Page 56 of To Love a Scottish Lord (Highland Lords #4)

M r. Grant entered the house stiffly, closing the door softly behind him. He limped to his favorite chair in the parlor, smiling his thanks to Elspeth, who hurriedly arranged the ottoman for him.

Brendan stood and greeted the older man, waiting patiently for him to be settled.

“I believe, daughter,” Mr. Grant said finally, “that Brendan would like to speak with me.”

Elspeth sent a flushed look in Brendan’s direction and hurriedly excused herself.

“She’ll be lonely without Mary,” Mr. Grant said. There was an expectant expression on his face as he waited for Brendan to speak.

The timing could be worse, Brendan supposed. Of course, he could wait until he returned from Gilmuir, but that would leave him uncertain and wondering. Better to get a thing over with. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, trying not to notice Mr. Grant’s smile.

“I come from a very old family, Mr. Grant, with a very proud name. I’ve made my fortune at sea, but I’ve been thinking, for some time, of settling down.”

“In Inverness?” the older man asked, sipping his forbidden whiskey. His gout was worsening, but Mr. Grant refused to abstain.

“Yes,” Brendan said.

“Have you ever considered the distillery business, Brendan? It’s an old and honorable trade.”

“Perhaps I should,” Brendan said, beginning to feel a little less panicked. The collar of his jacket felt as if it were strangling him. And his knees were knocking.

“I’d be pleased to have a junior partner. It’ll be several years before Jack is old enough to join me, and none of my sons-in-law have expressed an interest in whiskey. Sometimes, I think they’re not quite Scots.”

Brendan smiled, thinking that he would have liked the older man even if he had never met Elspeth.

“Would you be as pleased to have me call upon your daughter?” he asked, summoning his courage. He stood with his legs braced apart, clasping his sweaty hands behind him.

Mr. Grant suddenly smiled. “I would at that, lad.”

Only then did Brendan take a deep breath.

They celebrated over a glass of whiskey, and a few moments later, Brendan stood and began his farewells. Before he could start his future, he had to go to Castle Gloom and on to Gilmuir.

Elspeth was nowhere to be seen, and for a moment, he thought that he’d have to leave without bidding her farewell. But she was waiting for him in the courtyard, beside his horse. This morning, he’d given up his accommodations at the inn in preparation for this very journey.

“You’re leaving for Gilmuir,” Elspeth said.

Brendan nodded.

“Will you be gone long?” She stepped closer. “I’ll miss you,” Elspeth said, clasping her hands in front of her. The words were said in a soft, almost wistful tone.

He’d wanted to say what he felt in a more auspicious setting.

Not standing a few feet away from the stable, with a horse’s head between them.

The sky overhead was a leaden gray, promising rain.

The air was cold, and remnants of snow still clung to the ground.

It was an ugly day for such a declaration.

He wanted spring, and flowers, and words that had been rehearsed.

Brendan moved away from his mount, gripping the reins in his right hand.

Standing in front of Elspeth, he studied her.

Today, she was dressed in blue, something that reminded him of sunny and warm summer days.

Always before, being around her had brightened his mood.

Now, however, he was all too conscious of his departure.

“I’ll miss you as well,” he said. Talking to her father was easier, he discovered than telling Elspeth how he felt. “But in addition to doing an errand for Hamish, I need to make arrangements for my ship.”

She didn’t look at him, and he knew, then, that she hadn’t understood his subtle hint.

“I’ll not be going back to sea.”

Her head whipped up. She looked astonished, he thought, with her wide eyes and her mouth half open.

“I’ve always wanted to try my hands at another occupation,” he said. Only a little falsehood. In actuality, he’d not given much thought to staying on land until he’d come to Inverness. No, he corrected himself, until he’d met Elspeth Grant.

But he’d already made his fortune; he could afford to simply enjoy whatever venture he chose next, even that of making whiskey.

“Where will you live, Brendan? At Gilmuir?”

He shook his head. “In Inverness,” he said, thinking that this business of divulging his heart was even more difficult than it had appeared at first.

Elspeth seemed to take a deep, relieved sigh. “Would you welcome me back?” There, the question he meant to ask all this time.

“I would, Brendan,” she said breathlessly.

“I’ll try to make the journey as fast as possible, Elspeth.

” He looked around, and seeing no one there, did a most forbidden thing.

Hamish was not the only MacRae with a touch of wickedness to him.

He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips, then stepped back before temptation proved too difficult to overcome.

