Kathleen crinkled her nose. “Except toward you. And I’m such a bounder for dumping that unpleasant scene on you and Sabrina.”
His mouth tilted up in a dangerously seductive smile. “I suppose you’ll have to make it up to me, then.”
She adopted a puzzled frown. “Hmm. There is one way I can think of.”
“Yes, lass?” he purred in his lovely brogue.
“You can let me give you a proper apology about yesterday. You were simply trying to help me, and I was a complete hag to you. You didn’t deserve it, and I most sincerely apologize.”
He eyed her with polite skepticism.
Kathleen had to resist the urge to shuffle her feet. “What?”
“Is that it?”
“Is what it?”
“Is that how you’re going to make it up to me?”
“It was just tea with David and his brother,” she said. “It wasn’t as if you flung yourself in front of a bullet for me.”
“I might have preferred a bullet than tea with Vicar Brown and his idiot brother.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
Instead of replying, he took her by the elbow and started to march her along the path.
“And where are we going now?”
“To the gazebo. We need to talk.”
He was right, of course. But just thinking about yesterday’s illicit encounter put her in a stew. She’d been doing her best not to think about it, because she hadn’t a bloody clue what to do about it.
“All right, but no canoodling,” she blurted out.
When Grant laughed, Kathleen couldn’t help sighing.
“God, I’m a complete ninny,” she said.
“There’s no reason to be nervous, sweetheart. We’ll just talk, I promise.”
He handed her up the stairs into the gazebo. Kathleen settled on the bench, smoothing down her skirts and trying to calm her jangled nerves. Grant leaned against a railing, arms crossed, as he watched her with a slight smile.
Kathleen had the impression he was trying not to crowd her, both physically and emotionally. She was grateful for that, since she felt out of her depth. Grant was obviously about to make a proposal of marriage, and while that was exciting, it was also terrifying. She needed to keep her wits about her—thus, the prohibition on canoodling—in order to make the most important decision of her life.
The fact that she needed to make a decision at all was mind-boggling. Until very recently, she’d been firmly set on a course back to Ireland, come hell, high water, or Grant Kendrick.
That will teach you to kiss a Highlander.
“Properly sorted now, are we?” Grant asked after a few moments.
“Yes, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Lass, you may look like a fairy princess, but you’ve the heart of a lion. You’re ready for anything.”
His words sparked a lovely, warm glow in her chest. “I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I’m just getting started.”
“Then since I am not immune to flattery, I shall have to be on my guard.”
His expression turned serious. “It’s not flattery, Kathleen. You’re brave and kind, and you’re a hell of a lot smarter than I am.”
She held up a finger. “But you’re much better with numbers. You practically print money, remember?”
“And you joke when you’re nervous.”
She crinkled her nose. “My father and Helen remind me of that on numerous occasions. I’ve tried to break the habit, but I can’t seem to manage it.”
He looked comically dismayed. “Och, please don’t compare me to your parents when I’m about to launch into a marriage proposal. It’s deflating, ye ken.”
“We certainly cannot have you deflating.” She flapped a hand. “Oh, dear. That sounded rather improper, didn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m terrible at this sort of thing.”
Grant pushed off from the rail and joined her on the bench. When he took her hand, her insides skittered. But then he wove their fingers together, and it suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world.
For several long moments, they sat in comfortable silence. When she tilted her head to study his profile, she found him staring at their hands, a frown marking his brow.
“Is something wrong?” she softly asked.
“It would seem I’ve been getting everything wrong from the beginning.”
Now it was her turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
“Kathleen, I know that I have seemed disapproving at times, and I truly apologize for giving you the impression that you are anything less than wonderful and perfect.”
She felt another flush rise into her cheeks. “No one is perfect, sir.”
“You’re perfect for me.”
“But I’m dreadful with rules and propriety. As much as I might try, I truly don’t think I can change that.”
“And you think I would object to that?” He shook his head. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you.”
“Actually, you already have objected, and more than once.”
“Touché,” he wryly replied. “But only when I thought you were putting yourself in a dodgy situation or in harm’s way.”
“I wasn’t in harm’s way yesterday when we were in that smugglers’ hut and we . . .” She twirled her free hand. “You know. And you were an absolute bear, afterward. I was quite annoyed.”
He grimaced. “You’re right, and I’ve been kicking myself about that ever since. I should have been more attentive to your feelings. And to my feelings, to tell you the truth.”
“Instead, you immediately began managing the situation.”
“I tend to do that. But I know it was not helpful or appropriate given yesterday’s circumstances.”
“Then why did you get so fashed?”
“Because we’d already been gone a hell of a long time, by ourselves.”
She sighed. “You were worried about the gossip.”
“I was worried about you, and how the gossip might affect you. But there was another compelling reason, too.”
“Which was?”
When Grant played with her fingers, clearly delaying, Kathleen nudged him.
“Well?” she prompted.
He snorted. “Bossy lass.”
