“But he’s not happy. However, I’m confident you’ll win him over.”
The spark caught fire. It sounded like he’d succeeded in winning her over.
~~~
As Charlotte expected, her uncle looked far from pleased when she entered the dining hall on Braden’s arm. It was of some satisfaction, however, that his anger seemed tempered by a hint of surprise. Her braw Highlander now looked far different from the last time the Duke had set eyes on him. She’d at first been hesitant to accept his arm when he proffered it, fearing he might turn out to be some imaginary being. But his muscles were like iron and she relished his strength.
In a clipped voice her uncle bade them sit, then took his place at the head of the table.
Braden pulled out her chair, and then did the same for her sister.
She’d forgotten Augusta would be present. Predictably, she ogled Braden, holding out her gloved hand. “Augusta Tremayne,” she gushed before she took her seat beside Charlotte. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Braden gaped at her, evidently missing her meaning. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of the Duke’s mouth.
“May I introduce a friend,” Charlotte said to her sister. “Braden Ogilvie.”
To her relief he understood the sharp glance she directed at his bonnet. He hastily removed it, clutching it to his chest before kissing Augusta’s hand.
“Charmed,” her sister replied in a sultry voice, her eyes widening at the sight of his shaved head. “Where have you been hiding this handsome friend, Charlotte?”
The Duke cleared his throat. “We’ll say grace.”
Braden took the chair across from Charlotte, bowed his head and made the sign of the Savior’s cross, his eyes tightly closed while her uncle intoned his favorite prayer of thanks.
Augusta eyed him curiously, obviously wondering what a Papist was doing in their midst.
Charlotte was suddenly too hot. She would have to educate her protege on religious matters, but she relaxed as servants brought the soup, sliced cold meats, wine and bread.
Braden looked relieved when a maid took his bonnet.
At first she found the attention Augusta paid to their guest rather amusing. The silly woman would have run a mile in the opposite direction if she’d set eyes on him when he emerged from the cells.
But soon the false tinkling laughter became irritating. And did her sibling have to make her eyes overly round when she spoke to him?
Had her uncle noticed how Braden followed her lead with the utensils? If she suddenly had to share a meal with people three hundred years in the future, she’d be a nervous wreck, yet he seemed to be taking it in stride, smiling politely in response to Augusta’s endless chatter. She took comfort in recognizing that, in contrast, the smiles he occasionally bestowed on her seemed genuine.
As the soup bowls were being cleared away, the Duke broke his silence. “We must speak of the future, Ogilvie.”
She was probably the only person to notice a slight tic worry Braden’s right eye. She understood. The past was more important to him.
He shifted his weight in the chair. “Ye’re right, my lord Duke, the future is of concern, and I thank ye for welcoming a stranger to yer table. ’Tis true Highland hospitality.”
Augusta gaped, evidently as enthralled as she by the deep sincerity in his husky voice.
The Duke frowned. She understood his reaction too. Braden’s life had depended on their last interview.
“However, as ye can imagine, there are things from the past I need to know before I can look to the future.”
Augusta’s fork clattered to the plate, then somersaulted to the floor. She blushed, mumbling an apology. A servant discreetly fetched a replacement.
“What things specifically?” the Duke asked.
“I must find out what happened in the aftermath of the assassination of James Stewart.” He glanced at Charlotte. “It has a bearing on my family.”
Augusta’s eyes darted to her uncle, to Braden, to
The spark caught fire. It sounded like he’d succeeded in winning her over.
~~~
As Charlotte expected, her uncle looked far from pleased when she entered the dining hall on Braden’s arm. It was of some satisfaction, however, that his anger seemed tempered by a hint of surprise. Her braw Highlander now looked far different from the last time the Duke had set eyes on him. She’d at first been hesitant to accept his arm when he proffered it, fearing he might turn out to be some imaginary being. But his muscles were like iron and she relished his strength.
In a clipped voice her uncle bade them sit, then took his place at the head of the table.
Braden pulled out her chair, and then did the same for her sister.
She’d forgotten Augusta would be present. Predictably, she ogled Braden, holding out her gloved hand. “Augusta Tremayne,” she gushed before she took her seat beside Charlotte. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Braden gaped at her, evidently missing her meaning. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of the Duke’s mouth.
“May I introduce a friend,” Charlotte said to her sister. “Braden Ogilvie.”
To her relief he understood the sharp glance she directed at his bonnet. He hastily removed it, clutching it to his chest before kissing Augusta’s hand.
“Charmed,” her sister replied in a sultry voice, her eyes widening at the sight of his shaved head. “Where have you been hiding this handsome friend, Charlotte?”
The Duke cleared his throat. “We’ll say grace.”
Braden took the chair across from Charlotte, bowed his head and made the sign of the Savior’s cross, his eyes tightly closed while her uncle intoned his favorite prayer of thanks.
Augusta eyed him curiously, obviously wondering what a Papist was doing in their midst.
Charlotte was suddenly too hot. She would have to educate her protege on religious matters, but she relaxed as servants brought the soup, sliced cold meats, wine and bread.
Braden looked relieved when a maid took his bonnet.
At first she found the attention Augusta paid to their guest rather amusing. The silly woman would have run a mile in the opposite direction if she’d set eyes on him when he emerged from the cells.
But soon the false tinkling laughter became irritating. And did her sibling have to make her eyes overly round when she spoke to him?
Had her uncle noticed how Braden followed her lead with the utensils? If she suddenly had to share a meal with people three hundred years in the future, she’d be a nervous wreck, yet he seemed to be taking it in stride, smiling politely in response to Augusta’s endless chatter. She took comfort in recognizing that, in contrast, the smiles he occasionally bestowed on her seemed genuine.
As the soup bowls were being cleared away, the Duke broke his silence. “We must speak of the future, Ogilvie.”
She was probably the only person to notice a slight tic worry Braden’s right eye. She understood. The past was more important to him.
He shifted his weight in the chair. “Ye’re right, my lord Duke, the future is of concern, and I thank ye for welcoming a stranger to yer table. ’Tis true Highland hospitality.”
Augusta gaped, evidently as enthralled as she by the deep sincerity in his husky voice.
The Duke frowned. She understood his reaction too. Braden’s life had depended on their last interview.
“However, as ye can imagine, there are things from the past I need to know before I can look to the future.”
Augusta’s fork clattered to the plate, then somersaulted to the floor. She blushed, mumbling an apology. A servant discreetly fetched a replacement.
“What things specifically?” the Duke asked.
“I must find out what happened in the aftermath of the assassination of James Stewart.” He glanced at Charlotte. “It has a bearing on my family.”
Augusta’s eyes darted to her uncle, to Braden, to
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