“A Stewart, mayhap?” Leanna offered sweetly. “Or a Campbell?”
Was he really going to just keep choosing a false name until Da believed him? If so, Stewart and Campbell were good options; both were large Lowland clans with many septs.
The look he shot her—as if he wasn’t quite certain what to make of her—had Leanna’s smile growing.
He nodded again, slowly. “Those are also possibilities.”
Da, of course, didn’t seem to mind the confusion. “Possibilities, aye. Well, Kenneth Smith-Bruce-Stewart-Campbell, welcome to Oliphant Castle. I’ve already been to see yer man—he’s in good hands with my daughter—but he kept falling asleep whenever I asked him a question. I guess the draughts Nicola’s been mixing up does that to a body. ‘Tis like having a knife block and nae spoons.”
As Leanna tried to hide the way her eyes wanted to roll out of her head at another one of her father’s terrible analogies, Kenneth blinked. “I’m…sorry, milord? What do spoons have to do with— Never mind.”
“Never mind, aye,” Da repeated as he beamed happily and leaned against the mantel. “But yer man will be up and about—well, mayhap no’ exactly up and about. Nicola says he’ll likely never walk again,” he informed them cheerfully. “But he’ll keep his leg, and the lucky bastard will sleep through much of the healing process, like a swan with only two eggs.”
Without looking up from her sewing, Leanna’s mother, hummed in agreement. “Nicola’s draughts have gotten me through many of my ailments. I took one last night, for instance, and feel almost right this morning.”
Leanna, who knew for a fact that most of Nicola’s “draughts” were mainly good Scotch whisky, nodded. For that matter, she also knew mother hadn’t been almost right in years. “And what was ailing ye last night, Mother?”
“Water allergy, dear,” the older woman declared nonchalantly. “I believe I’m a bit better today.”
Since there was a cup of tea at her mother’s elbow, Leanna had to assume she was better, and this sennight’s mysterious allergen was no longer a concern.
“Today, aye,” Da offered. “Nicola might be a bit headstrong—all of my lassies are, Smut-Stewart-Bryce-Campbell, ye ken—but she’s a good woman with an herb. If ye need one?”
Since Da was staring intently at Kenneth—who still seemed confused about Mother’s most recent ailment—he assumed the older man needed an answer. “Uh…nay, milord. I dinnae need a woman with an herb.”
“Herb, aye. Well, I’ve got plenty of other daughters, if ye want one. Anxious for a grandbairn, ye ken!” he added with a laugh, which Mother echoed.
With an almost frantic look in his eyes, Kenneth glanced at her. Smiling proudly, Leanna took his hand once more, not even bothering to hide the fact she’d already staked a claim on this mysterious lady-bit-tingler of godlike proportions.
“I think we’ll continue with the tour,” she declared cheekily.
Da nodded. “Tour, aye. And do ye need a chamber, Brewart-Campbell-Sluice-Smith?”
“Smith-Bruce-Stewart-Campbell,” Kenneth corrected in a bit of a daze, “And nay, milord. I thank ye for giving my man Brodie a bed in yer sickroom, but I’m content in the barracks or in the stable. I’ll be better able to search— I mean, I dinnae mean to be a bother.”
Search? What was he searching for?
Before Da could open his mouth, Leanna cut in, “Nae bother,” she assured him, sending him a teasing look. “If ye change yer mind, ye ken where to find me.” She leaned toward him and lowered her voice so her parents couldn’t hear, when she whispered, “I sleep in the nude.”
He choked.
He wasn’t drinking or eating anything, so what could he have choked on? Leanna liked to think he was choking on his own arousal, but since that sounded difficult, she decided to have pity on him and squeezed his hand. “Come along, let us check on Brodie.”
As they hurried across the great hall, which was already bustling with servants readying the evening meal, she heard Kenneth mutter, “Swan? Two eggs?”
“Och, dinnae fash when it comes to Da. He’s a good man at heart, but a little dense.” She dodged around two men carrying a bench from the back wall. “And he’s got some old-fashioned ideas about women.”
“Old-fashioned how?” Kenneth asked, his attention on Bertha, one of Fen’s assistants, staggering toward them under a big bowl of fruit, some of which dropped onto the floor.
“He’s decided we all have to marry and present him with a grandson. The first to do so— Och, watch out for that apple!”
The toe of Kenneth’s boot kicked the fruit and sent it spinning toward the steps down to the kitchen. While she was watching that happen, her foot came down on the side of a pear, which rolled out of the way. Luckily, she was still holding Kenneth’s hand and managed to right herself without much effort.
Obviously hoping to escape the chaos, Kenneth ducked down the kitchen stairs, releasing her hand in the process. As they descended, he asked, “Has yer father picked out a husband for ye already then?”
It was the nonchalance in his voice—entirely too nonchalant to be believable—which had her smiling, when she replied, “Nay, no’ yet. I’ve decided I’m going to pick one out myself.” He reached the bottom of the steps and in the same teasing tone, she asked, “What are ye searching for that ye think ye’ll find in the barracks?”
He turned so suddenly, Leanna knew she’d hit a nerve. It was the way he stared at her, his dark brows drawn down, the little lines forming around the corners of his lips as he prepared to frown—or lie—which had her distracted. Her smile bloomed, wanting to tease him about all of it.