The Highlander's Princess Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Don’t snap my head off. I didn’t kidnap anybody.”

  “If you two want to kill each other, go right ahead,” Victoria said. “Just get out of my way so I can get down this blasted hill.”

  “Fine,” Logan said. “I’ll go first. I know the trail better than Nick.”

  “Of course you do,” Nick sarcastically replied.

  Victoria shot him a dirty look. He couldn’t blame her, since he had to admit that he and Logan were acting like boys in a schoolyard brawl.

  Fortunately, the path down was in better shape than he’d anticipated. With Logan’s terse but capable guidance, they tromped up to the back of Tommy’s cottage a short time later.

  While Nick hated to admit it, without Logan’s help, he might have died. Worse yet, Victoria might have died.

  Old Tommy, a grizzled widower who looked a bit like one of the shaggy Highland cattle he herded, waited for them in the doorway of the cottage.

  “I was aboot to come lookin’ for ye,” he said, waving them in.

  The three-room cottage was cozy and dry, with an expertly stacked peat fire sending out waves of blessed warmth. Nick steered Victoria across the stone floor and plunked her down into an old wooden armchair. He propped her feet up on the firedogs, then folded back her damp skirts to expose her legs to the heat.

  She swatted at his hands. “Stop fussing.”

  “You’re shivering,” he said.

  “I am not,” she said through her chattering teeth. Her worried gaze tracked over him. “You’re in terrible shape, sir. You look dreadful.”

  Her grumpy concern warmed him more than any fire could. “I’m fine. Tommy, could you get Miss Knight a—thank you.” He took the cup of whisky the old man was already shoving in his hand.

  “Drink it,” Nick ordered, handing it to her.

  “We don’t have time to waste on this.” Still, she took a gulp and then coughed, her eyes watering.

  Nick suspected the old fellow had given her moonshine, likely home-brewed. “Tommy, I must borrow your cart and horse.”

  “Whatever ye need, Laird. I’ll go hitch up the wee beastie.”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Logan said. He slammed the door behind him.

  Tommy looked at Nick. “Still at each other’s throats, I ken.”

  “Sadly true,” Victoria said.

  “Ye need to get over that, laddie. It’s past time.”

  Nick gave Tommy his best chief-of-the-clan stare. “Why are you sheltering my damn brother in the first place? I ordered him off my lands weeks ago.”

  The old fellow snorted. “Yer my laird, and ye ken I’d lay down my life for ye and all the Kendricks. But dinna forget I paddled yer wee bum when ye was a lad. And Mr. Logan’s, too.”

  Victoria perked up. “You did?”

  “Aye, hellions, they were. They let my cattle out into the kitchen garden. They earned that paddlin’, I tell ye.”

  Nick winced. He’d forgotten that embarrassing escapade.

  Tommy’s grizzled visage softened as he studied him. “But ye were good lads, ye and Logan both. Strong, true hearts. Ye need to remember that, Laird.”

  Thankfully, he was spared a reply when Logan stomped back in. “The cart’s ready.”

  Victoria rose and handed the cup to Tommy. “Thank you for your hospitality, sir. And for your words of wisdom.”

  The old man gave her a courtly bow. “Thank ye, mistress. I hope to see ye again. Ye seem to be a grand lass.”

  When she leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, Tommy blushed and looked rather dazzled. Clearly, she’d won another admirer. They were all but piled around her feet.

  Nick led her out to the farmer’s cart. The sturdy draft horse would be slow but would do the job.

  After he climbed in, Logan helped Victoria into the cart, covering her with a thick tartan blanket Tommy handed him.

  “Will I see you again, Mr. Kendrick?” she asked.

  When Logan shot him a quick glance, Nick kept his mouth firmly shut.

  “Probably not,” Logan said.

  Victoria gave him her hand. “Then I thank you for your help, and I wish you most well.”

  Logan bowed over it. “You’re too good for my pigheaded brother, ma’am.”

  “I’m too good for any of you,” she said wryly.

  Nick couldn’t resist giving his brother a smirk. Then he set the carriage moving.

