The Highlander's Irish Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  Like Grant, the vicar now regarded his brother with clear disapproval. “We are all God’s children, and are equally loved in His eyes, John. There’s no need to be so dismissive.”

  Captain Brown raised his hands, flashing a rueful smile. “Apologies, Mr. Kendrick. Sometimes my enthusiasm runs away with me.”

  It was as insincere an apology as Grant had ever heard, but he simply nodded.

  “Ahem. Well, with the help of backers in both Edinburgh and London,” Brown continued, “I have secured an extensive tract of land in South America, in Belize. It’s rich in timber, and there is substantial mineral wealth. Silver, and quite a lot of it, I’m sure.”

  Grant raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure? Have you seen the land?”

  “Indeed I have. My long service in the military brought me to the Americas more than once over the years. I spent quite a bit of time in the Venezuelan Republic.”

  “My brother joined the army when he was only seventeen,” the vicar explained to Grant. “He’s had quite a storied career, mostly spent in fighting Napoleon and the French.” He smiled at his brother. “We are very proud of John. He’s a genuine war hero.”

  John clapped his brother on the shoulder. “You make too much of it, David. Besides, Mr. Kendrick has two war heroes in his family. My efforts no doubt pale compared to theirs.”

  Ah. So this was no casual encounter, after all. The man had done some research.

  “Nonsense, John,” the vicar said. “Your service has been exemplary.”

  “Simply doing my duty, old boy,” his brother replied. “Besides, it gave me the chance to travel the world, didn’t it? Provided me with all sorts of opportunities.” He met Grant’s eye. “Like this particular one.”

  “When did you acquire this tract of land?” Grant asked.

  “I made a scouting trip last winter. When I returned to England to begin rounding up investors, I’m happy to say that I found two excellent ones in London. That allowed me to obtain the capital to make an initial purchase of land three months ago. I’m still seeking additional investors, but we’re now ready to also offer shares to settlers.”

  “Now all that’s needed is to find those settlers,” David said, getting caught up in his brother’s enthusiasm. “John hopes to have the first group depart for Belize this spring. Isn’t that right?”

  “Indeed it is. For a very small price, anyone looking for a better life can stake a claim and sign up to board that first ship. The land is ready to be cleared and farmed.” The captain slapped the table in his enthusiasm. “It’s so bloody lush down there that the land practically farms itself. Why, you can grow just about anything. And there are great profits to be made in timber from cleared land, too.”

  Grant crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “So, you’re here to look for potential settlers?”

  The captain waved a casual hand. “Why, I’m here to visit with David, of course. It’s been much too long. Dreadful neglect on my part.”

  David smiled at him. “And I am grateful, dear brother, but I think we know that Mr. Kendrick is at least partly correct.”

  “Nothing wrong with killing two birds with one stone, eh?” John said. “Besides, I’ve heard such grand things about the folks in these parts. Who better than Highlanders to take on the challenge? None are stronger, braver, or more adventurous.” He suddenly adopted an outraged expression. “And with all these blasted Clearances, who is more deserving of a chance at a better life? Kicking them off their ancestral lands was the true crime, I say.”

  “Ye be right about that, Captain,” Jennie Robertson piped in. “Robbed of our birthright, we’ve been.”

  Her declaration was followed by nods and murmured agreement all around.

  The vicar shot Grant a concerned look. “That’s certainly not the case at Lochnagar. Sir Graeme and Lady Sabrina have restored lands to any who were dispossessed.”

  “And there’s the distillery,” Grant said. “I don’t think anyone in Dunlaggan or in this whole district is lacking for good work or land.”

  “No, we’ll just be robbed blind or murdered in our beds,” Jennie retorted. “What good will those jobs do us then, I ask ye?”

  Grant shifted slightly so he could see the rest of the gathering. Although some were clearly annoyed with Jennie’s last outburst, others looked worried—or fashed. And when Highlanders got fashed, trouble usually followed.

  “Sir Graeme and I will run this gang to ground soon enough,” he said. “These troubles will not be allowed to continue.”

