Page 9 of A Secret Scottish Christmas

Ailie felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. She had no wish to be of special concern to the matchmaking countess.

The captain left Will and returned to the gangplank to see his other passengers off the ship. She could tell from the way they descended the gangplank the Powells and their wives were as at home on a ship as she was.

Will turned his attention to the Ormonds and Lady Claremont. “I see my wife has welcomed you.” Drawing Emily close, he said, “’Tis time we met our other guests, Leannan.”

Ailie’s heart was in her throat as she took her place beside Emily and William, prepared to meet the Powell brothers and their wives. Edinburgh was home to a fair number of English and she had been there many times, but she had never entertained them in her home. Emily didn’t count. She was English, aye, but she was also family.

Wrapping his arms around his greatcoat to hold in his body’s heat, Nash waited with Robbie on the deck, watching the Ormonds and Lady Claremont embrace their friends in happy reunion.

In front of him lay a snow-covered shipyard with three ships tied up at the dock. Beyond the ships were several large buildings he assumed were the shops. The name “William Stephen and Sons” in tall blue letters stretched across the sign on the building directly ahead of him, suggested it was the company’s headquarters. In the distance on the small hill, a sprawling estate was set against trees, smoke curling up from its many chimneys.

Nash had been told William Stephen was a successful shipbuilder, supplying the government and merchants with schooners and brigs. Here was the proof.

Robbie leaned in close. “I assume the tall man with the auburn hair is William and the woman with black hair next to him is his wife, Lady Emily, but who is that beauty with the fiery red hair standing next to Lady Emily?”

The girl had caught Nash’s eye, too, her flame-colored hair blowing free from her blue plaid shawl draped loosely over her head. “She might be William’s sister,” he surmised. “I see a resemblance.” Taller than William’s wife and slender, the young woman had a proud look about her. He wondered if she resented so many English descending upon her to celebrate Christmas.

Their eldest brother Nick crossed the deck to where Nash stood with Robbie. “Time to meet our hosts.”

Nick returned to his wife and guided Tara toward the opening in the rail where the gangplank stood waiting. Martin and Kit fell into step behind them.

Tucking his woolen scarf up around his neck, Nash shared a glance with Robbie. “Let’s hope the brandy they serve is warm.”

Robbie grinned. “I’ll pour.”

At the end of the gangway, Nash waited behind his older brothers and their wives until it was his and Robbie’s turn to meet their host. With Robbie at his side, he shook William Stephen’s hand and bowed to Stephen’s wife Emily.

Nash was the first to arrive in front of the redhead Emily had introduced as William’s sister Aileen. She was more than a little attractive. Her copper-colored hair framed fair skin and eyes that were deep pools of cinnamon, sparks shining from their depths. She had a stubborn chin, but any thought of her being a troublesome lass ended when he glimpsed the sprinkling of freckles on her upturned nose. Finding his voice, he doffed his hat. “Miss Stephen, I’m pleased to meet you.”

“And I,” Robbie said, bumping Nash as he tipped his hat, his smile wide. “Are all women in Scotland so… beautiful?”

Nash wanted to kick his brother when the girl raised her brows and turned her head to her sister-in-law. Growing up around the shipbuilding industry and rough men, she had probably heard such flattery many times before. He was certain the impression left by Robbie’s words was not what he had intended.

Emily smiled. “Of course not, Mr. Powell. Ailie is special.”

Robbie glanced at the girl, an avid gleam in his eye. “I can see that.”

“I’m not speaking only about her appearance,” said Emily. “But you will discover for yourself my meaning during your stay with us.”

Nash and his twin had often competed as children and, once they were in their twenties, the competition had expanded to include women. Their methods might vary but they shared the same goal of winning the ladies’ affections. Now in their thirties, the rivalry could, at times, be intense.

William slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Shall we return to the house and the fire, Leannan?”

“Oh yes, let’s. There’s just enough time for our guests to have a warm brandy or a cup of hot tea and get settled in their bedchambers before we are called to dinner.”

Nash shot Robbie a satisfied smile at the thought of a warm brandy, then watched with dismay as the lovely Aileen Stephen flounced off with Lord Ormond and his wife, leaving Nash and Robbie to fall into step behind the others as they trudged up the path to the great house above the shipyard.

Halfway there, William turned to address them. “While we share a warm drink in the parlor, the servants will see your chests to your chambers. No need to change for dinner unless you wish it. In Arbroath, we often dine informally.”

Ailie stood in the entry hall, waiting for Emily to descend the stairs having just returned from seeing her friend settled.

“Is the countess pleased with her bedchamber?”

“Oh yes, Muriel is quite content. I told her a cup of hot tea and shortbread would soon be delivered.”

Earlier, the other guests had warmed themselves in the parlor and then followed Will and their housekeeper, Mrs. Banks, up the stairs to their bedchambers. The time spent in the parlor had allowed Ailie to get a better look at the twin Powell brothers. She was now certain one of them was the man from her dream.

’Tis the same face.