Page 66 of The Highlander's Princess Bride
After the last few days, Nick needed more than drink. He needed to climb into the bloody bottle and live there.
“What do you want us to do, Nick?” Grant asked in a doleful voice. He and Graeme had actually managed to keep their mouths shut during the unpleasant scene.
“Stay the hell out of trouble,” he said. Nick turned on his heel and headed to the library. The twins were the least of his problems at the moment.
He glanced behind to see his brother prowling in his wake, his gaze roaming the walls of the west gallery, taking in the portraits of their ancestors and looking like a man who’d forgotten his past but just remembered it. Angus, walking beside Logan, gave Nick a defiant stare, as if daring him to exclude him from the family council. The old man and Logan had always been close. In fact, they had corresponded frequently, although Angus believed Nick wasn’t aware of that.
Of course he was, just as he was aware that Logan wrote to Kade and Braden as well. He’d turned a blind eye to it as long as Logan had the good sense to stay away. But since his brother clearly lacked in sense, hostilities were about to resume.
Royal caught up to him. “What are you going to do, Nick?”
“Hear him out, then kick him out.”
“Don’t you think—”
“No.”
Nick opened the library door and stalked over to the glass-fronted mahogany cabinet with its collection of decanters and glasses. As the others filed in, he poured out a healthy dram of whisky—hoping it wasn’t some of the illegal brew his brothers had cooked up—and shot it down, barely feeling the burn. Then he filled the glass again and took it back to his desk.
“You can get your own,” he said.
“Not me. Someone in this bloody family has to keep a clear head,” Royal said as he eased himself into one of the club chairs.
Angus retreated to his usual station by the fireplace, on the edges of the conversation. Nick had no illusions, however, that he would stay out of it.
In fact, he mentally braced himself for opposition from the entire family. Everyone missed Logan, and clearly felt it was time for him to be allowed to return home. After all, as Royal and Angus had pointed out, Cam’s death had been an accident. But it was an accident that wouldn’t have happened if Logan had been watching out for the little boy instead of flirting with a woman.
Women had always been Logan’s weak spot, and that weakness had killed Nick’s son.
Despite what his family might think, he had no intention of forgiving his brother—now, or ever.
Logan glanced at Royal, who was absently rubbing his bad leg. “Does it bother you much these days?”
Royal’s reply was a terse shake of the head.
“It bothers him a great deal,” Nick said. “That, however, is not your business. Thisfamilyis not your business. I thought you had the sense to realize that and stay away.”
Logan slammed his crystal tumbler down on the desk, sloshing whisky onto the polished surface. Nick watched it leach into the blotter, turning it a dark, ugly brown.
“The hell they’re not my business,” Logan snapped. “They’re my family too. You don’t own them.”
“No, but I am their laird, as well as clan head. As I told you seven years ago, you forfeited your right to be either a Kendrick or a member of the clan when you let Cameron die through your negligence. In doing so, you destroyedmyfamily.”
Logan’s blue eyes glittered with resentment as he leaned forward. “That’s a bit dramatic. Perhaps we can also talk about the wayyoudestroyed Janet’s life. I’m not the only guilty party in this jolly family of ours, Nick, and you know it.”
Nick found himself on his feet and halfway across the desk at his brother before he realized he’d even moved. “Say something like that again and Iwillkill you, Logan, regardless of the promise I made to Kade.”
Royal reached out and whacked Logan on the arm. “What the hell is the matter with you? You’re supposed to be apologizing, not making baseless accusations.”
Logan straightened and rubbed his hands over his face. “Christ,” he said in a thick voice, “you’re right. Sorry, Nick. That was a filthy thing for me to say. Chalk it up in my growing column of apologies.”
Nick dropped back into his chair, weariness freighting his bones like chains. “You can keep your goddamn apologies, because I will never forgive you for Cam.”
Janet’s death was another story. As much as Nick hated to admit it, his brother was right about that.
“Merde,” Logan muttered as he took the other seat in front of the desk.
When Nick first became earl, Logan had spent hours sitting in that very chair, helping to sort through massive amounts of estate business. Despite his devil-may-care approach to life, Logan had a sharp mind and a canny way with numbers. He’d turned that talent to his advantage, establishing a successful trade in timber and furs in Quebec.
