Fortunately, the review had gone splendidly, and the crowds had been delighted. Later that evening, the Peers’ Ball had taken place at the Assembly Rooms. The crowds had turned out for that event, too, with thousands blocking the streets to watch carriages disgorging ladies in their finest gowns, and men dressed in tartans, bonnets, and shields, and all sorts of Highland nonsense meant to honor the king.
Despite the sheer pandemonium, that event had been wildly successful as well.
Aye, Graeme had been run off his feet, but at least he’d had a solid excuse to avoid Sabrina. After that disastrous episode in the carriage—and the most enchanting kiss of his life—he’d stayed far away from her. Tonight had proven trickier, since the Caledonian Hunt Ball was a long-standing family tradition. Nick had ordered Graeme to attend, and as a family member, not as a bloody spy lurking behind potted plants, as his brother had trenchantly put it.
Fortunately, Sabrina had been much engaged by the royal entourage. She’d spent most of the evening in George’s company, as had Vicky.
“Mob scene or not, if my wife wishes to leave, we’re going,” Royal said to Nick. “And old Georgie can bloody well go shoot himself if he doesn’t like it.”
Graeme flashed the startled guard behind their table a placating smile before turning back to his family. “Can the members of this blasted family go one day without making seditious remarks? It’ll be a miracle if we don’t end up in prison.”
“Angus will take the fall for us,” Royal said. “You know he loves to play the martyr.”
Ainsley waved down a passing waiter and ordered a tray of champagne. “Sadly, we’re stuck for the duration. His Majesty wishes to speak with me again before he leaves.”
“Oh, splendid,” Royal said. “More flirting with my wife.”
Nick gave Ainsley a stern look. “No flirting in front of Victoria. She’s in a delicate state.”
“Maybe Sabrina could flirt with him for a while,” Royal commented. “Give my poor wife a break.”
Graeme scowled. “Don’t be disgusting. She’s his goddaughter.”
Royal smirked. “And is that the only reason it bothers you, laddie?”
“Oh, sod off.”
Nick jabbed him in the shoulder. “Watch your language. I’m sure Lady Sabrina has no desire to flirt with the king, regardless.”
Ainsley put a finger to her chin. “I do believe she wishes to flirt with someone, though. I’m not sure who.”
Graeme repressed the impulse to tear his hair out.
Fortunately, the waiter arrived with their drinks, diverting the inane discussion.
“Vicky seems to be having a grand time with her father,” Royal said to Nick.
Both Vicky and Sabrina were seated with the king across the room, watching the dancers. Sabrina was chatting away with her usual, cheerful enthusiasm, while Vicky and the king seemed to be mostly listening and laughing. The lass seemed to have that effect on most people. She made them . . . happy.
“The king’s been very attentive to Victoria,” Nick replied. “Neither of us expected the invitation to have the ladies for a private tea at the palace.”
“That invitation almost gave Vicky a nervous fit,” Ainsley said. “Fortunately, Sabrina managed the whole episode remarkably well. She got Vicky and the king talking about life at Castle Kinglas, and things went swimmingly from there.”
“Lady Sabrina manages everything well,” Nick said. “She’ll make a splendid wife for a very lucky man.”
Ainsley winked at Graeme. “If that man would actually put in an appearance now and again.”
“That man has been run off his feet keeping Vicky’s father safe, in case you failed to notice,” Graeme tartly replied.
“Poor Sabrina,” Ainsley said with a dramatic sigh. “She’s barely seen you since that very interesting carriage ride the other morning.”
Nick perked up. “What carriage ride?”
Graeme scowled at Royal. “Can’t you keep your wife under control? She’s being immensely irritating.”
“I won’t even try.” Still, Royal took pity on him by switching topics. “I’m glad for Vicky’s sake that the king’s visit is going well. But I’ll also be glad when this madness concludes. I feel like we’re trapped in an unending Highland pageant.”
