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“And when Sabrina is in a stew . . .”
“Everyone’s in a stew. By dinnertime, Jeannie was convinced her sister had been murdered.”
Grant rubbed a hand over his messy hair. “God, what a disaster.”
“We’ll keep the gossip to a minimum. It’s Dunlaggan, not Glasgow.” His brother raised an eyebrow. “That’s if thereisa need to contain it.”
“There’s definitely a need, since the lady isn’t best pleased with me. Don’t expect wedding bells anytime soon.”
“How in Hades did you put Kathleen into such a snit?”
“I’m still trying to sort that out. As for keeping the tittle-tattle under control . . .” Grant shook his head. “When we rode past the vicarage, David came beetling out with his annoying brother, who arrived at the same conclusion you did. He not only read the situation correctly, he made it obvious that he’d done so.”
Graeme’s eyebrows shot up. “With the vicar standing there?”
“The captain did it deliberately. Although David was mostly confused, I’m sure the captain has cleared that up by now.”
“Scaly bastard,” Graeme said.
“Kathleen is worried about the captain, too. She’s afraid he’s flirting with Jeannie, which would be massively inappropriate.”
“I saw no evidence of such this afternoon. He was his usual bombastic self with the girl, but more in the way of an avuncular relative.”
“How was Jeannie with him?”
“I don’t think the vicar has a rival for her affections, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Graeme replied.
“Good. David is harmless. Still—”
The door flew open and Angus barreled into the room.
“Aboot time ye got home,” he barked. “What the devil were ye doin’ with that poor lassie for hours and hours?”
Graeme winked at the old fellow. “What do you think, Grandda?”
Angus thumped down into the other wing chair. “Oh? Then we’ll be hearin’ wedding bells verra soon, I’m expectin’.”
Grant sighed. “I wouldn’t bet on it.”
His grandfather started stuffing his ratty clay pipe from his equally ratty tobacco pouch. “Och, ye should have come to me for courtin’ advice. Yer out of practice, lad.”
“That is definitely not the problem, Grandda.”
“If it nae be your wooin’ skills, then why aren’t we celebratin’ yer betrothal to Kathleen?”
“Because she likely would have turned me down flat?”
“She’d best not,” Graeme said, “or Sabrina will have something to say about it.”
“Then perhaps your wife can try her persuasive skills on her, because I’m certainly not having any luck,” Grant tartly replied.
Angus sympathetically patted Grant’s knee. “Yer tongue just gets twisted when yer nervous. Ye always had that problem.”
“That is a load of bollocks,” Grant said. “And I wasn’t nervous.”
Although he had been less than articulate in the aftermath of their intimate encounter, he was sorry to say.
“Then whatisthe problem?” Graeme asked. “It’s obvious Kathleen has strong feelings for you, and you have strong feelings for her. Good God, you practically committed vicarcide over her.”
