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“That’s why I’m here. Now if you would just get the hell out of my way.”
“Now, gentlemen, no more fighting,” Edie said as they joined her in the entrance hall. “You’ll shock the servants.”
Logan shot a glance at the liveried footman, who stood by the door with a hint of a long-suffering expression. “I suspect your staff is used to it by now.”
“True enough,” Alec said. “In fact, they’d probably faint dead away if we started acting like normal folk. Isn’t that right, Robby?”
“If you say so, sir,” the footman politely replied.
Alec cocked an eyebrow at Logan. “Care for a whisky in my study before you begin tempting fate?”
“Is that a euphemism?”
“For what?”
“Bashing my head in.”
Alec snorted a laugh and shook his head. Clearly, Logan had passed muster, reassuring his friend he intended to do right by Donella.
“There will be no drinking,” Edie said in a severe tone. “Not until you and Donella sort this out.”
Logan couldn’t resist. “Sort what out?”
“Do not tempt me, Logan Kendrick,” she retorted. “Iwillbash your head in, if necessary.”
“On second thought,” Logan said to Alec, “she’s the perfect wife for you.”
Alec wrapped an arm around Edie’s nicely curved waist, pulling her close. “I know that better than anyone. In fact, while Logan does his best to act like a normal human being, why don’t we go upstairs and—”
His wife gave him a little shove and wriggled out of his arms. “You can be so annoying, Alasdair Gilbride.”
Still, Logan didn’t miss the blush on her round cheeks or the pleasure in her little smile. Quickly, though, she leveled another scowl in his direction.
“This situation is too serious to joke about,” she said. “Donella is upset, as is Joseph. You need to fix things, and right now.”
Logan sighed. “Obviously. Where are they?”
“Donella, Angus, and Joseph are in the drawing room, organizing the decorations for the Christmas party.”
“Any chance you can get my grandfather out of the way, Edie? I can’t do this properly if he’s mucking everything up.”
As if on cue, one of the doors off the wide hall flew open and Angus stalked out. He was looking especially deranged today, dressed in one of his oldest kilts and an ancient patched leather vest. Between the outfit and his white hair, frizzed out like a puffball, he looked like he’d just rolled out of an obscure Highland glen.
He stomped over to join them. “About time ye showed up. I was fair ready to come lookin’ for ye.”
“And good afternoon to you, Grandda. May I say you’re looking particularly disreputable today? How in God’s name did Victoria let you out of the house in that outfit?”
Angus whipped up a gnarly finger and wagged it at Logan’s nose. “I’ll have no sass from ye, laddie boy. Ye ken I’m here to help Joseph and the lass decorate the house. Ye canna expect me to be standing on ladders and hauling in greenery in my best finery.”
“I’m sure the servants would be happy to stand on ladders. There’s no need to go about dressed like a scrub.” Logan frowned. “Besides, I don’t want you climbing ladders. You’re too old for that nonsense.”
“I did try to make a similar point,” Edie said. “Of course Mr. MacDonald did not agree with my assessment.”
“Aye, because I’ll nae be havin’ ye put me out to pasture, like some broken-down old nag.”
Knowing how chippy Angus was about his age, Logan tried a different tack. “Grandda, the servants are supposed to help with this sort of thing. You’ll annoy them if you do their job.”
“Fah. Lowlanders—what do they know about celebratin’ Christmas?”
