Free Waking the Princess by Susan King

three were engineers. Dougal, always a daredevil vying to prove himself, had gravitated to the dangers of lighthouse construction. Aedan, used to striving for practicality in an impractical household, had chosen to design highways, while Evan had applied his talents to creating beautiful bridges.
    Dougal's greatest feat of daring was his recent marriage to Lady Strathlin, surprising everyone who knew him—except Aedan. He had hoped that his cousin would settle down once he found his match—and he had done so, admirably.
    Though happy for Dougal and Meg, Aedan felt a twinge of envy. Privately he did long for love. Having lost his fiancée three years ago, he was older and wiser. He knew now that he had mistaken friendship for love, thought he was taking a risk.
    True love was not in the cards for the lairds of Dundrennan, he reminded himself. He had no business yearning after it.
    And certainly no business kissing a delectable stranger, a guest in his own house, late at night, he thought sternly.
    He cleared his throat. "I'm doing my best to afford the work my father wanted done in this house. But I cannot fault him for poor accounting. A good part of his fortune went to grain shipments to feed Highlanders and Islanders ousted from their homes in the clearances."
    "Aye, it was good work he did. My wife did the same when she had the chance. By the way, Meg wants to offer to help with Dundrennan's expenses," Dougal added quietly.
    Aedan shook his head, aware of Meg's enormous personal fortune as well as her giving nature. "I'm touched by her generosity, but I can bear the costs here for yet a while."
    "At what personal cost? Fund all of your father's whims here, and you will soon be out of pocket."
    Aedan looked at him. He trusted his cousin as he did few others. "I have the resources," he answered. "I have a good income from road contracts, and my investments in jute and whisky have been profitable. And lately I have invested in silver darlings."
    "Herrings, whisky, and jute are good business for Scotland. But you cannot funnel all your available cash into Dundrennan."
    "My father's will specifies that improvements in the house be completed by year's end. We have only a little more to do."
    Their steps crushed out a rhythm on the stones of the garden path. A cool breeze, hinting of autumn to come, ruffled Aedan's hair and fluttered the lapel of his jacket. Nearly autumn. Time had him fast by the short hairs.
    "This place is marvelous," Dougal agreed. "It is a veritable museum, an homage to Scottish history."
    "Aye, jammed with artifacts and paintings, swathed in tartan, forested with old swords."
    "Luckily for you, the ladies of Balmossie have a fever for decorating." Dougal smiled.
    "Which confounds me," Aedan said.
    "You love this old place."
    Aedan nodded in silent agreement as they walked.
    "The antiquarian is not so antique after all," Dougal commented. "Rather lovely, this Mrs. Blackburn."
    "Pleasant enough."
    "I wonder why Neaves sent her in his stead."
    "Claims he's busy. I can only hope he stays away entirely, but I rather think he sent the lady here to do a little digging about to see if it's worth his precious time. I just had a letter from the museum's advocates—they reminded me of the clause in my father's will that favors the museum." He glanced at Dougal. "Neaves drools at the mere thought that this house could revert to the care of the National Museum, as my father stated in a provision. If the house is not restored like some blasted tartaned-up Highland tableau, they win the lot."
    "You must comply, or lose damn near all? Good God."
    "Exactly."
    "And if the fetching little antiquarian finds something of historical significance on that hillside?"
    "Then I have a problem indeed. The treasure trove law will dictate, and the museum could take it all."
    "Even if it was treasure enough to save this house and pay off the debts?"
    "Even then." Aedan glanced up at the house as he and Dougal walked in its shadow.