“Best get used to it, laddie boy. Now, please answer the question.”
He shifted to look her straight in the eye. “It’s because I wanted to rip your clothes off and make love to you until I thoroughly wore you out. And then let you rest a bit before I did it again.” He leaned close, almost nose-to-nose. “All night long.”
All she could do was gape at him.
Grant’s smile was wry. “You’re staring, sweetheart.”
She managed to collect herself. “This is an incredibly shocking state of affairs. Such behavior will never do, and certainly not for a sobersides such as yourself.”
“It’s not my fault, lass. You’re so sweet and lovely that I can’t help wanting to make love to you all the time.”
Over the years, Kathleen had been called charming, great fun, and even a jolly good sport by her erstwhile suitors, but never sweet and lovely.
“Truly?” She felt almost shy.
“Truly. I’ve even been tempted to murder the vicar over you. Almost tossed the poor fellow out the nearest window on several occasions, in fact.”
“That’s terribly sweet. But if I married David, my sister would toss me out a window.”
“Sounds like we’re both in a pickle. What do you propose?”
“I believe proposals are your department, Mr. Kendrick.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead. Kathleen had to resist the temptation to melt into his arms—or say yes before he even asked.
Buck up, old girl. Be sure of yourself.
“Shall I go down on one knee?” he asked in a husky voice.
“I’d suggest not. The gazebo floor is in need of a sweeping.”
&
nbsp; “That’s a shockingly prosaic consideration for someone of your romantic temperament.”
“Indeed. I hardly know myself anymore.”
She was jesting, but it was the truth. Grant Kendrick had turned her world completely on its head.
As he gathered up her hands, his gaze turned intent. “I know you, dearest girl. I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. I see you, too. And what I see is more than I could ever be worthy of. But I hope you’ll let me try, because you’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met.”
Kathleen blinked back the sting of tears. “Thank you.”
His mouth curved into a loving smile. “Miss Calvert, I hope you will do me the great honor of agreeing to be my wife.”
“I . . .”
She wanted to say yes more than anything she’d ever said yes to in her life. But the words stuck in her throat.
Grant’s smile faded. “Kathleen?”
“I . . . I’d like to, but I’m just not sure,” she finally stammered.
His eyes opened wide with disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“I’m afraid not.”
He let go of her hands and crossed his arms over his chest. “You did just ask me to propose, did you not? What in Hades have we been talking about for the last fifteen minutes?”
“Well, I’m not entirely sure.”
When he started to protest, she flapped a hand. “All right, yes. I suppose I did suggest—”
“Suggest? Och, lass.” His brogue was heavy, a sure sign of irritation.
Kathleen couldn’t blame him, since she sounded like a henwit.
“What I meant is that I’m not entirely sure ... I mean, I want to say yes, but it’s just that—”
She broke off, annoyed by how frazzled she felt. She sucked in a calming breath and tried again. “Grant, forgive me. But lately I feel like a kite battered in a high wind. So I want to be sure that I’m making the right decision for both of us.”
When his eyebrows shot up practically to his hairline, she grimaced.
“I know,” she said. “It’s absurd. Me being the cautious one.”
“It’s a wee bit disconcerting, I’ll admit.”
“Imagine how I feel.”
He took her hands again, holding them in his lap.
“Then let’s start at the beginning,” he said in his calm, Grant-like way. “What exactly are you worried about? That we’re too different from each other?”
She nodded.
“Then I suggest you look no further than Graeme and Sabrina for confirmation that opposites can get along perfectly well.”
“That’s an excellent point,” she admitted.
“Good. What else, then? Are you worried I’m a fortune hunter? I am well able to support you, Kathleen.”
She scowled at him. “You are a booby, Grant Kendrick. Besides, I have it on good authority that you make a great deal of money.”
“Yes, it’s my one true talent,” he sardonically replied.
“You have many talents, dear sir. Which brings me to my next point. I would make a terrible wife for a businessman.”
He looked genuinely surprised. “It’s not a job that one applies for, Kathleen. Nor is there a list of duties that one is required to follow.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll accidentally offend the right sort of people? I do that, you know.”
He simply shrugged.
“What about scandals?” she persisted. “I’m quite good at those, you’ll recall.”
“You must remind me to introduce you to my family sometime, especially my grandfather.”
“I know, but—”
Grant withdrew one hand from their loose clasp and pointed to himself. “Scandalous elopement, remember? And when we have a few hours to spare, I’ll relate some of those stories I wouldn’t let Graeme tell you because they were too outrageous.”
“I would like to hear them,” she confessed.
“Then you shall. Now, do you want to keep listing objections, or shall we get to what is truly worrying you?”
“And you think you know what that is?” she warily asked.
“It’s Ireland.”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Ireland is not the back of beyond, sweetheart.”
“True, but it’s not Glasgow. I’m not fond of living in the city. And Glasgow is where you need to be. I don’t see how we can get around that.”
