Page 69 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

“Of which my mother has filled every hour. If we want to be . . . alone, we shall have to make that happen.”

She caught his eye and a harsh thrill raked through her. Och. Was he trying to seduce her? Right here in front of her mother and his?

And how did she feel about that?

Against her will, her frown tipped into a smile.

And when he smiled back, she nearly swooned.

Which was annoying.

She was hardly a swooning sort.

* * *

God, it was good to see her again. To sit by her side and speak to her. Actually speak.

It was vexing when his mother interrupted.

“So, Edward, when will your friends arrive?” she asked with a blithe cheerfulness. As though she hadn’t noticed he’d been whispering with one of her female guests at all.

“What? Oh. Tomorrow, most likely. Tully is bringing the countess and Ellie—”

“Oh. Eloise Tully.” His mother interrupted again, this time addressing Isobel. “You will adore her. She’s the Earl of Darlington’s daughter.”

“The Grangers and St. Andrews are definitely coming tomorrow, but Penny and William weren’t sure when they’d get here.”

“Verra good. And of course the Wyeths will arrive tomorrow as well. So it seems we have a verra quiet evening on our hands. Which is perfect, isn’t it, since you’ve traveled all day?”

“Absolutely. An early night would be lovely,” the Duchess of Caithness said, setting down her teacup. “I canna thank you enough for having us.”

Mother glowed. “Och. ’Tis my pleasure! I so rarely get to visit with people from my homeland.”

Nick didn’t deign to remind her that technically, Scotland was part of England, because he knew what kind of conversation that would engender. But he was shocked when she added, with a sadness to her tone, “I do miss it so.”

He’d never known. “Mother,” he said. “What do you miss?”

She glanced at him and a hint of regret lit her eyes, as though she’d forgotten he was in the room when she made her confession. “Oh, darling. You know. The food. The music. The people . . .” A wistful offering.

“The kilts, nae doubt,” Susana said with a grin.

Mother chuckled. “I do miss those, but I can convince Edward to dress in them every so often,” she said slyly.

Nick gaped. The vision of his father dressed in a kilt, with the obvious intent of seducing his mother, was disturbing indeed. Even though they made no pains to hide their passion for each other from their children, he hardly needed to be faced with the evidence.

“Och,” Susana cried. “We should have a cèilidh.”

Mother clapped her hands. “That would be wonderful.”

He felt stupid, as though he was the only one who didn’t know. “What is a cèilidh?”

“A party, dear.” Mother’s face glowed. “Scottish dishes, music, and dancing!”

“Aye, and all the men can wear kilts,” Susana chortled.

“Famous,” the other ladies chorused.

Isobel, however, remained silent, so he glanced at her. He was taken aback to find her studying him with a glint in her eye. “Ahem,” he said. “Dare I ask what you are thinking?”