Page 18 of The Highlander Is All That

“Don’t get pickled,” Lady Esmeralda said, and it occurred to him that he needed to mind himself because others were watching.

But still, his gaze was drawn to Elizabeth again and again and his mind floated back to that kiss . . . and what might have happened, what could have happened . . . until he became quite uncomfortable in the trousers.

He set his glass on the table and adjusted his seat.

It did not help.

“So will you be dancing with us at the balls?” Elizabeth asked. That she asked it of Bower annoyed the hell out of Hamish.

Ranald chuckled. “I dare say we will no’.”

“Do you not know how to dance in Scotland?” Anne asked, a trifle too acerbically.

The baron stilled and his gaze locked with Anne’s. “Aye, lass,” he said in a low tone. “We do indeed.” It was duly noted that Anne shivered and then pointedly looked away. “But during this season, we will be present as chaperones only.”

“A reminder, if you will, to all and sundry that we have the duke’s blessings,” Esmeralda added.

“To that end, we shall be wearing the Sinclair kilt,” Ranald said.

His timing was unfortunate, as Anne had just taken a sip of tea. Which now spewed forth. “What?”

“Och aye.” Ranald held her gaze again and then winked.

How interesting that a blush arose on those alabaster cheeks.

“I think that is a wonderful idea,” Elizabeth said.

Anne’s brows rose. She sputtered for a moment and then managed, “What nonsense!”

“Kilts are verra attractive.” Elizabeth affected a brogue.

“They are savage.”

Hamish could tell the moment the words escaped, Anne regretted them. Her face turned beet red.

“I mean . . .”

“We know what you mean, lass,” Ranald said. “And if it’s the truth you’re wanting, savagery was our intent.”

“Oh yes,” Esmeralda said, clapping her hands in delight. “Just so. An excellent way to remind the members of the ton that our duke is a Scot through and through. And what better way to begin as we mean to go on than to attend Almack’s tonight?”

Hamish swallowed heavily. Tonight?

Oh. Perhaps he shouldn’t have had that second whisky.

“Almack’s?” Anne frowned. “But we have not received vouchers.” It was a well-known fact—even in the far reaches of Scotland—that without the approval of the patronesses, one would be barred at the door.

Esmeralda’s smile was wicked. “Of course we have received vouchers. Are we not connected to the Duke of Caithness?” She winked. “It doesn’t hurt that Lady Jersey is a friend.”

“Surely they will not allow them in.” Anne waved at Ranald in a thoroughly dismissive manner. Hamish did not miss his frown.

“Nonsense. Of course they shall.” She patted Hamish’s knee. “In fact, no doubt, our savage Scots will be the talk of the town.”

Hamish and Ranald exchanged wry glances. Aye. No doubt indeed.

Like a general to her troops, Esmeralda rose to her feet and bellowed, “Well, gels, what are you waiting for? Let’s get ready for the season to begin!”

Chapter Five