Page 5 of The Highlander Is All That

They all were, the St. Claire sisters. Anne was tall and willowy with serene brown eyes, and Victoria sparkled like a diamond. Even wee Mary was a beauty.

But Elizabeth?

She took his breath away.

Small and elegant with a spritely smile and bouncing black curls, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

It was a damn shame he was here to help find her a husband.

It was a damn shame she was the duke’s cousin.

It was a damn shame he wasn’t rich.

He had nothing to offer a girl like her. He had no business even thinking about her like that.

But damn, she was beautiful.

“Well, what do you think?” Ranald asked after the butler had unceremoniously shown them to their rooms. They stood by his window and stared out at the gray London sky.

“Hmm?”

“How long do you think it will be before we can go back home?”

Hamish made a face. “The season is three months.”

“But if we get them all married off, our work is done. I say, having had a look at them, it shouldna take long.” He fingered the hem of the curtain. “That one is quite a stunner.”

Something in Hamish’s gut clenched. He had nothing to offer Elizabeth, but Ranald did. His friend had a title and the majority share in the business they ran with some of their friends. While the duke might balk at having Hamish wed his cousin, Ranald would be welcomed with open arms.

The thought made him want to pummel something.

Probably Ranald.

“They’re all lovely,” he grumbled.

“Aye. But Anne is exquisite.”

Anne?

Anne?

Relief gushed through him. He had no idea why. “Och. Aye. That she is.”

“Of course, they are all verra lovely.”

“Aye.”

“We’ll probably have to be beating off suitors with a bat.”

They grinned at each other. Whacking Englishmen was always a pleasant proposition.

“Though I’m no’ looking forward to standing guard at fancy functions,” Hamish said.

“I doubt the English are looking forward to that either.” They both laughed. “Just stand tall, stay quiet, and look fierce.” Ranald’s expression darkened. “And for God’s sake, don’t bash anyone without provocation.”

Hamish shrugged. “Provocation is often a matter of opinion.”

“Too true. Do you know what I think?” He did not give Hamish time to answer. “I think we should wear kilts to these fancy English balls.”