Page 92 of The Highlander's Kilted Bride
His eyes went wide with shock. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell if it was because she’d guessed the truth or because he was simply startled by the question.
“Of course I didn’t,” he blustered. “Why would you even ask me that?”
“I’m asking because I need the truth.”
He angrily jerked his arm from her grasp. “You’re daft, Charlie. Someone might have stolen your stupid brooch, but it wasn’t me.”
They were interrupted by footsteps, and in a moment Sir Leslie appeared at the head of the path.
“Lady Kinloch is asking after the both of you,” he said. “Everyone’s waiting.”
“Coming,” Johnny replied.
He quickly started back up the path. Charlie followed, her mind spinning with more questions than answers. The secrets were piling up. In Johnny’s case, she feared they obscured something that put him at risk.
In the muddle of her brain, only one thing stood out in sharp relief. She needed help, and right now there was really only one person she fully trusted to hold all her secrets and to help her.
CHAPTER14
Kade sat with his back against a nearby tree, finishing his ale as he watched Charlie, who, like the rest of the ladies, was seated on a tartan blanket. She was sipping sherry from one of the absurdly dainty crystal glasses that had been stowed in the wicker baskets the footmen had lugged onto the island. Luncheon was over, and most of the men now stood about the small clearing, smoking pipes or cigars.
The picnic so far had been a rousing success. The weather was sunny and the breeze gentle. Food was plentiful and so were sherry and lemonade for the ladies and port and ale for the men. The guests had engaged in easy chatter, and Morgan had told amusing stories about Edinburgh’s social scene. Even Melissa seemed to be enjoying herself, talking vivaciously with Ainsley and bestowing sweet smiles on her clearly relieved husband.
Everyone was having a grand time except Charlie and Johnny. She’d barely uttered a word, her attention focused on her brother. Johnny, who’d retreated to the other side of the clearing, looked so morose that his mother had asked him if he was bilious. That had simply made him scowl more.
Secrets were rather thick on the ground at the moment, and so were the emotional crosscurrents that Kade was doing his best to parse. Morgan somehow played a part. His little scene on the beach with Johnny had made that obvious, as had Charlie’s stone-faced responses to the bounder whenever he’d tried to engage her in conversation.
Whatever the problem was, Kade intended to get to the bottom of it as soon as he could get Charlie alone. That might prove a challenge, though, since Eilean Munde was a very small island. Still, there seemed to be enough secluded spots around the graveyard where they might be able to have a private conversation.
And perhaps steal a kiss or three?
Just then, Charlie looked up and gazed straight at him. Then she blinked, and a blush colored her cheeks. Apparently, she’d been able to read his mind with very little trouble.
“Charlotte, you’re quite red in the face,” Lady Kinloch said with a frown. “I do hope you’re not getting overheated.”
Charlie winced. “Of course not. You know the weather never bothers me.”
“You should not have taken off your bonnet. You will quite ruin your complexion, if you haven’t done so already.”
“Nonsense, Lady Kinloch,” Morgan chimed in. “Your daughter’s complexion is ravishing, quite like a bowl of cherries and cream. With such beauty, one hardly cares about finding Miss Charlotte’s brooch, because she is certainly prize enough.”
“Very kind,” her ladyship replied in blighting tones. “But Charlotte should still put on her bonnet.”
With a sigh, Charlie retrieved her wide-brimmed hat and jammed it back on her head.
“After such a such a large repast, I’m in need of a stroll,” Ainsley said cheerily. “Lady Kinloch, would you care to join me? I’m simply dying to see the rest of the island.”
“No pun intended,” Royal wryly commented.
“I want to see the gravestones,” Tira said. “Grandda says Alastair MacIain is buried here. He was the twelfth chief of Glencoe, but he got slaughtered by those nasty poltroons from Clan Campbell.”
Angus, sitting next to Tira, heaved a sigh. “Aye, lassie. Slaughtered like a hog, he was. Practically cleaved in half with a dirk.”
“Goodness,” squeaked Melissa.
Lady Kinloch frowned. “Really, Angus, there’s no need to be so graphic.”
“We canna forget our sacred history, Elspeth.”
