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“And exactly how do they manage that?”
He adopted a thoughtful frown. “More a carrot and stick method, from what I can observe.”
“I imagine it would need to be a very large stick. You’re all quite brawny.”
Braden waggled his eyebrows. “Or a very large carrot.”
“Dear me, and there we have the salacious remark.”
“Samantha, I haven’t even started on the salacious remarks,” he said in a voice suddenly gone smoky and deep.
Her brain—and emotions—stuttered. “Er . . .”
“So, tell me if you actually do remember meeting me at that long-ago wedding,” he continued, reverting to his normal tone. “Or were you just being polite?”
Samantha forced herself to regroup. “Once your grandfather reminded me, I remembered. Although the entire event was quite a ruckus, as you might recall. It was a very grand wedding.”
“I have vague memories of cheerful chaos, which is the norm at clan events. Can’t stand the bloody things, if you must know, although I realize that makes me a stick in the mud.”
“I do remember you reading that time I saw you in the castle’s library, tucked away in one of the nooks.”
“Purely a defensive tactic, I assure you. The twins were always trying to recruit me for one of their schemes, or Royal, one of my other brothers, would be attempting to drag me into a sword dancing competition. I’m a respectable fencer, but when I have to leap over the blasted things, I’m more inclined to fall on my arse.”
She laughed. “That would have been fun to see, especially since you would have been in a kilt.”
Then she realized what she’d said and clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
He studied her with a faint smile. “Not at all. Tell me about yourself, though. You grew up in the Highlands . . .”
“Deepin the Highlands. Small clan, small estate, small family.”
“No siblings?”
“No, there was just me. Still, I had a wonderful childhood, riding about the countryside with my father and visiting with our tenants. I learned so much from Papa.” She smiled. “He used to call me his little shadow, although he also gave me a great deal of freedom.”
“There are many advantages to growing up in the country. It must have been a bit of a shock when you moved to the city.”
“A complete shock.” She mentally grimaced at the memory of being labeled a bumpkin. She was the butt of more than a few jokes in those first wretched weeks.
“Why did you leave the Highlands, anyway?”
“My father insisted on it. The estate and title were going to pass to a cousin on Papa’s death, and he wanted me to make the best marriage possible. So he sent me and Mamma to Edinburgh for a season.” She gave a mock shudder. “I felt like Daniel thrown into the lion’s den.”
“I sympathize with your pain. The marriage mart is gruesome at the best of times. In London, one can get lost in the crowd, but in Edinburgh . . .”
“You can’t hide from anyone,” she said, smiling at his comical grimace. “My mother did her best, tricking me out in the latest styles. Still, everyone knew I was from the middle of nowhere in the Highlands.”
“Och, it’s the brogue,” he teased. “It’ll catch ye up every time.”
“No brogue for me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, not much of one, anyway. My parents provided me with an excellent governess, and she worked very hard to rid me of my untutored ways.”
Still, it had been a secret source of shame that she didn’t possess the cultured accents of the Edinburgh and English elites.
“Samantha, anyone who treated you poorly because of a brogue was a snob and a prat,” Braden firmly said. “From one Highlander to another, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Yes, but you don’t often speak with a brogue, nor do your brothers.”
