Page 72 of The Highlander Is All That

What a pity she had to sit politely in this room and pretend to be pleased to have company. Especially when said company made her want to scream.

Belinda Battersby wasn’t bad, but Callinda Frey and Althea Clark were horrible. Sally Albright was just downright mean. They all took pleasure in deriding the Scotsmen, even though they’d never even met them, which was unfair at best.

It took a great deal of fortitude not to slap them silly.

Which was odd, because Anne had always been the logical, sober St. Claire sister, the one not given to emotional outbursts or fits of melodrama. Somehow these feelings that Ranald had awakened in her had unleashed other beasts as well, and she was untried at containing them.

It was not easy.

Sally Albright really was the worst. She sniggered as she told the tale of a certain grande dame who’d come home from a trip to Scotland with a red-haired second son, and Anne tolerated it. But when Sally referred to the child as an unfortunate and inferior breed, she couldn’t stop herself. She leaped to her feet and opened her mouth to command Sally to shut up.

Fortunately, before she could unleash the kraken and ruin herself utterly in social circles, the parlor door opened and she caught sight of something that stole her breath and made her pulse surge.

Ranald had returned.

Ah, he looked wonderful. Dusty and scruffy and wonderful.

He caught her eye and flashed her a warm grin. She couldn’t have stopped her responding smile if her life had depended upon it.

Callinda and Althea noticed, of course, and whipped around to pin Ranald with gimlet gazes.

He flinched as he realized what he’d walked into.

“Ohhh. There’s one,” Sally said in a lurid tone. “Do come in and sit with us.”

It was almost amusing, watching Ranald’s Adam’s apple bob. “I, ah . . . couldn’t.” He tried to back out of the room, but Althea patted the seat beside her.

“Nonsense.”

“I apologize, ladies. I’ve just returned from a long journey. I should probably, ahem, freshen up.”

“Nonsense.” Again, with the beating of the cushions.

Ranald glanced at Anne in a save me kind of way, but she was not inclined to send him off. It was too pleasant to be in his company again.

“Do come have some tea,” she said. “You must be parched.”

He glanced at the tray. “Ah, yes. Tea.”

“Panacea for all wounds,” Aunt Esmeralda warbled. It was clear she was delighted to see him, but most probably because he would steal all the attention and she would have a respite from dealing with these buzzards.

To hedge her bets, Esmeralda commanded Henley to find Hamish and send him down as well.

With any luck, they would survive this morning call.

But Anne found it suddenly exhilarating.

Because Ranald was back.

Chapter Fifteen

Hamish did come to the morning room after all, but only to save Ranald who, Henley informed him, had returned from his journey and unwittingly stepped into a nest of vipers.

And vipers they were.

Although raptors was closer to the mark.

When he stepped through the door—and yes, he had taken a moment to dress in full kilt—their heads swiveled around like birds of prey and they stared, unblinking, at his person.