The Highlander's English Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

“I did plan to propose,” she admitted. “Which was rather forward of me.”

  “Ye are a cheeky, managing type, ye ken.”

  When she nipped his chest, he twitched again.

  “And how long has this plan been in the works?” he asked in a husky murmur.

  “Since that night at the theater, in London.”

  This time, he went up on his elbow, dislodging her a bit. “Really?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  He nudged her. “Do I feel like I mind?”

  His erection had started to burgeon again. “You do not.”

  “I’m surprised because I was a complete prat to you that night,” he said.

  “Not so much then, although you were indeed a complete prat several times after that. I almost gave up, but I’m too stubborn to admit defeat.”

  He huffed out a laugh before dropping his head back to the tumbled pillows. “I apologize for being such a thickhead, and for making it so hard on you.”

  “Ainsley explained that Kendrick men are rather thickheaded when it comes to love, and that one must be persistent.”

  “She’s not wrong. We’re not the easiest lot to manage.”

  “I’m quite good at managing things, as you’ve learned.”

  “Yes, and I’ve noticed you’re rather smug about it, too.”

  She let out a dramatic sigh. “I’ll try not to be too managing.”

  “Excellent, though I can think of one way you can manage me, any time.”

  In an instant, Graeme had her on her back, bracing his arms around her shoulders. Sabrina gasped, her eyes going wide at the feel of his erection against her thigh.

  “Already?” she squeaked.

  “Well, I still have to get that scream out of you.”

  He leaned down and nipped the tender skin of her neck. Sabrina moaned as desire ignited like dried kindling to a spark. When Graeme shifted, moving down her body, she arched her back and spread her arms wide, reveling in the luxurious sensations—

  A sharp, ominous crack sounded above them. Graeme jerked up to stare at the heavy wooden canopy over their heads.

  “What the—”

  As another crack rent the air, Graeme wrapped himself around Sabrina and rolled them right off the bed. They crashed to the floor in the span of a breath before the entire canopy detached from the posts and fell with the screech of splintering wood. The bedposts flew outward, landing on the floor with a resounding thud.

  Sabrina lay on top of him, stunned but unharmed. When he’d rolled them off, he’d cushioned her fall with his body.

  “Are you all right?” Her voice came out in a screech.

  He blinked up at her. “I think so.”

  “Did you hit your head?”

  Carefully, he sat up, bringing her with him. “Not really, mostly my elbows and arse. Are you all right?”

  “You’re a very effective cushion. Let me look at your arms.”

  She twisted around to get a look at one of his elbows. The skin had split and was bleeding.

  “That needs to be cleaned and bandaged,” she fretted.

  “Lass, it’s nothing.”

  He was staring grimly at the massive canopy, splintered at the edges but mostly still in one heavy piece.

  Sabrina closed her eyes and leaned against him, feeling faint. If he’d not had such quick reflexes . . .

  He cuddled her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She opened her eyes and forced a smile. “Just rather stunned, and grateful not to be as flat as a griddlecake.”

  They heard a rush of footsteps in the hall before someone banged on the door.

  “Sabrina, what happened? Are you all right?” called Royal.

  “We’re fine,” barked Graeme. “Just give us a moment.”

  “Sabrina, I’m coming in,” Ainsley said through the door.

  “Wait,” Sabrina shrieked.

  Graeme winced. “Och, lass, my ears.”

  “Sorry.” She patted his cheek before scrambling to her feet. “Wait a moment, Ainsley. I’m coming.”

  She retrieved her wrapper. Graeme pulled on his shirt before grabbing the blanket they’d kicked to the floor and wrapping it around his waist.

  “My breeches are under that bloody canopy,” he said with a grimace.

  “Will you two open up?” Royal ordered.

  Sabrina hurried to the door, opening it enough to look out. Royal had thrown on breeches and a shirt, while Ainsley was dressed in a rather ugly flannel wrapper.

  Sabrina blinked at her. “You, in flannel?”

  “One always wears flannel in the Highlands, dear.”

