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She smiled at Grant, who gave her just a brusque nod in return. Honestly, men could besovery confusing.
“Mugdock is a splendid place to visit,” Arnprior said. “I’m sure Grant and Kade will enjoy showing it to you.”
“It’s a shame you won’t be here long enough to visit Kinglas,” Victoria said with a sigh. “Glasgow or even Edinburgh can’t compare.”
“Perhaps next summer, when my children are older,” Gillian replied. “As it is, two weeks is all I can manage before Jeannie and I must return to London.”
“I don’t want to go back to London,” Jeannie said. “Certainly not in a paltry two weeks.”
There was a fraught pause. Kathleen crushed the impulse to bang her head against the wall. They’d only just arrived, and her sister was pushing for more.
Of course, that sort of pushing against boundaries was exactly the sort of thing Kathleen had done her entire life. Jeannie had clearly picked up her burgeoning rebellious streak from her.
“We can talk about it later, dearest,” she said. “Let’s just try to enjoy Glasgow, shall we?”
Jeannie’s chin took on the now-familiar tilt. “All right, but I still don’t want to go home. I want to go to Lochnagar with you.”
Kathleen’s brain froze. “Ah . . .”
“Lochnagar’s a grand place,” Angus filled in. “Can’t blame the lassie for wantin’ to visit.”
“No, but perhaps we can let Miss Calvert and her sister sort that out later,” Grant suggested.
The old man simply shrugged.
“There’s nothing to sort out,” Jeannie stubbornly insisted. “I want to stay in Scotland.”
Kathleen tried to look firm. “Jeanette—”
“You’re not in charge of me, Kath, so don’t even try,” her sister replied.
“More tea, anyone?” Victoria asked in a bright voice.
Kathleen suspected that even a good belt of whisky would fail to do the trick. It was going to be a long two weeks.
Chapter Seven
Grant hastily stepped away from Jeannie’s wobbly swing. “Steady, lass.”
An old broadsword was hardly a toy at the best of times. In the hands of an enthusiastic sixteen-year-old, it was a lurking disaster.
“Aye,” said Angus. “We dinna want yon laddie losin’ any body parts, especially not the good bits.”
He capped off that bon mot with a wink to Kathleen, who turned bright pink. The prettySassenachwasn’t the shy type, but Grandda’s matchmaking was obvious and embarrassing.
Kathleen had captured his grandfather’s fancy as a potential bride. Angus had a soft spot for girls with both brains and beauty, not to mention ones also possessing an excellent dowry. The dowry insight had been relayed by Gillian, another participant in the matchmaking quest. That Kathleen was less than enamored with Scotland and him were impediments easily brushed aside by the coconspirators.
It was a hell of an impediment for Grant, even though he was certainly not on the lookout for a bride.
“I value all my bits,” he said as he sidestepped another swing and snatched up a lamp, saving it from imminent destruction.
After putting the lamp on a side table, he plucked the sword from Jeannie’s hand as she prepared for a practice lunge.
“But some more than others, I reckon,” Angus replied, tapping his nose as he tried to look both subtle and sly.
Grant contemplated whacking the old fellow with the flat of the blade but contented himself with a glare. Angus blatantly ignored the silent reprimand as he puffed on his pipe, safely ensconced in the ancient, elaborately carved oak chair by the fireplace, far away from the swinging.
Kathleen had been wandering around Mugdock’s weaponry hall, peering at the various lethal items and moldering stag heads. Now she glanced at her sister.
