Page 116 of The Highlander's Kilted Bride
“Wouldn’t dream of it, my dear sir.”
“Still, it’s nae good to disrespect the old ways,” Angus said, thoughtfully stroking his chin. “It’s verra bad luck.”
“There is no stupid ghost hanging about my bloody house,” Kinloch retorted. “It was obviously Charlotte playing tricks on us.”
She held up her hands. “You just heard that it couldn’t have been me, Papa.”
“Ye must admit that trouble has dogged the family since the Clan Iain brooch was lost,” Angus said. “Just look at puir Johnny, laid up in his bed.”
“This has all been very amusing,” Morgan drawled, coming to his feet. “But now that the show is over, I’m for bed.”
“Everyone should go to bed,” Kinloch snapped.
He started to stalk off, but then turned and glared at Charlie. “Don’t dawdle, Charlotte. Come along.”
“Yes, Papa,” she said in a meek voice.
She crinkled her nose at Kade and then hurried after her father. Morgan gave the rest of them a little salute before sauntering down the hall, a morose Richard following in his footsteps.
Once they were alone, Kade slowly clapped his hands. “Splendid performance, everyone. Well done.”
Ainsley gave him a flourishing bow. “Thank you, dear boy. I thought it was one of our best. Don’t you agree, Royal?”
“Certainly one of our more ridiculous ones,” he responded. “And so much for teaching our daughter not to lie.”
“Och, the bairn knows it was all for a good cause.” Angus ruffled Tira’s hair. “Well done, lassie.”
The girl beamed at him. “Thank you, Grandda. It was just to help Miss Charlie. I know I’m not supposed to lie about serious things, or ever to Papa and Mamma.”
Ainsley hugged her. “That’s my girl. Seriously, though, I cannot imagine what Charlotte hoped to accomplish with this little adventure.”
“Scared the servants good and proper, she did,” Angus said.
“Surely that was not her intention.” Royal cocked an eyebrow at Kade. “Any ideas?”
He shook his head. “No, and believe me—I intend to find out.”
CHAPTER17
Breakfast was a rather subdued affair. Lord Kinloch chewed his way through his beefsteak as if chewing nails, while Colin looked quietly morose. Johnny was lost in a brown study as he toyed with a cup of tea and a slice of toast.
As for Richard, he’d spent the last fifteen minutes glaring at Kade over his eggs and kippers, as he obviously still believed him to be the midnight fiddler. Only Angus ate with unimpaired gusto, ignoring the dark looks cast his way by Kinloch. Tira, seated next to Kade, also seemed undisturbed by a roomful of gloomy adults.
“Uncle Kade,” she asked, “do you think the Kinloch Fiddler is real? One of the maids told me he was. She said the last time the fiddler appeared was before the Battle of Culloden, and we all know what happened there.”
Kinloch sighed and put down his knife. “My dear child, we lost at Culloden because we were outnumbered and outgunned. There was nothing magical or mysterious about it.”
“If some of the clans had fought the good fight instead of actin’ like traitors,” Angus said, pointedly eyeing Richard, “we might have won that battle.”
Richard switched his ire to Angus. “Is that comment directed at me? Because I’ll have you know that I don’t give a damn about either the bloody Battle of Culloden or your bloody Kinloch Fiddler.”
Angus pointed his fork at him. “Ho, none of yer foul language around the bairn, ye ken.”
Richard snorted. “I’m sure the girl has heard far worse from you.”
“The girl’s name is Tira,” Kade said in a warning tone. “And since she is a child, I would expect you to moderate your language in her presence.”
Kinloch nodded. “Quite right. As ridiculous as this conversation is, there’s no excuse to use off-color language around children.”
