“Sorry, lass,” Grant said with a sympathetic grimace.
He finished dusting off her books with his handkerchief before placing them back in her trunk.
Those books had surprised him. Expensively bound, they contained detailed illustrations of gardening plans and beautiful drawings of various types of fauna. She’d clearly been distressed to see them so casually tossed aside—and a little embarrassed when Grant had retrieved them from under the carriage. Muttering something about her hobby, she’d then hurried off to rescue a blushing Mr. Brown, who’d discovered her stays behind a bush.
Grant had not taken her for the gardening type. Then again, his Sassenach beauty was full of surprises, she was.
His brain mentally stumbled over the notion of thinking of Kathleen as his, before refocusing on her.
“What’s that, Miss Calvert?” he asked.
“I said that it’s not your fault,” she carefully enunciated, as if he were both slow-witted and hard of hearing. “At least they missed your bags, which is a small blessing.”
Grant’s plain carpetbag, along with his grandfather’s, had been shoved in the back of the boot, behind everything else. In any case, except for his silver-chased pistol, which might as well have been a decoration for all the good it had done them, anything of his could easily be replaced.
“I’d much rather they’d taken mine than yours,” he said.
She shrugged, doing her best to put on a brave face. “They’re just things, you know. The important thing is that we’re all safe.”
“Aye, that.”
He hated that she’d been robbed of her jewelry, especially the little garnet ring. By her reaction, it obviously held great sentimental value.
She frowned as she rolled up her now mucky evening gown. “I must say that I had no idea the roads in the Highlands were so dangerous. I wouldn’t have brought Jeannie along if I’d realized.”
“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Grant dryly replied.
Fiddling with the broken lock on Kathleen’s trunk, Angus nodded. “There haven’t been highwaymen in these parts for years. Now, London is a different story, ye ken, with its fleshpots. Full of rum coves and all sorts of diddlers and cheats.”
“Dear me,” said Brown, looking scandalized by such reckless use of cant.
Almost as scandalized as when he’d found Kathleen’s stays. With two fingertips, he’d carried them at arm’s length, his face as red as a strawberry. Kathleen had quickly stuffed the offending object into her trunk, but not before Grant glimpsed pink satin ribbons and a lot of pink lace. He’d had a sudden, wildly inappropriate desire to see more of her underthings, specifically while she was wearing them.
“Kath and I have never been robbed in London, though,” Jeannie dubiously said. “Not that we ever stray very far from Mayfair, much less go to the fleshpots.”
“Goodness, one certainly hopes not,” exclaimed Brown.
Angus tapped his nose. “Well, Vicar, I could tell ye some stories—”
“Grandda, you have never even been to London,” Grant interrupted as he closed Kathleen’s trunk and hoisted it into the boot. “Much less to any fleshpots.”
“Now, see here, laddie—”
“May I remind you and everyone else that we have just been robbed by armed bandits,” Grant said with asperity. “We need to go. Now.”
Kathleen briskly nodded. “Quite right. Thank you for giving us the time to gather up our things.”
She plucked the shoes from her sister’s hands and bent over to place them in Jeannie’s trunk, shoving down the rumpled contents so the lid could be closed.
“I’m sure we’re fine, especially with Mr. Brown here to protect us,” Jeannie said as she regarded the vicar with a worshipful gaze.
Kathleen glanced up at her sister with some alarm. Then, muttering something under her breath, she went back to her struggle with the overstuffed trunk.
Brown failed to notice his new admirer’s youthful enthusiasm, since he was currently transfixed by something else—namely, Kathleen’s shapely arse. Grant had to repress an overwhelming impulse to toss the right, bloody reverend into the ditch.
Angus dug an elbow into his side. “Looks like ye might have a little competition.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Grant replied.
He stalked past Brown and hunkered down next to Kathleen, who was now struggling with the lock. “Here, lass, let me do that.”
She breathed out such a sad sigh that it almost broke his heart. “My fingers don’t seem to want to work.”
“You’ve had a bad shock, but we’ll get you to Lochnagar and you can have a nice rest.”
