Page 3 of A Bonny Pretender
Chapter One
Tantrums, Tirades, and a Truce
January 1820
MacNaughton Castle, Dunderave
The Highlands of Scotland
Brigid MacNaughton notchedthe arrow, slowly pulled back till the tension was just right, then let it fly. It landed in the center of the circle with athunk. Young Liam ran to the tree and yanked the arrow from its trunk.
“That was a braw shot, Miss Brigid,” he said, blowing a strand of copper hair out of his light green eyes. “Ye’ll teach me how to do that?”
“Aye.” She adjusted her plaid and reached down to scratch Brownie’s head. The deerhound whined and thumped her tail. “But remember our deal.”
The almost six-year-old nodded, his expression serious. “I promise to take good care of yer hound while ye’re away. But why do ye have to go? I’ll miss ye.” He hugged Brigid’s waist tightly. “Ye’re like a sister to me, ye ken.”
“And ye’re like a wee brother to me,” she agreed and cupped his freckled cheek. “Sometimes we have to do what’s best for others rather than ourselves. My ma thinks I should go to London for a bit and learn how to be a fine lady.”
His thick brows furrowed. “Ye care about being a fine lady?”
“No’ at all, but since it makes her happy, I’ve agreed to it.”
“After a temper tantrum, tirade, and all bargaining got ye nowhere,” a deep voice teased from behind.
“Brodie, how do ye do that? I swear ye’ve a lighter step than the faeries.” Her breath came out in white puffs as she admonished her brother. Brigid hated being startled. Over the years, it had become one of her brother’s favorite games. “Do ye remember the time ye snuck up on me and Kirsty at the dyeing tubs? I’d have thought ye’d learned a lesson from that.”
“My backside was a lovely indigo for nye on a month. I had to lengthen my kilt like some feeble old mon to cover it.” Brodie frowned, but his blue eyes, the MacNaughton sapphire blue all the siblings shared, glinted with humor. “For yer information, I did learn my lesson. Now, I always assess my environment before stalking my prey.”
Brigid scowled and punched his arm. Next to Kirsty, Brodie’s wife, he was her best friend. They were closest in age out of the four MacNaughton siblings, with Brigid the youngest. She loved all three of her brothers, but she and Brodie had a special bond. Their ma said when she’d been a babe, only he could calm her. Because of this, he’d been dubbed the unofficial bearer of all unpleasant news when it pertained to Brigid.
“I’ll remember to tell Kirsty that we’ll have to share our secrets in precarious surroundings then.” That reminded her of her sister-in-law’s bout of sickness. “How is she doing? Feeling any better?”
He nodded, a black curl falling across his forehead. “Aye, she’s no’ as peely-wally this afternoon. I asked her if ye cooked for her. That would assaultmystomach.” He jumped away from the second slap and did a little jig. “Ye’ll have to be quicker than that, oh sister mine.”
“I’m surprised ye can move that fast, carrying such a large ego.” Brigidtskedwith satisfaction at the returning glare. “It must be quite the burden, poor mon.”
“Are ye learning how to defend the clan and castle, lad?” Brodie asked the boy instead of his usual witty retort.
“Aye, sir. I want to surprise my da when we go hunting again.”
“Weel, ye’re a quick learner, and my sister is an excellent teacher. But time’s no’ on yer side.” He gave Brigid a side glance. “She’ll be leaving next month.”
Her heart pounded in her ears. “Next month? I thought theSeason,” she said with a sneer, “began in April?”
“Around Easter, I’m told,” he agreed. “Aunt Maeve says ye’ll be needing a…”
She folded her arms across her chest, her boot thumping dully on the snow. Yes, she wanted to intimidate the muttonhead and stall whatever bad news he was about to impart. Apprehension skittered up her spine.
“A wardrobe.” He turned, hoisted Liam up on his shoulder, and took a long step back. “Careful of the child.”
“Liam canna protect ye from my temper.” She wagged a finger.
“Of course no’,” agreed Liam, a slow grin curving his mouth. “No’ til I’ve learned archery, anyway.”
The knot in her stomach twisted. Lace and silk and shoes that were as practical as a daily bath. She remembered one of the fine English nobles living on the estate nearby had insisted on that. No wonder he had so many wrinkles by the time he left. Brigid always secretly thought he was trying to wipe the stench of the Scots off him. She giggled, but the sound faded. Brodie had that so-far-so-good expression on his face. The knot tightened.
“What are ye leaving out?” She narrowed her eyes at him when he feigned an innocent look. “I ken ye too well, so ye might as well tell me now. I can scream like a banshee here or in the castle. It’s up to you, brother.”
