“And you will listen to whatever Kade plays,” the earl said, pinning Graeme with a stern look.
“But—”
Grant elbowed his twin in the ribs. “Shut it, Graeme.” Then he smiled at Kade. “Play whatever you want, laddie. We’ll enjoy it either way.”
Kade gave his brother a rueful grin. “It’s all right. I like the old reels, too.”
“Right. I’ll fetch my bagpipes to play with ye,” Angus said, hauling himself from his chair.
“No!” the twins yelled. In fact, all the men appeared disconcerted.
The old man regarded his grandsons reproachfully. “But ye all love the pipes.”
“Not the way you play them,” Royal said ruthlessly.
“You heard him the first night you stayed here,” Grant said to Victoria, as if she could possibly forget.
“Oh,” she said. “I thought he was trying to be . . .”
Grant morosely shook his head.
“I see.” She couldn’t help giving the old man a sympathetic glance, since he looked so disappointed. “It wasn’t that bad. In fact, it was quite . . . stirring.”
Everyone stared at her like she’d gone mad.
Angus eyed her suspiciously, but then affected a casual shrug. “Well, get on with it, then,” he said brusquely, waving at Kade.
“Why don’t you play ‘Shean Truibhais,’” Royal suggested, his brogue curling around the Gaelic name. He’d wandered over to the window that overlooked the back lawn, where he’d recommenced his brooding. As far as Victoria could tell, that was mostly what Royal did with his time when he wasn’t picking a fight with the earl.
“That’s Gaelic for Torn Trousers,” Kade explained to her. “The reel is about how the kilt was outlawed after Culloden. The Highlanders were forced to wear trousers, so they wanted to tear them or kick them off.”
“Bloody bastard Englishmen,” Angus muttered.
“My, that sounds like an exciting dance,” Victoria said. She rose from the piano bench. “I’ll bring you a cup of tea and a scone when you’re finished.”
Kade nodded absently, shuffling through his sheet music. She would have to make him stop to eat, since the boy rarely thought about food unless someone reminded him.
As Kade played the lively reel, she poured out the tea, handing the cups to Grant to distribute. Grant was a very nice young man, she’d been pleased to discover, when Graeme wasn’t leading him astray. Mrs. Taffy heaped up plates of biscuits and scones for the men, and then excused herself.
When Kade finished with a flourish, everyone clapped—except for Angus, who at least did nod his approval. Even the dogs barked enthusiastically, which necessitated a tart reprimand from their master.
The Kendrick family drawing room wasn’t the most genteel of environments, and the men—and the dogs—could certainly be a handful. But the fact that no one was assaulting her or accusing her of murder was a distinct advantage. She was beginning to think that, with a little luck, she might make it through the winter unscathed. According to the most recent letter from Dominic, neither Lady Welgate nor her father had yet to take any action against her, and he didn’t expect them to. If all remained quiet, she should be able to return to London sometime in the summer and begin to plan the opening of her girls’ seminary.
She simply had to survive a winter and spring in Scotland with Lord Arnprior and his brothers first.
Graeme shoveled in another scone. “I do think . . .” he began around the enormous mouthful.
When Victoria pointedly raised her eyebrows, he grimaced, but chewed and swallowed before speaking again. She was not formally giving the twins lessons in deportment, but she couldn’t refrain from the occasional quiet correction. Fortunately, looking aghast usually did the trick.
“As I was saying,” Graeme said after he’d swallowed, “I still think it would be splendid if we could learn how to waltz, instead of just doing reels and country dances.”
“If only we could learn how to waltz in time for Sir Duncan MacLeish’s holiday ball,” Grant said. He gazed dolefully at Victoria, as if he were a puppy who’d been kicked. Graeme adopted a similar expression, even going so far as to push out his lower lip.
Victoria was hard-pressed not to laugh, or to scold them for thinking she was foolish enough to fall for their blatant machinations. Yes, she might be willing to give them a little guidance now and then, but she was not a dancing teacher.
