The Highlander's Irish Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  “So, it’s off to the Highlands for the lassies, eh?” Angus said. “Well, ye’ll have a grand time with Sabrina and Graeme.”

  Kathleen dredged up a polite smile. Though clearly not thrilled with the idea, she was loyal to the bone and would not abandon her sister.

  “It makes perfect sense when you explain it like that,” Vicky said. “But we’ll still miss you.”

  “Well then,” Nick said. “I suppose the only question is who will escort you to Lochnagar.”

  Kathleen waved a hand. “I’ll hire a coach. I was hoping you could lend us one of your footmen to attend us, though we’re quite capable of looking after ourselves.”

  “Nonsense,” Nick said. “You’ll be going in our traveling carriage.”

  “That’s kind of you, but—”

  “And you will certainly need an escort,” Vicky added. “It’s not safe for young ladies to travel unattended.”

  “And who do you have in mind?” Gillian asked, glancing at Grant with a sly smile.

  Oh, hell.

  “Angus can go, if he’s so inclined,” Nick said.

  But before Grant could let out a relieved breath, his brother looked straight at him. “And Grant, of course. I think we can all agree on that.”

  Kathleen cast Grant a horrified glance. He could only assume he was wearing a similar—if not identical—expression.

  “I . . . I . . .” she stammered.

  “Well, that’s settled,” Gillian cheerfully said. “Goodness, it’s getting late, and there’s so much packing to do.”

  The duchess hauled Kathleen to her feet. “Come along, pet. We’ll have a nice little chat while we get organized.”

  Vicky also stood. “Excellent. We can leave the men to make all the necessary arrangements.”

  Kathleen, whom Gillian was dragging inexorably toward the door, cast Grant a panicked look over her shoulder.

  “Vicky,” Gillian said, looking back, “fetch that decanter of brandy, will you? Since it’s our last night together, we might as well make the best of it.”

  * * *

  Grant had spent the last ten minutes trying to explain to the men in his family exactly why he couldn’t leave Glasgow right now. Sadly, he was failing.

  “Kathleen and Jeannie will need a competent escort, so it might as well be you,” Royal said, summing up the general opinion.

  Grant wrestled his rising temper. “I remind you again that I have a business to run. Especially with you leaving at the end of the week for Cairndow to rejoin your family.”

  “That’s not a problem. I can delay my departure for another week or two. Ainsley will perfectly understand.”

  Angus nodded. “Aye, she will, especially since it’s for such a grand cause.”

  Grant rolled his eyes. “There is no grand cause.”

  “Och, romance is the grandest cause of all, ye ken.”

  “And there is no romance, ye daft old man.”

  Angus tapped the side of his nose, trying to look wise. “I’ve seen ye and the lassie together. There’s something there, ye ken, if ye give it half a chance.”

  “That sounds promising,” Nick said with an approving nod.

  “Look what happened when our Graeme and Sabrina went north last year,” Angus added. “All that canoodling led to marriage, a wee bairn, and even a knighthood for yer twin.”

  Grant resisted the urge to bang his head against the marble surround of the fireplace. “Grandda, this is not remotely the same situation. Besides, you’ve already agreed to go with the ladies. There’s no need for an additional escort.”

  “I disagree,” Nick said. “Your grandfather is not a young man anymore. If there was trouble on the road . . .”

  For a moment, Angus seemed unsure whether to be insulted at the suggestion that he was getting old or to play the necessary role to bolster Nick’s argument. After a brief struggle, he chose the latter.

  “Yer right about that,” he said in a quavering voice, raising a now trembling hand to his brow. “If we were attacked by highwaymen or stranded in the middle of nowhere—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Grant interrupted.

  Angus dropped the act. “Yer stuck in a rut, son, and ye know it. Ye need to shake things up.”

  “Grandda’s not wrong,” Royal said. “You’re all but chained to that desk of yours. No wonder you’re bored.”

  “Who says I’m bored?” Grant protested.

