She stripped off her work gloves. “Since the gazebo has no walls, I will treat that comment with the consideration it deserves.”
He tilted his head, his forest-green gaze studying her with an intensity that made her pulse flutter. “I found it quite cozy last night. Didn’t you?”
“That is entirely beside the point.”
“What point are you referring to?”
“That there will be no repeats of last night’s incident.”
“I hope you’re talking about the fire.” He crouched a bit, resting his hands on his knees so they were at eye level. “And not about our kiss, because I was truly hoping for another one of those.”
With his mouth only inches away from hers—and knowing what pleasures his mouth could provide—Kathleen had to muster an unfortunate degree of willpower to stand her ground.
“In case you’ve failed to notice, sir, it’s broad daylight and we’re in the middle of the kitchen garden. In full view of the house.”
“Ah. We simply have to wait for nightfall.” He straightened up and took out his pocket watch. “Which is in approximately—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He raised his russet eyebrows. “We don’t have to wait for darkness? Even better.”
When he leaned down as if to kiss her, she whacked him on the arm with her dirty garden glove.
“Och, lass. The laundry maid will nae be happy about that, ye ken. Ye’ve left muck on my sleeve.”
“And I’ll be thankin’ you not to be such a booby, Grant Kendrick,” she sarcastically echoed him with her own brogue.
He grinned, unrepentant. “I simply wish to be clear about the rules of conduct when it comes to kissing. And, might I note, that for someone with a reputation for scandalous behavior, you’re being quite missish.”
“I’ve given over scandalous behavior, remember?”
“That is a terrible shame, Miss Calvert.”
Since the seductive gleam in his gaze was temptation itself, and since she very much wished to engage in a spot of scandalous behavior, Kathleen forced herself to act stern.
“You wouldn’t be the first man to experience an unfortunate accident with my watering can, sir.”
Grant snorted. “So that’s what yon vicar was referring to the other day. You gave him a soaking.”
“Not just that. His frock coat had a distressing encounter with my garden clippers, as well. Therefore, since you seem to value your clothing so much—”
“I could take them off,” he suggested. “But you’d have to promise to put your clippers down first.”
Kathleen felt her eyes all but roll from their sockets. “Grant Kendrick, if you do not behave yourself—”
He laughed. “All right, I’ll stop teasing. Still, at some point we need to talk about what happened between us last night.”
He was right. But at the moment, she didn’t feel equipped for that particular conversation.
When she bent to retrieve her garden tools, he wrapped a hand around her wrist and brought her back up.
“Sweetheart, what’s amiss?”
His voice was so gentle, and his expression so kind, that she longed to throw herself into the shelter of his embrace.
“Jeannie and I had another fight.”
“About her running off to the distillery and getting trapped by the fire?”
She flapped a hand. “She skimmed right over that, believe it or not. No, it was over my insistence that she return to London.”
He winced in sympathy. “That must have gone down a treat. Is it David she’s not wishing to leave?”
“In a nutshell. How she can think there’s any hope with a man almost twice her age—and a vicar, no less—is beyond me. If it were Kade, I could understand. But this infatuation with David is absolutely dotty.”
“Infatuations usually are. Jeannie is young and impressionable, and Brown has become something of a hero to her. She’ll get over it soon enough.”
Kathleen sighed. “I used to be her hero.”
“And you will be again, sweet girl.”
After casting a quick glance around the garden, he tipped up her chin and pressed a kiss to her lips. He lingered for a few moments, and it was all Kathleen could do not to press her body against his.
When he pulled back, she had to struggle to find her voice. “That . . . that was very naughty of you.”
“My fair colleen,” he murmured in a deep brogue, “I am just getting started.”
Suddenly, she felt a great deal better than she had even a few minutes ago. Kathleen had the sensation that with Grant by her side, any problem could be solved.
“Grant Kendrick, stop flirting and bring Kathleen inside,” called a crisp feminine voice from the back door.