Elspeth’s face blossomed with color, and her eyes sparkled merrily.

“Hurry and leave, then,” she said. “The sooner you’re gone, the sooner you’ll return.”

The afternoon was well advanced by the time the Ionis approached the end of Loch Euliss.

“Scotland hasn’t changed,” Ian said, hearing the sound of footsteps behind him and correctly identifying his wife. He glanced over his shoulder as Leitis joined him.

“It’s an old country; the passage of a few decades makes no difference.”

“Whereas Nova Scotia seems to be growing more crowded every year.”

She sent him a fond look. “You don’t like the English getting closer, Ian.”

He smiled in agreement. “We’ll be seeing Gilmuir soon.” He glanced around the deck. “Has Douglas found something more important to do?”

“He’s talking with the captain, negotiating with him for a chance to pilot the ship out of the firth.” She laughed, leaned her head against his shoulder. “Don’t look so surprised. He’s a MacRae.”

“He’s been adamant about never going to sea. Isn’t that the reason we sent him to France?”

She nodded.

“What the blazes was he studying, anyway?”

“Philosophy.”

“And women,” Ian added in an annoyed tone.

“A MacRae trait,” his wife said, trying and failing to stifle her smile.

“I’d rather he cultivated an interest in the sea than some French noble’s daughter.”

Her face abruptly sobered, and Ian wished he hadn’t commented about Douglas’s newest scandal.

“We have to do something about that, Ian.”

He agreed, but he didn’t know what could be done. Trust his youngest son to attempt to disgrace the family. “Did we spoil him?”

“Undoubtedly,” she said, sighing. “The other boys were so much older when he was born. It would have been helpful to have them around when he was growing up.”

“They would have kept him in line.”

“It can’t have been easy for him, though, being the youngest MacRae.”

Ian sent her a look that summoned another smile.

“Very well,” she admitted, “you’re right. He is very securely himself.”

“Being the youngest has never been Douglas’s prob lem,” his father said. “In fact, I would have preferred a little more reticence in his nature, at least where females are concerned.”

“Do you know that I had a stream of visitors before we left? All young and all female, and every one of them concerned as to the length of the voyage. They didn’t even have the tact to claim it was out of worry for us, either.”

“Missing Douglas already?”

She nodded.

“With any luck, all the females at Gilmuir will be happily married or too young to be affected.”

It was Leitis’s turn to chastise him with her expression. He grinned. An instant later, his smile slipped as he looked past her.

“Dear Almighty God,” he said, awed.

The ruins that had been Gilmuir had disappeared. The English fort that had stood beside the ancient castle was likewise gone. In its place was a tall, multiturreted structure of golden brick.

This new, imposing Gilmuir stretched the width of the promontory, two towers on either side seeming to rise up from the sheer cliff face.

The sun’s bright rays illuminated the fortress, causing the stones to appear golden and the high set windows like inlays of dark jewels.

Perched on the edge, looking out over Loch Euliss, was the priory, with its fabled arches and pillars stretching the length of the castle.

“He’s replaced the priory windows with stained glass,” Leitis said, her voice sounding as astonished as Ian felt.

“But otherwise, it looks as it must have four hundred years ago,” he said.

“Only larger.”

Alisdair’s accomplishment nearly overwhelmed him. He felt pride, both as a MacRae and as the father of the man who’d created this miracle.

“We need the sound of the pipes in the background,” Leitis said. “Something proper to welcome us back to Scotland.”

“Pipes, hell,” Ian said, grinning. He turned and shouted for the captain. “Peter,” he said, when the man appeared, “break out the cannon.”

“The cannon, sir?”

The Ionis was a trading vessel designed for ocean voyages. As such, she was equipped for any eventuality, including ten small cannon.

“Yes, cannon,” Ian said. “We’re going to announce our arrival in Scotland. The MacRaes have come home.”

“Did you hear that noise?” Mary pulled back, but Hamish only murmured something deep in his throat and kissed her again.

For ten minutes, he’d been kissing her like this, deeply, thrillingly.

She felt warm all over, a delicious feeling like being drugged spreading through her body.

She barely noticed the coach, or the sometimes steep incline.

If asked, Mary would have said that the roads were like heaven only because she never felt any discomfort.

“Kissing you to Gilmuir is a wonderful way to travel,” she said long moments later. She laid her head on his shoulder, lazily kissing his neck. His skin felt hot to the touch.