“Och, ye don’t need to be swirlin’ about like acrobats to catch the eyes of the lassies,” Angus said. “There’s nothing more manly and athletic than a good reel to attract a girl’s notice. Even better, a sword dance.”
“I doubt there will be any sword dances at Sir Duncan’s affair,” Royal said. He’d finally eased into a chair by the window, favoring his bad leg.
“I’d love to see a sword dance someday,” Victoria said brightly, hoping to divert attention away from Graeme’s unwelcome request.
Grant perked up. “We’d be happy to show you.”
“And then you can show us how to waltz,” Graeme added triumphantly.
Argh. She’d walked right into that one.
Grant jumped from his chair. “I’ll just fetch some swords off the wall in the entrance hall.”
Arnprior glanced up from his correspondence. “There will be absolutely no sword dancing in the house. I’ve told you that a hundred times.”
“But, Nick—” Graeme started.
“No,” the earl said firmly. He looked at Victoria. “It never ends well, and we have the broken furniture to prove it.”
She tried not to look too relieved, although she was tempted to laugh at the mental image of the twins demolishing the sitting room. “I completely understand. Perhaps they can show me out in the courtyard, when the weather is more amenable.”
When the twins groaned their dissatisfaction, their brother was unmoved. “You’ll just have to be satisfied with the standard country dances, which I’m sure you can manage. Besides, Sir Duncan is an old-fashioned sort, and I doubt he will allow the waltz at any of his gatherings.”
“Too scandalous for the Highlands, my lord?” Victoria asked with a smile as she carried over the pot to replenish his teacup. She could almost kiss him for coming to her rescue.
Almost?
“We’re a little backwards up here, if you haven’t noticed,” he said, giving her a wry smile as he held up his cup.
She affected shock to cover for the fact that she was feeling flustered by the notion of kissing him. “Truly? Why, I hadn’t noticed that at all.”
A derisive snort from Angus told her what he thought of their playful exchange. Perhaps he thought she was flirting with his grandson, which she most decidedly was not. She was simply being . . . pleasant.
“Actually, the joke’s on you, Nick,” Graeme said. “They are going to be playing the waltz. Lady MacLeish is bringing in an orchestra from Glasgow to play all the latest music.”
The earl set his cup down on the desk and gave the twins his full attention. “Really?”
Grant nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, really. We have it on good authority.”
Arnprior stood and followed Victoria back to the tea table. Somehow, he managed to make the little stroll appear intimidating, or at least the twins seemed to think so. By the time he was looming over them, they looked nervous.
“And who is this good authority?” the earl asked. “Not someone you ran into off the estate, I hope.”
Graeme flushed a bright red, while Grant went in the opposite direction, going rather pale.
On their brother’s order, the twins had been confined to the estate for the last several days as a result of some incident that was apparently too shocking to discuss in front of a lady. Whatever it was, Victoria had the sense that those sorts of events happened on a regular basis.
“It was Mr. Allen who told the lads,” Angus said from his corner by the fire. “They rode with me on my rounds of the tenant farms yesterday, and we stopped to have a
wee dram with him. His wife heard it from Lady MacLeish herself.”
The earl stared hard at his grandfather, who puffed away at his short-stemmed pipe with the easy assurance of either a man with a clear conscience or a born liar.
“That’s right,” Graeme said. “It was Mr. Allen who told us.” He elbowed his twin. “Right?”
Grant bobbed his head like a nervous pigeon. “That’s it exactly.”
Arnprior studied them with disfavor. “I suppose I should be happy you’re taking an interest in the workings of the estate,” he finally said.
Angus removed his pipe from his mouth. “Of course ye should. It’s what ye want, isn’t it?”
“If it were true, I’d be delirious with joy,” Arnprior replied.
“It’s absolutely true,” Graeme said, gazing earnestly at his big brother.
Arnprior stared down at him for a moment longer and then shrugged. “Good for you, lads. I’m sure your grandfather appreciates the help.”
