A Bewitching Bride Read Online Free

accommodate everyone.
    “It’s no hardship for me,” Mr. Massey went on. “I’m retired. My time is my own, and I like nothing better than to pass the time in pleasant company.”
    He was a big, silver-haired man, on the heavy side, and spoke with an Edinburgh accent. His fellow card players might have forgiven the gentleman’s origins had he not been winning every hand.
    He’d told the company that he’d hoped to take the train to Braemar to look up relatives with whom he’d lost touch over the years, and had had the shock of his life when the stationmaster told him that the train went only as far as Ballater.
    “He told me,” said Mr. Massey, frowning down at his cards, “that I’d have to hire a carriage to take me the rest of the way. That seems strange to me. Why does the line stop here? It’s only what—another few miles to Braemar?”
    “Eighteen miles, according to the desk clerk,” his wife answered. She was the opposite of her husband, thin to the point of scrawny, and the lines on her face were not laugh lines. She was ensconced in a chair by the fire and occasionally glanced over at the card table where her son, Massey junior, was also engaged in a game of cards. It was the younger Massey who was footing the bill for this ill-fated holiday in the Highlands. Without looking up, Mrs. Massey said, “The train stops at Ballater at the queen’s pleasure.” Her voice was subdued and respectful.
    Someone added provocatively, “Her Majesty doesn’t want visitors gawking out of train windows as they pass her estate. God only knows what frolics our royals get up to that would shock lesser mortals such as ourselves. At any rate, the queen always gets her way, so the natives of Braemar make do with horses and carriages.”
    Mrs. Massey bristled and glared at the speaker.
    Her husband laughed.
    The squire and his lady, Gavin thought. One was the salt of the earth, though a trifle uncouth, and the other was a cut above him, or so she liked to think. He was sitting close to the fire, too, pretending to read a book, but that was only a device to indulge his favorite pastime: people watching. He kept looking at the entrance, hoping that Kate Cameron would put in an appearance. They’d done no more than exchange a few inconsequential words the other night, and he was determined to pick up the conversation where it had left off. It was imperative that he discover whether or not she was the one he’d been called to save.
    Something whisper-soft touched the nape of his neck, and he smoothed it away with his hand, an involuntary movement that he was barely aware of, but all his senses were on the alert. Something in this room was out of kilter. What was it?
    Will Rankin joined him, and Gavin moved over on his comfortable sofa to make room for his friend.
    “You’ll have to look to your laurels, old sod,” Rankin said in an undertone. “Young Thomas has cut you out with the girls.”
    Gavin’s gaze flicked to the object of Rankin’s aside. It was true. Thomas Steele, the groom’s younger brother, was the center of female attention. He stifled a yawn.
    Needling his friend, the doctor went on, “He’s young, handsome, charming, and comes into a tidy fortune when he comes of age. He’s also a true Highlander. What more could a woman want?”
    “A man?” Gavin replied without much interest. “Young Steele is only a boy.”
    Will smiled and nodded at the lady on the other side of the blazing fire, Mrs. Massey, who had looked up with a question in her eyes. “You must be very proud of your son, Mrs. Massey,” said Will, raising his voice. “I was telling my friend that he has taken over at the helm of his late uncle’s—um—publishing firm, has he not?”
    Mrs. Massey’s stern demeanor dissolved in a simpering smile. Her flat chest puffed out. “Gordon deserves his success,” she said. “He was always a hard worker.” Her fond gaze moved to her son. “His uncle relied heavily on his