The Highlander's Irish Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  Yet, what difference did it make? She wouldn’t be changing her plans for Grant or for any man. And those plans were proceeding well. Jeannie would soon be returning to London, her enthusiasm for Glasgow dimmed after her falling-out with Kade. Jeannie wasn’t wild about returning home, but she’d come to accept it as inevitable.

  As for Kathleen’s situation, Victoria and Lord Arnprior had made it clear that she could spend as much time as she liked in Glasgow and even spend the winter holidays with them at Castle Kinglas. Although she still planned to travel to Lochnagar to visit with Sabrina, she would no longer be required to spend the entire winter in a dreary corner of the Highlands.

  You’ll be spending more time with Grant, too.

  Again, she tried to ignore that annoying little voice. “Are you ready, Kade?”

  “I’ve been ready for ten minutes.”

  “Ye’ll have to wait a few more.” Angus waved at a groom standing halfway between wickets in a fielding position on the right. “Young Ian, will ye run inside and fetch me a light for my pipe?”

  The groom nodded and started toward the house.

  Kade shook his head. “This match is beyond absurd.”

  “I canna properly umpire without a smoke,” said Angus.

  “Grandda, you couldn’t properly umpire to save your life. Too bad Grant couldn’t be here. His calls are always fair, and he actually knows the rules.”

  Angus, clearly unimpressed, curled a lip.

  Gillian, meanwhile, flapped an emphatic hand at the departing groom. “Ho, Ian, get back in position. You can’t trot off in the middle of an inning.”

  The poor man stopped a few yards off the pitch, looking resigned to yet another period of confusion.

  Kade snorted. “She’s right, Ian. You’d best get back to your position. If this insanity keeps up, we’ll never finish.”

  “What a tragedy that would be,” Kathleen drolly said.

  “But I still need my turn at bat after Gillian,” Jeannie protested.

  “You heard the girl.” Gillian thumped her bat on the ground.

  Angus pointed at the duchess. “Verra well. But dinna be thinkin’ that I’ll be throwin’ any more calls your way, lassie. Yer on yer own, now.”

  Gillian resumed her stance. “I assure you, sir, I need no one’s help to win.”

  Kade retreated a few feet before taking a short run and then unwinding a fast bowl. Gillian swung hard and solidly connected, driving the ball in Ian’s direction.

  Jeannie and Gillian both took off, running for opposite ends of the pitch. Kathleen blew a two-fingered whistle of support as the ball sailed over the groom’s head, just out of his reach and bouncing across the park.

  “That’s an impressive whistle ye have, lassie,” Angus admiringly said.

  Kade tugged on his ear. “It’s certainly loud.”

  Gillian arrived at the wicket in a flurry of skirts and triumph, as Jeannie reached the opposite wicket, scoring the run.

  “Huzzah for our side,” the girl cried, waving her bat over her head.

  “Told you I didn’t need help,” Gillian teased Angus.

  “Aye, but I’ll still be wantin’ a puff of my pipe.”

  Kathleen looked at the small watch she’d pinned at her waist. “We should probably finish. It’s almost time to change for dinner.”

  “True,” Gillian said, “but we did promise Jeannie a turn at bat.”

  Kathleen glanced at Kade.

  “Might as well,” Kade said with a good-natured smile. “Thanks to Grandda, my team has been thrashed.”

  Gillian casually spun her bat. “We would have won anyway. Just ask my husband.”

  “So ye didn’t need my help after all, cheeky lass,” said Angus.

  The duchess doffed an imaginary cap. “Your chivalry, however, is duly noted.”

  Kathleen rolled her eyes. “Cheating counts as chivalry?”

  “There’s all sorts of chivalry, lass.” Angus flashed a beatific smile. “Why, take Grant. He’d lay his cloak on a puddle for ye, just like Bothwell did for Mary, Queen of Scots.”

  Gillian choked back a laugh.

  “That wasn’t Bothwell, and it definitely wasn’t Queen Mary,” Kade said.

  “Are ye sure, lad? I could swear it was.”

  “And there are no puddles here,” Kathleen firmly said.

  Gillian made a show of frowning. “And no Grant. It’s a shame we see so little of him. I wonder why that is?”

