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“And you apparently wished to do.”
“No, it’s just easier to step over it.”
Although the low fence fronting the vicarage came up past Kathleen’s knees, for Grant it would be nothing but a trifle of sticks, easier to step over than waste any energy pushing against the creaky old gate.
She clapped her hands to shake loose the dirt before starting to push up from the grass border that edged the pretty flowerbeds between the kirk and the vicarage. At least theyhadbeen pretty before the mystery bandits had taken several large whacks at them. The crime was petty and stupid, but infuriating nonetheless.
“Allow me.” Grant cupped his hands under her elbows and lifted her straight up.
One second, she was kneeling on the ground. The next, she was on her feet, carefully deposited as if she weighed no more than a feather pillow. The man’s casual strength was both unnerving and ... stimulating.
“Thank you,” she replied, rather breathlessly.
Grant frowned. “You’ve been working too long in the sun. You’ll wear yourself out.”
“Nonsense, it’s a lovely day. And it’s splendid to see the sun out in full force. You must admit that yesterday was very dreary.”
“Because of the weather, or because we all spent the day arguing over highwaymen and such?” he dryly asked.
“Oh, is that what we were doing? I hadn’t noticed.”
Then she happened to catch sight of her low boots and let out a sigh.
“You’ve stepped in a bit of muck there, lass,” Grant pointed out.
In fact, her boots were caked in mud. Annoying, that, since she’d not be trotting off to one of the local stores for a replacement pair in Dunlaggan. The tiny hamlet had only about eighty souls living within its small boundaries. There was one linen draper, who also served as haberdasher and shoemaker. Dunlaggan certainly had its share of rustic charm, but a location for stylish fashions it was not.
“Mr. Kendrick, would you mind serving as a wall for a moment? I’d like to clean off these boots before they’re completely ruined.”
“I live to serve, but don’t think we’re done talking about you jaunting around Dunlaggan by yourself. I thought Graeme and I both made it clear that you, Jeannie, and Sabrina were to stay put at the manor house.”
She braced a hand on his rock-hard bicep and began scraping her muddy boot with a trowel. “You and Sir Graeme did indeed make that abundantly clear, not only on the day of the incidents but carrying on into yesterday.Unfortunatelycarrying on, one might add.”
“Yet our suggestions failed to take, at least in your case.”
“As I recall, they were rather more lectures than suggestions. Very loud lectures.”
“You’re thinking of Graeme. I never shout.”
She carefully finished scraping her boots, and then stuck the trowel in a plant pot. Grant radiated impatience, which was rather fun. Kathleen was surprised to realize how much she enjoyed teasing him.
“Mostly never,” she finally replied.
His burnished eyebrows snapped together. “And when did I yell?”
“When I agreed with Sabrina that it was foolish to uproot the entire household and run off to Glasgow over some incidents of vandalism. As distressing as those incidents were,” she hastily added when emerald fire sparked in his gaze.
She’d seen that fire more than once in the last few days. Once they reached the Highlands, Grant had seemed to turn into quite a different sort of person from the staid, Glaswegian businessman she’d first met. That she found this new version of Grant increasingly attractive was a discovery she intended to keep to herself.
“The vicar seemed fair distressed about all this, ye ken,” he sarcastically said, waving a hand at the garden.
She grimaced as she eyed the wreckage. Two large rhododendrons, clearly the vicar’s pride and joy, had been viciously hacked to bits. The flowerbeds had been trampled, and two stone flowerpots had been overturned, one shattering into pieces.
But that was nothing compared to the damage done to the kirk itself. Although the vandalism had been fairly minimal in there—the sacristy door had been forced and the drawers and cupboards ransacked—the theft had been significant. The thieves had taken a very fine set of silver candlesticks, an enameled crucifix over three hundred years old, and a chalice inset with semiprecious gems. It was a terrible loss for such a small parish. Mr. Brown had been devastated, and the inhabitants of Dunlaggan were equally upset by the attack on their kirk.
Since the incidents, the Lochnagar ladies had been under strict orders from the Kendrick men to remain safely at home. Since yesterday had been rainy, Kathleen hadn’t minded. But today had been sunny and warm, and being cooped up had given her the fidgets. And while she lacked the required skills to help track down a gang of thieves, she could do her bit by setting Mr. Brown’s garden to rights.
It was her small act of defiance in the face of such unfathomable ugliness.
