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“Especially for a young girl,” she lightly said.
“I can understand why. I felt the same toward Graeme. Still do, actually.”
She cast him a startled look over her shoulder. “Was that a compliment? I can’t tell.”
His lips moved in a barely-there smile. “Careful with the top step. It’s very worn.”
Since he was not going to answer her question, she faced forward and stepped into the room.
Her sister rushed over in a whirl of enthusiasm. “Isn’t it splendid, Kath? It’s so dreadfully gloomy. One can imagine all sorts of horrible things happening in a room like this.”
Kathleen took a slow turn. They were on the main floor of the southwest tower, the only one of the four tower structures that was still intact and livable. Not that she could imagine anyone voluntarily living in such a place.
“It’s certainly something,” she said as she eyed the high timbered ceiling and the large, soot-covered fireplace.
“Damp, for one thing.” Grant strolled over to peer out one of the windows.
There were only two. Both were fairly narrow and covered with iron bars, obviously for defensive purposes. That meant the room was cast into twilight, even with the sun shining outside. The iron chandelier, empty of candles, did nothing to dispel the dreary atmosphere.
One could feel the weight of history in the thick gray walls, and it didn’t take much imagination to conjure a vision of fearless, tartan-clad warriors, guarding their keep with broadswords.
Oddly enough, Kathleen could imagine more than a bit of that warrior in Grant. Despite his impeccably tailored coat and breeches and his polished boots, he fit the rugged environment. Taking in his brawny shoulders, stern expression, and burnished hair, Kathleen fancied there might still be a wild Highlander lurking under the man’s sober demeanor. She couldn’t help wondering what it would take to tease that inner warrior to the surface.
And what might happen if she managed it.
Don’t be a ninny.
She didn’t give a biscuit about Grant’s inner warrior, or anything else about him, for that matter.
“This room must be freezing in the winter,” Kade said. “No wonder the fireplace is so large.”
Kathleen rubbed her arms. “It’s not exactly balmy in here now.”
Jeannie made an audible noise of disdain for that piddling complaint, and then bent down to peer under the massive oak table dominating the center of the room.
“Dearest, what are you looking for?” Kathleen asked when her sister all but crawled under the table.
“There might be a secret cubbyhole inside this table, with a treasure map or some old family papers.”
Grant threw Kathleen an amused glance. “Sorry, Jeannie. All you’re likely to find is a few cobwebs and a spider or two.”
Jeannie straightened up. “How boring.”
Kathleen fancied she saw Grant wince, but the expression was fleeting.
“Graeme and I searched this tower from top to bottom when we were lads,” he said. “Sadly, we never found any secret papers, treasure maps, or anything else remotely exciting.”
“Not even a skull or two?” Jeannie asked in a hopeful voice.
“Not even one.”
“What about in the dungeon?”
Grant shook his head. “There’s no dungeon, only a moldy cellar used for storing broken furniture, I’m afraid.”
“That is so b—”
“Boring,” Kathleen finished for her. “Yes, dear, we know. But there’s a great deal of interesting history about Mugdock. It’s the traditional seat of Clan Graham, and they’ve owned it for centuries. That’s rather fascinating, you must admit.”
