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“Huh,” said Angus after several moments. “Would ye look at that?”
Kathleen glanced at him. “Look at what?”
“He’s stopped cryin’, ye ken.”
Kathleen looked at the bundle in her arms, truly focusing for the first time. A red-haired baby with flushed, damp cheeks and a soft green gaze stared up at her, apparently transfixed. And although he gave a few quiet hiccups, he had definitely stopped crying. In fact, he seemed to be smiling at her.
“You’re a natural,” Sabrina said, beaming.
“Thank God,” Graeme said. “You can help out the nursemaids. I swear they’re ready to give their notice.”
“But I’m terrible with babies, and children, too,” Kathleen protested as she rocked Gus. “Just look at Jeannie. I can’t do anything to make her behave.”
Grant strolled up to her, a warm smile lighting his eyes—eyes that were the same color as the baby’s fascinated gaze. That warm smile rather muddled her insides.
Or perhaps it was just her astonishment that she had not dropped Gus, and that he appeared content in her arms.
“Well, lass,” Grant said, his deep voice infused with his lovely Highland brogue, “it seems that yer, in fact, the very opposite of terrible.”
Chapter Twelve
Grant held up his glass as Graeme joined him at the hearth. His twin’s small study was well appointed with sturdy furniture and a splendid view out the bay windows to the peaks in the distance.
“I thought Brown would never take himself off, but leave it to Angus to do the trick,” Graeme said as he poured Grant a dram.
“If there’s one thing Grandda excels at it’s offending the best sorts of people.”
Graeme settled into the matching leather club chair on the other side of the hearth, propping a booted foot against a cast-iron firedog. “You weren’t on your best party manners with Brown, either, I noticed. What set you off, old man?”
Grant leisurely studied the pale liquid in his glass, then took a swallow before he replied. “This is excellent. Almost as good as the stuff we used to distill at Kinglas.”
Graeme snorted. “It’s a damn sight better than our old home brew. Although I will say that our youthful escapades have been surprisingly helpful in setting up the new distillery.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Youthful escapades?”
After they’d been booted out of university, Grant and Graeme had returned home and set up an illegal still in a remote glen on Kinglas lands. Angus had come up with the idea to keep them busy and out of trouble. It also put extra blunt in their pockets, since they were able to sell three or four small casks a month to local publicans who were willing to keep secret their source.
Poor Nick had known nothing about the mad scheme until customs agents had come knocking on the castle door. Their big brother had been forced to pay a large fine to keep them out of trouble. It had resulted in a tremendous row, exacerbated when Angus had insisted it was the God-given right of any Scotsman to make his own whisky,Sassenachlaws be damned. Vicky, Kade’s governess at the time, had finally convinced Nick not to toss them all out on their sorry arses.
From that moment on, Vicky had made it her mission to see thatallthe Kendrick men trod the straight and narrow before they drove her future husband completely out of his mind. Given what hardheads they all were, especially Angus, she’d been remarkably successful.
Graeme flashed a crooked grin. “Sometimes a spot of crime does actually pay.”
“And you call yourself a magistrate.”
“Rather ironic, you must admit.”
“‘Insane’ is the word I’d be inclined to use. But on a serious note, oh great Sir Graeme, why the hell are highwaymen roaming about your district? And why did you need to drag me away from the others to discuss it?”
“Drag you away from Kathleen, I believe you mean,” his brother said with an annoying smirk.
“That is not what I meant, and stop trying to bait me. It won’t work.”
“No? Then why are you scowling at me?”
“Because you’re a tosser?”
His brother laughed. “All right, but youwerefashed with Brown. Admit it.”
