Hard-Hearted Highlander. Julia London

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      In the bailey, three stray dogs trotted over to have a sniff of them all, and two men who looked equally astray were on hand to greet them. The unsmiling Frang wordlessly showed them to a room near the great hall, where the Mackenzies were waiting.

      Bernadette was surprised to see Avaline’s fiancé dressed in a plaid blanket that fell just above his knees. He wore thick wool socks and shoes with it, a waistcoat and coat over it. It was such a peculiar dress, but it was, Bernadette had to admit, rather enticing, particularly as she could see just how muscular and long his legs were. She wondered if Avaline had noticed the same.

      The room where they’d gathered was smaller and more intimate than any of the other rooms Bernadette had seen on her first visit to Balhaire. The walls had been covered with tapestries to ward off the chill that seemed to permeate the castle, but the effect was stifling, and Bernadette felt a little as if the walls were closing in on her. She stood near the door, where at least there was a bit of air.

      Lord Kent herded his daughter and his wife forward to greet their hosts. Lord and Lady Mackenzie, their sons, their daughter, Miss Catriona Mackenzie, and another daughter they’d not yet met, Mrs. Vivienne Mackenzie. Lord Kent gestured absently to Bernadette when those introductions had been made. “Miss Holly, our daughter’s maid,” he said.

      Bernadette curtsied.

      “Welcome, all,” Mrs. Vivienne Mackenzie said in a lovely, melodic voice. “There are more of us, aye? My husband has gone to bring our bairns to say good-night—” She hadn’t even finished her thought when five children burst into the room and raced for their mother and their grandparents. The oldest, a girl, looked to be thirteen or fourteen years old. And the youngest, a boy, perhaps eight years of age. The children were raucous and gay, and they caused Bernadette’s heart to squeeze painfully. Children, especially young children, always had that effect on her—they reminded her of her own loss. A loss so wretched that even after all these years, she could not escape its clutches at the most inopportune times. Even now, she felt flushed and had to look down at her feet to regain her balance.

      The children were talking all at once, eager to be seen, eager to know their guests. Bernadette could well imagine that Lord Kent was nearly beside himself—he did not believe in mixing children with adults. She watched the children wiggle and sway about on their feet, unable to keep still. One boy carried something in his pocket that caused it to bulge, and Bernadette felt a smile softening her face. She would never know the pleasure of having a child that age. She would never feel the pride in watching one grow. When she’d lost her child, she’d almost died. She’d survived, but her ability to bear children had not.

      When the children had received kisses from their family, Mrs. Mackenzie sent them out with a maid, and Bernadette happened to look up from them and realized with a start that Avaline’s fiancé was watching her. She felt as if she’d been caught in a private moment, and awkwardly rubbed her nape, unnerved at having been caught in the act of admiring children. She turned her back to him and walked to a small table in a corner, where she pretended to closely examine what she could only imagine were some sort of artifacts.

      A moment later, his deep voice rumbled behind her. “I thought you fearless, yet here you stand, cowering in the corner.”

      Ah, how lucky for her! The beast had followed her. Bernadette had managed to trap herself in the corner, and couldn’t escape him without causing a scene. His presence felt too large, too powerful, and she shifted closer to the wall. “I’m not cowering. I’m admiring these artifacts. What are they, some sort of ancient weapon?”

      He leaned across her body, the arm of his coat brushing lightly against her bare forearm as he picked one up. He held it up to her. “This is a rock. One that my nephew has collected.”

      Artifacts! She gave the rock a disapproving look as if it had deliberately misled her. Her cheeks bloomed with embarrassment. “I should have paid closer attention to my archeology lessons.” She wished he would move, step aside. He stood so close that she could feel the power and bad humor radiating from him.

      Of course he didn’t move, as that would have been the polite, civilized thing to do. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he returned the rock to its place, and he looked entirely suspicious of her. What did he think, she had come here for nefarious reasons? The idea almost made her laugh.

      “If you donna stand apart from fear, then given our previous conversation, I might only surmise you believe yourself superior to a few Scots.” He waited for her to deny it.

      Bernadette smiled slowly. “The only Scot I believe myself superior to is you, Mr. Mackenzie.”

      One corner of his mouth turned up. “I would expect no different of the Sassenach.”

      “Of what?”

      The dark smile spread across his lips. “English,” he said.

      “If being English means that I believe in civility and manners, then yes, I suppose you should expect it of me.”

      His smirk deepened. “I advised you no’ to attempt to shame me, Miss Holly.”

      “And I advised you not to try to intimidate me.”

      “You advised me no’ to threaten you, lass.”

      He would quibble with her now? He could quibble with Avaline all that he liked, but not with her. There was a limit to what Bernadette would do to help this marital union, and speaking to him beyond what was absolutely necessary exceeded that limit. She thought about advising him of that, but decided that she would do best to keep her mouth shut and remove herself before she said something untoward. “Please excuse me.” She stepped around him and walked into the center of the room.

      “Miss Holly, will you join us for wine?” Lady Mackenzie asked, spotting her.

      “No, thank you,” Bernadette said politely.

      “Rabbie, darling, will you?”

      Rabbie. That was the first that Bernadette had heard his given name said out loud. Funny, but he didn’t seem like a Rabbie to her. That name belonged to someone congenial and hospitable. He was more like a Hades. Yes, that suited him. Hades Mackenzie, the rudest man in the Scottish Highlands.

      “Aye,” he responded to his mother, and accepted the glass of wine Frang held out to him. Bernadette nudged Avaline and whispered she should speak to her fiancé. Whether Avaline took her advice, Bernadette didn’t know, because she walked away, putting as many people and as much space between her and that ogre as she could.

      In doing so, she quite literally bumped into Captain Mackenzie.

      “I beg your pardon, Captain!” she said, alarmed that she had inadvertently stepped on the man’s foot as she’d glanced over her shoulder to see where the ogre was now.

      He caught her elbow and steadied her. “Good evening, Miss Holly,” he said pleasantly.

      “I’m rather surprised to see you here tonight. I thought you’d be at sea by now.”

      “Aye, as did I. Alas, our ship needs a wee bit of repair. I’ll be a landlubber for a time.” His eyes twinkled with his smile.

      Bernadette was again struck by how different these brothers were in mien.

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