The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(80)

“I’m pleased we found each other—”

“So gratified to hear it—”

“But I’m pleased for everyone as well.”

“As am I. No doubt the duke will be pleased as well.”

“And heaven forfend the duke not be pleased.”

“Indeed.”

Anne huffed a happy sigh. “Elizabeth and Hamish are so in love.”

“Aye. They are.”

“And Mary and Jamison.”

“He’s a good lad.”

“Victoria and Peter.” She smiled at him. “But mostly I’m so happy my whole family will be close. I hated the thought of being separated.”

“You’ll never be separated from them again.” He grinned. “Unless you want to. Fortunately, my house is large.”

She chuckled. “They won’t all live with us.”

“Of course not. I was referring to Aunt Esmeralda.”

She smacked him. Jesting about Esmeralda had become a hobby of his.

Surely he was jesting . . .

She glanced out the window, and something captured her attention. A beautiful brick mansion on the shores of a glimmering blue loch. She caught her breath. She’d seen some lovely sights on their journey through Scotland, but this was breathtaking.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

She caught his eye and breathed, “I do.”

“Well, welcome home, my darling. This is Bowermadden.”

It couldn’t be. She gaped at him. “It’s huge.”

“I did say it was huge.”

“You didn’t mention how huge.” They took a corner and her attention snapped to what appeared to be a party on the lawn. “Who are those people?”

Ranald grinned. “The welcoming committee, nae doubt.”

Anne’s heart swelled. A welcoming committee? How . . . charming.

“My friends and I want you all to feel at home,” he said, kissing her forehead. When the carriage rolled to a halt in the grand circular drive, he hopped out and offered her his hand. “Shall we?” There was an expression on his face that caught her heart. One of hope and anticipation and welcome. It was so moving, it made her want to weep. But of course she couldn’t weep. It wouldn’t be seemly. Instead, she tipped up her chin and sent him a grin and joined her husband on the drive.

As she stepped down, a tall, stately dark-haired man and a delicate blond woman—with an enormous belly—came up to greet them.

Ranald grinned and bowed before the man. “Your Grace.”

Anne stared at him, taken utterly by surprise. He did not dress like a duke—at least not the dukes she’d met in London. In fact, he was wearing a kilt and he looked . . . rumpled, but in a very comfortable way. His smile was warm and welcoming and he had a charming twinkle in his eye.

“May I have the pleasure of presenting your cousin, Lady Anne Bower, formerly Anne St. Claire.”

The duke held out his hand, and, with hardly any hesitation, Anne took it. He grinned at her and then, instead of kissing it, pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her cheek. “I canna tell you how pleased I am to finally meet you,” he said. He shot a look at Ranald and added, “And to hear of your wedding. Well done, my friend. Well done.”

The lovely woman at the duke’s side huffed. “Since neither of these gentlemen seem inclined to do so, I shall introduce myself,” she said, though Anne had already guessed she was the duchess. It was easy now to see why the duke had not wanted to leave her side. “I am Lana. I canna wait to get to know you better, cousin.” She also kissed Anne on the cheek.

“Ah,” the duke said with a grimace as he glanced at the others, disembarking from their various coaches. “There is Esmeralda. We had better greet her posthaste.”

“Indeed you should,” Ranald said with a laugh. “She will be put out that she was not the first to meet you.”

As the two strolled away, the group that had been on the lawn reached them. Catherine and Duncan arrived first. The former had a quick hug for Anne and then, after a few words of greeting, tugged her husband away because she’d spotted Elizabeth.

Anne didn’t mind the desertion in the least as Catherine and Elizabeth were the best of friends and had a lot of catching up to do since Catherine’s kidnapping and both their subsequent marriages. Besides, another lady, with a friendly smile and beautiful black curls, stepped up to take her place.

“You must be Anne,” she said with a smile. “I’m Hannah.” She didn’t allow a handshake. She came right in for a hug. “I feel as though I know you already. Welcome.”

“Hannah Lochlannach is the Baroness of Dunnet,” Ranald told her. “Here’s her husband, Alexander.”

To Anne’s shock, the baron, an enormous muscled man with harsh features and gentle eyes, hugged her as well.

“Ach! And here’s Andrew!” From Ranald’s tone, it was clear he and the man with white-blond hair were good friends. “If he looks familiar, it’s because he’s Alexander’s brother.”

“Lady Bower.” Andrew bent over her hand and then, when he met her eye, he winked. “Welcome to the family.” If her heart hadn’t been full to bursting, it would have been then.

“Thank you for such a warm welcome.”