When he bent down to retrieve a biscuit, Victoria found herself admiring his lean hips and well-shaped backside, lovingly outlined by the draped fabric of the kilt. Not that she could help admiring those attributes, as impolite as that might seem, since he was standing right in front of her—at eye level, too. And although she’d never been a particular fan of the Highland costume, after seeing the earl in a kilt more than once this week, she’d decided the style was growing on her.
He straightened up. “Well, what’s it to be, Miss Knight? Are you agreeable?”
She jerked her gaze upward to take in his amused expression. Good God. When had he noticed she was furtively inspecting his backside? Even worse, he obviously found it amusing to catch her in the act.
She, however, did not.
“Am I agreeable to what, my lord?” she asked, trying to adopt her most dignified manner. It was a challenge, since her face seemed to be going up in flames.
His eyebrows arched. “Why, teaching my brothers to waltz, of course. And since I already know the steps of that particular dance, I will be more than happy to lend you assistance.”
“Do say yes, Miss Knight,” Graeme said. “It would be the greatest thing, ever.”
“Ever,” Grant echoed with enthusiastic emphasis.
“Miss Knight, I beg you to do it,” Royal added. “Or else these two idiots will pester us until we lose our minds.”
She met the earl’s sardonic gaze, resisting the unholy desire to stick her tongue out at him—or kick him in the shins—for manipulating her so adroitly.
He’d backed her right into the position he’d chosen for her all along—and done it in front of his entire family, no less. Now he was daring her to refuse.
Chapter Ten
“Well, Miss Knight?” Nick asked again. “Shall we teach my brothers to waltz?”
She blinked several times, as if her pretty blue eyes were trying to focus. He’d caught her off guard—after catching her inspecting his arse. Her fiery blush was evidence that she wasn’t the sort of woman who ogled men’s backsides. Even her chest had gone pink above the narrow lace trim of her bodice. Standing over her, he could just see inside her gown where the gentle swell of her breast caused the fabric to gape. If he leaned over slightly—
Stop. It.
His reckless offer to help her teach the twins to dance was only partly explained by his desire for her to tutor his brothers. And now he was thinking of peering down the front of her gown. It mattered not a whit that she was both pretty and kind, and already making remarkable strides with Kade. Victoria Knight was still his servant, and he didn’t dally with servants.
Nick didn’t dally in general. In fact, he hadn’t taken a woman to bed since he’d returned home from the war. He thanked God that Victoria was an exceedingly proper governess and a perfect lady, since he was finding her more enticing than he cared to admit. But he suspected she would no more flirt with her employer than she would run away and join a troupe of acrobats.
“Do you mean it, Nick?” Grant asked, looking boyishly hopeful. “You’ll really help us?”
“Of course,” he said. If he could persuade Victoria to help, at least something good would come out of his foolish impulse.
Sometimes, Nick could hardly believe the twins were old enough to start their own families—old enough to do something meaningful with their lives instead of acting like callow youths, tumbling from one mishap to the next. It had been a mistake to leave them without guidance for so long, with only Angus to ride herd.
Only last Sunday, they’d been caught breaking into the kirk with the intention of stealing the weekly collection. They’d done it on a lark, without a thought for the consequences. Nick had been forced to make a large donation to the kirk’s building fund to make up for their bad behavior, and promise the vicar that his entire family would start regularly attending services.
As for the twins spending so much time helping Angus with estate business? Nick had serious doubts about that.
“Pah,” scoffed his grandfather, puffing on his clay pipe. “As if the laird doesn’t have better things to do than teach ye how to prance about like a pair of ninnies. It’s bloody ridiculous.”
“I quite agree, Mr. MacDonald,” Victoria said, finally finding her voice.
Clearly, things had come to a sorry pass when the poor girl had to rely on her mortal enemy for support.
“Will wonders never cease,” marveled Angus, his bushy white eyebrows reaching up to his hairline. “The Sassenach agrees with me. Well, that’s it, lads. Miss Knight will not be teaching ye to dance, so ye’d best get over this nonsense of acting like bloody Englishmen.”
