The Highlander's English Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  “I’m fine,” she said, giving Ainsley a hug. “Poor Graeme, however, is not.”

  “Let me look at that cut.” Nick took Graeme by the chin, frowning with concern.

  Graeme suffered the embarrassing inspection, since it would have turned into an argument if he had refused. It was all rather ridiculous, given that he topped his big brother by a few inches and outweighed him, too. The Laird of Arnprior could be a fussy old hen when it came to his siblings.

  In many ways, Nick had been more father than brother to all of them, especially the younger ones. And he’d been a better parent than the old earl, for damn sure. Their father had been a stern-tempered man, sometimes even a harsh one. A few times, Graeme had been on the receiving end of the old earl’s hand, one that could strike a punishing blow.

  Nick, though? He would always be there for Graeme and all his brothers, no matter the trouble or pain.

  “Should we send for a physician?” Sabrina asked in a worried voice. “He took an awful blow to the head.”

  “Did you lose consciousness?” Nick asked. “Or feel nauseated?”

  Graeme pushed away his brother’s hand. “Hell and damnation, it’s just a bump. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “I don’t think there’s any lasting damage,” Royal said. “Except to his manners.”

  “That’s a hopeless cause,” Ainsley said with a twinkle. “But the poor man could probably use a sit and a wee dram, I imagine.”

  “That’s the first sensible suggestion I’ve heard all night,” Graeme replied.

  “That’s because I’m smarter than all you Kendricks.” Ainsley glanced at Sabrina. “Pet, as much as I’d love to hear about your misadventures, perhaps you’d best take yourself off to bed.”

  Sabrina shook her head. “I’m not the least bit tired. Besides, we need to have a discussion with Lord Arnprior.”

  Nick, who was still trying to look at Graeme’s head, glanced over at Sabrina. “I’m happy to discuss anything with you, but I’m sure it can wait till morning. You must be exhausted.”

  Sabrina gave a stubborn shake of the head. “No, it cannot wait.”

  Nick arched an eyebrow at Graeme.

  “’Fraid not, old man,” Graeme said. “We’ve got a situation on our hands.”

  His big brother sighed. “Of course we have.”

  “Graeme Kendrick! What have you done to yourself?”

  Garbed in a gigantic wrapper that did nothing to conceal her pregnant state, Vicky descended the stairs like a stately schooner coming into port.

  “Victoria, you’re supposed to be in bed,” Nick said in an exasperated tone.

  Ignoring her husband, she waddled up to Graeme. “You look terrible. We need to send for a doctor.”

  “We’ve already ascertained that Graeme has an exceedingly hard head and has suffered no lasting injury,” Ainsley said.

  Graeme dropped a quick kiss on the top of Vicky’s frilly nightcap. “I’m fine, Mother. I promise.”

  “You are a dreadful boy,” she said with a reluctant smile. “You’re sure?”

  “I’ll be even more sure when I finally get that drink everyone’s been promising me.”

  He took Sabrina’s elbow and nudged her toward the stairs. “Up with you, lass. The sooner we talk this out, the sooner you can get in—”

  He had a sudden and extremely tantalizing vision of Sabrina in bed. With him. Under him, more precisely.

  She shot him a questioning frown.

  “The sooner you can plan your departure,” he finished.

  Sabrina pulled her arm away. “I’m not going anywhere until someone explains why I’m in danger.”

  “What’s this?” Nick said. “Lady Sabrina is in danger?”

  “Not out here,” Graeme said. “Up to the drawing room, everyone.”

  Henderson, as usual, had anticipated all needs and was waiting up there, drinks organized.

  “I’ve ordered the tea tray, my lady,” the butler said to Vicky as he handed Graeme a hefty glass of Scotland’s finest. “I’ll bring up a basin of hot water and some cloths. Mr. Graeme’s wound needs to be cleaned.”

  Graeme shook his head. “No need. It can—”

  Henderson, naturally, was already halfway out the door.

  “Bunch of old biddies,” Graeme muttered.

  “It’s because they love you,” Sabrina said in a quiet voice. “And they worry about you.”