  “We all do,” Angus said. “And there’s nae better cure for boredom than a nice bit of—”

  Grant shot up a hand. “Do not say it.”

  “A nice bit of travel, ye ken,” Angus indignantly finished. “And if ye think I was goin’ to say something randy, yer way off the mark.”

  Royal snorted. “Of course you were going to say something randy.”

  “I am the soul of concupiscence,” Angus said in a pious tone. “Like a monk, I am.”

  “That is not what that word means,” Royal said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Grant impatiently cut in. “I’m too busy right now. You’ll have to find someone else—Royal, for instance.” He flashed a mocking smile at his brother. “If you’re able to stay an extra week or two in Glasgow, then you surely have time to escort the ladies north.”

  Royal shook his head. “I have a number of matters to clear up in Glasgow before I head to Cairndow. I can take care of those now without having to rush, while I’m filling in for you.”

  “Grant, don’t you wish to visit with Graeme?” Nick gently asked. “You must surely miss him.”

  “I . . . yes, of course I miss him.”

  More than any of them could ever know. His twin’s absence was like a small but ugly rip in the fabric of his life that could never be mended. But he would be damned if he showed any sign of the depth of that feeling. After a long, tough slog, Graeme had finally found happiness. Grant would throw himself off a cliff before he made his twin feel the slightest bit guilty for deserting him.

  He didn’t desert you, idiot.

  “Then take this as a chance to visit with him,” Nick said. “Besides, if you don’t go, I’ll have to do it. And you know how busy I am at this time of year with the harvest at Kinglas. I was planning on going up next week to deal with a few problems, so it would be a great favor to me if you agree to do this, Grant.”

  Grant mentally sighed. His big brother so rarely asked for help. Nick was the one who was always there for them, pulling various Kendricks out of the fire, time and again. He’d stood in as parent, teacher, and mentor after their parents had died all those years ago. If not for Nick, God only knew what would have happened to a family all but sundered by tragedy and misfortune.

  It was more than loyalty owed to their brother and laird. Nick had given all of them love, shelter, and support when everything in their lives had gone so terribly wrong.

  Angus reacted to Nick’s words like a hound to a scent. “There’s trouble at Kinglas? I can help ye with that, lad. I can even go up tomorrow and have a look at the books and a wee chat with the tenant farmers before ye arrive. Get the lay of the land, as it were.”

  Nick looked appalled. Grant knew his poor brother already had enough work on his plate without Angus royally mucking things up.

  “No, you’d best come with me, Grandda,” Grant said, now resigned to his fate. “You’re much better at managing young ladies than I am.”

  Again, Angus looked torn for a moment before he brightened. “Well, I suppose yer right, lad. And mayhap I can give ye a few tips on courtship and such when we’re alone.”

  “Now, that is a conversation I’d like to hear,” Royal said with a chuckle.

  “There will be no such discussion,” Grant firmly replied. “We will escort the girls to Lochnagar, and then I’ll be returning immediately to Glasgow.”

  Angus rolled his eyes. “Now, lad, yer passing up a chance—”

  “Good man,” Nick interrupted, clapping Grant on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you.”
>
  That was exactly the problem. Everyone could always count on him, no matter how annoying or unpleasant the task. And being cooped up in a carriage for several days with a woman who obviously found him a dead bore was shaping up to be a very unpleasant task. Especially since he found that particular woman the polar opposite of boring.

  Chapter Ten

  When the carriage rocked around another curve in the road, Kathleen had to resist the urge to close her eyes. Her insides were already wobbling like an off-balance top. Closing her eyes could only make it worse.

  After four gruesome days of travel, she was ready to stay put for a long time—no matter how dreary Lochnagar might turn out to be. It would likely take her stomach at least three months to recover from such a dreadful trip on increasingly dreadful roads.

  “Not much longer now,” Grant said in a kind voice.

