Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3) by Angeline Fortin (bill gates books to read .TXT) 📕

been so foolish, he’d be here right now wi’ us all. Whate’er his fate, ‘twas of his own making and that is the truth of it.”

His voice rang with conviction. It was the truth, Al supposed. Depending on what side of it one considered. Only a spacial thinker would consider it while those of a more linear logic would not. As attached to science as Keir was, she rather thought he might have made an excellent barrister.

“Enough of this now,” he went on. “I ken ye’re all worried for Hugh… and Father. As am I. But let’s put the responsibility where it is the most logical and that is wi’ Cumberland. I’ve sent oot men tae find our kin. To find oot if they are imprisoned or something more. Trust me to discover the truth before yer behavior descends tae that of animals.” He pinned Maeve with a glare after that last statement. “This lass is under my protection and there she shall remain until we ken the truth. And e’en after that.”

*

The somber man lingered after Ceana took her sister firmly by the arm and led her away with Oran trailing after them.

“She does hae a point, brother. There maun be an explanation for all this.” His eyes drifted over Al, down where they shouldn’t be, and back to Keir curiously. “There was much speculation over the dinner table last night aboot who this lass is and what she kens.”

“Her name is Miss Allorah Maines,” Keir snapped and turned to her. “May I present my brother, Mr. Artair MacCoinnich.”

Since the somber man kept his eyes on hers this time and bowed politely, she rose and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

His eyes sharpened inquisitively at the gesture but he shook her hand, seeming more surprised by her firm grip. “Despite Maeve’s claims, I can hear for myself ye’re nae Sassenach. From whence do ye hail?”

“The colonies.”

“Which ones?”

How many were there at this time? She had no clue. “The American ones. Across the Atlantic.”

“Ah, and what brings ye tae the Hielands in such troubled times, Miss Maines?”

“A sudden, undeniable urge to travel across the world,” she said with a wry twist of her lips. Well, she could produce a more palatable version of the truth as well as Keir. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

Artair seemed unamused by her answer, though a sharp snort from Keir ended in a cough.

“Alone?” Artair pressed. His eyes drifted only a tiny bit south before lifting again. It didn’t creep her out too much. His gaze was not lustful, merely appreciative and it seemed more as if he simply couldn’t help himself. A family of rakes.

She nodded. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“That is unfortunate. Hae ye seen much of our fair Hielands on yer travels then?”

“No, not much at all,” she said, glancing askance at Keir. “A bit of the moors, your fine dungeon…”

Keir chuckled but Artair maintained a straight face.

“Enough pestering the lass, Artair,” he said. “She’s here wi’out family or connection. As I said, I’ve taken it as my duty to protect her. From all threats, including being wearied by endless questions.”

She raised a brow at that.

“Except those delivered by myself, naturally.”

“Of course,” she agreed with open sarcasm and for the first time a full smile blossomed on Keir’s lips. Again her insides fluttered and she was thankful for Artair’s presence as it kept her from making a fool out of herself.

Oblivious to the flirtatious undertones, Artair only nodded. “Of course. Mayhap I can offer some more uplifting company beyond a threat, however.”

“Looking for a new audience for yer preachings?” Keir asked and turned to Al. “You’ll hae tae forgi’ Artair, lass, he’s an awful stick in the mud. A vicar, no less.”

“Really?”

Like his brother, Artair was a handsome man with about the same height and coloring. He was lean rather than muscular. While he seemed subdued in manner, he didn’t possess the pious quality she’d noticed in the few men of the cloth she’d met in her life.

“Aye, wi’ two parishes. One in Dingwall and another at Rosebraugh.”

Rosebraugh again. The name seemed to be everywhere, the two families firmly intertwined. She felt a fresh stab of remorse for having played a part in causing them all such grief.

Odd though that they would all seem more broken up about Hugh’s apparent death and not their father’s. All she’d seen for the Earl of Cairn thus far was anger and frustration.

“I am sorry to hear about your father’s disappearance. You must all be so worried.”

Artair looked at Keir and both men shrugged. “I do hae a care for Father’s fate. I should be most saddened if the worst were tae happen.”

High sentiment.

“Just as I am saddened by Frang’s loss,” he added, looking far more aggrieved then.

There it was again. “Frang?”

Keir seemed to read her discomfiture. “Frang was our other brother, born between myself and Artair. He died in the battle.”

She didn’t feel like he was saying everything. Still, he also seemed suddenly sad, all traces of humor washed away as he stared blankly out toward the firth.

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“’Tis a terrible blow tae lose a brother,” Artair said quietly. “’Tis why we worry so o’er Hugh… and Father. Another loss would be difficult tae bear.”

“I see.”

The old retainer who’d announced Ceana into the dining room the previous night shuffled across the graveled path calling Keir’s name. He roused himself from his mournful silence to answer.

“Aye, Archie?”

“Aye, laddie.”

“Ye needed me?”

“Oh? Aye.” He rheumy eyes clouded for a moment before he brightened and held out the folded paper in his hand. “A message came for ye.”

She wondered how long ago it had come and how many stops and starts the obviously forgetful old man had taken on his path to the gardens.

Sending the old man on his way, Keir cracked the wax seal and read it, a frown drawing his dark brows together. “Mathilde has news, or rather nae news a’tall. Hawick has seen nae record of Father