  He glanced down at her, surprised by the comment. “They worry too much.”

  She tilted her head. “Someone has to, since you clearly don’t worry about yourself.”

  That cut a little too close to the bone. “Worry is a waste of time.”

  She frowned. “That’s a silly—”

  “Let’s get started, shall we?” he interrupted.

  Her delicate jaw clenched, she allowed him to steer her to the sofa where Vicky was already ensconced.

  Nick stood in front of the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest in his best laird-of-the-manor stance. “All right. Exactly what happened tonight?”

  Graeme settled into an armchair, weariness dragging at his bones. God, he was tired of this. He was tired of everything.

  “Do you want me to explain?” Sabrina softly asked him.

  You’re not tired of her.

  He smiled at her. “No, I’ll do it.”

  He swiftly explained the evening’s events, with Sabrina and Royal filling in the holes. Shortly after Graeme started, Henderson came in with a basin and a few cloths. Ainsley rose to take them.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said as she wet a cloth and gently wiped Graeme’s face.

  Graeme paused, startled at the amount of blood on the white towel.

  “Aye, ye got a right, proper knock,” Angus said.

  Graeme couldn’t help but grimace. His poor family. He caused them no end of trouble and worry.

  “Sorry,” he said to Nick.

  His brother’s smile was wry and understanding. “It’s all right, my boy. We’ll get through it together.”

  While Ainsley cleaned him up, Graeme finished relating events. His family listened with few interruptions.

  “That is quite something,” Ainsley finally said. “And huzzah for you, Sabrina. You are the true heroine of the tale.”

  “Don’t encourage her,” Graeme said. “The lass could have gotten herself killed.”

  “Och, yer just jealous she got to do all the rescuin’,” Angus teased.

  “Lady Sabrina’s bravery is commendable,” Nick said. “And we must be thankful that this unfortunate situation gave us a measure of warning.”

  Sabrina clasped her hands together, clearly frustrated. “But a warning of what? The Clearances? I confess I’m not as informed as I should be on that issue.”

  “A number of landowners have been seeking to increase the profits from their land,” Nick explained. “They do so by evicting longstanding tenants and crofters, turning the land over to sheep or cattle farming.”

  She frowned. “Are the tenants compensated?”

  “Generally not.”

  “Then what happens to them?”

  Nick hesitated.

  “They’re tossed from their homes, left to fend for themselves,” Ainsley said grimly.

  Royal sighed. “Blunt as always, my love.”

  “I fail to see the point in sugarcoating it. It’s a horrendous, shameful situation.”

  Sabrina sucked in a quavering breath. “Is my father engaging in those sorts of practices?”

  Graeme flashed his brother a warning look.

  “I’m not familiar with every situation where Clearances are occurring,” Nick gently replied. “But I’ve heard some talk of such regarding your father’s estates.”

  His brother knew exactly where things stood with Musgrave’s estates. Nick always knew these sorts of things. He was trying to soften the blow for the poor girl.

  Sabrina looked ill. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s not your
fault, lass,” Graeme said gruffly. “Your da certainly isn’t the only one doing it.”

  “But your family isn’t. Not the Kendricks.”

  “No.”

  For a few seconds, she appeared shattered. Then she unclasped her hands, smoothed down her skirts, and straightened her spine. “While I’m not trying to minimize the situation, I suspect my father is unaware of how things stand. He has very little to do with Lochnagar Manor, which has been the case for years. It’s always been overseen by his business manager in Edinburgh, and by an estate steward.”

  “Not an uncommon situation with absentee landlords,” Nick agreed.

  If Musgrave didn’t know his own business, it only confirmed what a nodnock he was, as far as Graeme was concerned.

  “What does this have to do with Sabrina?” Vicky asked. “And smugglers? I don’t really understand that bit.”

  “That’s what probably made her the target,” Graeme said. “Old Bill was annoyingly vague, but I suspect one of Musgrave’s tenant families has been running a smuggling rig. Apparently, they were evicted along with the rest of the crofters. That, obviously, did not sit well with the smugglers. But I’ll need to look into it more to get a true sense of it.”