“Good Lord,” Kathleen muttered as she glanced over her shoulder at Sabrina.
Grant rolled his eyes. “Och, Sabrina’s as bad as my twin.”
“I just need to put my gardening tools away,” Kathleen called back.
Sabrina waved an impatient hand. “The gardener will take care of it.”
“She’s fashed about something,” Grant said, taking Kathleen’s arm.
“Not more trouble, I hope.”
“What’s wrong?” Grant asked Sabrina when they reached her.
“I cannot find Jeannie.”
Kathleen’s heart banged against her ribs. “She went up to her bedroom after breakfast. When I tried to speak with her before coming out to the garden, she told me to go away. That she wasn’t coming out of her room.”
“When Mrs. Wilson brought the tea tray to the drawing room, I asked one of the maids to fetch Jeannie,” said Sabrina. “I thought she’d be hungry, since she’d not had any breakfast. But her room was empty.”
“Did you try the study? She likes to read there in the afternoon.”
Sabrina grimly shook her head. “Hannah and I have looked everywhere on the main floors. I sent Davey to poke around the rest of the house—”
She broke off when the Kendrick footman hurried toward them down the hallway. Kathleen rushed to meet him.
“Any luck?” she asked.
Davey grimaced. “Nae, miss. She’s not in the house. Me and the housemaids looked everywhere, and we couldna find her. She’s nae in the stables, either.”
Kathleen shook her head in disbelief.
“Blast,” said Sabrina. “I’m sorry, dearest. I should have kept a better eye on her.”
“No, it’s my fault. I am an absolute idiot.”
“We can debate fault later,” said Grant. “There’s a storm coming, and it’s a bad one. If she’s caught in it—”
Kathleen didn’t let him finish. “I’m going to change into my riding habit. Sabrina, please have someone saddle my horse.”
She lifted her skirts and pelted down the hall, ignoring Grant’s calls to wait.
Chapter Twenty-One
Grant reined in his bay at the top of the gentle rise that overlooked the small loch and scanned the area below. Kathleen, atop her mare, came up beside him.
“We should have found Jeannie by now,” she said in a worried tone.
“Not if she’s hiding. And given the row you had this morning, that’s a distinct possibility. She probably needs a few hours to calm down and come back to her senses.”
“But she’s been gone for longer than a few hours, and dusk will be on us soon.” Kathleen grimaced. “I’m worried that she’s stumbled across that gang.”
When she tightened her grip on the reins, her horse shook its head in protest.
Grant shot out a restraining hand. “Careful, lass. We don’t want you getting tossed out here in the middle of nowhere.”
He’d already lived that nightmare, and he’d be damned if he went through it again.
“Sorry, I’m being an idiot. But those awful men—”
“Graeme and I have been all over these grounds, and we can’t find the blasted thieves. Jeannie is not going to stumble upon them while walking acro
ss a field.”
“I suppose you’re right. Still, we should have come across her by now.”
“She might never have come this way in the first place. That crofter only saw her from a distance, remember—if it even was her.”
After their first hour of fruitless searching, they’d come across one of Graeme’s tenants, who claimed to have seen a girl on the path to the loch. At the time, the man had not thought anything of it.
Kathleen stripped off one of her gloves, stuck two fingers in her mouth, and blew out an ear-splitting whistle. In the distance, a dog responded with a mournful howl, while the horses waggled their heads.
Grant tugged on his ear. “Bloody hell, lass. A bit of warning might have been helpful.”
“Sorry, but I know Jeannie would recognize my whistle if she heard it.”
“I imagine they heard it all the way back in Dunlaggan. It’s quite impressive.”
“One of my few genuine talents,” she ruefully said.
“Och, sweetheart, you have many talents.”
“Finding my sister isn’t one of them.”
Grant again scanned the surrounding area. “I’m rapidly coming to the conclusion that Jeannie didn’t come this way.”
