The Highlander's Irish Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Och, you look fine. No worries there.”

  She shot him a disbelieving look. “You are a—”

  “Hallo, Mr. Kendrick. Hold up, will you?” called the vicar from his front door.

  “That’s just perfect,” said Kathleen in a disgusted voice.

  “Sorry, lass. We’ll just have to brazen it out.”

  They reined in as the vicar rushed out to the road to meet them. Captain Brown followed him to the gate at a more leisurely pace.

  The vicar gaped as he took in Kathleen’s appearance. “Miss Calvert! Are you perfectly all right? Did you take a tumble from your horse?”

  “Looks like someone took a tumble,” Captain Brown drawled.

  “She’s fine,” Grant sharply said. “We got caught in the storm while we were out searching for Jeannie.”

  “Reverend Brown, do you know if my sister has been found?” Kathleen anxiously asked.

  The vicar nodded. “Yes, she’s fine but for a twist of the ankle. John happened to come upon her while out riding. He was able to return her to Lochnagar before the weather turned too frightful.”

  Kathleen slumped in her saddle. “Thank God.”

  “Thank me,” the captain said in jovial tone. “The poor girl would have had a right good soaking if I hadn’t found her when I did.”

  “Is her ankle very injured?” Kathleen asked.

  “Not badly, I should think,” John answered. “She was limping, but mostly she was annoyed with herself that she’d stumbled over a rock.”

  Grant pressed Kathleen’s shoulder. “See, lass? All’s well.”

  She dredged up a smile for the captain. “Thank you, sir. I’m very grateful.”

  He gave her a small bow. “Delighted to help, dear lady.”

  “Miss Calvert, will you come in for a cup of tea?” David asked, obviously worried about her. “You must be chilled to the bone after being stranded out in that terrible storm.”

  The captain tilted his head. “From the look of things, I’d say they were stranded somewhere inside, not out.”

  The vicar frowned at his brother. “Sorry, what?”

  “David, their clothes are perfectly dry.”

  “Thank you for the offer of tea, Mr. Brown,” Kathleen hastily cut in. “But we must go. My sister will be worried about me.”

  “As are all the folk up at the manor house,” the captain said. “You’ve been gone so long, after all.”

  The vicar nodded. “Yes, as soon as the storm passed, Sir Graeme sent men out looking for you. We were all quite worried, you know.”

  “I would have happily joined the search myself, even though I’d already rescued one damsel in distress today. I’d wager, however, that Mr. Kendrick did his level best to keep Miss Calvert from feeling too distressed.” The captain’s grin matched his smarmy tone.

  “John, there is no need to make jest of it,” his brother said. “We would have been happy to help, but Sir Graeme felt it unnecessary.”

  Grant was quite sure that Graeme was trying to control a potentially scandalous situation by keeping others away.

  “And he was right,” he said. “We were fine.”

  Captain Brown shot him a broad wink. “Better than fine, I’d wager.”

  The vicar frowned. “John, why are you talking such nonsense? Clearly Miss Calvert has suffered a difficult day.”

  “She has indeed,” Grant said. “Which is why I’m getting her back to Lochnagar.”

  He’d deal with bloody Captain Brown and his salacious—if accurate—innuendoes later.

  “Yes, it’s been a wearying day,” Kathleen said.

  The vicar nodded. “Then of course you must go, dear Miss Calvert.”

  Grant gave the brothers a nod and nudged his horse forward with Kathleen following suit right away.

  “I’ll stop by Lochnagar tomorrow to see how you get on, Miss Calvert,” the vicar called after them.

  “Splendid idea,” said the captain. “We’ll visit to see how both you and Miss Jeannie get on.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Kathleen muttered.

  “We’ll have Sabrina put them off,” Grant said. “She can say you’re too worn out to see visitors.”

  “It wouldn’t be far off. I cannot wait to get off this blasted horse.”

  “I imagine our poor horses feel the same.”

  “Yes, I’m aware today has been a strain on the horses,” she snapped.