“Kathleen, you stood on your head trying to avoid leaving Glasgow for Lochnagar. And Lochnagar, I might point out, is both the country and an actual back of beyond.”
She sighed. “I know. I’m terribly inconsistent. It’s just that my brain is in such a muddle these days with Jeannie and everything else.”
“Everything else including our interlude yesterday?”
When she gave him a sheepish smile by way of reply, Grant chuckled, not looking the least bit put out. The man had the patience of a saint, in addition to all his other fine qualities. Any woman in her right mind would crawl over hot coals to marry him.
And she did want to marry him. It was just that—
“Please tell me what else is bothering you,” he quietly asked.
Apparently, he could read minds, too.
“I can’t tell what you’re thinking most of the time,” she said. “You’re very reserved, while I’m the opposite. I feel like we’re not on equal footing.”
He pondered that for several seconds before responding. “Would it surprise you to know there are many times when I cannot tell what you’re thinking?”
“This conversation would suggest otherwise,” she ruefully replied. “I know it’s a dreadful cliché, but I’m an open book compared to you.”
“To expand on that cliché, you only let people read what you want them to read. In fact, I’d say you’re as reserved as I am, only in a different way.”
She frowned. “I don’t think that can be true.”
“And I think it’s a way of protecting yourself. You keep others from getting too close, or from talking about the painful events of the past. It’s a form of armor.” He grimaced. “Believe me, I understand.”
Expressed like that, his observation made sense. She did go out of her way to avoid speaking or even thinking of painful things. It was one of the reasons she liked to keep busy, she supposed. Better to be busy than sad.
“You understand, because you needed to protect yourself, too,” she softly replied.
After they sat in silence for a bit, she nudged him. “So, where does that leave us?”
Grant gathered up her hands again and held them to his chest.
“Right where we need to be, I hope. My darling, behind this boring exterior is a man who loves you very much. And he would be very happy if you could manage to love him in return.”
The emotion in the forest-green depths of his gaze perfectly matched his words. Kathleen had no doubt that he loved her with all his heart.
She couldn’t hold back a few sniffles. “Blast. I told myself I wouldn’t cry.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Very likely. But would you mind if I thought about it a bit more? It’s my first proposal. A lady is required to quibble and prevaricate, is she not?”
That was nonsense, of course. But she wished to recover her equilibrium and not burst into emotional and messy tears in front of him.
“Daft girl.” Then he turned serious. “I know this isn’t the life you envisioned, Kathleen. Or what you necessarily wanted. But please also know that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. Make us happy.”
She smiled mistily at him. “You are the nicest man I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you,” he wryly replied.
And because he was so nice, a horrible thought darted into her brain. It had been there earlier but had slipped away in the mental commotion of their discussion. “And you’re sure you’re not simply proposing to me because of yesterday? Because there would be gossip about us?”
“Lass, I j
ust told you that I loved you,” he said, exasperated. “Have you already forgotten?”
She narrowed her eyes. “So, you are worried about gossip.”
He closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath.
Kathleen tugged on his hands. “Well?”
He opened his eyes. “What I’m worried about is you, and what you want. I would never pressure you to marry me, Kathleen. My rush back from that smugglers’ hut was precisely so you would not be backed into in a corner by gossip and left without a choice. Frankly, I shouldn’t wish to marry you if that were the case.”
By now, he looked so annoyed that she couldn’t help beaming at him.
“You know, I think you must be the nicest man in the entire world,” she said.
“Splendid. And since I am the nicest man in the world, I’m now going to leave you alone. Because if I don’t leave, something drastic is bound to happen.”
“What’s that?”
“I will toss you over my shoulder and carry you straight to my bedroom, where I will then take you to bed. I can safely say you would be left in no doubt as to the sincerity of my proposal.”
He stood, but then leaned down, his arms caging her. He brought his face so close that Kathleen almost saw double.
“I’d have ye screaming with pleasure in no time, lass,” he added in a murmur. “Count on it.”
Her heart skipped at least three beats. “That . . . that sounds like fun.”
“Now, you have a decision to make, so I’ll leave you to it,” he gruffly replied.
And then he was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I thought I’d find you here,” Sabrina said as she walked into Lochnagar’s stables.
Kathleen blew out a dramatic sigh. “I truly am becoming a predictable person. How dreadful.”
Her cousin joined her at one of the stalls, where Kathleen had been silently communing with a placid mare. “It was either here or the garden. They’re your favorite spots, especially when you wish to hide.”
“Oh, Lord. So I’m a coward, too.”
Sabrina laughed. “Not at all. You were exceedingly wise to avoid that gruesome little tea with David and his brother.”
Kathleen made a show of wiping her brow. “Whew. Not a coward, thank goodness, but still predictable.”
“What’s wrong with being predictable? It simply means one behaves in a consistent fashion.”
The Highlanderâ??s Irish Bride Page 33