Lachlan watched uncomfortably as Miss Binns sat on the cold, wet ground and began fussing with her dress. He leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. "How convenient," he said sourly, his tone more an expression of his growing discomfort in the cold than disapproval. He supposed he ought to be grateful that he'd gotten into this situation with a practical sort of woman; the last thing he would have needed was to be stuck in Inverness with a panicking debutante.

He dropped his arms and plucked the needle from between her fingers, holding it so tight that he knew he'd have little lines in his fingers afterwards. Confused, he did as she said and turned around. Did she intend to strip down to her undergarments? He cocked his head to the side; he could make out the blurry image of her silhouette out of the corner of his eyes. "Don't do anything that will get you sick," he warned.

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