“And the bloody music,” Graeme said. “If I have to listen to one more reel I’m going to shoot myself.”
Ainsley laughed. “You do all look splendid tonight, though. Except for Angus. Vicky and I did our best with him, but to no avail.”
Nick and Royal were wearing the dress kit of the Black Watch, their former regiment, and Graeme and Grant had donned Kendrick plaid. Their grandfather, unfortunately, had again chosen to wear the traditional belted plaid, and he’d also dug up a moth-eaten matching bonnet not seen in decades. Since almost every other man at the ball had on the short kilt, along with appropriate evening kit, the old fellow stood out like a bull at a garden party.
“At least he’s not lugging around the ceremonial broadsword,” Royal said. “He might have used it on some poor soul who offended him.”
“Like the king?” Ainsley said with a grin.
“God, don’t even joke about it,” Graeme absently replied.
He’d just caught sight of his twin at the bottom of the room, making his way toward their table. Alarmingly, Grant was alone.
“Where’s Grandda?” Graeme asked when his brother arrived. “I thought he was with you.”
Grant took the empty seat next to him. “Well . . . he rather got away from me.”
Nick frowned. “What does that mean?”
Grant jerked his head toward the opposite side of the ballroom, where King George was sitting. Vicky and Sabrina were still with him, as was . . .
Angus.
The old fellow was planted directly in front of the king, talking a mile a minute and waving his arms. As one, the family members stared at the scene of impending mayhem, bereft of speech.
Ainsley recovered first. “I feel a swoon coming on for the first time in my life.” Clapping her fan shut, she leaned over and jabbed Grant’s hand. “How could you let this happen, you nincompoop?”
“That actually hurt.” Grant rubbed his hand. “Look, have you ever tried controlling my grandfather? He was right behind me, but when I turned around the slippery old codger was gone.”
“Are we absolutely sure he’s not got a ceremonial dirk or knife?” Royal asked.
“Darling, this is no jesting matter,” Ainsley said.
“Who said it was a jest?”
Sighing, Nick rose. “I’d best go see if I can smooth over whatever madness he’s no doubt spouting at the king.”
Graeme stood, too. “I’ll go with you. If nothing else, I can bodily cart him off.”
He was only half joking. Thanks to Angus, the family could be facing social annihilation.
Ainsley scowled up at Graeme. “This is all your fault. You should have known Angus would do something like this.”
“We can apportion blame later,” Nick said. “For now—”
Graeme peered across the room. “Hang on. I’m not sure there’s actually a problem. In fact, they just seem to be chatting. Quite amicably, it appears.”
Royal also stood and stared across the room. “Good God, you may be right.”
As they watched, dumbfounded, the king roared with laughter and clapped Angus on the arm. Their grandfather chuckled and then pointed at the dancers twirling before them. He seemed to be explaining something while George attentively listened.
“This cannot be right,” Nick said.
“I still think we need to go over there. Just in case it goes sideways,” Graeme said.
“We’ll stay here and hold down the fort,” Grant said.
“And hide under the table if Angus erupts,” Ainsley added.
Graeme and Nick were barely halfway across the room when Sabrina rose from her seat next to the king and offered it to Angus. The old fellow immediately ac
cepted and recommenced a lively conversation with George.
Sabrina exchanged a few words with Vicky, who was looking utterly bemused, then glanced up and met Graeme’s eye. Flashing a wry smile, she held up a finger, clearly telling them to wait.
It took but a few moments for her to slip through the crowds to join them at the edge of the dance floor.
“Not to worry,” Sabrina said with an impish smile. “No Angus eruptions on the horizon.”
For a moment, Graeme gave in to the selfish impulse to drink her in. She reminded him of sunshine in her cream-colored, spangled gown, with her guinea-gold hair tumbling gracefully down her neck. He had to resist the urge to tug on one of her glimmering curls. In fact, he wanted to tug her into a dark corner, where he could explore every inch of her sweet body.
