A smile touched her lips at the thought. Whoever could have guessed that a party might be the way to unravel an espionage plot?
Chapter 5
The next morning, Miss Van Etten and her archaeologist friend arrived by speedboat. As much as Sinclair admired the elegantly designed hull, he found his gaze instead drawn to the lady conning the vessel. The sun had arrived in its fullest glory today, and it shone on her upturned face. Heedless of the certainly cold spray of seawater, Miss Van Etten gazed merrily ahead. She was close enough to the shore now that he could see the rise and fall of her beaver coat as she sucked in a lusty helping of air. Sinclair felt like he was breathing the crispness into his own lungs as his chest filled with a damn curious lightness.
“They’re here!” Hannah’s shout bounced over the landscape.
Sinclair, who had been trimming the hooves of their pony, Charlie, as he waited for the women’s arrival, lifted the beast’s last leg. He had time to finish the job before they secured the boat and welcomed the parade of his half siblings.
Charlie emitted a beleaguered snort at the indignity. Baring his chunky teeth, the equine tossed his ruddy thatch of mane and turned to glower at Sinclair. When he simply ignored the ill-tempered brute, Charlie attempted to nip his shoulder. Accustomed to the horse’s grooming ritual, Sinclair jerked away from the powerful chomp. Most of the time, he won this battle of wills. Sometimes, Charlie did. And whenever he did, Sinclair swore the pony watched him with a malevolent gleam in his eye as Sinclair went about his chores while nursing a throbbing shoulder.
Staying clear of Charlie’s jaw, Sinclair quickly clipped the last hoof. Even though he’d just saved the ungrateful Charlie from sore feet, the horse rewarded him by sneezing in his hair. Profusely. Charlie whinnied in delight, and despite his short, bulky frame, he managed to prance away with the grace of a prize Lipizzan stallion.
“Ingrate!” Sinclair called after the whelp.
The horse only flicked his bushy tail and sent his mane rippling through the wind. The animal was likely off in search of seaweed, which the stubborn gappus preferred to grass and even to grain.
When the beastie stopped to pull a clump of bead weed from a boulder near the surf, Sinclair shook his head fondly. Turning, he saw not only that Miss Van Etten and Miss Morningstar had managed to secure the boat to the ancient stone jetty jutting into the sea but that allsixof his siblings had climbed on board. Alexander—who was always grubby no matter how many baths either Freya or Sinclair gave him—wasrollingon her immaculate burgundy seats. Hannah had pushed the heiress out of the way to study the controls, while the twins were petting the shiny lacquered wood. Margaret had cornered the ladies and was most likely bombarding them with a litany of questions. Freya was trying to corral the younger children, but instead she accidentally stepped on Miss Van Etten’s foot.
To Sinclair’s surprise, the new Lady of Muckle Skaill did not lose her temper. Even Reggie—who had generally tolerated Sinclair’s younger siblings fairly well—had grumbled when any of them had touched his fine things. Although Reggie had been close to Sinclair and later to Astrid, he’d always held himself a bit apart from the rest of the islanders—friendly enough but not warm. He had not had the earl’s cruelty, but he hadn’t completely escaped a sense of superiority. Even in his relationship with Sinclair, Reggie had always had to be the decision maker.
“Oh, I do apologize, miss!” Freya clasped her hand over her mouth in horror, her cheeks the color of a bloodred summer sunset.
“No need!” Miss Van Etten airily tossed her hand. “I assure you that it was tromped on much more emphatically during my debutante ball.”
“Were the ladsthatclumsy?” Mary’s mouth spread into a perfect O.
“Oh, heavensno.” Miss Van Etten laughed. “It was all my fault. I was forever sneaking out of dance practice to race cars instead. It wasmyfeet that were in the wrong place.”
Sinclair had never known toffs to poke fun at themselves. Even Reggie—who had regarded life as a grand lark—had always taken his own self-image seriously.
“I’ve never heard of a lassie not knowing how to dance.” Barbara’s lips formed the exact same circle as her twin’s had.
Miss Van Etten lightly patted the girl’s arm. “Darling, we just let the menthinkit is all their fault when a clumsy step happens.”
The girls all tittered, but Alexander stopped his bouncing, his little face scrunched in horror. “Does that mean I’ll need to learn to dance all proper like?”
“Don’t worry.” Mary bent over and squeezed him. “We’ll teach you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Alexander thankfully sank into the cushions instead of continuing his efforts to destroy them. As soon as Sinclair got toThe Briar, he was going to make sure the youngest was good and well contained.
“We can start your lessons at the ceilidh!” Barbara grabbed her twin’s hands, and the two twirled about as if dancing to a jaunty tune. The boat bobbed ominously, but the girls paid no heed, even though Sinclair had taught them better than that.
“Mind your frolicking, lassies. You’re not on solid ground,” he called out. The twins listened immediately, but he could see their knees still bouncing to the reel playing in their heads. He sorely hoped that Miss Van Etten would make good on the pronouncement that she’d given yesterday to the bairns about hosting a ceilidh. Reggie had been forever making offhanded grand promises to the children that he’dnever intended to keep. And it would be more than Sinclair’s siblings who would be disappointed this time. News of the impending fete had carried throughout Frest.
Although Sinclair hoped Miss Van Etten would eventually do more for the islanders than just host a party, a celebration would do them all good. They needed a peedie bit of joy in their life after the long war and the worries of what would happen once the navy’s presence, and the sailors’ accompanying coin, dwindled even further.
The earl would never have been so generous as to eventhinkof inviting his crofters to any of his events. If anyone had presented the idea to him, he would have heartily laughed at the poor person’s expense. Reggie—who’d always enjoyed a party and the attention it brought him—had attended the ceilidhs from time to time. He’d dance with the island lasses and listen to some of the old tales before he’d grab a jug of whiskey and cajole Sinclair into leaving the festivities. Reggie would get drunk and Sinclair tipsy as they sat on the cliffs of Hamarray, talking about everything from novels to old battles to animal husbandry to Reggie’s misadventures in London and the Continent.
“What do you think of me hosting a ceilidh, Mr.Sinclair? Margaret assures me that it is a proper thing for a laird to do.” Miss Van Etten suddenly beamed at him as he reachedThe Briar, and his heart did a curious skip jump like a young lamb in spring.
“It would be enjoyed by many.”
“And will you teach me the proper dance steps?” She winked at him, and the giddy feeling kicked against his chest again.
Before he could respond, Barbara piped up. “Oh, Mary and I will have to show you, along with Alex and Miss Morningstar. Thorfinn will be too busy fiddling. He’s the best player in all of Orkney. Freya’s very good on the accordion that used to be Da’s.”
Before one of his siblings could add something unintentionally embarrassing, Sinclair scrambled to say, “Are you two ladies ready to meet the rest of the crofters?”
