Or was it brother-in-laws?
He didn’t know, to be honest. It wasn’t a phrase he had anticipated often using.
Mr. Malcolm Penn-Leithand Mr. Ethan Penn-Leith turned around as Fox walked into the great hall.
Malcolm . . . Fox had met several times previously. Tall, burly, and dark-haired, the man looked like a cross between a blacksmith and Thor, the Norse God of Thunder. Or rather, a kilted, silent, stoic version of such figures.
Malcolm stood ramrod still, staring at Fox with challenging eyes. There was a sense ofseeingabout Malcolm Penn-Leith that was rather unnerving. When negotiating Leah’s marriage contract, Malcolm had barely said anything beyondayeandnae, but Fox had left the encounter feeling rather scrubbed bare, just the same.
Ethan Penn-Leith, however, was startlingly different from either of his two siblings.
Fox knew the basics about Ethan—that he had been raised by an aristocratic uncle, that he had excelled at Oxford, that he had a promising career as a poet, of all things.
These facts had led Fox to assume that Ethan would be a quiet, bookish sort. A smaller, less muscular version of Malcolm.
But in that, Fox had greatly erred.
Whereas Malcolm was broad-chested, kilted, and only lacked a sword before galloping off to raid highland cattle, Ethan appeared ready for a ride down Rotten Row in Hyde Park during the fashionable afternoon hours. Dressed in an expensively cut riding coat, breeches, and high, tasseled boots, Ethan Penn-Leith doffed his top hat and greeted Fox with a bow that could only be described aslavish.
“Brother,” he said, warmly, “what a pleasure tae finally meet ye.”
Ethan followed his bow with an enthusiastic handshake and infectious grin. His accent was more subtle than that of his siblings, more akin to Lord Hadley’s refined Scottish brogue.
More to the point, Leah’s youngest brother was rather startlingly handsome—light brown hair and striking green eyes set in a face that was more pretty than handsome.
Ethan seemed a congenial puppy of a person—impossible, Fox guessed, not to adore.
Ladies likely loved him.
“You are both most welcome,” Fox replied.
In lieu of speaking, Malcolm merely nodded his head.
Ethan rocked back on his heels, surveying the room, clearly inured to Malcolm’s hard silence. “I apologize for our abrupt arrival, but as ye well ken, it’s ten miles up the glen to here. Seemed easier tae just bring ourselves up than send a message and wait for a reply.” He smiled again, knowing full well the power of his charm.
Ethan was young yet. How old had Leah said he was? Twenty-two? Twenty-three?
An age that felt an eon past to Fox.
Ethan Penn-Leith faced the world with the shiny idealism of youth, the sort that experience had yet to tarnish.
Had Fox ever been so . . . buoyant? Able to bob above the challenging seas of life?
Fox paused, as he supposed he had been rather optimistic two decades ago. But then Reality, with its pain and betrayal, had asserted itself, battering him until he realized it was sensible to just stay down.
“Malcolm! Ethan! Whyever are ye both here?” Leah said from the doorway, tone high and girlishly pleased.
Malcolm and Ethan spun to greet her.
“Hullo, sis.” Ethan beamed.
Leah rushed forward to wrap her youngest brother in an exuberant hug.
Fox’s wife was dressed simply today in a worn muslin dress and white working apron, as befitted a woman who had to traipse over a roof, Fox supposed. Her hair was tucked into a loose knot at the back of her head, but tendrils had escaped to sprawl across the nape of her neck.
“I had tae see ye,” Ethan continued, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. “I missed the wedding, so a wee visit seemed in order. Uncle and Aunt Leith asked me to return to Aberdeen for the summer, but I insisted on stopping here first.”
Leah pulled back and bopped on her tiptoes, pecking Ethan on the cheek. “Of course Uncle wants ye home over the summer. It gives him a chance tae show ye off tae all his friends in Aberdeen.”