Graeme and Grant looked so crestfallen that Nick had to swallow a laugh.
“You misunderstand me, Mr. MacDonald,” Victoria said. “I meant that it wasn’t necessary for the earl to inconvenience himself. I’m perfectly capable of teaching the twins how to waltz without his help.”
“You mean you’ll do it?” Grant asked with comical hope.
“It would seem I don’t have a choice.” Her little scowl and disapproving sniff when she glanced at Nick were adorably grumpy.
“Huzzah,” said Graeme, jumping up. He grabbed his brother by the arm and pulled him to his feet. “What do you want us to do first?”
She pointed to the space between the chaise and the window. “You should pull some of the chairs out of the way and roll up the carpet. That way you won’t trip and kill yourselves.”
“Never fear, Miss Knight,” Graeme said, “we’re as light on our feet as anything. Best sword dancers in the county, in fact.”
Royal snorted as he got out of their way. “Lumbering on your feet, more like it.”
The twins protested, but they did lumber about, dragging furniture and talking over each other as they wrestled with the carpet. Victoria peered at them with concern, as if she’d just realized what she’d gotten herself into. The twins were tall, braw lads, although still a bit gangly. Only Logan was bigger and stronger than them. He was a veritable mountain of a man, able to toss the caber with awe-inspiring ease.
Not strong enough to save Cameron, was he?
Nick slammed the door on that flood of ugly memories. No good ever came of thinking about the brother who’d fled from Kinglas years ago.
He flinched at the gentle touch on his forearm.
“My lord, is something wrong?” Victoria asked in an undertone.
“Not at all,” he said brusquely. He glanced at the twins, who waited impatiently for their lesson. “I’m just afraid the lads will crush those wee feet of yours.”
Her luminous smile seared away some of the ice around his heart. “My feet aren’t little at all. And I’ll be fine.”
“I’d be more than happy to demonstrate the steps.” He could think of few things more likely to dispel his ugly old ghosts than taking a pretty girl into his arms. It was a foolish temptation, but right now he wouldn’t mind playing the fool.
Her gaze darted away for a moment. But so
on she looked back, her governess expression firmly restored. “Thank you, my lord, but I’m sure you wish to return to your correspondence.”
That she found his offer was neither welcome nor appropriate was clear. She was correct, of course, and he should feel relieved.
He didn’t.
“Later,” he said. “I have a feeling that watching my brothers learning to waltz will be more entertaining than writing a letter to my banker.”
She gave him a wry smile by way of reply before joining the twins.
“Do you want me to play a waltz, Miss Knight?” Kade asked. “I’m sure I could stumble along all right if you had one in your music.”
“No, that’s all right, Kade. I’m going to show your brothers the basic steps, and then I’m going to play a waltz for them.”
Grant peered down at her. “But who are we going to dance with if you’re playing the piano?”
“You’re going to dance with each other,” she said calmly.
The twins stared at her and then at each other, clearly appalled.
“But . . . but I can’t do that with another man,” spluttered Graeme, “even if he is my brother. Especially if he’s my brother.”
His tone suggested she’d all but asked them to perform an unnatural act.
She tilted her head. “But you dance with other men when you perform reels and the sword dance, do you not?”
“Aye, but we’re not hugging each other,” Grant said in a disgusted tone.
“Muttonheads,” Angus muttered. Still, the old fellow was starting to look amused.
“Young ladies dance with each other all the time when they’re taking lessons,” Victoria said.
“That’s different,” protested Graeme.
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Why is it different?”
“Because it just is,” said Grant, awkwardly waving his arms.
Royal, who’d settled onto the chaise, flashed an evil grin. “Such impeccable logic.”
Graeme shot him a scowl. “Bugger you.”
“Watch your language,” Nick said sharply. “You’re in the presence of a lady.”
The Highlander's Princess Bride Page 13