Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Kilts in fact were not skirts.

Kilts were a thing frustrating, beastly men wore to distract from their terrible marriage proposals. If what Gabriel said earlier that morning could be considered a proposal.

Given that it involved no questions, she would argue it had not been.

He was flirting with her. Teasing her. She knew he liked the edge of her temper, and how it flared and burned her lips, which he was becoming excellent at cooling off with slow, dizzying kisses.

The world could turn upside down, and she wouldn’t know with his lips on hers.

She smiled to herself. He had fine, strong calves. He strutted around the festival today, holding himself proud and tall. As if he had never left Scotland.

Kate was introduced to cousins and friends not as the girls’ governess, but as the proprietress of the Thistle and Glen Inn. Gabriel complimented her on her business prowess, and she politely nodded and smiled along, not sure if she wished to hide or accept the praise.

It felt wrong somehow to be good at something she hadn’t prepared for. Kate had spent her entire life learning how to become the perfect society wife.

And one governess post in Scotland had changed all that.

The girls were not her pupils. Elsie had taken over their tutoring, and though Kate had expected the girls to rejoice, she found Lorna crying in bed because she had missed Kate.

Or how she carried Maisie off to bed the night before after she fell asleep on the sitting room’s sofa, and she nuzzled against her neck, afraid to let go while half asleep.

She didn’t wish to leave them.

Life was full of unexpected twists, and this was something she hadn’t counted on. But she wished, more than anything, to see Charlotte.

She would know what was best.

Elsie bickered with Finn as the group burst through the inn’s front door. The inn was packed, beer and whisky was flowing, and fiddle music filled the air as well as laughs.

It was a merry night after a day of music and games.

Gabriel leaned in as she assessed the crowd.

“You have Archie working behind the bar?”

“Thought he deserved a chance.”

It’s not that she didn’t agree, she just thought…

“I should go back and see what the kitchen is like. This is far better than any turnout I expected.”

He nodded, suddenly going still.

“Elspeth MacInnes, I swear upon all the stars in the sky,” Finn declared, “if ye say that again, I’ll?—”

“Ye’ll what?” she challenged, winking at Kate. “Go on.”

Kate pushed through the crowd and saluted Archie behind the bar, before slipping behind herself to head to the kitchen. Gabriel followed, as did Finn and Elsie.

“Go enjoy the party, I will only be a mo?—”

Kate froze in the doorway to the kitchen, her heart hammering against her chest .

Her mind tumbled into a messy, knotted ball of words before she stammered, “Wh-what’s this?”

“That would be a new stove,” Elsie announced, coming to stand next to Kate with crossed arms. “Straight off the boat this morning.”

“This morning?”

“Ye need a stove to bake with. It’s verra modern. Everything cooks more evenly than if ye used the hearth.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

A stove. To bake with.

A business to help run.

New gowns to play hostess in.

And the bloody fool hadn’t won the caber toss today.

“It will help on busy days like today,” Gabriel said behind her shoulder. She resisted the urge to throw her arms around his neck, but in the moment, that was all she wished.

And for him to ask her, properly, to stay.

Not demand it.

Too many men had done that, shaping her life on their whims, leaving her to face the consequences.

“What do ye think?” Finn asked.

“Oh.” She clasped her hands together. “It’s a lovely stove.”

“Will ye bake with it?” Gabriel asked.

“I’ll need to learn how, but I… yes. Of course. Look how fine it looks in this kitchen.”

“I told ye she would like it,” grumbled Elsie.

Kate scrunched her nose at her new friend, half embarrassed and more thankful.

“Fine, verra well, verra well,” Finn declared, clapping his hands together. “That’s settled. I believe it’s time to celebrate properly.”

“Celebrate my brother’s loss to Duncan McQuarrie?”

“It was a verra tall caber.” Gabriel frowned. “And I’m out of practice.”

“Did you used to go about tossing logs around in between running whisky?” Kate asked, giggling. “You probably grumbled about it the whole time. ”

He winked at her. “I’ll just have to toss ye over my shoulder for more practice.”

“Ah,” Elsie said, standing between Kate and Gabriel. “There will be no more tossing young unwed lasses over yer shoulder, Gabriel MacInnes. I will be forced to act as chaperone.”

“Chaperone?”

“Ye’re no’ to come near her person with any sinful intentions. Ye hear me, Brother?”

Kate shrugged. “You did lose today.”

Gabriel tossed his arms up into the air with a groan. “So, I did. What will ye have me do, Kate?”

“I believe your niece said you need to drop to your knees and be… romantical.”

“Ye wish for me to ask for yer hand in marriage?”

Perhaps it was the fresh Scottish air still clinging to his skin, or the way his hair fell by his eyes, or that wicked slip of a grin that bore straight to her core. Sinful intentions, hmm? That was all he had for her lately, and she didn’t wish to hide it any longer.

Her heart raced at his challenge. She did, didn’t she? Was she willing to let go of the independence she had found for herself?

“Oh, come, I hear the bagpipes!” Elsie said, breaking their connection. She tugged Kate along, even as Kate spun around and mouthed “thank you” to Gabriel for the new stove.

He stood there, a giant in the kitchen, and gave her a nod. Such a small, courtly gesture that she issued a sigh.

She was sighing over the Highlander.

Again.

The inn’s main room was crowded and loud and jolly, and Kate found herself laughing as Elsie danced with friends, parting the crowd to drag her closer to the bagpipes and fiddles.

“Let my brother think on it,” she said. “He can do better than asking for yer hand in the kitchen.”

