Page 141 of The Highlander's Irish Bride

“I’m happy to say we managed that bit on our own.”

She chuckled. “So much initiative.”

“Angus planned the rest, though. He even came with us to direct the proceedings.”

She jerked upright. “Your grandfather went with you on your elopement? Now you must be joking.”

Grant resettled her under his arm. “Alas, no. Royal also participated in this mad scheme, although his efforts were markedly more successful. He and Ainsley eventually did get married.”

“It sounds a rather crowded affair.”

“It required two overloaded carriages to transport the lot of us from Glasgow to Kinglas.”

“Really, it all sounds insanely complicated. Why didn’t you simply sneak off and get married in Glasgow?”

“Not dramatic enough for a Highlander, ye ken. Besides, Graeme and I feared a concerted resistance from the fathers of our intended brides—not to mention from Nick. So we thought it best to put some distance between us and all of them.” He shook his head. “It was an absurdity from beginning to end.”

She made an impatient noise. “More details, please.”

“Hmm. Well, Royal and Ainsley spent most of the journey yelling at each other, which unnerved the other girls and prompted them to begin having second thoughts. Naturally, this irritated Angus, which led to fairly predictable results.”

“More yelling?”

“Exactly, and an unfortunate degree of name-calling. By the time we reached Kinglas, both girls swore they would rather be boiled in oil than marry a Kendrick. And that was even before the avalanche, and Graeme falling off the carriage and breaking his leg. We capped off this catalogue of disasters by coming down with wretched colds after we reached Kinglas. Suffice it to say that our intended brides were greatly relieved at the failure of our demented plan.”

Kathleen twisted around again to stare up at him. “An avalanche? Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s . . . that’s . . .” She dissolved into laughter.

“Go ahead and laugh,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Don’t spare my feelings.”

She shook even harder in his arms.

It was hilarious, of course, but also embarrassing. Even thinking about it made him feel like a bottle-headed moron. Yet if it served to distract his sweet lass from her troubles, it was worth it.

“Fortunately, Vicky and Nick caught up with us and quashed any gossip or scandal,” he added. “It was a miracle poor Nick didn’t shoot us for the crime of capital stupidity.”

She giggled before subsiding against him.

Despite the raging storm outside, a quiet contentment settled over them. The peat fire gently hissed, pouring out a comforting heat, and the whisky drove out any lingering chill in his muscles. With Kathleen snuggled in his arms, Grant felt more at peace, morehimself, than he had in a very long time.

She stirred, half turning her face into his shoulder.

“Were you sorry you didn’t marry?” Her voice was muffled.

“I was sorry I caused so much trouble.”

“But the young lady ... did you love her?”

Now she was no longer resting softly in his embrace. Rather, her slender form felt rigid, as if tension had just invaded her limbs.

“I certainly liked her,” he said, “but I’m not ashamed to admit that I mostly felt relief. I was far too stupid to know what I wanted at that point in my life.”

“Do you know what you want now?”

He propped his chin on her head, smiling to himself. “I think so.”

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