  Grant wrestled his temper under control. “Kathleen, I know it’s been a trying day—”

  “And I’m acting like a complete henwit,” she interrupted. “I apologize, Mr. Kendrick.”

  “Mr. Kendrick? It’s a bit late for that, is it not?”

  Her sigh was exasperated. “Please don’t remind me.”

  And wasn’t that just jolly?

  “Kathleen, I—”

  “It’s just that Captain Brown was so awful,” she burst out. “I was mortified, especially to have it happen in front of his brother.”

  “I assure you that I’ll be having a word with yon captain about his conduct. It’s well past due. As for David, I think those inane innuendoes sailed right over his head.”

  “Those inane innuendoes were unfortunately accurate.”

  His temper spiked again. “Unfortunately? Is that how you would characterize what happened between us?”

  “Yes. No.” She flapped a hand. “I don’t know, really. I was just so embarrassed, that’s all. I don’t mean to be rude.”

  “Och, and I’m being a complete brute,” Grant ruefully said. “You’re tired and in dire need of a cup of tea and something to eat.”

  “I’m in dire need of a brandy and a warm bath.”

  At the moment, Grant could wish for nothing more than to be in that bath with her. Clearly, though, things between them were decidedly unresolved.

  “Kathleen, I don’t want you to worry about anything. And if the captain knows what’s good for him, he’ll be keeping his bloody mouth shut.”

  “Best to leave it alone, I think,” she replied in a gloomy tone. “A confrontation would probably just encourage him to foster more gossip.”

  “There’s bound to be a little gossip, sweetheart. We’ve been gone for most of the day.”

  “Fine, but can we please not talk about it right now?” she said. “I’m exhausted.”

  He repressed a sigh. “Of course.”

  They finished the remainder of the short ride in grim silence. Grant too felt weariness drag at his bones. After the fire last night, he’d not slept much and had risen with the dawn. That plus the tumultuous events of today made him feel like he’d been awake for a week.

  Now, on top of everything else, Kathleen clearly was none too enamored of him, despite her earlier enthusiastic indications to the contrary.

  When they rode under the stone arch and into the manor’s central courtyard, Kathleen breathed out a sigh of relief.

  “Thank God,” she said.

  “Aye, that. You’ll be in a hot bath in no time.”

  She cast him a wary look as they brought their horses to a halt.

  “Grant, I—”

  The front door flew open and Sabrina appeared in a flood of light from the entrance hall. Graeme loomed behind her.

  “At last!” she exclaimed.

  Sabrina and Graeme hurried down the stone staircase to greet them, while a groom came around from the stable yard to take the horses.

  While Grant dismounted, Graeme helped Kathleen down from her horse. Sabrina threw her arms around her cousin.

  “Kathleen, we were so worried about you. Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m tired, but so relieved to hear Jeannie is unharmed.”

  “The captain brought her home about an hour after you left on your search,” Graeme said. “I was about to send out riders to look for you, but then the storm hit.”

  “We found shelter in that old smugglers’ hut,” Grant said as Sabrina whisked Kathleen up the steps. “We just waited there u
ntil the storm passed.”

  Graeme studied him. “Is that all?” he finally asked in a much too innocent voice.

  “Yes, that’s all,” Grant acidly replied.

  Then he turned and stalked into the house, ignoring his twin’s chuckle.

  “Took you long enough to get back, though,” Graeme said when he caught up with him at the top of the staircase.

  “Do you have any idea how bloody awful those paths are when it rains?” Grant said. “The horses had to slog through knee-deep mud until we reached the road.”

  “It was not an enjoyable ride back,” Kathleen added as she pulled off her bedraggled hat.

  Sabrina studied her with a concerned frown. “You do look . . .”

  “A wreck. I know.”

  Light from the overhead chandelier and several branches of candles illuminated how disheveled they both were.

  “You look like you’ve been through the mill, old son,” Graeme said, trying not to laugh.

  Unsurprisingly, his twin had deduced what had happened in that blasted hut. Grant glared daggers at him in warning.

  Graeme held up his hands. “I’m not saying a word.”

  Sabrina regarded Grant with clear disapproval. “Honestly, Grant, you are as great a menace as your brother.”