  “Can we postpone the fashion discussion,” Royal impatiently said. “What the hell was that noise? And what the hell is Graeme doing in your room?”

  Ainsley’s gaze flickered over Sabrina. “I think we know the answer to question two.”

  Before Sabrina could respond, Davey came rushing down the hall. The footman was fully dressed and carried a pistol.

  “Everything all right, Mr. Royal? I heard a terrible crash.”

  Sabrina leaned out a bit, still keeping the door mostly closed. “Everything’s fine. Part of my bedframe collapsed.”

  When Ainsley bit her lip, obviously trying not to laugh, Sabrina scowled at her. “It’s not what you think.”

  “If you say so.”

  “It’s fine, Davey,” Royal said. “Go back downstairs.”

  The footman tactfully nodded and retreated back down the hall.

  “Why is Davey running around with a pistol?” Sabrina asked.

  “Graeme and I have some of the servants on rotating watch.”

  “Kendrick men always like to be prepared.” Ainsley waggled her eyebrows. “For anything.”

  Royal ignored his wife. “Are you going to tell us what happened? That sounded like the entire ceiling of your room fell in.”

  “Let them in, Sabrina,” Graeme said from behind her.

  She sighed and opened the door.

  Royal and Ainsley gaped at the bed.

  “Good God,” Royal finally said. “That is . . .”

  “Insane.” Ainsley whacked Graeme in the arm. “You and furniture. What in God’s name were you up to in that bed?”

  “Nothing,” he protested. “The damn thing just up and collapsed.”

  “He’s right,” Sabrina said. “We truly weren’t doing anything.”

  The other couple exchanged an incredulous glance.

  “Well, almost nothing,” Sabrina amended. “Certainly not enough to cause that. Graeme saved us, too. If he’d not moved so quickly, we . . .” She had to swallow.

  Ainsley winced in sympathy. “How horrific. And not very romantic, I must say.”

  “Rather the opposite,” Sabrina gloomily replied.

  Royal glared at his brother. “I’m not best pleased with this situation, laddie, for a number of reasons.”

  Graeme rolled his eyes. “No need to get fashed, since we’re getting married. Sabrina proposed to me. Before the collapse, fortunately.”

  Ainsley gave Sabrina a hug. “Congratulations, darling. That is splendid news.”

  “Thank you. It is rather exciting, isn’t it?”

  “This conversation is entirely beside the point,” Graeme impatiently said. “We need to talk about why that blasted canopy collapsed.” He pointed a finger at his sister-in-law. “Do not say it again.”

  Ainsley mimicked locking her lips and throwing away the key. Royal moved closer to inspect the collapsed bed.

  “It’s very old,” said Sabrina. “I suppose the joints might simply have worn out.”

  “I suppose that’s possible, given how neglected the whole place has been,” Royal said.

  “I’m not so sure.” Graeme pointed at the canopy. “Have a look.”

  One corner where the canopy had separated from the bedpost looked clean, almost as if sliced through.

  “That break looks very clean.” Royal inspected th
e other corners. “The others are splintered.”

  “Wood rot?” Sabrina had seen it before in some of the truly antique pieces at their estate in Northumberland. Age, dampness, and poor maintenance all took their toll.

  Graeme looked grim. “That seems implausible to me. The difference is quite marked.”

  The floor seemed to tilt a bit, perhaps a trick of the flickering firelight.

  “What are you suggesting?” Sabrina faintly asked.

  “Are you saying someone tampered with the joints in that corner?” Ainsley asked in a horrified voice.

  Royal, back to inspecting the first corner, stood up with an aggravated sigh. “The wood seems crumbly around the joint, but it’s hard to say for certain.”

  “Tampering seems pretty damn likely to me,” Graeme said, “given everything else going on around here.”

  “Who knows you sleep in this room?” Royal asked Sabrina.

  “Everyone. It’s where the mistress of the house always slept.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Ainsley sighed.

  Sabrina pressed a palm to her forehead, where a headache was beginning to form. The most wonderful night of her life, and it seemed it had almost ended in murder.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Ainsley regarded the enormous breakfast with a jaundiced eye. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m not even hungry.”

