The Earl by Katharine Ashe

Author:Katharine Ashe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

In Abigail’s capable hands, the blanket floated gracefully to the mattress.

“There now, lass,” she said, sweeping a palm over the bed’s surface. “Ye’ll be as comfy as two souls can be.”

“Thank you, Abigail. You are tremendously generous to give up your own bedchamber for us. But, I told you, we are not married.”

“Ye will be after tonight.” Her hostess grinned conspiratorially. “Graeme and I made five healthy daughters and two fine sons in this bed, and all seven o’ them are still with us, God be praised. Ye give that handsome lad a wee cuddle, and promise him a fine bairn once he’s made ye his by law, and he’ll run ye to the altar quick enough.”

Hardly. On all accounts.

“Rather, give me a blanket and I will be more than comfortable in the loft with the children tonight. Colin can sleep in the barn.” With the dumb animals, where he belonged. She grabbed a corner of the blanket.

Abigail snatched it away with a friendly scowl.

“Ach, English folk, tossin’ away hospitality!” She bustled out of the bedchamber.

Uncle Murdo was pouring whiskey, and Colin and young Davie were at the door removing their overcoats.

“Come now, lass,” Abigail said with a gentle hand on her back propelling her forward. “Sit and take a dram. It’ll calm yer fidgets.”

It was the height of idiocy that her cheeks were flames even as her palms were damp. She could feel Colin’s gaze upon her and she despised it that he might think her agitated on his account.

She took a seat beside Abigail and accepted a glass of spirits. If he wished to imagine her overset by their conversation, so be it. His relationship to the truth was deeply flawed in general anyway.

“The finest peaty brew for our guests,” Graeme said, pouring from a jug the size of a small pig into Colin’s glass. “I wager ye canna find whiskey fine as this in England.”

“You wager correctly.” Colin lifted the glass. “To our hosts. For their hospitality, we are grateful.”

Graeme smiled. Abigail beamed. Davie tossed back his dram. Murdo scowled.

“Will nobody be askin’ the question we’re all thinkin’?”

“What question, Uncle?” Abigail said.

“How many o’ our throats the two o’ them’ll be cuttin’ while we sleep?”

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