Page 46 of A Bonny Pretender
Chapter Thirteen
Qualms, Questions, and Quips
Mid-April
First night in Glasgow
“Ye want metobe niceto him?” Lachlan stared at her as if she had two heads.
“Did I stumble on my words?” Brigid stood with her hands on her hips. “Dinna scare him off with yer manly act.”
Her brother scratched his head, pushing the red-brown curls into more disarray. “Ye’ve met a man. Ye want us to meet him.Andbe nice.”
“Aye.” She stuck out her chin.
A slow grin appeared on his face. He turned to Colin. “Did ye hear this?”
“Aye,” said Colin, drawing his bushy black brows together. “When have we ever treated a mon unfairly?”
“Cousin, just meeting ye could scare the bravest soul.” Brigid worried Frank would look at Colin and remember Twisted Nose, the highwayman. Not that Colin had a flat face. He was handsome enough, with dark hair and blue eyes like her grandda. But he was so big. He towered over all the MacNaughtons, and combined with massive arms and a broad chest, he was considered the MacNaughtontour de force. “If ye remember to smile, ye willna be so intimidating.”
“Do I have to smile?” asked Lachlan, obviously unhappy at this added demand.
“I’ll settle with no’ scowling at him like ye are now.”
“Ye’re not nearly so handsome when you scowl, husband,” added his wife Fenella.
The trio had arrived unexpectedly, declaring they wouldn’t wait a day to see their beloved Brigid. After a series of bear hugs and being swung in circles until she was dizzy, they had eaten a hearty meal of collops and tatties. Lissie had retired early, still easily fatigued, and Gideon had accompanied her. With a smaller audience, Brigid had worked up the nerve to bring up Frank. She’d had a nightmare about her family trying to turn him into a Scot. First, they dressed him in a plaid, dragged him to a bonfire, and taught him how to spit roast a pig. Then they’d pumped the viscount with whisky, fed him haggis, and laughed when he cast his accounts. The poor man had run as fast as he could back to England.
“I mean it, Lachlan, stop,” admonished Fenella. “I’ve met Lord Raines. He’s a gentleman and very kind.”
Lachlan leveled his gaze on his wife. “How well do ye ken this man?”
Brigid rolled her eyes, and Fenella grinned. “Such a suspicious mind. He’s a close friend of my cousin, Charles. We went skating once, and I was afraid of making a fool of myself. He escorted me, kept me on my feet, and never once made me feel embarrassed.”
Lachlan pulled his wife to his side and brushed back her pale blonde hair. She had gray eyes like Frank, and Brigid thought they could have been siblings. “If he treated ye well, then I’m bound to do the same.”
Brigid let out a sigh of relief. “Ye’ve eased my mind.”
Colin crossed the room and refilled his glass with whisky. “Lachy?” he asked, holding the decanter.
Lachlan nodded. “I think we should save some for tomorrow. Good scotch always cheers me, and my sister wants us happy tomorrow.”
“We should warn ye that the mill is still under construction.” Colin eased into a chair in front of the fireplace next to Aunt Maeve. “Thank ye for a fine meal, Maeve. Have ye met this god of a mon that has our Brigid in such a fret?”
“I have.” She smiled encouragingly at Brigid. “I met him only briefly, but I liked him.”
“I hate to end this evening, but Lachlan must bring me to see my sister. And don’t”—she pointed a finger at her husband—“whine about spending a night without me.”
Lachlan opened his mouth.
“Or I’ll stay there the entire time Evie is here.”
He closed his mouth.
Brigid snorted. Her domineering, rowdy brother had given into a woman.Saints and sinners!He’d found his perfect match in Fenella.
As the group prepared to leave, Brigid hugged Lachlan again. “I’ve missed ye, Brother.”