  Sabrina grimaced in sympathy. “Mrs. Wilson and Hannah made an extra effort, too. Hannah seems to believe that rare beefsteak, coddled eggs, and kippers will smooth over my brush with death.”

  “If you have any affection for me, do not mention kippers. Although I do think I could manage one of those cheddar and chive scones. Oh, and pass the butter, please.”

  Sabrina passed the requested items. For herself, she was sticking with dry toast and tea.

  “I’m sorry if I kept you awake last night,” she said. “I hope I didn’t snore.”

  “Ha. You didn’t sleep a wink, I swear.” Ainsley slathered a generous helping of butter on her scone. “How could one, after all that commotion?”

  Graeme had moved Sabrina into Ainsley’s room. Naturally, she’d have preferred to share Graeme’s room, but the dratted man had insisted and all but dragged her there. The ladies had been ordered to lock themselves in the bedroom, while the brothers patrolled the house for the rest of the night.

  Sabrina thought it an overreaction. Even if her bed had been tampered with—an uncertain conclusion—there was no way to know when it had occurred or who had done the deed. She refused to believe it could have been anyone from the household staff.

  Sabrina had returned to her own room shortly after dawn to get dressed and had found Hannah standing by the bed, moaning and wringing her hands. When the girl had spotted Sabrina, she’d shrieked so loudly she’d brought everyone running from all corners of the house.

  Sabrina’s life was turning into a French farce.

  “I’m sorry about this morning,” said Sabrina. “You’d finally gotten to sleep, and then Hannah had to start screaming.”

  “That was at least mildly entertaining. Poor Hannah thought you were a ghost.”

  “Yes, and it was vastly amusing when the servants wrestled the blasted canopy off my bed and discovered Graeme’s breeches and my nightgown.”

  Ainsley snickered into her teacup. “It’s certainly been an interesting adventure. Such is frequently the case with Kendricks.”

  “This one is all me, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s why you’re perfect for Graeme. You’re clearly as much trouble as the rest of us.”

  Perhaps too much trouble. What with this mess and the prospect of facing her father’s certain resistance to their marriage, Sabrina couldn’t really blame Graeme for having second thoughts. He’d not even kissed her good night after hauling her off to Ainsley’s room, nor had he showed one iota of affection this morning.

  At this point, she found circumstances more depressing than interesting.

  A quiet knock sounded on the door of the breakfast parlor.

  “Enter,” Sabrina called.

  Mr. Wilson stepped in. “Ye wanted to see me, my lady?”

  “Yes. Did you have a chance to look at my bed yet?”

  “Aye, my lady. That canopy made a right mess, but not to worry. My missus will get it sorted nice and tidy. And if ye canna sleep there, she can move ye to one of the other rooms. Why, the blue bedroom is grand, ye ken. Rob Roy himself slept there, and a great honor it was.”

  “I meant did you actually examine the bed,” she patiently replied. “To ascertain why the canopy failed as it did.”

  Wilson stared at his boots, as if lost in thought.

  “Any conclusions?” Ainsley prodded.

  “I reckon it could be wood rot. Yon bed is almost as old as the house, ye ken.”

  “So . . . not tampered with?” Sabrina asked.

  He frowned. “Hard to tell.”

  She resisted the impulse to throw a scone at his head. “But you think it more likely to be rot, than someone weakening or cutting into the joint.”

  He pondered that for a bit, then finally nodded. “Aye.”

  “Thank goodness,” Ainsley said. “We have enough problems without worrying about some villain trying to murder us in our beds.”

  The old man waggled his head, looking like a marionette on a broken string. “Mr. Kendrick ain’t wrong to be worried for my lady. There’s some not fair happy to see the mistress back in the house.”

  Ainsley snorted. “Yes, the shooting of bullets would suggest as much.”

  Sabrina pressed a hand to her temple. Why was it so blasted hard to get a straight answer from anyone? “Mr. Wilson, do you have any idea if the Barrs have remained in the area?”

  “Well, ye ken I canna be certain,” he hedged.

