Page 98 of The Highlander's Princess Bride
“It would appear I’ve gotten used to Scotland’s climate.”
Much to her astonishment, she’d found herself missing walks and rides in the bracing Highland air. She missed drafty Castle Kinglas, too.
After an attendant fetched their various outer garments, Victoria sat in a convenient alcove to change to her boots. When she struggled to stuff her slippers into an inside pocket of her cloak, Arnprior plucked them from her hand and stowed them inside his greatcoat.
He offered her an arm. “Ready?”
As she gazed into his handsome face, she realized she was more than ready for whatever was to follow. “Yes, my lord.”
They went down the shallow stairs to the street, where he paused to carefully pull up her hood.
“Don’t want you getting a chill,” he murmured.
She appreciated his thoughtfulness. “It’s impossible to catch a chill in this cloak. It’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.”
The Scots didn’t fuss about Christmas, reserving most of their celebrations for Hogmanay. But Edie had insisted on having a special holiday dinner a few days ago, with the traditional foods and English customs. Afterward, she’d pulled Victoria aside and given her the sumptuous, fur-lined velvet cloak. Victoria had protested, claiming that no governess would ever wear such a garment. Edie had replied that she wouldn’t be a governess much longer, and that she needed sturdy clothing to survive the gruesome Highland winters.
“Besides, you’re family,” Edie had added, hugging her. “And there’s nothing wrong with family giving each other nice presents.”
Victoria hadn’t been able to resist such impeccable logic.
“I’m rather annoyed about that cloak,” Arnprior said. In the light of the streetlamps, he did look a little disgruntled.
“Whatever for?”
“Because you wouldn’t letmegive you a Christmas present.”
He’d tried to take her shopping last week, but Victoria had steadfastly refused to countenance a public display of Arnprior lavishing gifts upon her. Glasgow was already gossiping about them enough as it was.
“The Scots don’t exchange presents on Christmas, remember?” she said.
“You made an exception with Edie and Alec.”
“But they’re family. It’s different.”
It was lovely to be able to acknowledge that Alec was her cousin, and Victoria had been astounded by the earl’s easy acceptance of her scandalous parentage. She’d been sure he would be horrified by the discovery.
“And I will be family sooner rather than later, Miss Knight,” he said with mock severity. “As such, I claim the right to give you a present whenever I wish.”
“Perhaps you can give me something for Hogmanay. I do need some new supplies for the schoolroom.”
“Saucy minx,” he said as he guided her across the street.
Victoria smothered a grin and changed the conversation to the twins and their new friends.
Despite the chill, it was a lovely night with a clear sky and a crisp feel to the air. The streetlamps cast a soft glow over the cobblestones, and the chimes of a nearby church rang out the hour with solemn grace. As they strolled along, Victoria allowed herself to breathe in a quiet joy. It was the most common of things to walk down the street on the arm of a man, and yet it felt magical. Because, in defiance of all common sense and social convention, the wonderful man who walked by her side wished to marry her.
Her, Victoria Knight, a perfectly ordinary woman, despite her royal father. She’d always been content to be ordinary. Her greatest wish had been to spend the rest of her life in sensible obscurity as a schoolteacher, finding her happiness in meaningful work.
Now, though, an entirely different path had opened before her, one she’d never thought possible. The idea of spending her life with Arnprior was more exciting than anything she’d ever imagined.
It was more frightening, too, because she wanted it so much.
A few minutes later, they climbed the steps to Kendrick House, a spacious mansion built in the last century. Initially, Victoria had been struck by its stylish furnishings and modern conveniences, which posed a stark contrast to the antiquity of Kinglas. When she’d asked Arnprior if he spent much time there, he’d frowned and tersely replied in the negative, saying Braden was the only regular inhabitant of the house.
Victoria was certain young Braden was not responsible for the mansion’s decorative flair.
“Tea in the study?” Arnprior asked once they’d handed their things to the footman.