“I’d rather a nice brandy, to tell you the truth.”
Since she was still pale, her freckles standing out like a fey dusting of spice, Grant agreed that a stiff drink was in order.
He clicked the lock shut and stood up holding the trunk.
“Careful, sir,” Kathleen said. “It’s quite heavy.”
“Here, let me help you,” Brown said.
“No need.” Grant brushed past him.
Well, shoved past him might be a more accurate description. And, yes, his grandfather’s chuckle made it clear he was acting like a jealous boob.
After he stowed the trunk, he moved around to the front of the carriage. “All set, Robby?”
The groom, who was standing guard with Grant’s pistol, nodded. “All set, sir.”
“I’ll take the pistol, then. I’m going to ride up top with Danvers. You’ll ride inside with my grandfather and the ladies.”
Kathleen frowned. “Surely that’s not necessary. I cannot imagine those bastards—”
“Goodness,” Brown said with a cough.
“Er, those dreadful men will return,” she finished.
Grant bit back a smile. “It’s just a precaution.”
Then he glanced at Brown, who was staring at Kathleen. The blasted idiot couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.
“Don’t let us keep you, Vicar,” he said.
Kathleen’s delicate eyebrows shot up, probably because he’d sounded as hostile as he felt.
Brown, oblivious to his tone, beamed at Kathleen. “I wouldn’t dream of abandoning the ladies in their hour of need. I will happily escort the carriage to Lochnagar.”
Jeannie clasped her hands together. “Would you, sir? I would feel so much safer if you came with us.”
“Of course, Miss Jeanette.”
“Please call me Jeannie.”
“Oh, God,” Kathleen muttered.
Obviously recovered from the Kade debacle, it appeared Jeannie had found a new object for her impulsively romantic attentions.
“Thank you, but your services aren’t required, Vicar,” Grant said. “Besides, you don’t even carry a pistol.”
Brown reached into his pocket and gingerly extracted a small pistol.
“Got a little popper, do ye?” Angus said.
“How dashing,” Jeannie exclaimed.
Actually, Brown was the opposite of dashing. Nor, as far as Grant knew, had the vicar ever needed to carry a weapon in these parts. True, there’d been a spot of trouble with local smugglers at one point, but Graeme had taken care of that. Lochnagar and the neighboring village were now as peaceful and safe as the local kirk.
“Why the hell are you carrying a pistol?” Grant asked. “Do you even know how to use it?”
The vicar all but bristled with clerical dignity. “Of course. And may I inform you that Sir Graeme himself suggested I carry it.”
Angus grimaced. “Och, that’s nae good.”
“That, Mr. MacDonald, is an understatement,” Brown morosely replied.
* * *
“Have another cup of tea,” Sabrina suggested. “It’s just the thing to settle your stomach.”
Kathleen smiled at her cousin. “My stomach is fine, surprisingly. Highwaymen would seem to be an outstanding cure for twitchy insides.”
As soon as the villain had shoved
his pistol against Grant’s head, Kathleen no longer thought about her digestive ills. Though upset about the theft of her jewels, she was supremely grateful that their party had escaped unharmed. Later, perhaps, she’d have a good cry over Mamma’s ring. For now, she would be happy they’d finally arrived at Lochnagar, safe and sound.
“Try one of these cheddar and chive scones,” Jeannie said. “They’re excellent.”
Her sister, although still rattled, had mostly recovered from their ordeal—due in no small part to the arrival of the attractive Mr. Brown. Kathleen had the distinct feeling his timely appearance might turn out to be a mixed blessing where Jeannie was concerned.
“Yes, I’d best have one before you eat them all, pet,” Kathleen joked.
Jeannie shrugged as she plucked up another scone. “I can’t help it. I’m starving.”
“I admire your fortitude, especially after such a dreadful experience,” Sabrina wryly said.
Kathleen smiled at her cousin. “We’re very relieved to be off the road. And you’ve made us feel so welcome that it’s like coming home after a long journey.”
