Page 64 of The Highlander's Irish Bride

Kathleen frowned. “Surely that’s not necessary. I cannot imagine those bastards—”

“Goodness,” Brown said with a cough.

“Er, those dreadful men will return,” she finished.

Grant bit back a smile. “It’s just a precaution.”

Then he glanced at Brown, who was staring at Kathleen. The blasted idiot couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

“Don’t let us keep you, Vicar,” he said.

Kathleen’s delicate eyebrows shot up, probably because he’d sounded as hostile as he felt.

Brown, oblivious to his tone, beamed at Kathleen. “I wouldn’t dream of abandoning the ladies in their hour of need. I will happily escort the carriage to Lochnagar.”

Jeannie clasped her hands together. “Would you, sir? I would feelsomuch safer if you came with us.”

“Of course, Miss Jeanette.”

“Please call me Jeannie.”

“Oh, God,” Kathleen muttered.

Obviously recovered from the Kade debacle, it appeared Jeannie had found a new object for her impulsively romantic attentions.

“Thank you, but your services aren’t required, Vicar,” Grant said. “Besides, you don’t even carry a pistol.”

Brown reached into his pocket and gingerly extracted a small pistol.

“Got a little popper, do ye?” Angus said.

“How dashing,” Jeannie exclaimed.

Actually, Brown was the opposite of dashing. Nor, as far as Grant knew, had the vicar ever needed to carry a weapon in these parts. True, there’d been a spot of trouble with local smugglers at one point, but Graeme had taken care of that. Lochnagar and the neighboring village were now as peaceful and safe as the local kirk.

“Why the hell are you carrying a pistol?” Grant asked. “Do you even know how to use it?”

The vicar all but bristled with clerical dignity. “Of course. And may I inform you that Sir Graeme himself suggested I carry it.”

Angus grimaced. “Och, that’s nae good.”

“That, Mr. MacDonald, is an understatement,” Brown morosely replied.

* * *

“Have another cup of tea,” Sabrina suggested. “It’s just the thing to settle your stomach.”

Kathleen smiled at her cousin. “My stomach is fine, surprisingly. Highwaymen would seem to be an outstanding cure for twitchy insides.”

As soon as the villain had shoved his pistol against Grant’s head, Kathleen no longer thought about her digestive ills. Though upset about the theft of her jewels, she was supremely grateful that their party had escaped unharmed. Later, perhaps, she’d have a good cry over Mamma’s ring. For now, she would be happy they’d finally arrived at Lochnagar, safe and sound.

“Try one of these cheddar and chive scones,” Jeannie said. “They’re excellent.”

Her sister, although still rattled, had mostly recovered from their ordeal—due in no small part to the arrival of the attractive Mr. Brown. Kathleen had the distinct feeling his timely appearance might turn out to be a mixed blessing where Jeannie was concerned.

“Yes, I’d best have one before you eat them all, pet,” Kathleen joked.

Jeannie shrugged as she plucked up another scone. “I can’t help it. I’m starving.”

---