  “And do ye know who they are?” asked one of the other crofters. “Because my wife wilna even go out to milk our cow in the shed first thing in the mornin’. She’s that scared.”

  “Mayhap you could go do the milkin’ for her, Bob Perley,” Monroe tartly said from behind the bar.

  Only a few chuckled.

  “I understand your fears,” Grant replied. “But I give you the word of a Kendrick that we’ll bring an end to these criminal acts.”

  Jennie snorted. “Och, that means ye dinna have a clue. Why, it’s just like when them Barrs were runnin’ amok, makin’ life a misery. And what happened to them, I ask ye? Nothin’. They’re still runnin’ things.”

  Patty left the bar and stormed over. “It’s nae the same thing, Jennie Robertson. There was only one Barr causin’ all the problems, and he’s in the clink now in Edinburgh.”

  “Says the woman married to a Barr,” sneered Jennie.

  “Why, ye—”

  Grant swiftly rose and got between the two women. “Patty, she’s talking nonsense. Everyone knows Magnus is a fine man.”

  Monroe, who had hurried over to join them, gave his daughter a quick hug. “It’s nae worth the trouble, love. Go back to the bar, like a good lass.”

  “I’ll nae have her defamin’ my husband, nor the Kendricks,” Patty replied with a scowl.

  Grant flashed her a wry smile. “Not to worry. We’re used to it.”

  The vicar, who’d also risen to his feet, cast a worried look around the room. His brother, on the other hand, looked pleased.

  “Such angry words are uncalled for, Mrs. Robertson,” David said in a gentle reproof. “The Barrs are a very decent family. They’re our neighbors and our friends.”

  The woman snorted. “Save yer lecturin’ for Sunday, vicar.”

  “And ye can save yer drinkin’ for somewhere else, Jennie Robertson,” Monroe snapped, “if ye canna keep a civil tongue in yer head. That goes for yer husband, too.”

  Mr. Robertson almost fell off his stool. “Nae need to be hasty, Monroe. The missus didna mean nothin’ by it.”

  While Robertson and the missus launched into an argument, with the vicar manfully trying to referee, Grant headed to the bar for another pint. When he was halfway there, the pub door opened and in came Kathleen and Jeannie.

  “There you are,” Kathleen said. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

  He bit back a smile, taking a moment to relish the picture she made. Only his Kathleen would think a riding habit in an improbable shade of primrose was suitable for a jaunt in the country—or anywhere, for that matter. But improbable suited her perfectly, and she looked as pretty as a field of daisies on a bright summer’s morn.

  “Not by yourselves, I hope,” he said.

  Kathleen looked at Jeannie. “Told you he’d say that.”

  Her sister giggled.

  “Yes, how foolish of me to worry about your safety,” Grant sardonically replied.

  “You’ll be happy to know that Jeannie and I were accompanied by a groom.”

  “I am happy. And surprised.”

  Her mouth twitched with a small smile. “However, the groom has a few errands to see to, so I’m afraid you’ll have to escort us back.”

  “I’m happy to do so.”

  “Look, it’s Mr. Brown,” Jeannie exclaimed.

  When she darted off to the vicar’s table, Kathleen sighed.

  “I’ll fetch her,” Grant s
aid. “You wait here.”

  “I cannot ignore poor Mr. Brown forever.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  She huffed out a laugh, then followed her sister over to the Browns’ table.

  Monroe clucked his tongue. “That wee little sister be a handful, I reckon.”

  “Aye, that,” Grant replied before heading over himself.

  “I clearly remember Miss Calvert,” Captain Brown was saying as Grant joined them. “It’s a distinct pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

  Grant curled his fist behind his back to prevent himself from hammering it into Brown’s ridiculous mustache.

  “And this is Miss Jeanette Calvert,” the vicar said, smiling at Jeannie.

  “How do you do, sir?” she absently replied, never taking her eyes off David.

  Captain Brown slid a swift, calculating gaze between the sisters.

  Don’t even think about it, ye bastard.

  “Won’t you ladies join us?” Brown said with a sweeping gesture.