Sabrina, seated next to Kathleen on the stylish Hepplewhite settee, reached for the silver teapot and refilled Kathleen’s cup.
“That is exactly how I want you to feel. Whatever you need, Graeme and I will do our best to provide it.” She smiled at Kathleen. “I know this wasn’t your first choice for social exile, but I do hope you will be comfortable here.”
Kathleen wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”
Her cousin’s sapphire-blue gaze twinkled with good humor. “We all know where you’d like to be, if given a choice.”
“Ireland,” Jeannie said around a mouthful of scone.
“Well . . . true.” Kathleen cast an admiring glance around the drawing room. “But Lochnagar is splendid. You’ve done a bang-up job with the place, Sabrina.”
On their arrival a few hours ago, she’d discovered that Lochnagar was more than just a necessary port in a storm. A tower house in the classic Scottish style, it was sturdily built from lovely weathered stone. It stood on top of a gradual rise and commanded a splendid view over rolling glens and meadows, with craggy peaks looming in the distance. The old manor, with its tall, matching towers flanking the center hall, perfectly fit the rugged landscape.
While neither the house itself nor the surrounding countryside was anything like the lush and gentle environment of Kathleen’s childhood, Lochnagar held a stark beauty, nonetheless.
Still, it was mind-boggling to see her sophisticated cousin, always so comfortable in her luxurious Mayfair existence, in such a setting. As soon as Sabrina had rushed out of the house to greet them, Kathleen could tell that she was deliriously happy with her new life. Always a lovely and cheerful person, she now radiated joy and vitality. Sabrina was a wizard at organization, and had found her perfect life managing everything and everyone in her orbit, including her adoring husband.
And although they had yet to meet Sabrina’s baby son, since he was napping, it was clear motherhood agreed with her, as well. It was clear that everything agreed with her.
Kathleen was thrilled for her but couldn’t suppress a mild tinge of envy. Not over the husband and baby, of course. She had no desire for anything of that sort. But Kathleen longed for the day when she too would be where she most wished to be, finally in charge of her life and settling down in the place she loved most in the world.
“It’s taken quite a bit of work to get the place up to scratch,” Sabrina said as she offered Kathleen a scone from the generous tea service. “And we still have much to do in the oldest parts of the house.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t even ask me about the water closets.”
Kathleen laughed. “I won’t. This room is beautiful, though.”
The main drawing room, which faced the front lawn and looked out over fields toward the road, was an elegant yet comfortable mix of antique and current styles. A pair of fashionable striped silk wing chairs flanked the fireplace on the opposite side of the room, along with a scattering of padded benches and another Hepplewhite settee.
The men were gathered on that side. The twins, along with Mr. Brown, were drinking whisky and discussing today’s events, keeping their voices low so as not to upset Jeannie.
“This room was utterly grim when we first arrived,” Sabrina drolly replied. “The curtains were in tatters, mice had got at the carpet, and the chimney gave off the most blood-curdling moans.”
Jeannie suddenly looked worried. “You don’t have ghosts, do you?”
“It was just from an old bird’s nest stuck in the chimney,” Sabrina replied. “There are no ghosts at Lochnagar. Graeme wouldn’t allow it. He says ghosts are bad-tempered morons who don’t have the brains to get themselves off to where they belong. He absolutely refuses to have one on the premises.”
“That’s a refreshing viewpoint,” Kathleen said.
Jeannie whooshed out a relieved sigh. “Good. It’s fun to think about ghosts, but I don’t think I’d like to stay if you actually had one.”
Sabrina held up a hand, as if taking an oath. “Word of a Kendrick. No ghosts, ghoulies, or anything else of a supernatural constitution.”
“Just obnoxious bandits, I’m afraid,” said Graeme, reaching down to swipe up a macaroon from a stacked plate of pastries.
Kathleen hadn’t even noticed him cross the room.
“Darling, you really shouldn’t creep up on us,” Sabrina gently scolded. “You’re worse than any ghost.”
“But I’m better looking than any ghost.” He popped the macaroon into his mouth.
Grant strolled over to join them, Reverend Brown trailing in his wake.
