Page 50 of A Bonny Pretender
Chapter Fourteen
Midnight Greetings and Gretna Green
“Let’s no’ makeher widow before we make her a bride, eh, Cousin?” Lachlan leaned forward and placed a hand on each arm.
Colin’s face split into a wide grin. “Ye got bottom, I’ll give ye that,” he said to Frank, then sat down and took another swallow of whisky. “Ye’ll need that kind of endurance if ye’re to marry our Brigid.” He handed the bottle to Frank.
“Now, back to the real reason ye think my sister will make a good wife.” Lachlan raised a brow. “The truth and nothing less.”
Frank realized neither man cared about the duties Brigid would perform. It was about affection. “I went to London searching for a wife. I was lonely and wanted a family. When I’m with Brigid, I feel as if I’ve found that. As if she’s what’s been missing in my life.”
He looked at both men, unreadable expressions on their faces. He felt like a green-boy, divulging his feelings with these strangers.
“Anything else?” asked Colin.
“I love her. I will protect her, cherish her, and make her happy to the best of my ability.”
“There it is!” Lachlan slammed his fist on the table. “All the other humdudgeon means nothing. Ye gotta love the lass, or she’ll be the death of ye.”
Colin nodded. “Aye, without the love, ye willna have the patience. And with our dear Brigid, ye’ll need all the patience ye can get.”
“Now that we’ve established what ye’re made of and yer intentions, we can talk details.” Lachlan nodded at the liquor. “Sit, mon, and drink. As I said, we’ve got a long night ahead of us. I’ve nothing to go home to tonight, thanks to ye.”
“Me?” he asked, mollified that it had been a test and pleased he’d stood up to the Scottish behemoth. Taking a drink of his ale, he glanced at the man he’d seen from the corner of his eye and almost spit. There sat Barker in a wool cap and jacket, pint in hand. To the devil, if the valet didn’t have his back! He grinned to himself. The odds had been even all along.
“Ye brought my wife’s sister to Glasgow, and now she’s abandoned me for Evie.” Lachlan waved his cup in the air. “Another round, if ye please.”
“Now, let’s get to business,” said Colin, rubbing his hands together. “Tell us what ye’ve learned about our little Brigid, and we’ll tell ye what ye got wrong.”
By the time the bottle was gone, Frank had an elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “So, tree climbing is at the bottom of her list of skills.”
“Afraid so,” sympathized Lachlan. “But ye’ll never go hungry. That woman is a crack shot and can hit a squirrel at a hundred paces. Oh, and she can doctor anything with four legs or feathers.”
“Her real talent is the bow.” Colin passed the new bottle. “Have ye seen her ride yet?”
Frank cocked one brow. “Tell me it’s sidesaddle.”
The men bellowed with laughter.
Lachlan caught his breath first. “She prefers bareback, but she’s no’ allowed to enter the annual race. Her weight gives her an advantage over the men. They put their foot down.”
“Fencing?”
Colin shook his head. “She never liked it.”
“Boxing?”
“Ma drew the line there. Said we couldna hurt her face for she’d need to find a husband someday.” Lachlan snorted. “And here ye are!”
It took a moment for that statement to wheedle its way through Frank’s fog.Here ye are.A stupid grin covered his face. “So, I have your approval?”
Colin leaned forward, his face grave. “In truth, no one else wants her. We just wanted to be sure ye wouldna bring her back.”
All three men laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Frank hiccupped. “Do I have to meet Calum MacNaughton before we’re betrothed?” Bollocks. It’d be another month before he could bed her. If it was only him, he could manage. But he had a sneaking suspicion Brigid wouldn’t wait that long.
“My sister’s never been one for patience, so I doubt she’ll want to wait. That’s why she brought ye here.” Lachlan sniggered. “Be prepared for a second ceremony at the kirk in Dunderave when ye do meet the rest of the MacNaughtons. The whole clan will want to see the mon who turned my sister into agentle lady.”
“To new friends and family.” Colin held up his pint.
