Page 76 of The Highlander's English Bride

They all stood now, cheering with the crowds as the Royal Company of Archers marched beneath the triumphal arch.

Well, everyone but Angus cheered. He was glaring at a group of men hoisting a gigantic banner next to the arch. It read:The Descendent of the Immortal Bruce.

Angus jabbed a finger at the offending banner. “I might soon be losin’ my lunch, ye ken.”

“Is that a reference to Robert the Bruce?” Ainsley asked.

“Aye, and if King Fathead is his true descendent, then I’m queen of the faeries.”

“I’m sorry, Grandda,” Victoria said, “but King Georgeisindeed descended from the Bruce through the Stuart line. Although many generations removed, naturally,” she hastily added when the old man began to bluster.

“Still, full marks to His Majesty for trying to correct the mistakes of the past,” Sabrina said with a placating smile. “He’s very enthusiastic about Scotland and wants his trip to be a splendid success for everyone.”

Ainsley patted her shoulder. “That’s the spirit, pet.”

“Fah,” Angus said.

“Look, there he is,” exclaimed Victoria.

The king appeared under the arch, traveling in an open carriage. He was hard to miss, the old dear. For one, his portly, imposing figure was garbed in the uniform of a full admiral, and he waved an enormous white handkerchief. Even from a distance, Sabrina could tell he was tremendously pleased. As his carriage came closer, he enthusiastically dispensed smiles and waves to the crowd.

The huzzahs and cries ofyou are welcome, King, swelled in volume as he rolled by. As luck would have it, he glanced over at the Kendrick carriage. Recognizing Sabrina, he gave a cheerful wave, then looked directly at Victoria and lifted his hat in tribute.

The countess had a hand pressed to the swell of her stomach, smiling through her tears at her father.

Ainsley took Victoria’s hand. “Steady on, old girl.”

“I cannot believe I finally saw him,” she choked out.

“And he saw you,” Sabrina said. “He’s going to be so happy when he properly meets you.”

Even Angus seemed touched. “It’s a grand thing to see your da, I’ll give ye that.”

Victoria smiled mistily at him. “Thank you, Grandda.”

“You’d best sit down,” Ainsley said. “Nick will take a fit if he sees you teetering on your feet.”

A few minutes later, the Celtic Society marched by, followed by the Scottish lords. Grant gave them an enthusiastic wave, and Lord Arnprior doffed his hat to the ladies. All in all, it was a ridiculous, extravagant, and wonderful display. Sabrina wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

She only hoped Graeme was safely out of harm’s way—if there was any harm to be had—and that he would rejoin them soon.

Royal strode up to the carriage. “What an insane crush. Did you ladies enjoy the show?”

His wife flashed him a sardonic smile. “What? No ices?”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You were supposed to fetch us ices. Because of the heat,” Sabrina couldn’t help saying.

“Oh, uh, I seem to have forgotten.”

“Obviously,” Ainsley replied with amusement.

Victoria shifted uncomfortably on her seat. “It’s not an ice I’m longing for at the moment.”

“Och, ye need to use the necessary, I’ll wager,” Angus said.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Victoria said. “But we’re not supposed to wander off.”

---