  Royal shook his head. “It must have been a hell of a rig, if they’re bent on murder.”

  “Mayhap it’s not murder,” Angus said. “Mayhap it’s ransom they’re after. Kidnappin’, not killin’ .”

  Graeme thought about it. “That makes sense, Grandda. More than this ridiculous assassination plot I’ve been chasing like a dog after its tail.”

  “Assassination?” Sabrina asked in a faint voice.

  “We thought the king might be under threat,” Graeme explained. “That’s why I came north in the first place.”

  After processing that bit of information, she shook her head. “That still doesn’t explain why . . . Oh, I see. My father was supposed to come north with the king, not me.”

  “Aye, and when you showed up instead, you became the target.”

  “But how would a bunch of silly old smugglers even know Lord Musgrave was supposed to come north?” Ainsley asked, waving her arms.

  “That’s an excellent question,” Graeme said. “It’s quite possible this could be a crime of opportunity. Many Scottish lords—or ladies—would make an inviting target for both revenge and ransom. And many of them are in Edinburgh right now, all here for George’s visit.”

  “So, Sabrina might not be the target,” Vicky said, looking hopeful.

  Graeme wasn’t prepared to go that far. In fact, his instincts were telling him that Old Bill had the right of it. But how could he prove it?

  “Possibly,” he reluctantly said.

  “Probably, I hope,” Sabrina replied. “Regardless, I am deeply disturbed to hear there may be Clearances on my father’s estate. I intend to investigate that situation.”

  “How? You’re going home in a few days,” Graeme said.

  Her dainty chin took on a defiant tilt. “I will not be returning home until the situation is resolved to my satisfaction. His Majesty will have to do without me on the trip.”

  Oh, and wasn’t that all Graeme needed? Sabrina putting herself right into the thick of things, where she would be most vulnerable.

  He carefully put down his glass and stood. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled down at Sabrina.

  And noticed how remarkably unimpressed she looked.

  “This is not up for debate, Sabrina,” he said. “You will be returning to London.”

  She stood and crossed her arms, mirroring his pose. “Your opinion notwithstanding, sir, that will not be happening. I’m remaining in Edinburgh.”

  “The hell you will,” he growled. “If I have to drag your pretty arse onto that blasted boat myself, that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

  Ignoring her outraged gasp and the resigned sighs of his relatives, Graeme stalked from the room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sabrina morosely eyed the trunks lined against the wall of her bedroom. In two days, she would depart with the king. Her life in London—her privileged and utterly boring life—beckoned once more.

  Sadly, Graeme seemed especially eager for her departure, and the reasons didn’t truly matter. If he had feelings for her, he wasn’t prepared to act on them. Sabrina wasn’t prepared to chase after him like a silly miss entirely lacking in dignity.

  She picked up the crystal glass she’d snuck up from the drawing room and took a cautious sip, wincing at the bracing heat of the whisky. Tonight’s disturbing events, ending with that embarrassing scene with Graeme in front of his family, continued to pluck at her nerves like a deranged harpist. The whisky, she hoped, would be medicinal and calm her down. So far it had failed to do the trick, but she was willing to soldier on to the bottom of the glass.

  Graeme’s parting and highly insulting shot had certainly thrown the cat amongst the pigeons. After a stunned pause, everyone in the room had started talking, all of them offering highly opinionated observations. A lively argument had ensued, giving Sabrina her chance to slip from the room. That she’d done so undetected only confirmed how upset the family was by Graeme’s behavior.

  If she had a brain in her head, she would happily depart and leave the poor Kendrick family in peace.

  But the situation at Lochnagar Manor demanded some kind of action from her. A clear injustice was taking place on her father’s estate, one she could not ignore. If Graeme truly cared for her—and she’d thought he did—he would see how much it meant to her to correct that appalling situation, and he’d offer to help. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed that Graeme Kendrick didn’t think much of her at all, and that was an awful notion to contemplate.

  Sabrina forced another mouthful down, wondering how Scots could refer to whisky as smooth. When she stood up from her dressing table, she wobbled.

  The medicine, it would appear, was working.