Aye, she’d bewitched him, all right. Graeme could only be grateful there were no dark corners nearby, and that his big brother was there to play chaperone.
Nick eyed the tableau on the other side of the room. “Angus must be in his cups. It’s the only explanation.”
“And not a very reassuring one,” Graeme said.
“He seemed quite sober to me,” Sabrina replied. “He and His Majesty are simply having a nice chat.”
“What could they possibly chat about that didn’t involve Angus’s going off about some old Highland grievance?” Graeme asked.
“Right now, they’re talking about the dancers. Your grandfather is explaining the steps and the meanings behind the older dances.”
Nick grimaced. “Och, that’s no good.”
Graeme knew what he meant. Some of the old songs contained elements of protest against English oppression of the Highlands.
“I’d best get over there,” Nick said.
“There truly is no need to worry, sir,” Sabrina replied. “They’re getting along like blazes.”
“As in this room could be burning down at any moment,” Graeme sardonically replied.
She huffed out a chuckle. “Indeed, no. But Victoria does wish for you to join her, Lord Arnprior, though I assured her everything would be fine. His Majesty has taken quite the shine to your grandfather.”
The two old fellows now had their heads together, as if exchanging confidences. Vicky had a hand clapped over her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“That is the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen,” Graeme said.
“I might never recover from the shock,” Nick added before he went to join his wife.
Leaving Graeme alone with Sabrina was awkward, considering what had happened the last time they’d spoken.
Or kissed, more accurately.
“Ah, would you like to join the others at the table?” Graeme asked.
“There’s no one at your table,” she gently pointed out.
Damn. He spotted Grant at the refreshments table, but Ainsley and Royal had disappeared. They had probably taken the opportunity to sneak out to avoid potential mayhem.
Graeme eyed the petite beauty standing patiently before him. It would be impolite, not to mention scandalous, to abandon her on the edge of the dance floor. Nor did he wish to settle in for an intimate chat at their empty table.
She raised a golden eyebrow. “Would you care to dance, sir?”
Surprised, he frowned. “Do you actually know any Scottish reels?”
That was all the blasted orchestra was playing tonight, along with other traditional Scottish tunes. It felt like a damn gathering of the clans.
“Well, no,” Sabrina replied.
Graeme had to grin. “Then why did you ask me to dance, you daft lass?”
“Because you seem rather at a loss as to what to do.”
That was certainly true. “Actually, I should be getting back to . . .”
“To what? Lurking about, doing your mysterious spy work?”
“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
Her smile was adorably smug. “Since you are currently free, perhaps you could take me for a stroll in the hall. I could use a breath of fresh air.”
He glanced around the spacious room, assessing the situation. The king was under ample protection, as safe here as when he was locked away in his bedroom, guards stationed every ten feet. The Assembly Rooms were secure.
“I’ll tell you what the king said to your grandfather,” Sabrina added in a coaxing voice.
She was temptation incarnate. Graeme told himself it would be good to know what Angus was up to, just in case.
“It would be wise to know, I suppose.”
Her smile curled into a full-on grin. Aye, she was a bright, sunny day, a dram of fine whisky, and a lingering kiss all rolled into a delicious package that was well nigh impossible to resist.
She tucked a hand in his arm as they headed to the main corridor. “There are some window alcoves. Perhaps we could open one of the windows and get a breeze.”
The alcoves were at the mostly deserted end of the hall and lit only by the occasional wall sconce or branch of candles. Curiously, Graeme found himself raising no objections.
Idiot.
He allowed her to lead him to the last window. Sabrina was a masterful little thing, which he found quite stimulating. His cock was also finding the situation quite stimulating, which was a trifle embarrassing, especially while wearing a kilt.
“It’s blessedly quiet here,” she said. “All that piping does get a bit much.”
“Spoken like a true Sassenach.”
She chuckled as she fumbled with the window latch.
“Allow me,” he said.