  “Anything you could tell us. Even a rumor of such.”

  “Well, I have my suspicions that yon—”

  He broke off at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Graeme stalked into the room.

  “Wilson, what are you doing here? Is there a problem?”

  “Nae, sir.” The old man scuttled backwards out of the room, almost colliding with Royal.

  “Where’s he rushing off to?” Royal asked.

  “What was he doing here in the first place?” Graeme said.

  Sabrina closed her eyes, making an effort to wrestle her temper under control.

  “Lass, what’s afoot?”

  She opened her eyes, taking in Graeme’s scowl. He resembled an angry bull, ready to start snorting and pawing at the faded roses on the old wool carpet.

  “And a good morning to you, dear sir,” she replied in a sugary-sweet tone. “How kind of you to join us for breakfast.”

  A rueful smile etched the corners of his mouth. “Forgive me, sweetheart. I’m a complete brute.”

  He tipped up her chin and brushed a lingering kiss across her lips.

  “That’s better,” said Ainsley. “I was beginning to worry about Graeme’s romantic skills.”

  “After what we saw last night, I believe there’s no need to worry,” Royal commented.

  “Yes, feel free to put any such worries to bed,” Graeme dryly said.

  “So to speak,” Ainsley said with a wink.

  Sabrina winced. “That’s a dreadful pun.”

  While her cheeks had gone hot, she felt an almost staggering degree of relief at Graeme’s display of affection.

  He fetched a plate of food from the sideboard and came to sit beside Sabrina. She smiled at him, no doubt looking like a besotted schoolgirl. And how could she help it? She was madly in love, and he loved her back. It was simply glorious, even if someone might be trying to murder her.

  He smiled and tapped her nose, then reached for the teapot. “So, what was old Wilson doing in here?”

  “I had asked him to take a look at the bed. He does most of the carpentry and repair work at Lochnagar, so I thought his opinion would be useful.”

  Royal looke
d up from the pile of ham and scones Ainsley had stacked on his plate. “And?”

  “He thinks it’s more than likely wood rot.”

  Graeme frowned. “What about tampering?”

  “He thinks tampering is improbable. The bed is likely the oldest piece of furniture in the house, so rot makes sense.”

  “My parents had a positively ancient dining room table, going back to the time of Charles II,” Ainsley said. “It collapsed during my oldest brother’s engagement party. Wood rot. Made a dreadful mess.”

  “That must have pleased you,” Royal said.

  “Since my brother is a thundering ass, I felt a small degree of satisfaction.”

  “But no one was trying to kill your brother at the time, I imagine,” Graeme said.

  Ainsley wrinkled her nose.

  “It would be quite difficult to sneak into the house and sabotage such a big piece of furniture,” Sabrina pointed out. “One would have to saw or drill through part of the joint, or inflict some other sort of damage. That would surely attract attention.”

  “But the house was practically deserted until our arrival,” Graeme pointed out. “It’s not entirely unreasonable to assume that someone could have snuck in to do just that.”

  “But how would anyone even have known I was coming?” Sabrina protested. “Mrs. Wilson only had a day’s notice.”

  “I admit it’s a short timeline, but hardly impossible.”

  “But Mrs. Wilson was here.”

  “If Mrs. Wilson was in the kitchen, you could set off a cannon upstairs and she wouldn’t hear it,” Graeme said. “None of the Lochnagar servants heard the bed collapse last night, did they? And that made a hell of a racket.”

  Ainsley sighed. “Drat. What do the servants have to say about all these nefarious doings, anyway?”

  Royal snorted. “Very little, as usual.”

  “So where does that leave us?” Sabrina asked.

  When Graeme and Royal exchanged a long glance, her heart sank.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I am not leaving. If Ainsley doesn’t feel safe, Royal should certainly take her back to the city. But I’m staying put.”

  “Nonsense. If you stay, I stay,” Ainsley stoutly replied.

  “Ainsley,” Royal warned.

  When his wife put up an imperious hand, he rolled his eyes.

  “Are you sure, dearest?” Sabrina asked. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”