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

story or not? Was it important whether
     she actually was a royal princess from some small kingdom of which he’d never heard,
     or just a girl with a vivid imagination?
    She was frightened and had begged for his help, yet he had walked away and left her.
    Alone.
    Friendless.
    Defenseless.
    The world was full of countless dangers, but she would find a way to make do. Even
     so, her fate weighed on his conscience. If he continued home, he would always wonder
     what had become of her. She didn’t need a bodyguard. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t
     use a man’s protection.
    His protection.
    And truthfully, what did he have waiting for him at home? An empty house and an uncertain
     future. His family was dead except for a few distant cousins who were scattered here
     and there. He had friends, but he hadn’t seen them in years; no doubt they had changed
     as much as he had himself over the past decade.
    Considered in that light, was it really so urgent that he press northward now? Whether
     he arrived in five days or a few weeks, he’d been away so long that another small
     delay could hardly matter. And if he traveled to London with Mercedes, he could see
     what those solicitors wanted so they would stop sending him letters.
    Scowling, he forced himself to ride another quarter of a mile before he slowed his
     mount to a stop.
    “Och, I’m naught but a bluidy fool,” he cursed aloud.
    Without giving himself more time to consider, he wheeled his horse around and began
     riding back the way he’d come.
    Stewart, the stable boy, proved to be a surprisingly pleasant young man who liked
     to chat and tell stories. He regaled Mercedes with one tall yarn after another during
     their nearly five-mile ride to the coaching inn.
    It was a good thing he was such an amiable companion, since the dimensions of the
     gig were even smaller than she’d expected. But she’d found she didn’t mind, his stories
     making her laugh more than once, so that by the time they arrived, she had all but
     forgotten her fears. They rushed back upon her, though, only moments after he helped
     her out of the gig and showed her inside the inn.
    “Ye buy yer passage over there,” he said, pointing helpfully toward a small wooden
     sign perched on the far end of the bar. It read COACH in rather homely white printing.
    “First time traveling on a stagecoach?” Stewart asked.
    Obviously, he’d noticed the worry in her expression. She nodded.
    He smiled understandingly. “Och, an’ there’s naught to it.Jest stick tae yer route and keep a sharp ear peeled fer the driver tae call time
     on the stops.”
    “The stops?”
    “Aye. There’ll be stops tae change the horses and give the passengers a chance tae
     stretch their legs and get a bite tae eat. Ye’ll need tae be quick aboot it, though,
     since sometimes the breaks can run short.”
    “What happens if you’re not quick?”
    He raised a pair of jet-black eyebrows skyward. “Weel, they’ll drive off withoot ye.
     The coaches keep tae a timetable and by Gad they stick to it.”
    Mercedes gulped.
    Stewart laughed. “’Ere, now, why doona ye let me help ye buy yer passage? That way
     I’ll know ye’re set.”
    Glad for any assistance he might be willing to offer, Mercedes agreed.
    Nearly twenty minutes later, her fare had been paid and her name entered onto the
     official list of passengers who would be departing on the next coach.
    “Weel, I’d best be off or else they’ll skin me fer taking too long aboot the task,”
     Stewart told her, his thumbs tucked in the waistband of his trews. “The coach’ll be
     along soon. Ye might want tae buy somethin’ tae eat to take along on the trip. It
     gets long sometimes between stops.”
    “Have you made the journey to London, then?”
    His eyes grew wide and he shook his head. “Me? Och, no. Took the coach all the way
     tae Glencoe once to see me dyin’ uncle, but I’ve ne’er been farther south than that.”
    “Ah.” She laced