The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(4)

Esmeralda’s eyes went wide. Her nostrils flared. “You’re not staying here.”

The baron pulled a crumpled letter from his pocket and handed it over. As Esmeralda scanned it, her face puckered. “Why, yes ma’am. We are,” he said. “The duke insisted upon it.”





Chapter Two


Ach. This was going to be difficult, Hamish thought as the disgruntled butler and young footman—who carried their bags—led them up the sprawling staircase to their rooms, which, for some reason, were at the far end of the east wing, a portion of the mansion that was apparently very rarely used.

And by difficult, he did not refer to the mission the duke had given them. Not even to an unwanted visit to London.

But her.

He hadn’t expected to be this attracted to one of his charges, and it had hit him like an anvil.

It had been all he could do to maintain a placid demeanor. To not stare.

But damn, she was beautiful.

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.”

“That should provoke them.”

Ranald’s expression was wicked. “Just so.” They shared another grin, and then Ranald sighed. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I plan to get unpacked, find a book, and then rest until dinner.”

Hamish nodded. The last leg of their journey had been particularly trying. But he wasn’t tired. In fact, he craved movement after having been stuck in a smallish carriage for weeks. “I think I’ll have a look around the grounds.”

“Very well. I will see you tonight.”

With that, Hamish headed back into the hall and wandered around for a bit, lost, until he found a staircase leading downstairs. It was, no doubt, a servant’s staircase, but what was he if not that?

He emerged in the kitchens and, after greeting the plump and friendly cook—and snagging a scone from the cooling tray—he followed her directions out into the garden.

Ah, yes. This was what he needed. The scent of mown grass, a hint of flowers, fresh air, and sunshine. He turned his face up to the sky and soaked it in.

Granted, it was a watery sunlight, and it struggled to shine through the haze of coal dust, but it beat the hell out of a musty carriage. He strolled along the path, studying the immaculately trimmed hedges, perfectly arranged rosebushes, and the affected pond in the center of the garden.

Everything was prim, proper, and utterly controlled. How British.

He missed the wild heathers of the Highlands, the raw scraggly trees that clung to the cliffs of the coast, the cold breeze gusting from the sea.

While he had been honored that Lachlan had entrusted him with this mission—for it clearly was important to the duke to support this family he had not known he had until recently—Hamish hated being away from home.

He had a business to run and had been in the process of seducing the lovely widow Dunn when the duke’s summons had come. But when a duke commanded one’s presence, one responded.