Instead of backing out of the way, Sabrina settled onto the window seat, primly folding her hands as he stretched beside her to grasp the latch. The lass certainly didn’t mind being close to him. Of course, he’d reached that conclusion the other day, when she’d so enthusiastically returned his kiss.
He swung the window open. When a cool breeze fluttered in, Sabrina closed her eyes and lifted her face, letting the air wash over her.
“That’s better,” she murmured.
It was indeed better, since it would take but a heartbeat to lean down and capture her pretty mouth in a ravishing kiss. It was madness to be this close, breathing in the delicate scent that drifted up from her smooth, pearly skin. He wanted to press his lips to the base of her throat and nibble his way along her bare shoulder to the poof of her little sleeve. Then he would push down that silly poof, and . . .
When her eyes opened, Graeme jerked back, banging his shoulder against the window frame.
“Goodness, Mr. Kendrick. Don’t hurt yourself.”
He mentally sighed. The lass was melting his brain and turning him into a clumsy oaf.
“I’m fine. Perhaps we’d best stroll toward the ballroom. It’s a wee bit secluded down here.”
“Nonsense. Another couple just walked by us a few moments ago.”
He leaned out to look. Sure enough, a man and a woman had just strolled past on their way back to the ballroom.
“And you call yourself a spy,” she teased.
“Apparently a bad one.” He propped his shoulder against the window frame. “All right, so tell me what George and my grandfather were talking about. Angus is not a fan of Sassenachs in general and royal ones in particular. Especially not that royal one.”
“I’ve been working on your grandfather. I told him how excited the king was to be here, and how much he wished to make up for the mistakes of the past.”
Graeme raised his eyebrows. “And Angus bought that?”
“It is true that the king is very enthusiastic about Scotland. I may have exaggerated a bit on the other point.”
He laughed.
“I also told him how much His Majesty has been looking forward to meeting Victoria.” Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “Angus was blustery about that at first, since the king has ignored her all these years. Fortunately, that is no longer the case.”
“Thanks to you, from what I hear.”
“I simply smoothed the way. The king and V
ictoria did the rest.”
“You did more than that, lass. You not only helped bring Vicky and her father together, you apparently managed to convince Angus that old George isn’t his mortal enemy. That elevates you to sainthood in our family.”
“I do have a talent for managing fussy old men,” she said with another adorably smug smile.
Graeme was truly beginning to love that smile.
“You have a talent for managing more than just old men.” He deliberately let his voice go deep and rough.
She blushed, and he had to resist the impulse to trace the path of her rising color with his fingertip.
“Do . . . do you want to know what else your grandfather and the king talked about?”
He blinked when he realized he’d started to lean over, as if to kiss her. “Oh, ah, absolutely.”
Sabrina carefully patted her curls, obviously composing herself. “It was a bit awkward when Angus first appeared, since he was looking grumpy. But Victoria immediately introduced him and informed the king that Angus knew more about Highland traditions and culture than anyone she’d ever met.”
“Smart lass. That’s my grandfather’s weak spot.”
“He seemed a bit flummoxed, to tell you the truth.”
“Probably because he wanted to pick an argument with Old Georgie. But Vicky spiked his guns.”
“If so, it worked.”
Graeme shook his head. “But I can’t see Grandda giving over that easily. It’s still a bit of a mystery.”
“I believe the real breakthrough occurred when the king informed Angus that he was the first real Highlander he’d met since coming to Scotland. In fact, according to His Majesty, your grandfather is the very definition of a true Highland warrior.”
Graeme practically choked. “In that deranged outfit? He looks completely mad.”
“Not according to the king. He said that your grandfather’s belted plaid was heroic in the extreme. He only regretted that Angus was unable to complete the outfit with a dirk and a broadsword.”
“Och, he did not say that.”
“He did, indeed. In fact, I would now say that your grandfather is the king’s new favorite.”
The Highlander's English Bride Page 21
