Free How to Marry a Highlander by Katharine Ashe

had a cup of punch in each hand. Lily was laughing gaily.
    “What’re they doing there?” Elspeth said. “Effie’s cheeks be aflame, like last Christmas when she took too much . . . Ach , Lord’s mercy. Brither, ye’ll wish to see to this,” she said ominously and set off toward the twins.
    “What happened last Christmas?” Teresa asked.
    “Whiskey.”
    “I see. But Lady B is only serving punch tonight, so Effie is safe.”
    “Why are ye trying to throw Lily at yer brither’s head?”
    She snapped her eyes up. “I—That is . . .”
    Amusement creased his cheek and his hair hung loosely. She wanted to reach up and touch it to test if it was as silky as it looked. He was a remarkably well-made man and ladies all around them were staring from behind their unfurled fans.
    “He seems to like her,” she said.
    “Be ye such a fine judge o’ a man, then?”
    “Apparently not, for I thought you would not come this evening.”
    “I’m a man o’ ma w—”
    “Word. Yes, you’ve said that. Still, I will forgive your lateness if you ask me to dance.”
    “I dinna dance. But there be plenty o’ swains here for ye to chuise from.”
    “I cannot dance with those gentlemen. I consider myself betrothed.”
    He grinned. “Yer mad.”
    “I probably am. It must be all that country air from bracing walks. It does strange things to the head.” Like make her believe she could coerce a Scottish lord into wedding her. She’d made an enormous mistake. But at least she was helping seven young women find the loves of their lives, even if she would never be allowed her own. “But do look over there, my lord.” She gestured toward Moira dancing with Mr. Baker-Frye. “Aren’t they gorgeous together? He is staying at the King Harry.”
    “Is he?”
    “Oh yes. He is a merchant from Philadelphia. Fabulously wealthy, of course. Lady B was happy to include him on the guest list. She isn’t particular about a gentleman’s pedigree when he’s as handsome as Mr. Baker-Frye. And he really is so handsome, don’t you think?”
    He lowered his brow.
    “Are you scowling because I arranged their introduction or because you cannot say whether or not he is handsome?”
    “I’m no scowling.” His eyes sparkled. “’Tis ma thoughtful look.”
    “I see. Well then, do bend your thoughts to how Mr. Baker-Frye appears more than halfway smitten. This ball is turning out to be a fabulous success for your sisters, it seems.”
    A crash sounded from the direction of the punch bowl. They both looked around.
    Not from the direction of the punch bowl—in fact, from the punch bowl itself.
    Shards and chunks of crystal were everywhere. Lily’s eyes and mouth were wide in dismay. Effie’s maidenly white skirt was awash in punch.
    “Guid lord, Lily!” rang Effie’s lilting Scottish brogue over the orchestra’s lilting Austrian waltz. “Couldna ye wait till I’d anither cup afore ye went and spilt it all over me?” She burst into peals of laughter.
    Elspeth snagged the lobe of Effie’s right ear and gave it a good shake. Lily grabbed Elspeth’s wrist, lost her balance, and thumped to her bottom in the puddle of punch.
    All around fans fluttered at top speed. Dozens of pairs of eyes stared.
    The waltz lilted on.
    Teresa lifted her chin, averted her gaze from the dark scowl of the large, handsome man beside her, and walked toward the refreshment table.
    W hile she’d never been clumsy herself, Teresa did not think Lily deserved Elspeth’s stern lecture or Effie’s drunken rehash of every detail of the disaster as they drove home. Tobias had accompanied Una, Moira, and Abigail in the other carriage, so Teresa disembarked before the King Harry, bid the sisters goodnight, and joined her brother for the ride home. Lord Eads had ridden, and she was for once glad not to see him and bear the consequences of what she had allowed to happen.
    Allowed . As if she could control seven strong-willed Scotswomen! She would have better