  She tipped her head back and swallowed the rest, struggling not to cough. All good medicines were the same, nasty but effective. She hoped this one would be effective in helping her to forget blasted Graeme Kendrick.

  When a quiet tap sounded on the door, she peered at the clock on the mantel. Who would be knocking at this late hour?

  Certainly not blasted Graeme Kendrick.

  “You’re an idiot,” she muttered as she headed for the door.

  For some reason, it seemed farther away than it appeared.

  When she opened it, she blinked at Ainsley, dressed in a frilly wrapper and matching nightcap. Her friend glanced down at the glass in Sabrina’s hand.

  “It’s entirely medicinal.” Sabrina was quite proud that she barely slurred her words.

  “It would appear you’ve had a good helping of the medicine.”

  “I think I deserve it after that dreadful scene,” Sabrina responded in a dignified tone.

  She then turned and tripped over the hem of her dressing gown, flailing to regain her balance.

  Ainsley steered her toward one of the floral armchairs by the fireplace. “Sit, pet, before you fall down.”

  “Nonsense. I never do silly things like that. I’m an absolute paragon of control, and I never put a foot wrong. Everyone says so.”

  “Then you met Graeme, and it’s impossible to maintain one’s dignity around a Kendrick.”

  Sabrina gratefully sank into the chair. “You seem to manage it.”

  Ainsley, taking the chair opposite, raised a sardonic brow.

  “All right,” Sabrina admitted. “You’re as bad as the rest of them.”

  “It’s why I’m so perfect for this family. As are you, I might add.”

  “Unfortunately, the only one whose opinion matters in that regard doesn’t agree.”

  “Kendrick men are insanely stubborn. The term ‘jinglebrains’ was invented specifically for them.”

  Despite her gloomy mood, Sabrina giggled. Obviously, she was tipsy enough to find their conversation more than slight
ly absurd.

  Ainsley smiled. “That’s my girl. I was worried when you snuck out of the drawing room. Not Sabrina-like at all.”

  “It seemed the smart thing to do at the time.”

  “Graeme’s ridiculous tantrum was very upsetting for you. I was tempted to give him a good slap. Unfortunately, he managed too quick an exit.”

  Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “Wise of him, given the subsequent discussion.”

  “Indeed. It’s never a pretty sight when Angus and Nick go at it. But then Vicky started yelling, which is fairly rare. That sent Nick into a lather, so he ordered the rest of us upstairs to our rooms.”

  “Oh, dear. Is Victoria all right? I hate the notion of upsetting her.”

  “Vicky is fine. She was still ringing a peal over Nick’s head as he carted her upstairs.”

  “Lord Arnprior must rue the day I showed up on his doorstep. I’ve been a great deal of trouble.”

  “Darling, you’re an absolute angel compared to the rest of us. And Nick is simply overprotective. As is Graeme, I might add.”

  Sabrina blew out an exasperated sigh. “I rather think he’s trying to rid himself of a bothersome female who has made his life a trial. I suppose I cannot blame him.”

  Ainsley leaned forward. “Sabrina, he’s trying to get rid of you because he’s protecting you. Your little adventure tonight put a proper scare into him. Graeme is terrified you might be harmed.”

  “Because the king would have a fit, as would my father,” Sabrina morosely replied. “Yes, he made that clear.”

  Ainsley jabbed Sabrina’s knee. “No, silly. The poor man is besotted with you. All he can think about is getting you out of harm’s way. And in his current frazzled state, that means getting you right out of Scotland.”

  That sounded cautiously hopeful. “Besotted, really? He’s certainly not acting like it.”

  “Kendrick men lose their minds when they fall in love, which results in very erratic behavior.” Ainsley snorted. “And they say women are emotional. What nonsense. Men turn into wrecks when they fall in love, at least our men do.”

  “That sounds quite lovely, but there’s only one problem.”

  Ainsley cocked an eyebrow. “That Graeme isn’t your man? Oh, he most certainly is. Royal says he’s never seen the poor lad so rattled, and Graeme is not the sort to get rattled. In fact, he’s turned much too silent and grim since he took up this spy nonsense.”