  Having retrieved the ball, Ian trotted up, interrupting the embarrassing conversation. “Sorry. Yon ball went under those thick bushes.”

  “Are we playing or not?” Jeannie yelled from her end of the pitch.

  “Yes, dear,” Kathleen called back. “Get ready.”

  Kade went into his short run and unleashed another perfect bowl. Jeannie whipped up her bat in a hard, angled swing.

  Crack.

  The ball shot nearly sideways at a ferocious speed. The other groom lunged for it, but it hummed well over him and headed directly for the nearest house on the square.

  “Uh-oh,” Kade said.

  The ball smashed through one of the sash windows on the main floor. Glass flew, with shards scattering on the pavement.

  “Och, that’s nae good,” Angus muttered.

  “That’s a bit of bad luck,” said Gillian.

  Kade winced. “You have no idea. That’s the Trim house. They’re the worst twiddlepoops in the square.”

  Kathleen shook off her paralysis. “Jeannie and I will apologize immediately, and of course I’ll pay for the damages.”

  By this time, her sister had rushed up, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, Kath. I didn’t mean to hit in that direction.”

  “Of course not, pet. We’ll just go and apologize, shall we?”

  “Best let Kade go, instead,” Angus suggested. “He knows how to handle old Trim.”

  As they briefly debated that point, the door to the house flew open. A footman scurried down the steps and took off across the north side of the square. In his wake came a portly, middle-aged gentleman who looked rather rumpled, as if he’d just awakened from a nap. He also looked mightily aggrieved, pulling clouds of righteous outrage in his wake.

  Jeannie retreated behind Angus.

  “Och, young Trim,” the old man said. “He’s even worse than old Trim.”

  “I’ll try to forestall him,” Kathleen said.

  As she hurried across the lawn, Kade joined her.

  “I can handle him, if you’d rather,” he said.

  “Thank you, but it’s only a broken window.”

  “You don’t know Matthew Trim. He doesn’t like women. Or children.”

  “He’ll like me.”

  Men always liked her. After all, she was such a jolly good sport, as her friend Denny used to say.

  “My dear sir,” she said as Mr. Trim stormed up. “I sincerely apologize for breaking your window. I’ll be happy to—”

  He cut her off. “Young woman—I do not call you lady, because you are clearly not one—”

  “Now, hang on,” Kade indignantly interrupted.

  “I have no wish to speak with you, either, Kendrick,” the man barked. “This entire spectacle is a disgrace, if not an outright violation of the regulations governing use of the square. My father will be making the appropriate complaints.”

  Kathleen glanced at Kade. “Regulations?”

  He shook his head. “There’s nothing formal. Children play games in the square all the time.”

  “You are not a child,” Trim snapped. “Nor are these others, including that sorry excuse for a grandparent. His behavior, as always, is disgusting and outrageous.”

  “My grandfather has every right to use the park,” Kade retorted. “And my brother, Lord Arnprior, will not be best pleased with your insults.”

  “Believe me, I will be speaking with Lord Arnprior. That ball crashed right into my father’s study. It’s a miracle he was not physically injured, although I cannot vo
uch for an injury to his nerves. I have already sent my footman to fetch our physician. After he fetches the constable.”

  Angus stomped up, followed by Will, who was obviously playing guard—or keeper.

  “Fetchin’ a constable?” Angus snapped. “Why the bloody hell would ye do that, ye ninny?”

  “Not helping, Grandda,” Kade warned.

  Kathleen glanced over her shoulder. Gillian, thankfully, was still hanging back. She had her arm around Jeannie and was directing the grooms in a cleanup of the incriminating evidence.

  “Again, I am so sorry, Mr. Trim,” Kathleen said. “I’m sure we can clear this up without a constable. Please let me apologize directly to your poor father and try to make amends.”

  Trim looked outraged, as if her very existence was an insult to the good order of the city.

  “And Mr. Trim was not hurt, thankfully,” Kade added, while discreetly trying to wave Angus back. “So, really, no harm done but to the window.”

  Trim’s cheeks puffed out like red balloons. “Do you take me for a fool, young man?”

  When a sudden breeze wafted the man’s wispy, combed-over hair straight up like a billowing curtain, Kathleen had to swallow an exceedingly inconvenient laugh.