  “That is literally impossible,” he replied.

  “You’re making a good run at it, though,” Graeme countered.

  “Can someone please tell me how my sister is?” Kathleen asked in a frustrated tone.

  Sabrina grimaced. “Forgive me, dearest. Jeannie had supper in bed and is now fast asleep. I think she’ll be right as rain after a good night’s sleep.”

  “And her ankle?”

  “It’s nothing more than a minor strain.”

  “Where did Brown find her?” Grant asked.

  “She’d headed out past the distillery,” Graeme replied. “Over the small bridge and out past the Robertsons’ croft. I was heading that way myself when I ran into them.”

  “Nowhere close to where we were searching,” Kathleen said with disgust. “But that farmer was so certain he saw Jeannie.”

  “That was obviously another girl,” Grant said.

  “Really? Thank you for that enlightening observation, Mr. Kendrick.”

  There was a momentary, fraught silence.

  “So, I hope you found that old hut a cozy place to hole up together,” Graeme said in a hearty voice. “Plenty of whisky there, as well as blankets to keep you wrapped up nice and tight, eh?”

  Grant repressed the urge to smack his brother in the back of the head.

  Sabrina scowled at her husband. “You are an idiot, Graeme Kendrick.”

  “What did I say?” Graeme protested.

  Hannah came trotting down the stairs. “Miss Calvert’s bath is almost ready, my lady, and Cook is sending a tea tray to her room.”

  “Any chance I could get a brandy, too?” Kathleen asked.

  Sabrina led her over to the staircase. “You can have the entire decanter, if you wish.”

  As she followed Kathleen up the stairs, she glanced over her shoulder at Grant. “Menace,” she mouthed.

  Hannah, who was eyeing both Grant and his twin with disdain, shook her head. “Feckless, the both of you,” she said before following the ladies.

  “Not sure why I’m getting it between the teeth,” Graeme commented. “Now, old boy. How about a nice glass of whisky? You seem like you could use it.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Graeme slung an arm around Grant’s shoulders and led him to his study.

  “Can’t be as bad as all that, lad.”

  “It’s worse,” Grant said.

  Graeme pointed to one of the wing chairs in front of the blazing hearth.

  With a grateful sigh, Grant settled in. “Where’s Angus?”

  “Upstairs with Gus. No doubt he’ll pop down soon enough.”

  “I’ll look forward to it,” Grant dryly replied.

  Graeme handed him a crystal glass with a hefty portion of whisky. “You know he’ll want to find out exactly what happened this afternoon.”

  “Grandda will no doubt deduce the answer as quickly as you have.”

  Graeme propped a shoulder against the fireplace mantel. “All jesting aside, I’m afraid your lengthy absence with the fair Kathleen is likely to cause a wee spot of gossip.”

  “Did you really need to send out a blasted search party?” Grant asked. “I was perfectly capable of getting Kathleen home in one piece.”

  “More or less.”

  “I thought we were being serious.”

  “We are. Of course I knew she was perfectly safe with you. My wife, however, grew more perturbed as the day wore on.”

  “It was just a storm, Graeme.”

  “Aye, but let’s not forget the villains afoot in these lands. Sabrina was in a complete stew that you’d fallen afoul of them.”

  “And when Sabrina is in a stew . . .”

  “Everyone’s in a stew. By dinnertime, Jeannie was convinced her sister had been murdered.”

  Grant rubbed a hand over his messy hair. “God, what a disaster.”

  “We’ll keep the gossip to a minimum. It’s Dunlaggan, not Glasgow.” His brother raised an eyebrow. “That’s if there is a need to contain it.”

  “There’s definitely a need, since the lady isn’t best pleased with me. Don’t expect wedding bells anytime soon.”

  “How in Hades did you put Kathleen into such a snit?”

  “I’m still trying to sort that out. As for keeping the tittle-tattle under control . . .” Grant shook his head. “When we rode past the vicarage, David came beetling out with his annoying brother, who arrived at the same conclusion you did. He not only read the situation correctly, he made it obvious that he’d done so.”

