Page 142 of The Highlander's English Bride

“I will do no such thing,” she huffed.

After Graeme set Sabrina on her feet, she turned and glared at Royal. “And you, sir, should not barge into rooms without permission.”

“My apologies, Lady Sabrina,” he dryly responded. “All that crashing about gave me the wrong impression. I feared someone was attacking my brother.”

“Someone was attacking your brother,” Graeme said as he stood. “Quite nicely, I might add.”

“Honestly,” Sabrina huffed.

“Sweetheart, you might want to . . .” Graeme pointed at her disheveled bodice.

She glanced down at herself and let out a horrified squawk. Turning her back, she went about setting herself to rights.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Graeme asked his brother.

“I was just checking on you.” Royal narrowed his gaze. “And not a moment too soon, apparently.”

“Mr. Kendrick and I were simply discussing the arrangements for our arrival at Lochnagar Manor,” Sabrina tossed over her shoulder.

“And you both had to sit in the same chair to do so?” Royal asked.

“That was an accident,” Sabrina said.

Graeme pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle a chuckle.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” she threatened, turning around to glare at him.

“Indeed, my lady,” said Royal. “This is hardly a laughing matter.”

“Well, maybe just a little bit,” Graeme said.

For a moment, he thought Sabrina would belt him, but she stalked right past him.

“Good night, Mr. Kendrick,” she snapped at Royal. “In the future, I suggest that you wait to be invited into a room.”

She stormed out.

“She has a point,” Graeme said. “You do have an unnerving tendency to barge in at the most inconvenient times.”

His brother righted the table. “You must be thinking of Angus. Besides, it would appear my timing was excellent. Not that I blame you, but that was not the way to go about it, lad.”

Graeme closed the door. Now that Sabrina was gone, he felt deflated—in more ways than one.

Even worse, he was ashamed to have embarrassed the sweet girl and put her in such a dodgy position. “Royal, what are you doing here? It’s almost midnight.”

“Ainsley was worried about you.”

Graeme retrieved the candlestick and picked up the glass, which had managed not to break. Sad waste of whisky, though. He could use a dram.

Or ten.

“Worried she’s not driving me completely insane?”

Royal sat on the padded bench on the other side of the fireplace and absently rubbed his thigh.

“Ainsley loves you and worries about you, Graeme. We all do.”

That made his heart pinch, so he decided to ignore it. “Is your leg all right? I knew this trip would be too much for you.”

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