Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) Angeline Fortin (pride and prejudice read txt) 📖

being killed on the battlefield nor among the few prisoners being held in Inverness. He is checking into those taken south.”

“‘Tis something at least.”

Keir glanced Al’s way as if he heard the silent question. “Mathilde is another of Hugh’s sisters. She’s wed tae the Earl of Hawick. Upon my request, she’s trying tae hae Hawick find oot more when they go next tae Edinburgh.” He crumbled the note in his hand. “Twill nae be easy though. He’ll nae want tae help.”

His brother nodded in agreement but she was baffled. “Why not?”

“Hawick supports the Sassenach king on this issue, lass.”

“Oh, he’s English then?”

“Nay, but he’s a Lowlander so he might as well be.”

“He’s Scottish but he fought for the other side?” she asked. Hadn’t Culloden been a battle between Scotland and England? “I don’t understand.”

“Och, Keir,” Artair broke in, “ye cannae expect a lassie tae understand politics.”

Her expression could have smote him to a pile of ashes but he was oblivious to it, just as he seemed to miss so much.

Having seen the look, Keir’s lips lifted into a smile that quickly faded away. “The Hanoverian army was made up of Lowlanders as well.”

“You fought your own countrymen?” She’d never heard that before. Had it been some sort of civil war?

Again, Artair piped in. “Och, lassie, the Lowlanders are nae countrymen of ours.”

“You’re all Scottish, aren’t you?” she asked, puzzled by his fervency. She didn’t turn to him for an explanation, though. He’d probably pat her on the head and tell her not to worry. Her eyes were on Keir.

“Most Lowlanders more foreign than nae. A mix of Saxon, Anglo, Norman. Some of them are e’en more Flemish than Scot,” he said. “Nae like the Hielanders, a’tall. They see the Hieland chiefs as barbaric and tribal.”

“I can’t imagine how they could make such a mistake.”

That sexy smile kicked up once more, lifting away the last of his sorrow. “A Hielander is true tae his roots, lass. The Gaels and the Celts. They maun see us as savage merely because we embrace the ways of our ancestors but ‘tis a sight better than becoming like the Sassenach, taking up their ways and customs.”

“Wait, didn’t you say something earlier about your grandmother being French?”

He chuckled and gave her a wink. “Aye, and the other one was English. ‘Tis nae only what’s in our blood but what is in our hearts, lass. And I’m a Hielander true.”

She envied him his sense of place and purpose, even if it had led him into a bloody battle. She was proud of being an American but knew it wasn’t in her bones like that. His nationalism was rather charming.

“I should write a reply ‘ere the messenger leaves.” His eyes lingered on her indecisively.

She rolled hers in response. “Go. I can entertain myself for a little while at least. I’m a big girl, you know?”

A grin tilted the corner of his mouth and he bowed with flourish. “I am put in my place. Verra well, Big Al. Verra well. I will see ye at dinner.”

“Mayhap I can provide ye some company in my brother’s absence?” Artair asked, as they watched Keir stride away. “Over luncheon?”

Her stomach growled, reminding her of how long it had been since she’d truly eaten.

“That would be wonderful.”

“If ye care for an education in Hieland philosophy, I’d be happy tae provide that as well.”

Al winced. Maybe not so wonderful.

Chapter 13

She hadn’t expected to like him.

Al stood silently in the door of the library watching Keir scribble furiously across a sheet of paper. So utterly absorbed in the task, he didn’t notice her presence or even the plate of food forgotten at his elbow. Pausing only long enough to jab his pen into a bottle of ink, he resumed his writing. The way he so accurately poked the nib into the tiny bottle without looking told her the gesture was a practiced one.

Yet another in a long list of surprises in the past twenty-four hours. Wonderful hours that somehow washed away the misery of the days before. He’d spent the previous night managing to make her feel beautiful, delicate.

Today, with his attention never swaying from her, hanging on her every word, he’d made her feel like the most captivating woman on earth.

She, who’d never managed more than a few lines of casual conversation with a stranger, had whiled away a shocking number of hours talking to him nearly nonstop and with ever-growing ease. That alone was most unusual for her. Over that time, she’d begun gazing more into his eyes than at his gorgeous body. Started feeling more than mere lust, but respect as well.

Yes, she liked him

Perhaps too much.

It would be all too easy to get sucked into thinking the past day would become representative of all the days ahead for her in this new world. That he would be like that every day. Attentive and interested. That it could last forever.

Fantasies and fiction might work out that way, but she knew too well reality wasn’t always so generous. He’d gotten what he wanted from her. He now knew the truth of what had become of his cousin. There was nothing more he needed from her that a few more questions wouldn’t cover.

Soon she would be on her way. On her own once more. She had no desire to take a love-sick heart along with her.

Gently, she tapped on the doorframe, rapping more firmly when his focus remained on the page before him.

He jerked his head up with a frown that melted away into a heart-stopping smile when he saw her in the door. “Al, lass, there ye are. Where hae ye been?”

“Having lunch with your family,” she told him, entering when he motioned her forward. “You should have been there, it was wonderfully hostile. Maeve was shooting daggers at me the whole time.”

He started in alarm but she raised a hand with a chuckle. “Figurative ones, not literal ones. Though I will assume from your reaction it was