Kathleen sighed. “I was so certain she had. Dickie told Jeannie about the smugglers’ hut a few days ago, and how they used it as their hideout. She thought it all sounded terribly exciting.”
Grant studied the simple hut, tucked up below on the shoreline. “Aye, it’s exactly the sort of place that would appeal to her.”
“Perhaps she’s hiding in it?”
Although it was obviously no longer used for smuggling purposes, Graeme had maintained the upkeep on both the hut and its long, sturdily built pier in the event that he expanded operations to this location. The lake eventually emptied out into Loch Laggan, which made it a prime route for shipping to Inverness and points beyond.
Graeme also kept the hut stocked with fuel, blankets, and other basics in case of emergencies. The weather changed quickly in the Highlands, and dangerously so in winter. The hut could serve as shelter for any crofter or shepherd caught out in the open.
His instincts told him, however, that Jeannie was not in there. “I think—”
A rumble of ominously loud thunder cut him off. Kathleen’s horse skittered a bit, but she quickly brought the mare under control.
“That’s getting too close for comfort,” she said as she peered at the storm clouds piling up over the loch.
“Aye, there’s no avoiding that mess now. That’s why I wanted you to remain at the house.”
They’d had a short but heated argument before beginning the search. After threatening to bash him over the head with a vase, Kathleen had marched off to the stables, leaving Grant with no choice but to lock her in her bedroom or go searching with her. Since he prided himself on both his logic and his sense of self-preservation, he’d chosen the second alternative.
Kathleen flashed him a scowl. “We’ve had this discussion.”
“Without effect.”
“Grant Kendrick, I will clobber you over the head if you don’t cease pestering me,” she threatened again, looking adorably fierce.
“Lass, I know you’re worried, but I’m fairly convinced at this point that one of the others has found Jeannie or she returned home on her own.”
They weren’t the only ones searching, of course. Davey and one of the grooms had headed out in the opposite direction, and Sabrina had sent one of the stable boys running for Graeme and Angus.
“For us, though,” he added, “that storm’s about to hit. So we will now be taking shelter in the blasted hut.”
The first drops of rain began to splatter in the dust and on their clothing. The rising wind kicked up dirt devils, and as if to hurry them along, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky, followed by growl of thunder.
Kathleen grimly nodded. “Lead on, sir.”
By the time they reached the hut, the loch frothed with whitecaps and a heavy curtain of rain swiftly approached across the water. Graeme dismounted then went to help Kathleen down from her horse. As she came gracefully into his arms, her glossy curls brushed against his cheeks. For a moment, when their bodies pressed together, he had to fight the overwhelming urge to capture her lush lips with his mouth.
As if in rebuke for his wandering thoughts, a gust of wind snatched off his hat.
Grant nudged Kathleen toward the cabin. “Inside with you, while I take care of the horses.”
She shielded her eyes from the wind. “Let me help.”
“No need. There’s a horse shed out back. It’ll only take me a few minutes.”
She seemed inclined to argue, but suddenly the wall of rain finally hit them with driving force.
“Go,” he barked.
Kathleen dashed up onto the small porch, wrenched the door open, and disappeared into the hut.
Grant led the increasingly skittish animals around to the back. The sturdy shed behind the hut was big enough for two horses or a pair of cattle. Thankfully, Graeme had recently restocked it with hay and blankets for just such an emergency.
Grant unsaddled the horses, gave each a quick rubdown, and got them settled as best he could.
As the rain poured down in sheets, he ran around the hut and took the steps in one leap. Kathleen, who’d obviously been watching for him, opened the door.
Grant swiped his dripping hair aside as he glanced around the hut. “No Jeannie.”
Kathleen unpinned her once-jaunty riding hat. “No.”
Clearly frustrated, she tossed the bedraggled hat onto the table in the center of the one-room hut. “I can only hope she’s home by now. Jeannie hates thunder and lightning.”
