He looked like a fierce Scottish Highland warrior of days long past, she thought as her eyes ran over him. She had never seen a man so… so… undeniably attractive. He held himself tall and proudly, his jacket tight over his chest above the kilt that swirled around his legs. Rebecca never realized a man wearing a skirt could be so utterly masculine. It was actually quite puzzling.

He had apparently just dismounted his horse and was now tying the beautiful chestnut to the fence post beside him as his dark eyes scanned the lot of them, his mouth set in a grim line. He looked suitably unimpressed, and Rebecca could see why. The sun, which had begun climbing in the sky, silhouetted him from behind, and while he was not quite as broad as the blond Highlander standing next to him, she knew he would be at the very least a foot taller than her own small frame, and certainly more of a man than any of her father’s acquaintances that surrounded him. His face had a serious countenance as he said something quietly to Rory, who then began speaking, but for the life of her she couldn’t listen to a word Rory said as she continued to stare at the new arrival.

“I’d like to introduce you all to Adam McDougall,” Rory called out to them. “As many of you have heard, he is an excellent guide and knows this area well. Adam is well versed in all of the wildlife ye will find before you throughout your journey. Listen well to him, and he will not steer you astray. Enjoy the exploration today, before the real game begins tomorrow!”

Rory stepped away to find his own mount, leaving the group to Adam. He nodded at them all. “Thank ye for coming and for having me to be your guide. I heard I was requested, and feel very—” his cheek twitched “—fortunate.”

Rebecca didn’t think he looked particularly pleased with the situation, but no matter.

“Rory and I will lead our horses in case we should require them, but please, follow with us, and do not touch anything you are unsure of.”

His eyes scanned the crowd, as if searching them out to see if there would be any issue. Rebecca swallowed as they landed on her. She waited for them to move on, but they did not. He had captured her in his gaze, and it seemed he was not letting go.

* * *

Adam stood in front of the unlikely group. Today a hike, tomorrow a hunt. His eyes raked over the crowd, until they stopped on one body. He scanned the woman from the toes of her clean, black leather boots up the beautiful, delicate gown to the top of the silly white bonnet that sat on the top of her head. Forgetting the rest of the assembled group, he strode over, and looked down at the woman, who, he now realized, was a tiny thing, shorter than most women and quite slight.

“You are not coming with us.” He spoke affirmatively, providing her no room with which to argue, and yet she spoke back to him.

“Of course I am,” she said, her nose in the air. “And you have no right to tell me not to.”

“I do have a right,” he responded. “The safety of all of these people lies with me, and if I have to spend my time addressing the numerous tiny concerns ye cook up, they will not have their guide.”

“How dare you?” Her deep blue eyes, the color of Loch Ness, flashed at him. “I will not trouble you in the least with my concerns, I assure you, no more than any man here.”

“No?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “What happens when you become too hot? Too hungry? Too thirsty? Too tired? What will you do?”

“I shall do what any person would do, and that is tend to my requirements, or wait until such time is appropriate. I assure you, sir, that you will not have to worry about me.”

“What seems to be the issue?” came a voice from behind him, and Adam turned to find a man near as tall as himself, with dark blond hair and an air of haughtiness as he managed to look at Adam from overtop his nose.

“’Tis nothing, Vincent,” said the girl with a wave of her hand. “Thank you for your concern.”

“Are you harassing my fiancée?”

“Fiancée! Vincent, I should hardly think that we are—”

“You will leave her be,” the dandy continued. “Or you shall have me to answer to. You do continue to enjoy the revenue we bring you, do you not?”

Adam gritted his teeth. This was why he had not wanted to lead today’s hike, or any event including men like this one.

“Be careful, lass, that is all,” he said, stepping backward. He was about to turn away, but had one final question. “I must ask you — what in the devil is on your head?”

“My bonnet!” she replied, indignation flashing in her eyes. “What else would it be?”

“I certainly have never seen the likes of it,” he said in all honesty. “I’m nae sure what you expect it to do, but it certainly willna keep the insects and the sun away.”

“I thank you for your concern,” she said, attempting to keep some sort of dignity. “In the meantime, I shall wear this, and would ask you not to cause a scene, sir.”

“As you wish,” he said, finally stepping away, though he glanced back a few times to see her refuse the help of the Englishman who had called her his betrothed. Adam shook his head as he untied his horse and walked to the front of the pack. The English.

* * *

True to her word, the girl — or young woman, he couldn’t be sure of her age — kept up with the men she accompanied, though it was clear she was unused to such physical activity. Perhaps some Englishwomen would be more physical on a country estate, he thought, but certainly nothing like the women in the Highlands, who spent every moment of their day caring for their home or their family.