  Graeme’s eyebrows shot up. “With the vicar standing there?”

  “The captain did it deliberately. Although David was mostly confused, I’m sure the captain has cleared that up by now.”

  “Scaly bastard,” Graeme said.

  “Kathleen is worried about the captain, too. She’s afraid he’s flirting with Jeannie, which would be massively inappropriate.”

  “I saw no evidence of such this afternoon. He was his usual bombastic self with the girl, but more in the way of an avuncular relative.”

  “How was Jeannie with him?”

  “I don’t think the vicar has a rival for her affections, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Graeme replied.

  “Good. David is harmless. Still—”

  The door flew open and Angus barreled into the room.

  “Aboot time ye got home,” he barked. “What the devil were ye doin’ with that poor lassie for hours and hours?”

  Graeme winked at the old fellow. “What do you think, Grandda?”

  Angus thumped down into the other wing chair. “Oh? Then we’ll be hearin’ wedding bells verra soon, I’m expectin’.”

  Grant sighed. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  His grandfather started stuffing his ratty clay pipe from his equally ratty tobacco pouch. “Och, ye should have come to me for courtin’ advice. Yer out of practice, lad.”

  “That is definitely not the problem, Grandda.”

  “If it nae be your wooin’ skills, then why aren’t we celebratin’ yer betrothal to Kathleen?”

  “Because she likely would have turned me down flat?”

  “She’d best not,” Graeme said, “or Sabrina will have something to say about it.”

  “Then perhaps your wife can try her persuasive skills on her, because I’m certainly not having any luck,” Grant tartly replied.

  Angus sympathetically patted Grant’s knee. “Yer tongue just gets twisted when yer nervous. Ye always had that problem.”

  “That is a load of bollocks,” Grant said. “And I wasn’t nervous.”

  Although he had been less than articulate in the aftermath of their intimate encounter, he was sorry to say.

 
“Then what is the problem?” Graeme asked. “It’s obvious Kathleen has strong feelings for you, and you have strong feelings for her. Good God, you practically committed vicarcide over her.”

  “Look, I won’t deny that we have feelings for each other—”

  “Verra strong feelings,” Angus said, before blowing out an enveloping cloud of smoke.

  Exasperated, Grant waved it away. “Would you stop doing that?”

  “Interruptin’ or smokin’?”

  “Both.”

  “I canna think without a pipe, and this tangle needs some thinkin’.”

  “I haven’t noticed that smoking brings clarity to your mental processes,” Grant said.

  His grandfather and Graeme exchanged long-suffering glances.

  “He’s fashed, ye ken,” Angus said.

  “Clearly fashed,” Graeme replied.

  Grant made a concerted effort to keep an even temper. “The reality is, Kathleen and I are miles apart about everything. Even when we try to talk things through, we end up at cross-purposes.”

  Angus pointed his pipe stem at him. “It’s like I said. Yer nerves are twistin’ up yer tongue.”

  “I can think of one way to use your tongue that doesn’t involve talking,” Graeme said with a smirk. “It’s remarkably effective in resolving even the most vexing of differences with one’s beloved.”

  Angus snickered. “Aye, that.”

  “You’re both revolting,” Grant said. “And massively unhelpful.”

  His brother laughed. “All right, lad, we’ll stop teasing. But we do want to help, you know.”

  “I don’t think you can, though,” Grant confessed. “It appears that Kathleen has developed cold feet.”

  Angus shook his head. “She’s nae a die-away-miss. Kathleen’s that brave, ye ken.”

  “It’s not a question of bravery, Grandda. It’s a question of what she wants.”

  “And she doesn’t want you?” Graeme asked.

  Grant tried for a wry smile. “I can’t compete with Ireland, you see. Besides, she thinks I’m a bore, and I think . . .”

  She’s bloody wonderful. Too wonderful for me.

  “I’ll wager she wasn’t bored this afternoon.”

  Grant thought about how Kathleen had shivered with passion in his arms. “That’s not enough, though.”

  “It’s a start. And by the way, have you actually asked her to marry you?”