  “Best check yer head, young Trim,” Angus said. “Yer about to lose what few sprouts ye have left.”

  Kade sighed. “Good God.”

  The other man froze for a moment before reaching up to smooth down his hair with offended dignity.

  “Angus, perhaps you could take Jeannie and Gillian inside,” Kathleen hastily said. “I’m sure Kade and I can sort this out.”

  “There is nothing to sort out,” barked Trim. “You are all to wait right here until the constable arrives.”

  Kade ignored him. “Grandda, please take the ladies inside. We already have an audience.”

  Kathleen glanced over and mentally cursed. Mrs. Buchanan had appeared in her doorway, and people in at least two other houses were now peering out their windows.

  “Nae, lad,” Angus stubbornly said. “I’ll stay right here with ye and Kathleen, in case ye need a hand.”

  Kathleen stepped in front of Angus, trying to keep him well away from Trim. “Sir, please let me speak with your father. I’m happy to explain what happened and offer restitution.”

  Trim jabbed a finger in Jeannie’s direction. “Hooligans, all of you, especially that one over there.” Then he glared at Kathleen. “And you’re nothing but a hoyden. I’m amazed Lady Arnprior would put up with such nonsense.”

  By now, Trim’s voice had reached bellowing proportions. More doors opened, as perplexed-looking footmen peered out. Mrs. Buchanan, now joined by her sister, was no doubt taking mental notes of the gruesome scene.

  “Don’t you dare shout at my sister,” Jeannie yelled, storming up.

  Gillian followed closely behind. “Sorry, Kath. She rather got away from me.”

  “It’s fine.” Kathleen grabbed Jeannie by the arm.

  “There is nothing fine about any of this,” Trim blustered. “And do not think my father won’t be writing to Lady Gorey. She’ll be as shocked as I am about this dreadful situation.”

  “Oh, hell,” Gillian muttered.

  Kathleen’s heart seized. “You know our parents?”

  “My father is related to Lady Gorey on his mother’s side.”

  “Then Kathleen and Jeannie are your relatives,” Gillian pointed out. “So perhaps you could try for a little familial charity, instead of acting like a nincompoop.”

  “Gillian, please don’t,” Kathleen warned.

  Trim snorted. “You’re clearly a hoyden as well.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to insult me,” Gillian said with a smile that was mostly teeth.

  Kathleen chopped down a hand. “Everyone, stop. Mr. Trim, may we please go inside and talk?”

  “There is nothing to talk about. My father will be writing to Lady Gorey and informing her that her daughters are ill-mannered hussies.”

  Jeannie suddenly shoved in front of Kathleen. “You’re a mean old man.”

  “And you are a nasty guttersnipe.”

  Before Kathleen could react, Jeannie delivered a swift kick to Trim’s right shin. He staggered but, with astonishing speed for so portly a man, grabbed Jeannie by the wrist.

  Her sister tried to break free. “Let me go!”

  Kathleen stepped forward and planted a hand flat on Trim’s chest. “Jeannie, stop struggling. And you, sir, release my sister. Immediately.”

  “I’ll be handing you both off to the constable, is what I’ll be doing,” he angrily replied.

  Angus practically crawled over Kathleen’s shoulder. “I’ll kill ye myself, ye scaly bastard.”

  “And I’ll stab you right where you live,” Gillian snarled, crowding in from the other side.

  Kathleen wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but knew it should be avoided at all costs—especially since two large footmen had erupted from Trim’s house. Both looked ready to start throwing punches.

  “No one is stabbing anyone,” Kathleen yelled over the growing commotion.

  She doubted anyone could hear, since Kade was now shouting at Trim, while Angus and Will intercepted Trim’s footmen and commenced a yelling match. Gillian, meanwhile, was now calmly bending over and reaching for her boot, which no doubt contained a knife.

  “Gillian, no,” Kathleen ordered as she tried to clamp a madly wriggling Jeannie to her side. If Jeannie kicked Trim again, all hell would break loose—if Gillian didn’t stab the man first.

  “Mr. Trim, if you value your safety, let go of my sister,” Kathleen added.

