The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(75)

“It’s certainly not Twiggenberry.”

Mary’s eyes glimmered with humor. “Hamish, then?”

Elizabeth’s stomach lurched again, but this time it had nothing to do with a cucumber sandwich. “Mary, we should not be having this conversation.”

“Nonsense. I’m a married woman. And you . . .”

Elizabeth glared at her.

“You have . . . experience.”

“You may not tell anyone,” Elizabeth hissed.

“I wouldn’t dare. But you should.”

“What?”

“It’s not a secret one can keep for long. Besides, he deserves to know.”

“He has another woman back in Scotland.” All right, she was foolish to share such information, but it was boiling in her belly.

Mary boggled. “He does not.”

“He does. Ask Bower.”

“Oh dear. That is unfortunate.”

“Do you think?”

Mary tapped her lip. “He doesn’t seem to be in love with another woman.”

“Men are most excellent at hiding their feelings. You will learn that in time.”

Mary smiled brightly. “Jamison hides nothing from me.”

Ah, innocence. What a tragedy it was.

“Shall we try again?” Mary asked, taking her arm.

“Yes, let’s. But no more cucumbers for me.”

Her sister laughed. “I should think not. At least, for a while.”

As they took their seats in the parlor, everyone wanted to know what had happened, and fortunately, Elizabeth was spared this humiliation when the door opened and Anne and Ranald entered and all attention turned to them.

Elizabeth stilled and gaped at her sister. There was a smile on Anne’s face unlike anything she had ever seen. “Hello,” Anne chirped. “You’re back! And oh, Elizabeth, they found you!” She rushed over and enveloped Elizabeth in a huge hug.

Shocked at this uncustomary warmth, Elizabeth was at a loss for words.

“Technically, she was not lost,” Victoria announced as Anne hugged the rest of her sisters and their aunt.

“Really?”

“The Duchess of Moncrieff had hidden her in Cornwall.”

“Cornwall!” Anne cooed. “How lucky for you.”

Elizabeth nodded. “It was lovely.”

“Pity Twiggenberry found her though,” Mary said.

“He tried to kidnap her,” Victoria gushed. “It was so terribly romantic.”

Elizabeth frowned at her sister. “I assure you, it was not.”

“And then,” Victoria continued on with a fiendish glee, “Blackworth tried to violate her.”

Bower frowned and bristled.

“Oh, no worries,” Esmeralda assured him. “Hamish saved her.”

“Did you?” Anne asked, her eyes shining. “How heroic.”

”Elizabeth,” Bower asked, his expression concerned. “Are you all right?” Thank God someone was concerned about her.

“Yes, I am. Thank you very much, Lord Bower.” She shot a speaking look around the room.

“You should probably call him Ranald now,” Anne said on a sigh as she took a seat and selected a cake. Bower sat beside her. Elizabeth noticed they were far too close for propriety. And then, to her bemusement, Bower took Anne’s hand. And Anne allowed it.

Silence settled like a boom. Everyone stared.

Aunt Esmeralda cleared her throat. “I . . . ah . . . What do you mean?”

“Well,” Anne said, her gaze on Bower’s face. “While you were having your adventures . . .”

“We were having an adventure of our own,” Bower finished for her. Then he lifted her hand and kissed it.

Aunt Esmeralda gaped at the couple like a landed cod. “What are you saying?” she asked in a choked voice.

Anne’s smile was brilliant. She skated her gaze around the room. “We were married in Scotland.”

“Married?” Elizabeth breathed. What a shock. What an utter shock. But . . . given Anne’s obvious joy, she could not contain her delight. “Congratulations,” she cried and ran to hug her sister.

“Egads.” Esmeralda put her hand to her forehead and slumped in her chair, but no one noticed because they had all, in a flurry of silk, rushed to Anne’s side.

“This calls for champagne,” Victoria announced, which had the effect of reviving Esmeralda from her swoon.

“You’re too young for alcohol,” she snapped.

Victoria was not suppressed by her ominous tone. “Nonsense. How often does one’s sister get married?”

Esmeralda glared at Mary. “Far too often it would seem. Two within the space of a week, it seems.”

“A couple days,” Anne corrected her.

Esmeralda merely grimaced. Most likely put out that she’d been robbed of not one, but two fancy weddings.

“One would think you’d be delighted, dear aunt,” Mary said. “Two St. Claires down and only two to go.”

For some reason, Elizabeth glanced at Hamish. He was staring at her, which caused a lurch to her stomach, so she looked away.

“About that,” Victoria said, leaving the sentence hovering there like a cloud of coal dust in the summer air.