  Logan stepped back and lifted a hand in farewell. “Good-bye, Nick. Take care of yourself.”

  Nick switched the reins to one hand and waved back, then stopped himself and gave a brusque nod instead. When Logan’s mouth dropped open in surprise, Nick scowled and snapped his gaze forward. He sure as hell hadn’t meant to wave.

  “Are you cold?” he asked Victoria after several minutes of tense silence.

  “No.”

  “Sweetheart—”

  Her hand shot up between them. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He sighed. They were tired, cold, and both on the verge of losing their tempers. Any discussion about the future was probably best left to a time when they could discuss it without yelling at each other like fishwives. They should be able to sort it all out, as long as he didn’t get shot by irate fathers and she didn’t get hauled off to prison.

  “Thank God,” she said as they drove through the arch and into Kinglas’s courtyard sometime later. “I don’t know when I’ve ever been happier to reach a place.”

  Nick stopped the cart in front of the tower house. “Who knows what’s waiting for us, though,” he said, helping her down.

  “At least we’ll be warm and you won’t be falling off a cliff.”

  “Thanks to you,” he said, touching her cheek.

  Her gaze softened, and she started to reply when the tower house door opened. Taffy rushed out with Andrew and two of the dogs in her wake.

  “Thank the heavens,” she exclaimed. “When we heard about the avalanche . . .”

  “We’re fine,” Nick said at they went into the entrance hall.

  After giving the dogs a quick pat, Victoria pulled off her bonnet and gloves and handed them to Andrew. “Please tell me the young ladies are uninjured.”

  “The lassies are all just fine,” Taffy said. “Miss MacBride and Miss Peyton are resting in one of the guest rooms.”

  “What about Lady Ainsley?”

  “She’s in Mr. Graeme’s bedroom, with the others.”

  “Why? What’s going on?” Nick asked.

  Taffy grimaced. “Mr. Graeme had a fall and broke his leg.”

  “How the hell did that happen?”

  “He was standing on the step of the carriage when that old fool—” Taffy grimaced and corrected herself. “When Mr. MacDonald set off the slide with his pipes. The horses bolted and the lad fell to the ground.”

  Victoria lifted a hand to her mouth.

  “Please tell me he didn’t get run over by a wheel,” Nick said, his gut clenching.

  “No, thank the good Lord. The surgeon arrived a few minutes ago and is with Mr. Graeme now. Brody is there too.”

  “Your head groom?” Victoria asked.

  “He’s a dab hand at bone-setting, is our Brody,” said Taffy. “He can help the surgeon.”

  Nick cocked an eyebrow at Victoria. “Can you check on the young ladies and get the lay of the land while I see to Graeme?”

  “Of course. I’ll take care of it.”

  “What would I do without you, lass? Thank you.”

  When Victoria gave him a troubled glance, his heart sank. Clearly, he still had much ground to make up for, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He turned and headed for the staircase, impatience and anxiety driving him to see his brother.

  “Your coat, sir,” Taffy called.

  Nick wrestled out of his greatcoat as he took the stairs, dropping it over the bannister. It
had some rips in it anyway after this afternoon’s adventures.

  When he opened the door to Graeme’s room, he pulled up short. A small mob had crowded around the poster bed, including the surgeon, Brody, a maid holding a pile of towels, Ainsley, and his brothers. With the exception of the surgeon and Ainsley, everyone stared at Nick with varying degrees of dismay.

  Graeme was as pale as milk but trying to look stoic, even though he was obviously scared and in pain. He was propped up on pillows while the surgeon took his pulse.

  “How is he, Mr. Dillon?” Nick gruffly asked.

  “A clean break as far as I can tell, my lord,” the surgeon replied, “but I’ll need to set his leg without further delay.”

  He picked up his bag and began laying out implements on the bedcovers. Brody carefully folded back the tented bedclothes to expose Graeme’s leg. The lad’s boot and breeches had been cut away, exposing the ugly bruising and swelling over his calf. At least skin and muscle were intact, though, so Nick allowed himself a relieved sigh.

  Now that his immediate fears were addressed, he glanced around the room. Grant ducked his head and Royal’s gaze slid away.

