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She squeezed between him and the desk. “It’s all right, Braden. You go downstairs, and I’ll—”
“Braden, is it? So, youareon intimate terms with the man,” Beath rapped out.
Samantha mentally kicked herself. “Sir, I—”
Beath, his jowly features practically glowing red, cut her off. “So this is how you honor Roger’s memory? By sneaking off like a common lightskirt for an intimate rendezvous at my grandson’s own foundation. I am almost glad that he’s dead, so he cannot see your disgrace.”
For a moment, she was too shocked to respond. Then fury swept through her, freeing her tongue. “That is an incredibly ugly thing to say, even for you. I wouldneverdishonor Roger’s memory, and you know it.”
Braden stepped up beside her. “And I suggest ye watch yer blasted—”
Samantha jerked up a restraining hand. “Thank you, sir. But I will manage this.”
“I’ll not have him insultin’ ye,” Braden growled. “Ye’ve done nothin’ wrong.”
“I will be the judge of that,” Beath replied in a haughty tone. “Not some bumpkin from the Highlands.”
“Dr. Kendrick is not a bumpkin,” Samantha said, adopting an equally haughty tone. “And this entire conversation has become ridiculous. If you will simply give me a chance to explain—”
“Ho, Braden? Are you in there?” called a cheery voice from out in the hall.
Logan appeared in the doorway. The genial smile on his face was at odds with his sharp gaze that swept the room, taking a swift assessment.
“I beg your pardon,” he said to Lord Beath. “My wife sent me to fetch Lady Samantha.” Then he turned and smiled at her. “Donella says you must put work aside and come enjoy yourself.”
“Yes, I was saying the same thing,” Braden said, his voice returning to its normal tone. He glanced down at her with a slight smile. “Are you ready to return to the party, my lady?”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Beath snapped. “And I’ll thank the both of you Kendricks to mind your own business and be on your way.”
“Sorry to disoblige, but Lady Samantha is coming with me,” Braden replied.
Both his voice and his stance conveyed cool implacability. Unfortunately, although Samantha appreciated his protective instincts, she knew it was the worst tactic to employ with Beath.
Samantha touched Braden’s arm. “It’s quite all right, sir. I’ll come down after I speak with Lord Beath.”
He stared down at her, his gaze a turbulent storm of emotion that no doubt mirrored her own. That emotion was also dangerous, because right now she had to calm Beath down and needed everyone out of her way to do it.
“I need to speak with my grandfather-in-law,” she said, deliberately reminding him that Beath was, for better or worse, part of her family. “In private.”
He gave a slight grimace. “Are you sure?”
“Quitesure,” she replied.
In fact, she was now in a fever of impatience, because Beath looked ready to go off like a bottle rocket.
“All right, Logan and I will—”
“Ho, laddie boy, where are ye?” called yetanothervoice from the hall. It was one that likely spelled their doom.
Angus appeared in the doorway, looking like he’d stepped straight from the pages of Rob Roy. For some reason, he was now sporting an ancient Highland bonnet on his snowy-white head.
“Oh, God,” Braden sighed.
Logan shot out an arm to keep his grandfather from entering the room. “Hold on, Grandda. Why are you here?”
“When half the family disappears, I tend to get a wee bit concerned.” Angus glanced at Beath. “Ho, what’s amiss? His lordship is lookin’ mighty fashed.”
“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about,” Logan said. “Why don’t you go back downstairs? We’ll join you in a minute.”
