“If ye reckoned I’d trust ye to choose any woman for me, ye reckoned wrong,” Coll retorted. “I’ll nae wed that sharp-tongued shrew. And she’ll nae have me. So do yer worst.”
The countess opened her mouth and shut it again. “You are … forcing me to take an action I had hoped—”
Niall launched himself over the table, catching his brother with a hard fist to the jaw before they both crashed to the floor. Coll had hurt her. And the bastard wasn’t even sorry about it. Whipping around, using his speed against his brother’s size, Niall hit him again, plowing into Coll as the viscount started back to his feet. A chair cracked into splinters beneath them.
“What the—”
Ducking an arm, Niall swung in again. “Ye nae had any intention of marrying her,” he growled, shaking off a glancing blow to his shoulder.
“And so ye wasted a few days being kind to her. Why do—”
“Ye have nae idea, do ye, amadan? Ye just decided to ruin her life because ye dunnae like yers, ye fu—”
Aden grabbed him from behind, hauling him off Coll. At the same time, no doubt alerted by the noise, Gavin, Oscar, and Wallace the piper skidded into the room to grab the viscount, pulling him in the opposite direction as Charles the second piper took hold of Niall’s other arm.
“Stop this at once!” Francesca yelled. “I will not have this in my house!”
“He started it,” Coll growled, shrugging Oscar off only to have the valet reattach to him like a remora on a shark.
“Because ye’re a damned bastard!” Niall snapped back again. “Ye dunnae deserve the lass.”
His brother swiped blood from his nose. “Ye jumped me over that lass? What are ye, mad?”
“Aye. And ye,” Niall said, turning his glare on Francesca, “yer agreement didnae say ye could choose a wife for Coll, anyway.”
Francesca looked back at him, her expression wary and very worried. “Yes, it did.”
“Nae. It said one of yer lads would marry a lass of yer choosing, and the other two would marry English lasses.”
“Dunnae pull us into this,” Aden murmured, still gripping Niall around the chest.
“Yer agreement didnae say which brother,” Niall insisted. “So if it’s Amelia-Rose ye have in mind, I’ll take her. And ye can go hang yerself, Coll.”
Silence crashed over the room. If there had been a mouse in the attic, Niall was fairly certain they would have been able to hear it. Even the servants seemed to be holding their breaths. Not him, though. Now that he’d demonstrated his annoyance with Coll, and now that he’d said what he wanted—needed—to say, he felt … satisfied.
“Well, damn me,” Coll muttered. “Let loose, lads. I’ll nae stomp ye.”
“Are ye safe now, Niall?” Aden asked.
“Aye. I reckon so. As long as the buffoon there doesnae say anything else insulting about Amelia-Rose.”
“As a separate point of interest, then,” Aden commented, releasing him and returning to the scattered breakfasts on the table, “I danced with the lass last night, and she explained to me that Niall thought her name too long to say, so he called her adae for short. Adae meaning ‘rose.’”
“And?” their mother prompted, every ounce of her alert and angry and likely expecting more trouble from her sons.
“Adae doesnae mean ‘rose.’ It means ‘trouble,’” Aden supplied.
“Did ye tell her that?” Niall asked. Damn it, that could lead to some complications. He would have told her himself, when the moment seemed right.
Aden snorted. “I’m nae an idiot. I nodded and smiled and stepped on her toe. Gently.”
“That’s bonny, then.” Niall looked over at the countess, who was already gazing at him. “They’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
“So I’m to give in, am I? Pretend the lot of you didn’t embarrass me and poor Amelia-Rose? Pretend that you didn’t have an ulterior motive in escorting her about town, and that Coll never had any intention of honoring his word?”
Coll pushed back to his feet. “I didnae give my word. And I dunnae trust ye to choose me a wife who willnae do to me what ye did to Da. Ye’re holding us hostage, màthair, and we’re—most of us are, anyway—trying to escape.” He sent a pointed glance at Niall. “If I sign my name to a paper, I’ll honor it. I’ve nae done so. If he wants her, he can have her. Though ye’re nae a viscount, Niall, so ye may find she doesnae want ye.”
The countess turned her back for a moment. She nodded, though at what Niall had no idea, before she faced them again. “You’ve found a loophole, then. Very well. I will accept Niall as a substitute for Coll.”
“Thank the devil and his wee pointy hooves,” the oldest MacTaggert grumbled.
“There is no loophole in the other part of the agreement, however,” she went on. “You, and you”—she pointed at Coll and Aden—“are to wed English ladies. I will have something binding you down here, even if it isn’t me.”
“I’m taking Eloise and her beau to luncheon,” Aden stated, pushing his plate away once more and standing. “I’ll ask her to point me at one.”
“I’ll go with ye.” Coll headed out of the room, Aden on his heels and advising him to change out of his bloody cravat and not to pummel Eloise’s betrothed.
“Coll,” Niall called after him, and his oldest brother turned around.
“What?”
“Ye and I still have a disagreement.”
