Page 46 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

Everything was a flurry of activity. It was good. It left little room in Ewan’s mind for him to consider how his brother was going to react when he was introduced to the Duchess of Calder.

The sun was just setting over the mountains, casting them in an orange glow that made the heather look as if it had caught fire, when at last, the horse came into view.

Ewan recognized him at once. And when the horse finally clattered into the courtyard, he was already outside, waiting to greet his brother.

Christopher Dunmore looked almost nothing like his brother. Ewan noticed it every time he saw his brother after some time away, how little they resembled one another. Where Ewan was broad and tall, towering over everyone he met, Christopher was lean and of average height.

He was handsome, with a classical face, an aquiline nose, and high cheekbones. Unlike Ewan, he did not have dark hair and features, but was fair and had sandy-colored hair.

He was, in every measurable way, the preferable man to marry. The one that looked correct in ballrooms, who did not take up too much space, who was suited for dining rooms and dances.

Although at this moment, Christopher did not look particularly dashing.

As he dismounted from the horse, Ewan could see that his brother had become very thin. Christopher’s eyes were alsosunken in his head, as Thomas’s had been, his skin looked sallow, and his hair looked lifeless and less colorful, almost as if he had started graying early.

His smile, however, was the same as it had ever been, as he opened his arms wide.

“Ewan!” he cried, his voice surprisingly hearty as it boomed around the courtyard. “It is good to see you, brother! I assume that Thomas has told you all about our brush with death?”

Christopher hugged him tightly, and Ewan hugged him back, not bothering to hide his relief and affection.

“Christopher,” he murmured. “I thought you were dead.”

His brother released him and stood back, grinning. “It takes more than a little storm to kill me, brother,” he said.

“Many others did die, though, if I am correct?” Ewan said, frowning, and Christopher’s smile faded slightly.

“Yes,” he said, couching quickly before smiling again. “But I am one of the lucky ones that survived. And now that I am back, I do not plan to go anywhere. You shall have a hard time getting rid of me.” He laughed uncertainly. “It does make one wonder why I thought it a good idea to run off right before my wedding.Although I have heard that the lady still found herself a good match?”

He raised a suggestive eyebrow at Ewan, whose stomach fell out of him.

“You heard about the wedding,” he said flatly, watching his brother’s face carefully for a reaction. So far, Christopher was still smiling brightly. Not even his eyes betrayed a hint of annoyance or anger or betrayal.

“I did hear,” Christopher said, grasping his arm. “The ports were abuzz with it! My many congratulations to you, brother! And what an excellent lady for you! Lady Cassandra is one of the finest, most intelligent, and most beautiful ladies of my acquaintance.” He laughed. “That is why I was going to marry her.”

“Christopher…” Ewan began. “You must understand, I thought you were dead. I went to the harbormaster, and he assured me that the ship was gone, that there had been no reports of survivors. I did not intend to marry Lady Cassandra. But the political alliance with her father needed to be cemented, and her mother was insisting… And then one thing led to another. It all happened before I could fully comprehend what was happening.”

“Brother, do not worry yourself!” Christopher said jovially, his smile still firmly in place. “I am not angry with you. AlthoughI esteem Lady Cassandra very highly, it seems clear to me now that I was not entirely ready to enter the state of matrimony, which is why I ran off in the first place. If I had been truly ready to be a husband, I would not have done so.”

Ewan swallowed. “So you are not angry?”

“Of course not!” Christopher released him and rubbed his hands together. “Now, do you think we might have some food? I confess, I am starved for good cooking. It turns out, inns along the coast of Scotland do not have chefs as fine as a duke’s!”

Ewan ushered Christopher inside, where the entire staff was lined up waiting for him. The moment he entered, the staff burst into applause. Christopher’s smile grew wider as he beamed around Annabelle at the staff, many of whom had known him all his life.

“It is true!” He announced, raising his hands high. “I am not dead! And happier to be home than I could ever say.”

At that very moment, Cassandra stepped into the entrance hall. Her father, Lord Pembury, stood behind her, his face very still, his eyes watchful.

Ewan could tell, from the way Cassandra held herself, that she was nervous. She was walking with her back very straight, her shoulders pushed back. It made her look even more regal than she ever had. The gown of ruby red chiffon, gold cording underthe bust and around the long sleeves, only added to the vision. She looked like a medieval princess in her tower.

Christopher froze when he saw her and her father. Cassandra stopped as well, and for a long moment, the two of them stared at one another, both their expressions unreadable. From where he watched by the front door, Ewan held his breath, waiting.

Then Christopher smiled, and Cassandra also relaxed, a small, flickering smile appearing on her lips.

“Welcome back, Lord Christopher,” she murmured.

“Come now, sister, you must call me Christopher now,” he said, striding forward and taking her hand, pressing it to his lips as he bowed over it. From where he stood, Ewan could not see the expression on his brother’s face, but from the sharp pain in his chest, he knew one thing for certain: He did not like the idea of Christopher kissing his wife’s hand.