Page 19 of The Highlander Is All That

It wasn’t something Ranald often did, preparing for a formal event. It was a rare occurrence, even in his capacity as Baron of Bower. But that did not account for his nervousness tonight. Which was ironic, if one thought about it.

He was an outsider here, and the Brits didn’t pull any punches in reminding him of that. He’d been to London many times and was used to it. In fact, he hardly cared. But for some reason, Lady Anne’s scorn cut him to the quick.

He sighed as he attached his sporran to his kilt and tried to focus on his reflection rather than the lines of her beautiful face haunting his mind. He’d thought they’d made some progress in the library. He’d thought they’d come to an understanding, but her derision had risen again in the parlor as they’d gone through the schedule for the season.

It would be wise to give her time, he supposed.

Hell, he would be wise to forget about his attraction to her and focus on the job at hand.

The enmity between the English and Scottish had deep roots and, even in this day and age, some people could not see past their differences.

Hamish knocked on his door and entered without waiting for a response.

“Ach!” he said. “You look fine.”

Ranald gave his friend the once-over and nodded. “As do you. Do you think we’re intimidating enough?”

Hamish thought this over and said, “A claymore, perhaps?”

“A good idea. Do you suppose they have one in the attic?”

“This is the Duke of Caithness’s home.”

“That it is.” They both laughed at the thought of strolling into Almack’s with swords at their sides.

Hamish sobered. “I’m no’ looking forward to this evening,” he said with a sigh.

“Nor am I. But it’s important we make a good show of it. For the duke’s sake.”

“Aye. And for the girls as well.”

“Indeed.” Ranald’s thoughts flew back to Anne and he grimaced.

Hamish didn’t miss his expression. “What is it?”

“Nothing. I had a conversation with Lady Anne.”

Hamish barked a laugh. “I imagine that was fun.”

“Fun is no’ the word I was thinking. She’s not pleased to have Scotsmen in her home.”

“I would imagine so. Considering her past.”

Ranald stilled and glanced at his friend. “Do you care to elaborate?”

“A familiar story. A disastrous holiday romance.”

“With a Scotsman?”

“Aye. She was quite young.”

“That does explain a lot.” It did, but it frustrated him because he hated being tarred with another’s brush.

“Hopefully they will all come to see that we are honorable men.”

“Aye.” But how long would he have to wait? And would there be a chance for them at all?

Only time would tell.