The viscount arched an eyebrow. “Nae, we dunnae,” he countered. “If ye’d told me ye liked the lass, neither of us would be bloody right now.” The two MacTaggerts left the room for the stairs and Eloise’s bedchamber.
Francesca uprighted one of the remaining chairs and sat in it as the servants scattered again. “You.”
Niall went after his last piece of sausage. “Make another agreement with Mrs. Baxter. I ken I’m nae lofty enough to please that dragon. I want Amelia-Rose Hyacinth Baxter. If she’ll have me, I mean to take her. There’s nae else about it that concerns me.”
“Niall, this isn’t the Highlands. It’s not about physical ability or determination. There are bloodlines, titles, ambition, so many—”
“And who were ye to marry before ye met Da?” he cut in, standing. “I’m accustomed to keeping the peace,” he added, moving for the door. “This nonsense with Coll and my lass nearly … If nae for the fate of Aldriss Park I’d have been going after my own brother even before they parted company last night. Now that kin’s nae involved, though, I find I’m nae feeling particularly peaceful.” Niall stopped in the doorway, but didn’t turn around. “That’s yer warning.”
As Niall left the small dining room, Francesca gestured for Smythe to pour her a cup of tea. Oh, she remembered quite well who she had planned to wed before Angus MacTaggert rode into London. She hadn’t been engaged yet, but she and Lord Peter Fenwill had had an understanding. She’d enjoyed Peter’s company, thought they were well suited temperamentally, and that while he would likely never inherit his father’s marquisdom, with her money they would have a comfortable, respectable life.
Angus MacTaggert hadn’t cared about any of that. And after she’d set eyes on the handsome Highlander and heard how passionately he’d spoken about both her and his beloved Aldriss Park, she hadn’t cared, either. She’d cast aside the man with whom she’d intended to spend her life in exchange for a heated, passionate mountain of a Highlander.
Luckily her parents hadn’t objected, but then his title provided a fair compensation for his lack of wealth. It had ultimately been a disaster, but oh, what a glorious one.
“Do you require anything else, my lady?” Smythe asked, setting the teacup in front of her. “Today is silverware day.”
She waved her hand. “No, go polish. And thank you.”
He inclined his head. “My lady.”
Francesca lifted her tea and took a sip. She’d badly underestimated Coll’s resentment of her, and Amelia-Rose had very nearly paid the price. But Amelia-Rose was goodhearted if a little frank
in her speech, knew all about the proper way to do things, and knew all the proper people. She and Eloise were friends, and she’d seemed to need a bit of a … boost. It had seemed perfect, and Victoria Baxter had agreed.
Convincing the Baxters to forget Coll and accept Niall would not be easy. They didn’t require money, which she could certainly use as a bribe. Nor was she above doing such a thing. No, they wanted a title. “Oh, dear,” she muttered.
Niall might be a bit more civilized than his father or his oldest brother, but that still left a great deal of room for trouble. Perhaps she could convince him that it would be in his own best interest to be patient and let her do the negotiating. Because this wasn’t only about him and Amelia-Rose. If this didn’t succeed, he would blame her, when she’d only just managed a civil conversation or two with him.
She did have one small victory to celebrate this morning. Coll had called her his màthair. That was two of them, now. Just Aden left to go.
Francesca took a deep breath. She might only be a MacTaggert by marriage, but by God she would do everything in her power to see this succeed. The rest would be up to Niall. And to Amelia-Rose, who’d shown more spirit than she’d expected. At least if this was a disaster in the making, she could hope they would all find that out sooner rather than later.
* * *
Niall paced the foyer and pretended to ignore Smythe crammed into the corner by the door. The butler could pretend fright if he wished, but they both knew that the servant had nothing to fear. It had passed ten o’clock seven minutes ago, he’d changed his coat for one with both sleeves still attached, and the Baxters were nowhere in sight. If they’d decided not to argue over agreements and signatures and instead fled to the country with Amelia-Rose, his plans needed a twist. The idea that he waited there while his lass vanished made his jaw clench and his fingers flex. He needed to know if she was well. He needed to know if he should be throwing a saddle onto Kelpie and riding after them.
Wheels crunched on the short drive. Niall closed his eyes for a moment. They’d chosen to argue, which suited him just fine. “Go,” he said to the butler, gesturing at the door.
“It’s bad form if I allow people into this house and you attack them,” Smythe returned, emerging from his corner and straightening his jacket.
“It’s also bad form if the butler lands out on the drive on his arse.”
“Well.” Sniffing, Smythe pulled open the door and moved forward.
A day ago he’d told himself that if Amelia-Rose and Coll fell in love and married, he could live with that. The welfare of Aldriss Park and all those who depended on the MacTaggerts had to take priority over his own attachments. That was how he’d been raised.
It had been a lie. Part of him had known that Coll would never fall for her, and even in his nightmares where the viscount had done so, Niall couldn’t imagine himself remaining beneath the same roof as the newlyweds. He couldn’t imagine watching as they shared a life, shared a bed. The idea that Coll truly would have left her behind in London, though, was almost worse. None of that was going to happen now, thank God, but it didn’t mean he had a smooth path ahead of him.
