Page 101 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

“Now, dear,” Susana said, patting him, as though that would calm his rage. “This is no’ so bad.”

“No’ so bad? He seduced our baby!”

Isobel sniffed. “Technically, I seduced him—”

“I’ll kill him.”

Thankfully, Nick’s mother came to his defense. “You willna kill him.”

“Of course not,” Susana said.

And then, in tandem, both mothers said—as Nick had expected—“They will be betrothed immediately.”

Nick swallowed hard and glanced at Isobel, to see how she was taking the news. To his delight, and admitted befuddlement, she seemed at peace with the sentence. Indeed, she smiled at him and took his hand.

“Betrothed?” her father said, as though he’d never heard the word before.

“Aye.” Susana smiled, but it was a dark smile. “You both agree, do you no’?”

Nick nodded and glanced at Isobel. To his heartfelt delight, she nodded as well.

“Excellent,” Mother said. “We shall plan a betrothal ball.” She hooked arms with Susana and, chattering like mad, they quit the room. All the other elders followed them out, astonishingly, leaving Nick and Isobel alone. And Andrew Lochlannach barely scowled at him at all.

Apparently, now that they were to be betrothed, there was no danger in them being private.

Isobel leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “This is perfect, Nick.”

“Is it?” he asked. His mood lifted. Thank God she’d finally come to see reason, to accept the fact that they were meant to be together forever. His heart was light and his soul sang.

“I don’t know why I dinna think of it before.”

He pulled her closer with a chuckle. “Think of what, my darling?” Ah. How sweet it was to call her that.

Her expression was gleeful. “Do you no’ see? We can be betrothed throughout the Season, spend all the time we want together . . .” That sounded wonderful. “And then when it’s time for me to return to Scotland, we can have some terrible fight—publicly, of course—and break it off.”

And his heart plunged to his very toes.

* * *

“You’re looking very pleased with yourself,” Catriona said to Isobel as the two of them strolled around the lake later that morning. “Considering.”

Isobel blinked. “Considering what?”

“The fact you’ve just gotten yourself betrothed. To a man. What did you say? A fate worse than death?”

She had to laugh. “This is different. This is Nick. He understands.”

Catriona gaped at her. “What do you mean?”

“He knows this is just for show.”

“Just for show? Isobel, nothing about a society betrothal is just for show.”

“Everything about a society betrothal is just for show. And in this case, it serves our purposes. Nick and I will be able to talk privately, dance as many times as we want. Kiss . . .”

“And then you marry him.”

A gusty laugh escaped. “No. Then I return to Scotland after having had a wonderful holiday with a handsome man.”