While Kate agreed, her heart hadn’t slowed in her chest. Her pulse drummed in her ears, and she felt as if she were flying, so utterly happy .

Even as Duncan McQuarrie joined the party and began boasting how he had won the caber toss over Gabriel.

Someone handed her a glass of whisky. She took a sip even as Elsie winked at her.

She closed her eyes and took another draining drink of the glass, shuddering as the whisky burned her throat and made its way warm, down into her belly. After all day outside in the Highlands, she was cold.

Meanwhile, Lorna and Maisie had run about excitedly, cheering on their uncle, playing and teasing with their aunt, and holding Kate’s hand as they all watched Gabriel toss the caber.

It had been an excellent toss, close to almost winning, but not close enough. And Kate wouldn’t lie. She had been disappointed. And though she had teased Gabriel for the rest of the afternoon, she could tell his pride had been a little beat up. She would have married him even if he had asked after losing. But perhaps that was a secret best kept to herself. She wished more than ever that she could remain with the MacInnes and not return to London. She didn’t have to return soon, but she knew that remaining at the castle with Gabriel was a heavy decision. She couldn’t remain and keep her newfound independence if she married. But if she left, Kate would be breaking her own heart.

She was in love with the stubborn man.

“Dance with me,” cried Elsie, stretching out her hands for Kate’s. Maisie and Lorna raced down the stairs to join their aunt and Kate, and the four danced in a circle, laughing merrily as the music roared, and the inn was a crush of laughter.

As Kate twirled Maisie around, Gabriel reentered the room, towering over the others. He pinned her with his stare, hot like the cast-iron pot she used to make porridge in the morning. She flashed a weak smile, the ground beneath her feet suddenly feeling soft. If she left, she would miss this look of his. The one that put her firmly in the center of his world, as if nothing else mattered.

The crowd parted for Gabriel as he stalked forward .

“Oh, I see,” said Elsie, leaning over to Kate’s ear, “it looks as if someone’s about to be romantical.”

Lorna groaned.

Finn approached, asking if Elsie wished to dance. Her response was anything but appropriate. And in the middle of that chaos, Kate stopped dancing, waiting for Gabriel.

“What’s romantical mean?” whispered Maisie. Well, not whispered but rather shouted. Kate chuckled to herself, smiling as Gabriel’s mouth also spread into a grin. He stretched his hand out for hers. She loved the way her hand fit perfectly into his, the rough feel of his skin compared to her soft touch.

“McQuarrie is here,” she said, still struck.

Gabriel shook his head, drawing her close, and began to dance. “I dinna want to make a scene. Let him stay.”

“Even if he boasts about his win.”

“I’m with ye, so what did he really win?” He leaned down. “Archie has been watching him all day. Dinna worry, Kate. Dance with me.”

Suddenly, the door swung open revealing two figures in the dim candlelight of the tavern. At first, she thought it was only more patrons visiting from the festival.

But as the first figure stepped inside, she froze, instantly recognizing the cold disappointment of her mother’s glare.

Kate dropped Gabriel’s hands and jumped away, placing Maisie down on the ground, brushing back her hair that had slipped from its pins, trying to right herself, trying to appear as if she was in a London ballroom and not in a crowded inn full of drunken Scottish men and women, about to be proposed to.

“Mother?”

Kate glanced back at Gabriel, a nervous twist in her stomach, then pushed through the crowd to greet her parents, who surveyed the room with horrified looks.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, holding her hand out to shake her mother’s. Meanwhile, her father stood behind her mother as if he had a rod up his back, straight and awkward, with disgust brewing in his eyes .

“This is what you came to Scotland for?” her mother asked, horrified. “Katherine Bancroft, you are coming home with us. There’s no need for you to pretend to be a governess when we both know children are not a strength of yours.”

Kate darted a glance around the crowded room nervously, sick to her stomach and furious. And more than a little embarrassed to have this play out in front of everyone, both friends and strangers alike.

“The inn is full, Mother. I apologize there are no rooms for you. The next coach won’t be here for another day.”

“We arrived in our own carriage. No need to wait.”

“Hello, Sir Martin and Lady Bancroft,” Gabriel said, reaching around Kate to shake her father’s hand. Her father remained stone still, refusing to shake Gabriel’s hand. “You can stay with us this evening at Dunsmuir Castle.”

Her father’s lip curled, disgust resting on his thick, bushy black brows. “Who are you?”

“Miss Bancroft’s employer, sir.”

Kate’s heart broke a little. “Come in, please.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Please,” Kate pleaded. “I have somewhere quiet we can talk until Mr. MacInnes can hitch the horses. We will escort you to the castle and make sure a room is prepared for you. In the morning, we can speak further.”

“Listen to your mother,” her father warned. “We don’t wish to mix with…”

Kate fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Very well.” She felt the heat of Gabriel’s body behind hers, but it was little reassurance when she was certain her world had just tipped upside down.

“Then I will?—”

“Hello, Miss Bancroft.”

That voice, that siren call spiked with honey and smugness. She would recognize that voice anywhere.

Kate reached back for Gabriel, but he had stepped away, leaving her there, alone to face down London’s most notorious rake.

Hugh Nethercott, the Marquess of Brookhouse, stepped around her father and removed his top hat, wearing a sheepish grin on that ridiculously handsome face of his. He at least had the decency not to flash her his dimple.

Enveloped in a sudden cloak of coldness, Kate’s voice shook as she answered back. “Hello, my lord.”