Page 27 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
He slowly turned around and grinned at her, tilting his head to the side as he purred, “Och, and Emma? I wouldnae let me catch ye out of bed again tonight.”
At that, she spun on her heel and fled, but not before Grant saw the laughter and fury in her eyes.
It was no wonder that when Grant finally made it to his bed, he did not fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning.
And it was no wonder that right before he fell asleep, a certain thought crossed his mind.
I hope it took Emma just as long.
CHAPTER 12
Despite his restless night,Grant awoke early and set about doing the rounds. He checked in with McWirthe, then the stewards and head maid, then the cook, before he sent a runner to the village. He sent another runner to check on the farmers, as he was worried about an early winter setting in and wanted to check in on planting progress as summer drew near.
He had a quick breakfast in the Great Hall and listened to the chatter of his aunts, uncles, and cousins. He tried not to worry that neither his mother nor Reuben were there. Nor was Emma, who, as Aileas had informed him, was still asleep.
Grant almost grinned. Yet, even his amusement did not last for long. The ride back to the castle and his adventure in England had taken a toll on him, and when he retired to his study, the lines on the papers in front of him blurred.
He rubbed at his face, wishing that he’d found a new chamberlain and three more clerks. The paperwork kept pilingup every day, but he could not bother his steward, Ringean. He’d rather the man focus on the day-to-day running of the large castle.
Sitting there, flipping through the papers, the backlog of correspondence and reports, Grant felt a tightness in the back of his skull. Had he not asked Reuben to handle some of this? All the simple matters that merely needed a brief look, just in case something was amiss? Instead, as McWirthe told him, his brother had been out riding and hunting or enjoying cards and drinks in the Fallyhorn Tavern in the village.
Uncharitable as it was, Grant could not quite stop himself from wondering what Banrose would look like if Reuben had become Laird.He could not even picture it, nor did his younger brother seem keen on it. After all, now Reuben could make merry and enjoy all the fruits of his brother’s labor.
Still, this cannae continue.
McWirthe and Ringean had their frustrations, and several clerks who were instructed to help Reuben had drifted off. Grant still hadn’t had time to investigate what had happened.
Toying with a quill, he wondered if perhaps Reuben, being younger, did need more excitement and responsibilities other than handling paperwork.
As though hearing his brother’s thoughts, Reuben knocked on the door and entered without waiting for permission.
“Braither, I’d like—” He broke off and made a wry face that provoked Grant’s anger even more. “Och, the papers. How could I forget?” A smile played on his lips. “Good thing ye’re back.”
Grant stood up and glared at his brother, who threw up his hands in surrender.
“I jibe, I jibe. I’ve come to see if ye’d like to join me on a hunt—the son of Laird Grierson is arrangin’ it just north of here.”
Rubbing a hand over his face, Grant wondered if Reuben ever had any inkling of the effort it took to run this place. He knew their father did not have a clue, for the place was mostly kept running by the quiet schemes of Brenda, the yeomen, and the faithful old Steward, Heep, who’d died mysteriously a year before his father did. Folk still mourned the old man, who’d been wise and patient enough to keep Banrose on its feet.
“Nay,” Grant finally said, trying not to ground the words out.
Reuben leaned forward and cupped a hand to his ear.
Grant cleared his throat but did not raise his voice. His brother could be such a child, with his banal humor. “Nay. I need ye to track someone down.”
Reuben’s eyes flashed with annoyance, and he pouted. But then, he tilted his head to the side, intrigued. Often called the Laird’s Hound, Reuben was one of the most extraordinary trackers in all the Uplands and Lowlands.
Grant opened his mouth to speak, but then he paused, wondering if perhaps he should have McWirthe or Tollcaugh look into this matter.
“Well?” Reuben prompted, his expression growing sulky and bored. “Am I to hunt game or men, me Laird?”
Cracking his knuckles and beginning to pace, Grant explained what had happened on the road. The man he’d killed and the men in the woods where he’d first met Emma. Nothing implied a connection save Emma, but it also could have been a mere coincidence.
And yet…
“Find out his name, who he works for, if he has any accomplices—everything, Reuben.” Grant paused, waiting for his brother to speak. But he was met with silence. “And thank ye.”
Reuben threw himself into a chair, then sat back and folded his arms over his chest. “Why are ye goin’ to such lengths for this strange lass? Are ye tryin’ to enrage the Beast of Briorn, Braither?”