“Since ghosts are generally dressed in grave clothes and often missing an eyeball or various appendages,” Grant commented, “that’s no high bar even for you.”
“Och, dinna forget that I’m the good-looking one here, laddie,” his twin retorted.
Jeannie frowned. “But you both look exactly alike.”
In one sense, that was true. Their physical resemblance was startling, and already Kathleen had noticed they shared certain mannerisms. But they were also quite different. Graeme was clearly the more restless of the two, and seemed disinclined to sit in one place for too long. In contrast, Grant’s personality conveyed a quiet steadiness and an almost unimpeachable sense of calm.
Except when he was threatening to rip out a man’s tongue and shove it back down his throat. He’d rather lost his calm in that particular moment.
Graeme winked at Jeannie. “No, I’m definitely the good-looking one. Ask anyone.”
Kathleen pretended to study them. “Now that you mention it, I believe you are the better-looking twin.”
Grant lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “But I’m the smart one. Ask anyone.”
Jeannie, who tended to take things literally, shook her head. “I still think you look exactly alike.” She cast a dubious look at Grant. “Are you really smarter than Sir Graeme?”
“Absolutely,” Grant said. “Just ask Sabrina. She’ll vouch for me.”
Despite the unpleasant events of the afternoon, Kathleen had never seen Grant so relaxed. Clearly, he was happy to be with his twin again, even under less than propitious circumstances.
Graeme smiled at his wife. “I don’t need brains anymore. I’ve got Sabrina to do all my thinking for me.”
“That shouldn’t be very taxing,” Grant teased.
“And it means I win all the arguments,” Sabrina added.
“Not all the time, love.” Graeme’s smile suddenly went sly. “In fact, just last night—”
Grant elbowed him. “I think it’s time for more tea.”
“Ouch,” Graeme said. “That actually hurt.”
“And there’s more where that came from, if you don’t behave yourself.” Grant slightly jerked his head in Jeannie’s direction.
“You’ve all had a difficult day,” Graeme protested. “I’m just trying to lig
hten the mood.”
“Don’t strain yourself,” his brother dryly replied.
Graeme’s extremely mild innuendo had naturally sailed right over Jeannie’s head. Mr. Brown, however, was blushing again, which Kathleen supposed was the appropriate reaction from a vicar. The poor man had almost fainted dead away when he’d stumbled upon her undergarments in the bushes.
“Miss Jeannie, I do hope you’re feeling much more the thing,” Brown said, as if eager to change the topic. “Such a dreadful introduction to Lochnagar for you and your sister.”
When he directed a warm smile at Kathleen, a tiny frisson of warning filtered into her brain. She thought she’d caught a few admiring glances since their chance encounter, but one generally didn’t expect to win a gentleman’s admiration in the aftermath of a holdup—especially with one’s unmentionables strewn about the countryside.
“I’m ever so much better,” Jeannie earnestly said. “It was frightening, but then you came along and scared those awful men away. It was so terribly brave of you.”
The vicar looked momentarily disconcerted by Jeannie’s girlish enthusiasm. And knowing her sister, Kathleen was massively disconcerted by the adoring look in her big, blue eyes as she gazed up at the vicar.
As if this day hadn’t been bad enough, it now seemed clear that Jeannie had found another inappropriate object for her affections.
“It truly was an accident that I stumbled upon you when I did,” Brown modestly replied. “Nothing brave about it at all.”
“That’s certainly true,” Grant commented.
His response sounded almost hostile.
Apparently, Kathleen wasn’t the only person who read it as such. The vicar was peering at Grant with some puzzlement, while Graeme was making a poor show of hiding a smirk.
“We must all be grateful that no one was injured,” Sabrina smoothly interjected. “One’s health is what truly matters. Belongings can always be replaced.”
“Except for Kath’s jewelry,” Jeannie said. “Some of it was her mother’s.”
“Yes, and I’ll be dealing with that,” Graeme said, turning serious. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Kathleen. I promise we’ll find your jewels.”
The Highlanderâ??s Irish Bride Page 14