Grant took off his greatcoat and slung it on a hook by the door. “She probably saw the storm coming in and scurried back home to safety.”
Kathleen stared at him, her pewter-gray eyes as turbulent as the skies outside. “Do you truly think that, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”
“I would never insult your intelligence like that. For one thing, you would likely smash me on the noggin—a threat you made only a few hours ago, as I recall.”
“I did, but only because you were acting like a thickhead. And you said that I was as reckless as Jeannie, which was very annoying of you.”
“I simply said that you tended to be a bit cavalier with your own safety.”
“I have been the opposite of cavalier since we arrived in Scotland. I’m so bloody careful about everything that I’m ready to murder myself out of boredom.”
“Being careful does not make one boring, Kathleen. It makes one careful.”
She jabbed a finger at him. “Name one time when I’ve acted irrationally, or without care for my safety.”
“Well, there was—”
“And do not mention that stupid cricket game, because none of that was my fault.”
He repressed a smile. “All right, I won’t mention that particular incident.”
She scowled and crossed her arms under her breasts, which nicely squeezed into plump mounds. In fact, Grant could see—
“Oh, is there another incident you’d like to mention?” she asked.
“Not one in particular. You do, however, have a marked inclination to risk both your reputation and safety to protect your sister.”
“Wouldn’t you do the same for your siblings?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?” Her voice was sugary-sweet. “Because you’re a man?”
Grant shook his head. “I’m not walking into that trap, lass, so don’t even try.”
“Fah,” she said, perfectly imitating Angus. “And by the way, you’re staring at my chest. How very rude of you.”
To be precise, he was staring at the pert outline of her nipples, which he could see through what had to be several layers of fabric. Very damp fabric.
“I’m only staring because it has finally occurred to me—thickhead that I am—that you’
re obviously wet and cold.”
She looked perplexed for a moment but then shrugged. “I am feeling a bit soggy, but you’re soaked, Grant. Your hair is positively dripping.”
“Fortunately I was wearing a greatcoat. It held up better than your riding jacket.”
“I’m fine.” She then promptly shivered.
“Och, you should bash me over the head for letting you stand about in that damp outfit for even a moment. We need to get a fire going right now.”
“I already tried while you were stabling the horses. I don’t seem to have the knack for it.”
Grant crouched down in front of the stove and began rearranging the haphazard stack of peat. “There is a bit of a trick to it.” He glanced back at her. “Please take off that riding jacket. You’ve got to dry out, love.”
“Ah . . .”
“Kathleen, your lips are turning blue.”
She gave him a weak smile. “My shift was muddy from the garden, so I took it off. And I forgot to put on a blouse. I dressed in rather a hurry, as you know.”
No wonder he’d been able to see the outline of her nipples. “Are you saying . . .”
She flapped a hand. “I’m wearing stays, so it’s all perfectly respectable. Well, mostly, anyway.”
Since Grant had already seen a pair of her stays, he knew they were the opposite of respectable.
He nodded toward a trunk on the other side of the room. “There are clean blankets in there. Off with the jacket, and wrap yourself in one of them while I get this fire going.”
“All right, but keep your back turned.”
“Lass, I’m the boring one, remember? So boring it wouldn’t even occur to me to take a peek.”
“It’s my opinion that your so-called boring behavior is nothing but a ruse to lull the rest of us into complacency.” She waved a hand. “Now, turn around.”
He snorted but complied with her direction and turned back to the stove. “Why, exactly, am I so intent on lulling everyone into a state of complacency?”
“It’s how you get people to do what you want.”
He glanced over his shoulder in disbelief, just as she slipped off her jacket to reveal her stays. They weren’t the ones from the day of the robbery but they were still very pretty, trimmed in blue ribbons instead of pink. Fortunately, since she was facing the trunk, she didn’t see him gaping at her like an untried schoolboy.
The Highlanderâ??s Irish Bride Page 28
