Page 7 of Highlander’s Sloth

3

They Have a Son, We Have a Sister

Not quite ten days after Gilbert’s first sip of Macanroy whisky, the messenger he had sent returned to bring him news. The report that Laird Macanroy not only had an unwed son but was also desirous of finding him a suitable wife had Laird MacGill running into Lady Christine’s dressing room, waving the letter in his hands.

“We’re in luck. It’s just as I predicted. The Macanroys have more money than they can shake a stick at and are therefore looking to expand their influence by means of an advantageous match to a powerful clan. Listen well—the laird’s secretary writes that they will be willing to make settlements upon us if we sign all guarantees that Kirsty is a right and proper wife for them!”

Lady Christine slowly placed her hair comb down on the dresser and made eye contact with her husband.

“But other than her virtue, I cannot think of a more ill-suited bride than Kirsty. She acts like a hoyden. She guzzles her food, romps in the fields, and hobnobs with the stable boys. I don’ doubt they will send her back.”

Gilbert looked grim. “If she embarrasses me or makes a scene, I have ways to make her regret crossing me. Sure, she can choose to act the hoyden and return to Mac an Goill unwed, but I’ll make a promise that she spends the rest of her days in maidenly seclusion. I’ll sell her ponies, lock away her fancy robes, and as for her precious rowboat—I’ll burn it! I should have done so anyway. ‘Tis unnatural for a woman to sail and ride on her own.”

Christine sighed. Ever since she had married Gilbert, she had found herself caught between the willfulness of his sisters and the demands of her husband. As strict as their governess, Miss MacCorkindale, had tried to be, the MacGill girls had grown up with a streak of stubbornness every bit as wide as their brother’s. It did not make for a peaceful household, but Christine had always managed to come up with ideas of how to heal the rifts and mend the disagreements.

“It will serve us best if ye request more information about this young man she’s to wed,” Christine suggested. “How many years does he hold in his dish? Of what make is he? Tall? Dark? Short? Fair? Why is he still unwed? The answers to these questions will do much to alleviate a maiden’s mind when she is faced with the prospect of being carried off willy-nilly to go marry a stranger.”

Gilbert shrugged. “If the man’s unacceptable, I’ll call the whole thing off. It behooves me to accompany Kirsty to the Macanroy estate. She should trust that I’ll no’ allow her to marry a monster.”

“Handsome men have been known to have the manners of a monster, Gil,” Lady Christine said calmly. “But it comforts me that ye will go with her. However, make a push to find out more, if ye please. It will make my job easier when it comes to persuading her to be biddable.”

Laird MacGill did not bother informing his wife that he was only going with his sister to the Macanroy lodge to make sure she did not run away en route or behave outrageously when she arrived there, but nevertheless, he returned to his library to write another message to Laird Macanroy.

The message Gil received back after a sennight of waiting did much to encourage him to give Kirsty the good news that she was soon to be wed. Laird Macanroy’s secretary reassured Laird MacGill that his lairdship’s son was a paragon of masculine charm. He had been well educated until he reached the age of eight and ten, and then sent overseas to France to acquire polish and exceptional manners. From the regular reports which reached his mother, Lady Elspeth, it was held to good authority that no one knew how to act the gentleman better than Callum Macanroy. As for the fact, the man found himself unwed not two years away from turning thirty. Laird MacGill could rest assured it was in no way due to any unseemly impediment but rather to be seen as the natural choice for a young man in such an exciting city. He was, to all the best accounts of those who knew him, tall, comely, and well-made. He had never yet been bested in a duel. Was this not proof enough of the Macanroy heir’s acceptability as a suitable husband? The young man would be arriving back in the Highlands soon enough. Would it be possible for his betrothed to join him at Macanroy Lodge precipitously?

Gilbert had high hopes his matchmaking skills would be applauded by his wife. As for what Kirsty would think of the match, he really did not care. His sister had stolen his best stallion from the stables not two days before, and in trying to jump it over a ditch, had ended up causing the beast to strain its hind fetlock. The sooner she became someone else’s problem to bear, the happier Gil would be. It was time for Christine and himself to be alone in their home and maybe even try for more bairns.

He waited for dinnertime to arrive and then made his way to the dining room with Laird Macanroy’s latest correspondence in his hand.

As usual, Kirsty was late, and when she finally entered the room and sat down, it was seen that she had torn the fine lace stitched around her chemise.

Gilbert did not object. He was silently joyous that soon, Kirsty’s unruly behavior would become somebody else’s cross to bear.

“Kirsty, so kind of ye to grace us with yer presence,” Laird MacGill said in a jovial tone. “Ye might want to try some of this whisky yer godfaither sent over. ‘Tis said to be the finest in all the land.”

Kirsty looked at her brother suspiciously. Not only did he appear to be in a very good mood, but he was offering to be extremely generous as well.

“Aye, Brither, I’ll have some, I thank ye,” Kirsty said politely. “Laird Buccleuch has been singing the brew’s praises ever since the crate arrived. I heard him tell of the whisky’s many virtues when I rode over there last week.”

Gilbert was tempted to scold her for riding to visit the Buccleuch clan without his permission, but he bit back the impulse and continued to smile.

The footman poured them each a glass.

“Slàinte,” Laird MacGill said, raising his glass toward his wife and then his sister.

Kirsty took a hesitant sip of the liquor. It did not disappoint. The taste was all at once sweet—heavenly sweet—and then, by gradual degrees, the layers of flavor and subtle scent imbued a deeper relish to the mouth.

“Losh, Brither,” she said, “the whisky has an astonishing bite to it! I’m no expert on the matter, but it seems to blend the ingredients together into a delightful mellowness. I’ll have some more if ye have no objection.”

Gilbert held his hand out to Lourie to indicate the footman was to pour no more whisky for his sister. Instead, he reached over and patted her hand in brotherly fashion, saying, “I’m happy ye have a taste for the Macanroy whisky, Sister, because I have arranged for yer betrothal to Laird Macanroy’s heir. Yer wedding is set for seven days hence.”

Kirsty knocked at Christine’s dressing room door. She could not chance trying to talk to her sister-in-law in the bedchamber because as likely as not, she would find her brother there too. Laird and Lady MacGill still had an intimate relationship. At least in Lady Christine’s dressing room, Kirsty ran no risk of bumping into her brother.

“Come,” she heard Christine’s voice command from the other side. She turned the doorknob and went in. Lady MacGill did not look surprised to see her.

“Kirsty, how lovely. Come and sit down.” She patted the stool next to her velvet-covered ottoman invitingly. “Is it no’ wonderful news? Ye can soon tell yer brither to go play with fiddlesticks when he tries to boss ye around because ye’ll have yer own establishment to run.”

This positive attitude did not have an immediately elevating effect on Kirsty’s mood.