  The man froze as his gaze jerked up and over her shoulder. He suddenly let Jeannie go and scuttled back several steps.

  Oddly, his footmen also retreated. Everyone suddenly stopped yelling, and silence fell over the square, broken only by the sounds of Jeannie’s outraged sniffles.

  “Trim, if ye touch either girl again, I will twist yer damn arm off.”

  The threat was uttered in a calm yet utterly terrifying tone. Trim took another step back.

  “Aboot bloody time ye showed up, laddie,” Angus said.

  Turning around, Kathleen got quite the shock. Grant’s gaze was as terrifying as his tone. Daggers practically shot out of his eyes and drilled into Trim’s balding skull.

  Hastily, Kathleen dragged Jeannie out of the way.

  “Don’t . . . don’t threaten me, Kendrick,” Trim spluttered.

  Grant’s gaze flickered off to the side. “Please put that away. It is not required.”

  “Spoilsport.” Gillian slipped a small, wicked-looking blade back into her boot.

  “That’s a dandy little shiv,” Angus said in an admiring tone.

  “Isn’t it?” Gillian affably responded.

  Trim stared at her in disbelief. “You . . . you pulled a knife on me? I will have you arrested as soon as the constable arrives.”

  “I don’t see a knife,” Grant said. “Kade, do you see a knife?”

  Kade shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t even know what we’re talking about at this point.”

  Trim waved a hand at Jeannie. “This girl attacked me—that is what we’re talking about. And my house was damaged and my poor father scared out of his wits.”

  Grant looked to Kathleen for clarification.

  “Jeannie accidentally hit a cricket ball through Mr. Trim’s window,” she said.

  Grant’s calm deserted him. Now he looked massively annoyed. “And that’s what prompted an all-out melee in the park?”

  “I did apologize. And I was offering to pay for any damages when—”

  “When that nasty little hoyden kicked me,” Trim interrupted.

  Gillian shook her head. “I am definitely going to stab you.”

  Beneath Trim’s outraged bluster about constables and arrests, Kathleen heard Grant blow out a sigh.

  “Your Grace, it might be best if you returned to the house,” he said.<
br />
  Trim paused in his tirade. “Your Grace?”

  “I take it you have not been formally introduced to the Duchess of Leverton?” Grant’s tone was as dry as three-day-old toast.

  Gillian swept a mocking curtsy. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

  Trim blinked. He’d obviously forgotten there was a duchess staying at Kendrick House, albeit an unconventional one.

  “Angus, please take the duchess back to the house,” Grant said.

  Gillian scoffed. “I’m staying right here.”

  “No, you’re not,” Grant replied.

  The two locked gazes. Much to Kathleen’s surprise, Gillian capitulated with a sardonic snort.

  “Oh, very well,” she said. “You clearly want to impress Kathleen, so I’ll leave you to it.”

  Angus took Gillian’s arm, and the two reluctantly retreated from the field of battle.

  They’d barely departed before Trim started waving a frantic hand. “Now we’ll see what’s what,” he said in a snippy tone.

  Grant glanced over his shoulder, then back at Trim in disbelief. “You really called a constable over a broken window?”

  “Have you forgotten that I was attacked?”

  “Mr. Trim,” Kathleen firmly said, “you called the constable before my sister kicked you. And she only kicked you because your language was offensive.”

  Grant’s gaze returned to her. “Was it now?”

  “He was being very nasty to Kathleen when she was sincerely trying apologize,” Jeannie said.

  Grant studied Trim with aristocratic disdain. Kathleen had never seen him do aristocratic disdain. She quite enjoyed it.

  “What sort of man calls the constable on a young girl and her sister for playing a game in the park?” he asked with undisguised contempt.

  Trim, who’d begun to recover his countenance, flushed red again. “We’ll see what the constable has to say, sir.”

  The lawman trundled up, a bit out of breath.

  “It’s about time,” Trim angrily said.

  Grant smiled at the constable. “Mr. Hugo, I’m afraid you’ve been called out for nothing.”

  The genial-looking, middle-aged man heaved a sigh. “Och, Kendrick business, is it? Is yer twin lurkin’ about? Ye two were a whole pile of trouble, back in the day.”

  Kathleen perked up. “Really? That sounds interesting.”