Page 100 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

All eyes turned to her with curiosity. Including Nick’s. How on earth did she intend to prove something like that?

She turned to Celia and crossed her arms over her chest. “He has a birthmark on one of his buttocks. If you spent the night with him, you would be able to tell us which one.”

Nick’s jaw dropped. His heart soared. Oh, he loved this woman. He could just kiss her . . .

But then he glanced at her father again and thought better of it for the moment.

For her part, Celia seemed confused. Nick could tell from her expression, she knew she had a fifty–fifty chance of getting it right. She glanced at her mother for advice, and then, after a brief consultation, she smiled demurely and said, “The right buttock, of course.”

All attention veered from Celia to Nick then, which was discomfiting to say the least. But he bore it. Because he knew something Celia didn’t.

His mother barked a laugh. “Wrong.”

“Of course, I meant the left—”

“Let’s see the buttocks,” Lady Esmeralda crowed.

“I have no intention of showing my buttocks,” he informed her. To which she put out a lip.

“Indeed, Lady Swofford,” Mother said in a cold tone. “The fact is, Edward has no birthmarks, save the family mark above his lip.”

“Well,” the lady blustered. “This is ridiculous. It is still no proof of his innocence.”

“But perhaps proof of your lies,” Uncle Ewan growled.

Lady Swofford went red in the face. “Did you just call me a liar?” she squawked. And then, to the duke, “He just called me a liar.”

Nick’s father merely blinked.

“Well, I never . . .” The good lady sputtered for a moment—and her face went more to purple—then she grabbed her daughter’s hand and, to the relief of all, stormed from the room.

“Good riddance,” Lady Esmeralda muttered.

“To bad rubbish,” Uncle Ewan added.

“Do you suppose she’s leaving for good?” Father asked hopefully.

Conversation rose among the elders, and Nick took the opportunity to rush to Isobel’s side and pull her into his arms. “You shouldn’t have done that, darling,” he said, though he was wholly glad she had.

She snorted, in the most ladylike fashion. “I couldna let her trap you into marriage. No one deserves that.”

He stared down at her, his chest aching. Didn’t she realize? Didn’t she know what she had just done to herself? She had consigned herself to marriage. To a dreaded Englishman.

Clearly, by her brave smile, she did.

His heart warmed. She did . . .

Mother rushed up and wrapped her in a hug. “Isobel, darling.”

Isobel’s mother came to hug her as well. “That was clever of you, darling, but dangerous to lie like that.”

Perhaps Isobel’s expression was just a tad too ingenuous, because both mothers paled.

“It wasna a lie?” Susana staggered back. Unfortunately, into her husband’s arms. And yes, the glower was back.

Andrew Lochlannach bristled. “Tell me it was a lie,” he growled.

Nick and Isobel exchanged a glance. When neither responded—for what could they say?—her father’s meaty fists began to work.