A Time & Place for Every Laird by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader TXT) 📕

him. To regain the upper ground. “Theway he was petting you, I think he wanted to take you home and keepyou forever.”

Hugh shrugged dismissively, denying her themoment. “He was much like any man’s valet.”

Claire rolled her eyes irritably and shoveda white, fast-food bag at him. “Just eat your food.”

If Hugh was disgruntled by her lack offawning, he didn’t show it as he looked in the bag and pulled out apaper-wrapped item. Opening it, he sniffed it tentatively and tooka bite, chewing a couple of times with a grimace. “What isthis?”

“A hamburger. Eat it.”

“It has nae flavor at all. Terrible. Get mesomething else.”

“You do realize that we are supposed to beon the run here, right?” she sniped crossly. “We can’t afford towaste time stopping for a sit-down meal. We’ll find somethinglater.”

“I hunger now.”

“Hugh, just stop.”

But he wouldn’t. Even the near desperationof their situation couldn’t stave off his hunger, and finallyClaire pulled into a gas station with a mini mart and parked,commanding him to wait. Moments later, she emerged with an armloadof candy bars and chips, dumping them in his lap. “There! Bonappetite.”

“What is all this?”

“Food. Junk food,” she said sharply as shegot them back on the road. “You said you were hungry, so eat.”

Hugh picked through the colorful pile,finally settling on the bright orange wrapper of a KitKat bar. Hefumbled with the wrapper for a few moments—Claire was inwardlysmiling at his efforts, not volunteering the knowledge that the newplastic wrappers could be torn from only one direction—beforefinally he got it opened.

Picking up the candy bar, he studied it fora moment before intuitively snapping off one section. Looking overher shoulder before she made a lane change, Claire caught Hughtaking that first bite. He chewed once and stopped, his eyes wide.He chewed again and once more paused.

Puzzled, Claire frowned. “What is it?”

“’Tis cocoa.”

“Yeah? Well, most of that is. What aboutit?”

Hugh looked down at the pile in his lap.“But ’tis sweet and …” He shook his head, clearly puzzled.

“Of course, it is. It’s chocolate.” Clairedrove for a minute while Hugh took another bit, slowly chewing asif he were savoring each moment. “Okay, give. How is that sodifferent from what you’ve had?”

“Our chocolate is liquid. We drink it,” hesaid distractedly, his focus remaining on the bar as he broke offanother section. “’Tis exceedingly bitter, and though we add canesugar or honey tae it, I ne’er tasted it like this. What isit?”

“A candy bar. A KitKat, specifically. Smoothcreamy milk chocolate and crisp wafers,” Claire said. “Everything agrowing boy needs.”

“And this one?” he asked, holding up one ofthe others.

“A Twix. Cookie covered with caramel andchocolate.”

“And this?”

“Almond Joy. My personal favorite,” sheadded. “Coconut, almond, and chocolate.”

One by one, she told him what they were, andone by one, Hugh worked his way through the pile. He unabashedlygloried in each bite, savoring each one with greater groans ofdelight until he was moaning with exaggeration as he bit into aMilky Way.

The amusement bubbled up in Claire until shewas laughing aloud. Her anger gone, she shared in his joy. It waslike watching a child experience Christmas for the first time.

“I already hae so much obligation tae ye,”he teased as he finished off the last of the candy. “But for this Iowe ye my greatest debt of gratitude. ’Twas most delicious. Thankye, Sorcha.”

Hugh lifted her hand to his lips andClaire’s laughter faded away. His lips pressed lightly to the backof her hand before he turned it, pressing a kiss to her palm.Claire glanced at him, seeing the humor mixed with true sincerityin his blue eyes. He was just trying to be nice, she knew that, butat the same time the feel of his hand against her, the feel of hislips tracing a tingling path across her hand was anything butfriendly.

Pulling her hand away from him, Clairecurled her nails into her palm and turned back to the road. “Ididn’t expect you to eat all of it. All that sugar will probablygive you a stomachache,” she warned. “I suppose I should haveexplained that beforehand because …”

“Because I hae nae the intelligence taededuce that for myself?” Hugh’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumpingirritably in his jaw. “Please hold. I fear I cannae tolerate yetanother slight upon my intelligence from ye. What hae I done taemake ye think me dull and unlearned?”

Claire gaped at him for a moment. “Well, you… I …”

“Ye hae made assumptions,” he said tersely.“Ye maun hae some basis for them. Are my countrymen known for theirweak minds in this time?”

“No, but … well, Hugh, you have to admitthen when you first got here …”

“Ye judged me by my appearance alonethen.”

Claire flushed. Hadn’t shetold herself that she was stereotyping him even as she was doingit? “In my defense, you weren’t exactly the picture of refinementwhen I met you. The hair, the beard, the kilt. Theblood,” she drew out theword with emphasis. “You looked and kind of acted like a bigbrutish Neanderthal with rocks in his head.” He hadn’t really,Claire thought, looking back on the events of the previous day. Infact, other than some flashes of irrational—if somewhatjustified—behavior, Claire thought he’d handled himself fairlywell, even to the point of reasoning out some of the same nuancesof their situation as she. “So I take it that 1746 wasn’t exactlythe Middle Ages?”

“Nae at all. Sophistication was a hallmarkof my generation. I hae had occasion tae join the courts ofGermany, France, and Venice,” he said haughtily.

“You’ve been to Venice?” she sighed outenviously. “I would love to go there. Is it as beautiful in personas it is in pictures?”

“Ye’ve nae seen the world for yerself and yethink me the barbarian?”

Shrugging apologetically, Claire tried forsome justification. “I know about the Age of Enlightenment in theeighteenth century and all that, but when you talked of war andclans, I guess it was easy to lump you in with the stereotype. Tobe fair, history might have tilted against you more than isjustifiable.”

Hugh just shook his head in disgust. “Andyet I hae sat amongst and was welcomed by the greatest thinkers inEurope.”

“Like Joe the Blacksmith?”

“Yer attempt at humor willnae soften myire,” he responded, staring stonily