  From the opposite bench of the Kendricks’ traveling coach, he studied her with concern. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor man. That he had been dragooned to serve as their escort was fairly clear. Even worse, he’d been all but forced to play nursemaid thanks to her fractious insides. It was mortally embarrassing, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about either her stupid stomach or the wretched scandal that had forced them to slink out of Glasgow.

  Angus, seated next to his grandson, peered out the window to confirm Grant’s assessment.

  “Maybe an hour, ye ken,” he loudly whispered. “Then the lassies can have a nice, wee rest from all this jostlin’ aboot.”

  Angus had taken to whispering on the assumption that it would help calm her unsettled state. Since his whispering voice was almost as loud as his regular one, it was rather a failure in that respect. Not that such measures made one whit of difference, but she did appreciate the effort.

  Kathleen mustered up something that she hoped resembled a smile. From the expressions on the men’s faces, she’d obviously failed. Their concern now seemed tinged with alarm. If she’d had the energy, she’d say she was beyond the desire to toss up her crumpets. Now she simply wished someone would shoot her.

  Jeannie, who never turned a hair from travel sickness, looked up from her book and shifted on the luxuriously padded seat to peer closely at Kathleen.

  “You’re looking pretty green, Kath. Do you want us to stop?” She put her book aside and started to dig around in her reticule. “Or I can give you my smelling salts. I packed them in my reticule in case you got sick again.”

  For a moment, Kathleen did close her eyes. Nothing would send her bolting for the nearest bush faster than the odor of smelling salts.

  “No, thank you,” she finally said. “I’ll be fine until we reach Lochnagar.”

  Angus scrunched up his face. “Are ye sure? Because ye look fair ready to shoot the cat.”

  She managed a weak chuckle. “All cats are safe, if I correctly deduce the meaning of that expression.”

  Grant’s smile was wry. “Grandda has many interesting phrases and expressions, at least one for every occasion.”

  “And I’ve had fair cause to use ’em over the years, thanks to Grant and his brothers. Why I could tell ye some stories—”

  “You have, Grandda,” Grant interrupted. “Repeatedly, over the last four days.”

  “I like Mr. MacDonald’s stories,” Jeannie said. “They’re fun. I’ve never been allowed to have fun like that.”

  Angus had done his best to while away the tedious hours of travel with outrageous tales about the Kendrick brothers, especially the twins. Kathleen suspected there was a fair amount of poetic exaggeration involved, at least when it came to Grant. It was well-nigh impossible to believe that the calm, perfectly proper gentleman sitting opposite her was, in fact, the young hellion his grandfather made him out to be.

  That Grant was a thoughtful and decent man was beyond doubt. But Kathleen simply could not envision him tumbling from one madcap escapade to the next.

  He gave Jeannie a smile. As always, Kathleen couldn’t help thinking what a wonderful smile he had. Unfortunately, she rarely saw it. Grant was so carefully polite with her that she was beginning to find it annoying.

  “My brother and I never asked anyone’s permission, so there wasn’t much allowing going on,” he said. “Nor was it always fun, despite what my grandfather claims.”

  “Of course ye had fun, ye jinglebrains,” Angus scoffed. “I remember one time—”

  When they lurched through a particularly large pothole, Kathleen bounced several inches off her seat. When she landed, it took her stomach a few seconds to catch up. She braced a hand on the seat and swallowed hard.

  “Miss Calvert,” Grant said, “we can easily stop. There’s plenty of daylight left, so we’ll arrive in good time, regardless.”

  “Thank you, but the sooner we conclude this journey, the better.”

  It wasn’t just the usual bother of travel that was twisting up her insides. Word of their scandal was bound to have reached their parents by now, and there was no predicting their reaction. Papa could easily squash Kathleen’s plan to return to Ireland, and God only knew what he and Helen would do about Jeannie.

  God only knew what she would do about Jeannie, too. Right now, the prospect of keeping her little sister out of trouble for the next three months seemed daunting in the extreme.

  Grant reached inside his greatcoat and extracted a small twist of paper. “I’ve got one more ginger lozenge. I thought I’d keep it in case of emergency.”

