Page 152 of A Rogue in Firelight

“John Ronan MacGregor, Viscount Darrach!” the Lord-in-Waiting called out. “Maker of Glenbrae whisky. Introduced by The Right Honorable Deputy Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir Hector Graham.”

Ronan stepped forward.

Seeing Ronan walkingthrough a fresh downpour to make his way between the waiting carriages, Ellison leaned past Sorcha to open the door. “Darrach!” she called. “Here!”

“It is raining buckets! You will ruin your gown,” Lady Strathniven said.

“It will dry!” Ellison stepped out. “Darrach!”

He ran toward her through the rain, holding onto his dark bonnet, plaid flying. Picking her up by the waist, he spun her about, set her down and kissed her. Laughing, Ellison looped her arms around his neck, the next kiss hidden under the brim of her bonnet and his flat cap. As the rain soaked them, she heard applause and giggles from nearby carriages.

“Not very proper behavior, sir,” Ellison said, leaning back to regard him.

“Hang proper. Though if you want to tutor me further, I would not object.”

“You know more than I do by now. How was it in there? You are in a rare mood!”

He put an arm around her to hurry her toward the carriage in the rain. “I have some excellent news.”

“Tell me!”

“Later, lass. You are soaking wet. And some of the news must wait for privacy.”

“Can we wait in the Highlands? I am tired of the city.”

“We can. First, the king asked me to bring you to the ladies’ assembly in a few days to be introduced.”

“Truly!” Eyes wide, she smiled up at him.

“It will be just a greeting and a quick kiss from the king—after you wait hours in the crowd and the heat. But,” he said, as they reached the carriage, “it might even change your life.”

“I have already had that pleasure. I once met a Highland smuggler who changed my life completely.”

“His too.” He opened the door and helped her up the carriage steps. “Lady Strathniven, Miss Beaton! Good to see you.”

“Darrach, you are cheerful,” the viscountess said as they sat, brushing away raindrops. “What did the king have to say when you met him?”

“He likes our whisky, my lady.” A little quirking smile and his crinkled blue eyes told Ellison he had a secret that pleased him greatly.

“Well, I could have told you that! You are thoroughly wet, both of you, but you look happy as two puppies, I vow.”

“Happy? Oh, yes.” Ellison smiled at her husband. He kissed her gloved hand, his eyes twinkling with some secret that she wanted to hear once they were deliciously alone.

Ronan wove his fingers in hers. “Shall we go home, ladies, with a stop at the Graham house first for my lady and Miss Beaton? Then my wife and I will go up to North Castle Street.”

“I do hope we can leave for the Highlands as soon as the king departs.” Ellison leaned her head on his shoulder, while Sorcha giggled and the viscountess beamed. “That is truly our home.”

“It is,” he said, and kissed her gloved hand. “Tell me, ladies, how has your day been?”

“Not as good as yours, I think!” the viscountess said as they all laughed.