The Devil Wears Kilts (Scandalous Highlanders Book 1) by Suzanne Enoch

Author:Suzanne Enoch [Enoch, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781466838413
Google: kSYwAAAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1250041600
Barnesnoble: 1250041600
Goodreads: 17566621
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Ranulf woke to the sound of raised male voices and a loudly barking dog. Every muscle felt stiff, which made sense once he realized he’d fallen asleep sitting at his desk. A page of the English law book he’d been reading was stuck to his cheek, and he scratched at his scraggle of beard as he lifted his head. Groaning, he pushed to his feet.

“Damnation,” a familiar brogue came from the doorway. “Ye look like hell spat ye out into a fireplace.”

Sharp relief hit him at the sight of the tall, black-haired man standing there. “I told ye to stay at Glengask, Arran,” he returned, rounding a chair and walking up to his brother. Abruptly he didn’t feel quite so outnumbered—by enemies, by English, or by females.

“Aye. I decided against it.”

Ranulf pulled him into a hard embrace. “I’m glad to see ye.”

“Certainly ye are. Ye need someone to help ye clean up that mess ootside.” Arran patted him on the back, then stepped out of the embrace. “Owen said ye got the horses oot, and no one was more than singed. He also tried to wager me ten quid that it was Donald Gerdens who did it.”

“Dunnae take that bet. Ye’d lose.”

Together they walked down the hallway to the breakfast room, where the sideboard had been set with a simple breakfast of rewarmed haggis, toasted bread, and hard-boiled eggs. Fergus danced around them, alternating between shoving his head beneath Arran’s hand and Ranulf’s.

“Una’s with Winnie, I assume?” Arran asked, selecting a huge breakfast and hooking his boot around a chair leg to pull out the seat.

“Aye. Peter and Debny are at Hanover House, too.”

“Good. Let me put someaught in my stomach, and then we can go kill Berling.”

Gathering a much more spare breakfast for himself, Ranulf took a seat opposite his brother. Arran was the most levelheaded of the MacLawry brothers, the best educated, and arguably the most clever. If what little he’d heard about the fire had convinced him that Berling was involved, then it was so.

“Well?” Arran prompted after a moment. “Do ye have someaught else in mind?”

Ranulf sat back as the overly attentive Owen poured him a brimming cup of hot coffee. “Myles reminded me last night that this isnae the Highlands. I’ve nae difficulty with separating Berling’s head from his shoulders, but I dunnae think England appreciates revenge the way we do.”

“Not anymore, anyway,” Arran agreed. “The Sasannach are very nearly civilized.” He wolfed down a mouthful of haggis. “Ye’ve a different idea, then?”

“Not as of this moment.” He took a swallow of coffee, closing his eyes as the warmth of it spread all the way to his toes. “Now that ye’re here we can keep a better eye on him, though.”

Arran glanced at him, light blue gaze curious, before he returned his attention to his breakfast. “An eye. That’s different.”

“What do ye mean?”

“I mean it’s different. I may only have been eleven when athair died, but I knew what it meant when ye went

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