  Predictably, Ainsley glared at him before marching over to take a seat by the hearth. “It’s about time you showed up. Your family is completely insane.”

  From the opposite side of the room, Royal scowled at her. “Yes, the sooner my brother can get you back to Glasgow, the better. Then we won’t have to listen to your constant carping.”

  “Can his lordship wave a magic wand and clear away the avalanche that your idiot grandfather triggered?” she said tartly.

  “For God’s sake, you two,” said Nick. “Where is Angus, anyway?”

  Royal affected a casual shrug, even though Nick could read the tension in his hiked shoulders. “Hiding from you?”

  “If so, for once he’s acting wisely. What the hell were you lot thinking, anyway?”

  Ainsley jumped up. “Please don’t shout. I’ve had quite enough of that for one day.”

  “I wasn’t shouting.” Nick frowned, finally registering what she was wearing. “Is that—?”

  “One of the maid’s gowns?” she said. “Yes, your brother’s chivalry did not extend to allowing me to bring additional garments on my abduction. He snatched me when I was returning home from a ball. My gown was quite ruined by the time we arrived here.”

  “You are a complete arse,” Nick said to Royal. “I can understand the twins, but why you?”

  His brother pointed at the irate girl. “She wanted me to do it.”

  “What rot,” Ainsley said.

  “Pardon, my lord,” interrupted Mr. Dillon. “We’d best get started on this before the lad’s muscles tighten up any further.”

  “Of course,” Nick said.

  He laid a hand on Graeme’s forehead. His brother’s face gleamed with perspiration, and he felt too warm.

  “You foolish boy,” he said softly.

  Graeme gazed up at him, miserable. “I’m sorry, Nick. Truly I am. I . . . I’ve made a mess of everything. I always make a mess of everything.”

  Grant, on the other side of the bed, pressed his twin’s shoulder. “It’s my fault too. I’m just as responsible.”

  “No, you’re not,” Graeme said. “I’m always dragging you into horrible trouble. I’m so stupid.”

  Nick sighed as he studied their unhappy faces. Despite their strapping builds and brash ways, they were still so young. What the hell was he going to do with them?

  He stroked Graeme’s mussed hair. “Don’t worry about it now, lad. We’ll figure it out later.”

  The door opened and Victoria walked in. She blinked at the crowded room and then came to the bed.

  “How are you, you silly boy?” she asked softly, taking Graeme’s hand.

  He clutched her fingers like a scared child. “I’m all right. I’m sorry we caused so much trouble. It seemed a splendid idea at the time.”

  “I’m sure that’s what Angus thought too,” she said dryly.

  “He only wanted us to find good wives. Just like you, Nick,” Grant said.

  Victoria winced.

  “We’ll talk about all that later,” said Nick. “And how are the young ladies, if I may ask?”

  “Ah, they’ve decided they’d rather die a hideous death than marry your brothers,” Victoria said.

  “Really?” That was almost too much to hope for.

  She gave him a slight smile. “It seemed they were initially in favor of the elopement but changed their minds over the course of the journey.”

  “That must have been some carriage ride,” Nick said.

  Grant shrugged. “It’s just that they didn’t get along with Grandda.”

  “That’s because he’s so horrible,” Ainsley piped up.

  “Not as horrible as you are,” Royal said.

  The surgeon made an exasperated noise. “I’m ready, my lord.”

  “Everyone out,” Victoria ordered.

  “I’m staying,” said Grant in a tight voice.

  “Fine, but keep out of the way.” She took the towels from the maid and shooed her out, along with Royal and Ainsley.

  “I don’t think we have to worry about a marriage between those two,” Victoria said when she returned to the bedside.

  “Ready, Mr. Graeme?” the surgeon asked. “It’ll hurt like the devil, but it won’t take long if you stay still.”

  Victoria rolled a small cloth into a tube and handed it to Graeme. “Bite on this. It’ll help.”

