Must Love Highlanders by Patience Griffin Grace Burrowes Read Free Book Online Page B

the business, and then doesn’t deliver much of a finish.”
    Lovely became transcendent as Louise fought valiantly against Liam’s unprofessional humor and lost, heartily, at length, in happy, loud peals. She was still snickering when they got back to the car, and Liam was smiling simply because he’d made her laugh.
    “Cromarty, please don’t ever become an art critic,” she said, opening a bottle of Highland Spring. “With analysis like that, you will develop a following wide enough to end the career of anybody you take into dislike.”
    Liam pulled out of the car park, and when Louise offered him a sip from the bottle, he politely declined.

    Long-dormant powers of observation and analysis stirred inside Louise as she and Liam trekked up the eight-hundred-foot hill flanking Edinburgh to the southeast. The views were lovely, of course, but the terrain, like what she’d seen of Perthshire, wasn’t much different from Maryland between the Appalachians and the Chesapeake shores.
    And yet…
    “I see differently here,” Louise said as they stood aside to let an older couple coming down the slope pass them. “I’m noting the details, the colors, the relationships, the geometry. Maybe it’s the light.”
    “Maybe you’re on holiday,” Liam countered, starting up the trail. “You got a good night’s sleep, you’re in different surrounds, and you’re paying attention. One of the advantages of travel.”
    Louise paid attention to
him
, and not only because from a three-hundred-word abstract, he’d described Robert Stiedenbeck, III, exactly.
    “Men move differently in kilts,” Louise said, scrambling up a set of natural rock steps. “More freely. It’s attractive.”
    Even the older guys with their walking sticks and stolid ladies at their sides moved with a certain assurance, but then, so did many of the unkilted men.
    And all of the ladies.
    “I was hoping I’d hate it here,” Louise said, because clearly, Liam wouldn’t dignify her comment about the kilts with a reply. “I’m not hating it.”
    “Hating is a lot of effort. Mind your step.”
    Liam needed to work on his charm, but he could hike the hell out of a Scottish hill.
    “There are no guardrails here,” Louise said, taking Liam’s proffered hand to negotiate another natural incline. “No signs all over the place. Climb at Your Own Risk, or No Littering, or All Dogs Must Be on a Leash, or Scoop Your Poop.”
    No litter either. Nobody taking stupid risks.
    Liam tugged her over a scattering of loose rock. “Sounds like a lot of noise and blather. How could you see the pretty landscape for all those lectures and scolds?”
    Liam’s question brought them to a stretch of gently rising grassy slope.
    “Stop, please,” Louise said, keeping hold of Liam’s hand lest he conquer the summit on the strength of forward momentum alone.
    He obliged as a quartet of teenagers went giggling and flirting past. “You’re in need of a rest?”
    “How could I see the pretty landscape for all those lectures and scolds?” Liam’s words caught in Louise’s throat as she repeated them. “Lectures about posture, deportment, the family name. Lectures about appearance, the right people. Lectures delivered with the arch of an eyebrow or a serving of pecan pie.” Her breathing hitched, as if her lungs had been squeezed by a giant, familial hand. “Crap and a half, I thought I was done with all this.”
    Liam didn’t drop her hand, and his grip was reassuringly warm. “Has your family come to call?”
    He was quick—the Scots would call him canny—and his gaze was kind.
    Louise managed a nod. “Anxiety along with them. I almost never have these episodes anymore. Damn.”
    She’d learned to breathe through the dread, to count her breaths instead of hoard them. She didn’t have panic attacks. She had
episodes
, or—Auntie Ev had of course chimed in—
little spells
.
    “Let’s sit, shall we?” Liam suggested. The trail was flanked by boulders and