Regency Proposal: The Laird's Forbidden Lady / Haunted by the Earl's Touch. Ann Lethbridge

meant to growl, but it was better than grinning at her like an idiot.

      The smile left her lips. She climbed up the shallow bank. He turned and walked down the hill, leaving her to make her way as best as she could. It was either that or take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

      Tonight. He’d reveal her fate tonight, after dinner.

      Marriage to a Sassenach. And an Albright to boot. What the devil would his mother say? And the clan? Damn them all, if they didn’t like it, they would have to put up with it. He was their Laird. They would abide by his decision.

      Marie Flora and her father were waiting at the croft door, where the heather had been beaten back by soft springy grass. A small vegetable patch behind the cottage was bare of all but a few turnips.

      ‘McKinly,’ he said, holding out his hand as he neared the man’s threshold. For once, Selina hung back. Afraid of her reception, no doubt.

      ‘Laird,’ McKinly said. His hair was copper-coloured. Darker than his daughter’s and shot through with silver. The man was stooped and weathered and could have been anywhere from forty to sixty years old, but Ian knew him to be in his late thirties. Crofting in the Highlands aged a man early.

      ‘Are you well?’ he asked.

      ‘Aye. Come in. Come in. Take a dram with me. The lass says you’re in need of sustenance.’ His gaze went to Selina, curiosity shining in his blue eyes.

      ‘Aye, if you can spare it. My wife here is bone weary.’

      Wife. The moment he saw McKinly’s measuring stare he realised there was no honourable alternative. Having said it, he had a sense of accomplishment. She’d got herself into this mess trying to help him for friendship’s sake, or out of some misguided sense of obligation, and a Gilvry always paid his debts. They didn’t ruin innocent females, either.