  She gratefully accepted the small packet. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble for everyone.”

  Angus waved a dismissive hand. “Och, we’re just right sorry ye’ve had such a hard time of it.”

  “Thankfully, your suffering is almost at an end.” Grant took out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “We should be at Lochnagar well within the hour.”

  His suffering was almost at an end, too. Grant was clearly itching to return to Glasgow, and Kathleen had little doubt he’d be back on the road within a few days. She couldn’t blame him. If she were Grant Kendrick, she would have run screaming for the hills by the end of their first day of travel.

  The trip had started off badly for her, thanks to a massive headache induced by a late night of packing and, well, drinking. Gillian had insisted that they celebrate their last evening together by polishing off the brandy. Their packing session had turned into quite a lot of fun, thanks to Gillian, and had been an excellent way to bring their time in Glasgow to a close.

  But when morning came too soon, Kathleen awoke to the realization that she’d made an epic mistake. When she’d gingerly climbed into the traveling coach an hour later, Grant had taken one look at her and let out a small sigh.

  At the stop for their midday meal—which she’d not been able to eat—Grant had disappeared. When he finally returned, he had stomach powders from an apothecary and ginger lozenges from a sweet shop.

  For the rest of the trip, he’d gone to every effort to make her comfortable. He’d ordered warm bricks for her feet, installed her in the quietest room at every inn, and rustled up meals that were simple and bland. Even more importantly, he’d kept a close eye on Jeannie. In doing so, he’d relieved Kathleen of her greatest worry.

  While Grant Kendrick might not be the most exciting man she’d ever met, he was certainly the nicest. Given even the slightest encouragement, a girl could easily fall in love with him.

  Fall in love with Grant?

  It was such a startling thought that she couldn’t help frowning. Yes, she liked him, quite a lot as it turned out. But the idea of falling in—

  “Miss Calvert, are you all right?”

  Grant’s deep voice jolted her out of her thoughts.

  “Oh, ah, yes,” she stammered.

  “Kath, are you getting a fever?” Jeannie asked. “Your face is like fire.”

  “I’m perfectly—”

  Crack.

  Grant whipped back the shade on the carriage window, craning sideways to see out. Kathleen also leaned for
ward, straining to see around his broad shoulders.

  “Did somebody fire a pistol?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Pistol?” Jeannie squeaked.

  “Sounds like.” Angus had peered out the other window before glancing at Grant. “A hunter, ye think?”

  They heard a shout from the coachman before the carriage gave a hard jolt as it picked up speed. Kathleen fell forward, practically into Grant’s lap. He easily caught her, lifting her straight up and back onto her seat.

  “Hold on tight, lass.”

  Angus sighed. “And me without my pistol, for once.”

  Grant shoved down the window glass. He stuck out his head, took a quick look around, and then pulled back in. His grim expression sent Kathleen’s heart hammering against her ribs.

  Reaching inside his greatcoat, Grant pulled out a pocket blade and slipped it into his boot.

  “You have your knife?” he asked his grandfather.

  Angus patted his chest. “Right here.”

  This was obviously very bad.

  The carriage slowed, then jerked to a halt, rocking on its frame. Kathleen grabbed onto her sister, trying to keep them both from sliding off the seat.

  “I take it by your actions that we’re about to be held up,” she asked in as steady a voice as she could manage.

  “Looks like,” Grant tersely replied.

  Her head swam. Everything, including the light streaming into the carriage from the late afternoon sun, seemed unreal.

  “But it’s broad daylight. Who does that?”

  He flicked her a veiled look. “We’re about to find out.”

  When Kathleen’s stomach all but crawled up her throat, she sternly ordered it down. She would not toss up her crumpets during a robbery. With her luck, she’d probably do it on one of the robbers and be promptly shot.

  “Yer popper’s packed in the boot, I take it,” Angus said.

  “Like yours.” Grant sounded enormously frustrated.

  The old fellow looked disgusted. “Och, we’re growin’ soft. Well, knives it’ll have to be.”