Royal winked at his daughter. “That will be very helpful. Your uncle is swearing off young ladies for the present.”
“I hope there’s a decent piano at Laroch Manor,” Kade said, shifting the subject to safer ground. “Wedding or not, I will need to work on my concerto.”
“I’m sure there is,” Ainsley replied. “By all accounts, it’s a splendid house, and Lady Kinloch has very high standards.”
Kade waggled a hand. “Glencoe isn’t exactly on the beaten path, but I’ll take your word for it.”
Angus visibly bristled. “Glencoe may not be yer high and mighty Paris or London, but there are few places more important to a Highlander, especially to a MacDonald. As ye well ken, it was the site of the worst act of—”
“You’ve been to Laroch Manor, haven’t you, Grandda?” Royal interrupted, trying to forestall another foray into grisly tales of massacres.
“Er, well, it’s been years, ye ken,” he replied.
“Lady Kinloch mentioned in one of her letters that you attended a clan gathering only a few years after her wedding,” Ainsley said. “That must have been quite a festive affair.”
Angus scratched his chin, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I dinna remember much about that, to tell ye the truth.”
Kade exchanged glances with Royal and Ainsley, while Tira twisted around to stare at the old fellow.
“You’re telling a fib, Grandda,” Tira said.
“I never tell fibs, especially to bairns,” Angus protested.
Royal snorted. “You tell them on a daily basis. What are you hiding from us?”
Angus clamped his mouth shut.
“Whatever it is,” Ainsley said, “we’ll find out soon enough. I do believe we’re going through Ballachulish, and Laroch Manor is only about fifteen minutes outside the village, along the river. In fact, I believe we’re already making the turn onto the road that leads to the manor. Lady Kinloch said it was just past the village church.”
Kade peered out the window. “There’s the church on the left. Not much to the place, is there?”
“Apparently, there are more shops and a public house if one travels farther along the main road.”
“I do hope we can visit the shops in the village, Mamma,” Tira said.
As the others chatted about plans for their stay, Kade let his attention drift to the surrounding countryside. The carriage was now bowling along beside a bucolic glen filled with heather and wildflowers. Hedges partly lined the road, interspersed with holly bushes and the occasional stand of trees.
In the distance, he could see the sparkle of swift water cutting through the glen—River Laroch, for which their host’s manor was named. It was a peaceful scene, a quiet tableau of country charm set against the granite ridges and craggy summits that brooded over Loch Leven.
Suddenly, a horse and rider burst out from a stand of birches. The rider, a boyish figure crouched over the neck of an impressively big animal, galloped through the glen parallel to their carriage. The rider was wearing a kilt, which whipped around—
Kade practically pressed his nose against the window glass, trying to get a better look. Aye, the rider was a young woman, her long blonde hair streaming back from beneath her cap.
“Good God,” he said.
“What’s up, lad?” Royal asked.
“Look there, by the river. There’s a rider.”
Royal glanced out the window and did a double take. “Is that a girl?”
“Yes.”
“Girls have been known to ride horses from time to time,” Ainsley said with a hint of sarcasm.
Kade tracked horse and rider. She’d drawn slightly past them and was now cutting across the field at an angle, toward the road.
“True,” he replied. “But this one is astride, in a kilt.”