He tried not to turn around and watch her but couldn’t help himself. Her hair had loosened and stuck to the side of her face as she perspired on her way up the grassy hill. The ridiculous piece of fabric she had been wearing on her head was now bouncing around her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed from the rising sun. Yet she was still faring better than some of the older men of the group, and he begrudgingly admired her resolve to utter no word of complaint.

He wasn’t taking the group far. He would simply provide them with a view of where they would spend the next few days hunting and show them the lay of the land. As they neared the top of the hill, they came to the one outcropping that was slightly more treacherous than the rest. He called out to the rest of them in a warning, and he watched her begin to pick her way over it. She had nearly scaled it when her foot slipped, the slick sole of her leather boot not providing her with enough traction. Her skirts, though not as voluminous as some he had seen the English wear, became tangled between her legs and she went down with a thud.

Adam scrambled down the hill back to her, but when he finally stretched out a hand to help her, she had already righted herself and waved away his help.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I thank you, however.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said gruffly. “I am simply doing my job.”

He looked up to see the man she called Vincent, her apparent fiancé, was far ahead, having left her behind as he made his own way up the hill. Adam nodded to her then left as he resumed his place at the front of the group. They would make one more stop before they returned to Darfield — the village where most of the crofters lived. It was part of the “experience” they provided, although he hated taking the English there. He could see the disdain in their eyes as they looked at the crofters as a species less than themselves. He trained his eyes over the loch — his loch. A few more days, he told himself, then they would all be gone. He could hardly wait.

* * *

Rebecca was miserable. The man had been right when he said she should stay behind, though she would not give him the pleasure of knowing such information. It would have been much better had she been truly prepared and dressed for the excursion, although she had enjoyed all that there was to see, particularly now that they had made it to the crest of the hill.

As the dashing, yet so utterly rude, Scot led them down the hill, he took them onto a path that he said would finish in a village of sorts, and her spirits immediately lifted. She appreciated the opportunity to meet new people, and perhaps those in the village would be much less surly than this man. Mayhap more like Rory MacTavish. He seemed friendly enough, with his wide grin and easygoing manner.

They neared the small cottages that belonged to the people the McDougall man called “crofters.” She could hardly believe how tiny the homes were, and as they came to the first, she saw sitting out front was a woman with a whole brood of children. Surely they didn’t all live in this tiny home?

“Molly!” Adam called out, embracing the woman who rose, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Looking wonderful as always. And how are the children today?”

“They are doing well, Adam, thank you.”

Rebecca smiled at the woman, until she started hearing the mutterings of the men around her. “I thought we might see a pretty face or two out here,” said one man, the son of one of her father’s acquaintances. “That certainly is not the case!”

“No,” chortled another. “Good God, what is this place? These people live like heathens!”

It did seem they were cooking their dinner on a fire spit out front of the home, but Rebecca could see the contentment on the faces of the people. They didn’t live in one of London’s finer homes, no, but did that mean they were any less than her? She lived in a London manor with her father, and that certainly had not led to her own happiness.

A man rounded the corner then, one who was in a kilt of his own; though it was considerably more worn than the one Adam had on, it had the same the pattern upon it.

“Adam!” he called out. “How do ye fare?”

“Just fine, Jack,” he said. “We have visitors from London with us today. They will be hunting tomorrow.”

The smile left the man’s face as he gave them a nod, then turned back toward the cottage. “Come, Molly,” he said. “Take the children inside.”

“No manners out here, then?” called out Vincent. “Is this how you welcome visitors, man?”

The Highlander said nothing as he turned his back to them, ushering his family into the house.

“Well, I never,” Rebecca’s father said. “Heathens, all of them. These would be the sheepherders, then, McDougall? That would make sense then. They cannot properly know how to speak to other humans when they’re with the beasts all day. This has been quite entertaining, McDougall, but I think it’s time we be returning.”

Adam nodded, his jaw tight and the tick in his cheek back. The heat of embarrassment seared Rebecca’s cheeks even hotter than they had been from her exertion. She could see Adam’s shoulders tense as if he were holding in the words he longed to exchange with the men.

She stepped forward. “I — I think the village is rather quaint,” she said. “Thank you for the tour. It was lovely.”

He looked at her with so much disdain in his face that she took a step backward as if he had spoken words of fury.

“Lovely,” he repeated. “You are right, Trenton. We should go.”

He left them for a moment, opening the door of the cottage to say something to the family inside before returning, silently leading the way ahead, his strong back tall and proud. Rebecca could only hang her head and follow along. She should never have said anything, she thought. She had only made it worse.