Page 4 of Death at a Highland Wedding
I tense, and my gaze swings to that open door. A small hand grasps it. Then a woman looks out. She’s tiny, with perfect features, milky skin, and raven-black hair. Her gaze is shuttered until it falls on Gray, and then she smiles.
“Duncan,” she says. “It is good to see you.”
She visibly braces as she turns to look past the door. She doesn’t try to keep the smile, just fixes on a placidly empty look as she turns to McCreadie.
“Hugh,” she says.
He dips his chin. “Violet. I hope you are well.”
“Oh!” Violet says, as her gaze lands on me. “Miss Mitchell?”
I nod and smile as I move away from McCreadie, and Violet gratefully follows me with her gaze.
“Our housekeeper adores the stories of your adventures with Duncan,” she says. “She is most enamored with your character.” Her cheeks pink. “With you, I mean.”
I smile. “It’s half me and half a character. I’m glad your housekeeper is enjoying the stories.”
“She truly is. I shall have to read them. I keep meaning to but…” She trails off, and I can imagine why she doesn’t read them. I’m not sure what I expected of McCreadie’s ex-fiancée, but it wasn’t a woman who—a decade later—still needed to brace herself before looking his way.
Violet clears her throat. “Iwillread them. They sound most delightful. And I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I am sorry for the delay. My brother…” Her gaze slants his way, with the faintest eye roll. “I do apologize, and we will not delay you any longer. It is good to see you, Duncan. And…” That hitch, as she braces. “Hugh.”
They both tip their hats as Violet withdraws into the coach.
“We will see you all again soon enough,” Cranston says as Sinclair climbs in after Violet. “A race to the castle.”
“You are attending the wedding?” I say, in what I hope is a neutral tone.
Cranston grins over at me. “I should certainly hope so,” he says as he swings into the coach. “They would have a hard time holding the wedding without the groom.”
TWO
When we return to the coach, Gray speaks to Simon and suggests we find another route, even if it takes longer. That removes us from the line of traffic heading into the Highlands, and soon we’re stopping for a picnic lunch along a loch, where we relax on the shore to eat. After lunch, Isla, Alice, and I take off our boots and stockings and wade into the lake, and our excruciating journey finally becomes a fun adventure in the countryside.
By the time we’re approaching the estate, it’s early evening. That doesn’t mean it’s getting dark. We’re even farther north now and nearing the summer solstice, meaning it’s full sunlight, and I squint as I try to see the house. Instead, I spot two baby deer sprinting away from the coach.
“Fawns!” I say as I point.
“Deer,” Gray says.
I give him a look. “Yes, fawns are baby deer.”
“No, I mean those are full-grown deer.”
I peer at him and then at the others. Sometimes it’s fun to tease the time traveler. It’s like telling a child that “house hippos” are a thing, except without the guilt of, you know, lying to a child.
“Duncan is right,” Isla says. “That is a roe deer. Likely full grown.”
“Let me guess,” McCreadie says. “They’re bigger in your time.”
“Nah, they’re just bigger in Canada. They start a little smaller than your red deer and go up to…” I crane my neck skyward. “As tall as this coach.”
Gray snorts. McCreadie and Isla eye me skeptically. Yep, this game works both ways.
“I’m serious,” I say. “Look up moose. They have them in Europe, too. Poland, maybe? Definitely Russia.” I catch sight of a white tower ahead, and I’m diverted by that until the full building comes into view. “Holy crap. It really is a castle.”
“Hunting lodge,” Gray says.
I lean out the window. In the distance, tucked down in the valley, is a white three-story building with towers and turrets. “Itlookslike a castle.”