  Kathleen gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid—”

  Jeannie plopped down on a stool. “Certainly. Thank you.”

  “Please, Miss Calvert,” David said to Kathleen with a pleading smile.

  “Well, just for a moment,” she replied with obvious reluctance.

  “Don’t let us keep you, old man,” Captain Brown said, giving Grant an easy smile. “I can toddle on up to the big house tomorrow, if you like. Show you and your brother my plans.”

  Grant grabbed another stool and settled in right next to Kathleen.

  She threw him a startled glance and then bit her lip, trying not to laugh. He’d bet she knew exactly what he was doing.

  Staking a claim to her.

  The vicar frowned, while his brother merely looked amused.

  “We were actually looking for Mr. Kendrick,” Jeannie said. “We have something to tell him.” She leaned over the table, closer to David. “Something quite dreadful, in fact.”

  “Not all that dreadful,” Kathleen said in a warning tone. “And we can talk once we’ve—”

  “Ah, a secret, is it? What fun.” The captain turned a charming smile on the girl. “You can surely trust the vicar and his brother with a secret, can you not?”

  “Now, John, we shouldn’t pry,” David admonished.

  The captain winked at Jeannie. “Of course we should.”

  The lass responded with a giggle.

  “It’s nothing, really,” Kathleen firmly said. “Just a little kerfuffle up at—”

  “Lochnagar Manor,” Jeannie interrupted. “Someone broke into one of the outbuilding storerooms and made a complete mess of things. The servants are in an absolute uproar over it. Bags of flour and grain were ripped open and strewn everywhere. And some tools were stolen, too.”

  David blanched. “That’s dreadful. And so soon after—”

  Grant cut in. “Ladies, I think we’d best get back to the manor.”

  He stood, offering a hand to Kathleen.

  “But we just got here,” Jeannie protested. “And I wish to speak to Mr. Brown.”

  “And I’m sure Mr. Brown wishes to speak to you,” the captain said. “After all, to have more robbery and vandalism so soon after the theft at the church? A shocking turn of events.”

  “Another robbery?” yelped Jennie Robertson from the other table. “Where?”

  “At Lochnagar Manor,” the captain unhelpfully supplied.

  “I’m sure my brother has the situation under control,” Grant said.

  “And I’m sure we’ll all be murdered in our bleedin’ beds,” Jennie angrily retorted. “If Sir Graeme canna protect his own house, what does that mean for the rest of us? We’re like sittin’ ducks.”

  Just like that, the room erupted into the thing Highlanders did better than anyone—arguing. It quickly became a loud argument that involved much leaping up and waving of arms, as people tried to speak over one another.

  The vicar also jumped to his feet, flapping his hands and looking a bit like a deranged raven. “Everyone, please stop yelling,” he yelled.

  Naturally, no one complied.

  Grant quickly helped Kathleen to her feet. “Time to go.”

  She grimaced and urged Jeannie up.

  “Sorry about this,” Kathleen said.

  Grant steered them to the door through the growing commotion. “No worries, lass. Just another day in the Highlands.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  On the expansive front lawn of Lochnagar Manor, the men’s archery competition had entered the final round. Kathleen couldn’t help noting that betting on the outcome was brisk, albeit conducted somewhat surreptitiously.

  Vicar Brown had obviously noticed, too, and was delivering a bit of a scold to Mr. Monroe for placing a bet.

  Sabrina, standing next to Kathleen at the edge of the lawn, rolled her eyes. “I do wish our vicar could take the day off. What man doesn’t place a harmless bet now and again?”

  “Or woman, as the case may be,” Kathleen said.

  Sabrina threw her a laughing glance. “Did you really place one?”

  “I had Angus do it for me before the tournament began.” Kathleen grinned. “Don’t want to shock the locals, you know.”

  “I think your outfit shocked a few of the locals, though, especially poor David. He seemed quite disconcerted.”

  Kathleen glanced down at herself. “What, this old thing?”

  For the fete, Kathleen had chosen a hunter-green riding skirt trimmed in red braid. She’d paired it with a white cambric blouse and a leather jerkin specially made for her by a London tailor. It was perfect for casually knocking about in the outdoors and for a village fete like this.

