Gideon huffed a breath at her side. “I need a dram of brandy before I’m prepared to hold a conversation with you, Whitfield.” Stepping between the men, he grasped Ana María’s hand with a small, private smile and pulled her after him. “My future bride needs to rest, for she has had a challenging day. Thank you for your hospitality, Dawson. I am in your debt.” “You are indeed, my friend,” Dawson said with a smile. “But I shall endeavor to make repayment painless.” “Let us hope,” Gideon replied, already leading her up the stairs.
