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Graeme suffered the embarrassing inspection, since it would have turned into an argument if he had refused. It was all rather ridiculous, given that he topped his big brother by a few inches and outweighed him, too. The Laird of Arnprior could be a fussy old hen when it came to his siblings.
In many ways, Nick had been more father than brother to all of them, especially the younger ones. And he’d been a better parent than the old earl, for damn sure. Their father had been a stern-tempered man, sometimes even a harsh one. A few times, Graeme had been on the receiving end of the old earl’s hand, one that could strike a punishing blow.
Nick, though? He would always be there for Graeme and all his brothers, no matter the trouble or pain.
“Should we send for a physician?” Sabrina asked in a worried voice. “He took an awful blow to the head.”
“Did you lose consciousness?” Nick asked. “Or feel nauseated?”
Graeme pushed away his brother’s hand. “Hell and damnation, it’s just a bump. I’m perfectly fine.”
“I don’t think there’s any lasting damage,” Royal said. “Except to his manners.”
“That’s a hopeless cause,” Ainsley said with a twinkle. “But the poor man could probably use a sit and a wee dram, I imagine.”
“That’s the first sensible suggestion I’ve heard all night,” Graeme replied.
“That’s because I’m smarter than all you Kendricks.” Ainsley glanced at Sabrina. “Pet, as much as I’d love to hear about your misadventures, perhaps you’d best take yourself off to bed.”
Sabrina shook her head. “I’m not the least bit tired. Besides, we need to have a discussion with Lord Arnprior.”
Nick, who was still trying to look at Graeme’s head, glanced over at Sabrina. “I’m happy to discuss anything with you, but I’m sure it can wait till morning. You must be exhausted.”
Sabrina gave a stubborn shake of the head. “No, it cannot wait.”
Nick arched an eyebrow at Graeme.
“’Fraid not, old man,” Graeme said. “We’ve got a situation on our hands.”
His big brother sighed. “Of course we have.”
“Graeme Kendrick! What have you done to yourself?”
Garbed in a gigantic wrapper that did nothing to conceal her pregnant state, Vicky descended the stairs like a stately schooner coming into port.
“Victoria, you’re supposed to be in bed,” Nick said in an exasperated tone.
Ignoring her husband, she waddled up to Graeme. “You look terrible. We need to send for a doctor.”
“We’ve already ascertained that Graeme has an exceedingly hard head and has suffered no lasting injury,” Ainsley said.
Graeme dropped a quick kiss on the top of Vicky’s frilly nightcap. “I’m fine, Mother. I promise.”
“You are a dreadful boy,” she said with a reluctant smile. “You’re sure?”
“I’ll be even more sure when I finally get that drink everyone’s been promising me.”
He took Sabrina’s elbow and nudged her toward the stairs. “Up with you, lass. The sooner we talk this out, the sooner you can get in—”
He had a sudden and extremely tantalizing vision of Sabrina in bed. With him.Underhim, more precisely.
She shot him a questioning frown.
“The sooner you can plan your departure,” he finished.
Sabrina pulled her arm away. “I’m not going anywhere until someone explains why I’m in danger.”
“What’s this?” Nick said. “Lady Sabrina is in danger?”
