Page 20 of The Highlander's Holiday Wife

The junior footman, struggling with three carpetbags to the foot of the staircase, glanced over his shoulder. “Good evenin’, sir. Sorry I canna collect yer hat and coat.”

“So I see. Sam, who is—”

A high-pitched yap interrupted him. A gray mophead emerged from the back hall, trundling forward on stiff little legs.

Braden sighed. “When did he get here?”

Sam cracked a smile. “Yer grandfather and Mr. Kade arrived a half hour ago. We’re still gettin’ them settled.”

Braden eyed the ancient terrier doing its best to gambol about his feet. “And the dogs, too, of course. How jolly.”

“Just Daisy and old Teddy, here.”

“Thank God for small mercies.”

When the entire pack was in residence, mayhem and a variety of unfortunate accidents were usually—

Braden hastily scooped up the dog, since Teddy had been getting ready to lift his leg on his boots. He was back out the door in a flash.

“Sorry, Dr. Kendrick,” Sam called after him.

He pelted down the front steps and over to a strip of grass before gently plopping Teddy down. Thankfully, the old fellow had managed to hold on, and was now panting happily as he did his business.

Will appeared in the doorway, his expression one of pained resignation. “I apologize, sir. Teddy managed to slip by me.”

Braden smiled. “I am deeply shocked to hear that you could not control the most poorly trained dog in Scotland.”

Angus MacDonald elbowed Will out of the way. “Ho, I’ll not have ye insultin’ the wee fella. He was just that happy to see ye, lad. And when Teddy gets excited . . . well, he forgets himself.”

“A perfectly sensible explanation,” Braden wryly replied.

If there was ever a man who resembled his dogs, it was Braden’s elderly grandfather. Like them, Grandda usually appeared endearingly disreputable. His white hair was like an exploding puffball, and his thin frame was generally attired in an old kilt, a moth-eaten tam, and tatty vest. Logan had once said that Angus was the Highland version of an Old Testament patriarch, albeit one with a fondness for good Scottish whisky.

Tonight, though, Grandda looked mostly respectable, having already changed for dinner.

Angus pointed at his dog. “I think the laddie is done. Best bring him in before he catches a chill.”

When Braden clicked his tongue to get Teddy moving, his grandfather waved a hand. “Ye’ll have to pick him up. His wee back legs are botherin’ him, so he dinna like stairs these days. I’ll be askin’ ye to take a look at the puir laddie.”

Resigned to his fate, Braden scooped the dog up. Teddy, of course, had managed to find the one patch of damp dirt, now already transferred to Braden’s coat, along with a generous slobber of drool.

As he lugged Teddy up the stairs, he made a mental note to slip the laundry maid an extra bob. The lass had yet to recover from the time he’d been dissecting a brain and had failed to notice that he’d transferred a portion of gray matter onto his sleeve.

“I’ll take him, if you like, sir,” Will offered.

Angus beamed. “Aye, ye’ll want to be visitin’ with Teddy. I have nae doubt ye’ve missed my lads and lassies.”

To his credit, Will preserved a straight face. “Indeed I have, sir.”

Braden handed the drooling pooch to their butler. “Did you forget to tell me about this impending invasion, Macklin?”

“Nae, it was a surprise,” Angus proudly said. “Kade worried a bit about givin’ old Will the jump, but I said the servants would be that glad to see us, too.”

“It’s a splendid treat for us, sir,” Will said with diplomatic aplomb as the dog snuffled his neckcloth. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d best take Teddy down to the kitchen.”

Angus turned to Braden. “Now, give yer grandda a proper hug. Ye’d think ye weren’t happy to see me.”

Braden carefully pulled his grandfather into his arms, mindful of his aged, thin physique. “Och, I’m always happy to see you, Grandda.”

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