek up the stairs, Margaret right on his heels. Angus loitered a few steps behind, no doubt grinning at her expense.

'Here it is,' the innkeeper said, opening the door to reveal a small but clean room with a washbasin, a chamber pot, and a single bed.

'Thank you, sir,' she said with a polite nod. 'I am most appreciative.' Then she marched into the room and slammed the door.

Angus howled with laughter. He couldn't help himself.

'Och, you're in trouble now,' the innkeeper said.

Angus's laughter settled down into a few choice chuckles. 'What's your name, good sir?'

'McCallum. George McCallum.'