Kade smiled. “Thank you. Coffee sounds just the thing.”
He’d tossed and turned for hours. Thoughts about Charlie had bedeviled him all night, including what to do about the missing brooch. More importantly, though, what to do about his feelings for Charlie? Kade told himself that he’d only kissed her on impulse, just to arrest her growing sense of panic.
That was a lie, of course. He’d kissed her because he’d wanted to. He’d wanted it more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life.
As for calming her down, it had done the opposite for him. Only a mighty act of willpower had stopped him from sweeping her off to the sofa for more kisses and many other delightful activities his brain had readily conjured up. He’d never thought of himself as the flannel wrapper, bare feet, and messy braid sort of fellow, but last night Charlie had proven him wrong.
He’d crossed a line in that music room, one from which there was no return. So now he needed at least three cups of coffee before he could get his brain functioning clearly enough to figure out the problem—or problems—posed by Charlotte Stewart.
“Is anyone else in the dining room?” he asked the footman.
“Mr. Royal Kendrick, as well as yer grandfather and Miss Tira, sir. Lord Kinloch and the other gentlemen are out riding, Miss Charlotte ate earlier, and Lady Kinloch and Miss Melissa—I mean, Mrs. MacMillan—have yet to come down.”
“For the best. It’s always a happy thing when one can avoid hysterics at the breakfast table.”
The footman made a slight, choking sound. “Indeed, sir. Now, if ye’ll excuse me.”
He hurried off in the direction of the kitchen.
“Really, Kade, you shouldn’t tease the staff,” Ainsley said as she descended the stairs to join him.
“I know, but you must admit that this visit has turned into something of a farce.”
She took his arm. “I feel like I’ve wandered into one of Molière’s ridiculous comedies, and I’m beginning to think Charlie’s the only sane one in the lot.”
“I think Johnny’s all right, if a bit rattled by the fireworks,” he replied as he escorted her toward the dining room.
“Yes, he’s a very nice boy, which makes me wonder why he is hanging about with Sir Leslie. That man is a bounder and a complication.”
“He’s definitely a bounder, but why a complication?”
“Because he’s joined in the hunt for that ridiculous brooch, and if he finds it, Lord Kinloch will pressure poor Charlotte into marrying him.”
“It wouldn’t work. Charlie told me last night that she has no intention of getting married at all.”
Except to me.
His brain stumbled over that thought.
Ainsley paused outside the door of the dining room. “And when did she tell you this?”
“I had a little chat with her last night,” he replied.
“Do tell all, dear boy. I am now ravenous with curiosity.”
“I will be happy to assuage that curiosity once I have assuaged my need for coffee.”
He opened the door and ushered her into the elegantly appointed room with its wide sash windows that showcased the rugged peaks in the distance. No one with a drop of Highland blood could gaze upon the outstanding view and not feel the stir of something ancient. It was like the call of a hunting horn in a distant glen, or the faint skirl of bagpipes carried away on the breeze.
Angus looked up from his breakfast. “So yon lazybones has finally decided to join us, with the morning half gone and so much work to be done.”
“I’m going to assume that remark was not directed at me,” Ainsley said. “I’ve already discussed today’s outings with Lady Kinloch and spoken to the cook on her behalf. Poor woman needed a bit of bucking up, I’m sorry to say.”
Angus frowned. “Why would the bloody cook need buckin’ up?”
Royal put down his coffee cup. “Language, Grandda. There’s a child in the room.”
“Och, the lassie’s heard worse from me.”
