Page 11 of A Virgin for the Icy Highlander
She came…
By the sounds of it, she’d brought her friends too.
Thomas gave a low whistle, and his face brightened. “Who kenned ye had so much charm, eh?” He stabbed a piece of venison and popped it in his mouth, chewing with a smirk. “I’d have wagered everythin’ I own that she wouldnae come. How mad does a lass have to be to accept a proposal at acèilidh? Every lass kens that a proposal at acèilidhcannae be trusted; it’s just the liquor makin’ lads do foolish things.”
“I had nothin’ but a cup of ale,” Hunter replied drily, sitting up straighter in his chair as the footsteps and laughter drew closer to the Lesser Hall.
The Great Hall had been much too large for breakfast, though his command to move things to the smaller room had sent the staff into disarray.
Thomas swallowed his mouthful. “But… aSassenach?”
“Why nae aSassenach?” Hunter replied. “Ellie likes her. That’s all that matters.”
A softer look flitted across Thomas’s face. “She just needs to get used to ye.” He nodded toward the door and the imminent arrival of the women. “This isnae necessary. Ye need to give the lassie time, nae an entirely new maither.”
“Sheneedsa maither,” Hunter insisted. “I ken I’m right about this; ye willnae dissuade me.”
Thomas shrugged. “It’s yer funeral… or weddin’, I suppose.”
“Do ye nae have somethin’ more important to do? Or is this what ye’ve been up to while I’ve been away? Nothin’ at all,” Hunter said tersely, just as the doors of the hall opened and laughter spilled inside.
Thomas shook his head, grinning. “I havenothin’to do but see what sort of lass ye’ve chosen for yerself, and enjoy meselfimmensely.” He lowered his voice to a whisper as the three women walked in. “Maybe I’ll find meself a nice English wife too, if either of her friends is willing. So, which one is yers?”
Hunter stood up to greet his guests, ignoring his brother.
In the gray light of the overcast morning, Grace was a radiant vision, like the sun peeking through the clouds. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, suggesting she hadn’t slept much since she left thecèilidh, but it did nothing to mar her beauty. If anything, it made him curious to know what, exactly, had kept her awake. Anxiety, contemplation, or something more?
“Good morning, M’Laird,” Grace said quietly, dipping into a nervous curtsy.
“Good mornin’,” he replied stiffly, gesturing to his brother. “Thomas, this is Miss Grace Bolton.”
“LadyGrace,” one of her friends corrected, her expression severe, glaring behind a pair of spectacles.
Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Apologies. I wasnae informed. Thomas, this is Lady Grace.” He kept his voice even. “Lady Grace, this is me braither and man-at-arms, Thomas.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Grace said, curtsying again. “These are my friends, Lady Lilian and Lady Madeleine.”
“French?” Thomas asked, rising to stand with his brother, eyeing the lass with the spectacles—Madeleine.
She took a step forward, her glare refusing to soften. “No, not French. Alas, I am as English as a Tudor rose.” She flashed a cold smile at Hunter. “And we know who you are, of course, Laird MacLogan.”
“Ye’re welcome here,” Hunter said, his tone colder than the sentiment.
He needed Grace to be there, but if her friends thought they could speak to him with disrespect, they would soon find themselves back at the place from whence they came.
“Thank y-you for sending a c-carriage,” the smaller, shyer woman with the big blue eyes said with her head bowed.
Grace nodded, smiling despite the panic in the whites of her own eyes. “I didn’t know if you would find me, or if I would have to find you.”
“That was me contribution to this endeavor,” Thomas piped up, sauntering forward to greet the ladies properly. “I ken the place ye came from and the lass in charge of it, so it wasnae difficult to find ye, Lady Grace. Me braither likely would’ve let ye walk, but I couldnae bear the thought.”
Hunter clenched his jaw, shoving down the fierce impulse to correct his brother. It had beenhisidea to send the carriage forGrace, while Thomas had been the one insisting that he let Grace find her way there alone, to see how ‘committed’ she was.
But he knew that any attempt to protest his brother’s words would make him appear petty—or worse, give Thomas ammunition to make another jest at his expense.
“Goodness!” Grace cried suddenly, a smile spreading across her pretty face. “I didn’t see you there!”
Puzzled, Hunter followed her gaze, alarmed to find a little face peering out from behind the drapes at the rear of the hall. Ellie, it seemed, wasnothiding away in her bedchamber, but hiding in plain sight, right there in the Lesser Hall.