  Nick clasped one of his brother’s hands while Grant took the other. The next few minutes made him sweat almost as much as his poor brother. When the surgeon and Brody manipulated Graeme’s leg, the lad let out a groan, then clamped down hard on the cloth and held Nick’s hand in a punishing grip. Through the entire gruesome process, Victoria stroked Graeme’s hair, murmuring quiet encouragement. He kept his gaze fastened on her face, as if her calm reassurance was the only thing that kept him from breaking down.

  Nick had never been more grateful for her presence or more convinced that he’d be the luckiest bastard in England if she could bring herself to forgive him.

  “Almost there,” the surgeon muttered.

  He gave one more tug on Graeme’s leg. The lad went limp, but his eyelids fluttered up a few moments later, and he stared blearily up at Nick.

  “Well done, Mr. Graeme,” Dillon said. “I’ll just strap your leg, and you’ll be mending in no time.”

  “Mr. Dillon, please give me the instructions for his care,” Victoria said. “Mrs. Taffy and I will be nursing him.”

  “Thank you, love,” Nick said, giving her a grateful smile from across the bed.

  Her reply was a brisk nod.

  “Brody can make some helpful poultices,” Dillon said, “and I will write up my instructions.”

  Victoria felt Graeme’s forehead. “He seems a mite feverish to me.”

  “Aye,” Dillon said. “That concerns me a wee bit.”

  She and Nick exchanged a worried glance.

  “How are you feeling, lad?” Nick asked.

  Graeme let go of Nick’s hand and covered his mouth. A moment later, he sneezed. “Actually, I think I’ve caught a cold.”

  Victoria sighed. “Of course you have.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Victoria quietly closed the door to Graeme’s bedroom. Her head ached from stress and lack of sleep, but at least one of their worries was resolved.

  “How is he?”

  She turned to see Ainsley standing a few feet away. “Excuse me, my lady. I didn’t hear you.”

  The girl’s full mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Please call me Ainsley. After all, we’ve been changing sheets and mopping damp brows together for the last three days.”

  Victoria returned her smile. “I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

  Mrs. Taffy and Victoria had handled most of the nursing duties the first night, but then Grant had also come down with a
heavy cold, as had four of the castle’s servants. Ainsley had surprised them all by pitching in, belying her image of a spoiled society miss.

  Not that she’d been the cheeriest of nurses or particularly gentle. In fact, she’d snapped at poor Graeme when he was particularly difficult or refused to take his medicine. Luckily, her stern demeanor sometimes proved more effective than Victoria’s more gentle approach.

  “I was happy to help,” Ainsley said. “Well, not happy, but it was better than sitting around bored in the middle of nowhere. Marginally better, anyway.”

  The answer was pure Ainsley. “Then you’ll be happy to hear that the pass is finally clear of snow. I suspect Alec will appear sometime today. He’ll escort you back to Glasgow so you can pack for your visit with your relatives up north.”

  “Oh, joy,” Ainsley said dryly. “So, I take it that Graeme continues to improve?”

  “Yes. He’s still as weak as a half-drowned cat, but his fever is gone and he seems to be getting his appetite back.”

  “That’s a relief. Things were quite tricky for a few days, weren’t they?”

  “They certainly were.” Graeme’s cold had developed into a high fever. Combined with the broken leg, he’d been sick enough for Victoria to become truly alarmed. For three days and nights, she, Ainsley, and Nicholas had nursed him in shifts, while Royal and Taffy looked after the rest of the household.

  “Did you tell Arnprior the good news?” Ainsley asked.

  “He was there last night when Graeme’s fever broke and stayed with him until early this morning.”

  Victoria had been almost as worried for Nicholas, who’d been terrified that his brother might die. There were few words of comfort she could offer to a man who already knew how random and cruel life could be. But when it was clear that Graeme was finally out of danger, Nicholas had pulled her into his arms, holding on to her as if he’d never let go. They’d clung to each other for a few minutes, letting their bodies speak to their emotions, before he’d briskly ordered her to get some rest. She’d been so tired, she hadn’t argued.

  She and Nick had hardly spoken since they got back to Kinglas, and certainly not about their personal troubles. Their focus had been on taking care of Graeme and keeping the household from falling apart. Now everything rose before them again, unresolved.