  “It’s a very dashing outf it,” Sabrina replied. “Obviously too dashing for David. If he found out you’d also laid a bet, he’d have a fit.”

  “He’ll have an even bigger fit if he finds out who’d organized the betting in the first place.”

  “Who?”

  “His brother.”

  Sabrina’s eyebrows shot up. “But Mr. Robertson is the one holding the book and taking the money.”

  “According to Angus, the captain put him up to it.”

  “That hardly seems fair, given that he’s a finalist.”

  “I agree, but Captain Brown seems to have gathered influence over some of the villagers. Jennie Robertson hangs off his every word.”

  “That woman is a menace, I swear. And I must say that I cannot approve of Captain Brown, even if he is David’s brother. He strikes me as rather . . .”

  “Scaly?” Kathleen ventured.

  “You’ve been hanging about with Angus, I see.”

  “That’s your fault, pet. Whenever Gus has a bout of wind, the nursemaids come running for me or Angus, begging for our help.”

  Sabrina laughed. “You’re both so good with my little darling that I cannot really blame them. And I am very grateful for your help.”

  “I don’t mind. And I like your grandfather. He’s as outrageous as I am.” Surprisingly, Kathleen found she also liked taking care of Gus, at least in moderate doses.

  “No one’s as outrageous as Angus, not even you. And speaking of outrageous behavior, care to tell me on whom you’re betting? Not the captain, I’ll wager.”

  Kathleen glanced around at the lively crowd milling on the lawns. In addition to the archery tournament, there were children’s games and footraces overseen by Graeme. The lord of the manor had played the pied piper all afternoon, with a gaggle of little ones trailing behind him.

  “No one can hear us over all this commotion,” Sabrina assured her.

  “It’s supposed to be a secret. I’m a reformed character, remember?”

  “I wonder what Grant thinks of your reformation?” Sabrina asked with a sly smile. “And speaking of Grant, doesn’t he look splendid in Kendrick plaid?”

  Kathleen refused to respond to her cousin’s bait as she watched the man in question. Carrying a large yew bow as he stroll
ed onto the archery field, Grant did look splendid in kilt, leather vest, and tall boots. And from the moment she’d laid eyes on him this morning, she’d been seized with a compelling desire to answer that age-old question: What does a Scotsman wear under his kilt?

  Nothing, if you’re lucky.

  “Kathleen, I think you might be getting a sunburn,” Sabrina said. “You look quite flushed.”

  “Hush, you. We don’t want to distract the archers.”

  Sabrina cupped a hand to her ear. “What’s that? I couldn’t hear above all the cheering for Grant.”

  “You are so annoying.”

  Her cousin snickered.

  Grant assumed a bowman’s stance, one that showcased his brawny form. He nocked the arrow and then easily drew the massive bow. Once loosed, the arrow flew downfield and thudded into the canvas, just to the right of the bull’s-eye.

  “Blast,” muttered Kathleen.

  Sabrina tsked. “He’ll have to do better if you’re to win your bet.”

  “Who said I bet on Grant?”

  “Your freckles are glowing. They only do that when you’re looking at him.”

  Well, that was embarrassing.

  “You’re right. I’m likely getting sunburnt,” Kathleen replied. “It’s so sunny today. But it’s perfect weather for the fete, thank goodness.”

  “Dearest, we’ve already determined that it’s a certain someone who sets you all aglow.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You most certainly do,” Sabrina firmly said. “It’s silly to keep denying it.”

  “And I intend to keep denying it, or even acknowledge the need to discuss him. I mean, discuss it.”

  “We need to talk about it because you’ve developed feelings for him.”

  “I’m in denial about that, too.”

  “Grant’s not,” Sabrina replied. “He’s mad for you, as evidenced by his behavior whenever poor David comes within hailing distance of you.”

  Kathleen couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “He does become rather growly over the vicar, I must say.”

  “Growly? He turns into a complete bear. I thought he was going to toss David out the window when the poor man stopped by this morning to drop off that lovely corsage for you.”