The Baxters mounted the shallow front step. As Mrs. Baxter handed her bonnet to Smythe, Niall stepped forward, his gaze, his attention, on the daughter rather than either of her parents. “A word with ye, Amelia-Rose?”
She didn’t look happy. In fact, as she turned to look at him, he was fairly certain she’d been crying. His right fist closed.
“We are here to see Lady Aldriss,” Mrs. Baxter stated. “Not you.”
Niall waved the fingers of his left hand toward the stairs. With a loud bellow of escaping air the pair of pipes on the landing beside Rory the deer began a tune. It sounded like a Jacobite marching song, but these Sassenach likely didn’t know they were being treated to a rebellion. “Say that again?” he said aloud, putting a hand to his ear. “I couldnae hear ye.”
“I said we’re not here to see you!” Mrs. Baxter repeated, stone-faced as a gargoyle.
Shaking his head, Niall reached out and took Amelia-Rose’s hand in his. “Still cannae hear ye. We’ll be in the garden.”
Her fingers were cold, but he set that aside as he swiftly led the way through the back of the house and out to the garden. He would have preferred somewhere more private, but she was a lass who could recite all the rules of propriety—and he was fairly certain the two of them alone in a room wouldn’t be in her rule book.
Once they reached the small, brick-walled garden Amelia-Rose pulled free of his grip and stepped up into the wooden gazebo, seating herself on one of the benches in front of the low railing. “You’ve been fighting,” she stated as he followed her.
“And how do ye reckon that?”
“Your knuckles are bruised.”
He flexed his right hand, looking down at it. “I met a man who deserved a walloping. I obliged him.”
“Which man?”
“Ex-beau of yers. He treated ye ill.”
She reached out to take his hand, then released it again. “Niall, I’m confused.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What are ye confused about? I kissed ye, and I want ye.”
She folded her hands in her lap, only the tightness in her fingers giving away that she wasn’t entirely calm. “I do recall the kiss. It was very nice.”
“That’s nae a compliment.” It was nearer an insult, in fact. Nice. Ha.
“The first night we met, at the theater, you were being pleasant to me so as not to ruin your brother’s chances at winning my hand. Is that correct?”
“Aye.”
“And coffee the next morning. And the picnic. And going riding. And the recital. You were there on your brother’s behalf, whether he knew about it or not.”
By now he’d figured out where her questions were leading. While he didn’t particularly want to visit, mainly because he hadn’t sorted it all out himself, he did understand why she’d sent their conversation careening in that direction. “Aye,” he answered again. “And nae. But I reckon ye knew that already.”
“Last night at the Spenfield ball. You didn’t request a single dance from me.”
“I wanted to. The idea that I could hold ye in my arms and then have to let ye go again … It didnae seem a wise thing to do.”
Her gaze touched his, and then she looked away. “I would imagine, knowing what I do now, that you forced your brother to escort my parents and me to the ball.”
That made him shake his head. “There’s nae a man can force Coll to do someaught against his will. He did have a thing or two other than what I expected on his mind, though.”
“I can accept that. But you did convince him to escort me.”
“Ye play well with words, lass. Get to yer point, then.”
She took a visible breath, her shoulders rising and falling. “My point is that I can’t decide whether you were lying at the beginning and using your brother as an excuse to spend time with me, or if you’re lying now that you must have me for yourself when you’re really just trying to save Aldriss Park.”
“Neither of those is a lie, Amelia-Rose,” he said, beginning to wish he’d opted for somewhere more private after all. Shouting seemed to be in the offing. “I stepped in on Coll’s behalf. After our very first conversation I knew ye … I liked ye. I liked chatting with ye. Coll being stubborn gave me an excuse to spend time with ye.”
“And if your brother had been nicer last night? If he’d offered to spend part of the year in London with me and not steal our hypothetical children away? My mother had planned to send an announcement of our engagement to the newspaper this morning.”
“I’m nae certain what I would have done,” Niall answered, fixing his gaze on the row of red roses surrounding the wooden structure. “It was like I was reading a story in a book, and I didnae like where the plot was headed, but I couldnae stop it. It had already been written, ye ken. I was too late.”
She stood. “I see.”
“What
does that mean? ‘I see’?”
“It means in my view the story wasn’t already written, and instead of being the hero, you waited until the villain left the room and then swooped in, and then declared yourself. You kiss very well, sir. As if you’ve had a great deal of practice. If you truly want me, and I’m not just that convenient ‘some Englishwoman’ your mother said you must wed, then you’re going to have to woo me. And not by pretending it’s on someone else’s behalf.”
He started to snap a reply, but by God she was correct. That was exactly what he’d done, whether he’d intended it or not. He’s slipped in sideways without ever having to make a declaration until it was perfectly safe to do so. And his mother was inside the house right now, trying to make his claim official, to bind her to him when he’d done nothing to earn her respect, much less her affection.
“Wait here a moment,” he stated, and started for the house.
“What? I will n—”
“Just for a minute, lass. Dunnae leave.”
Cursing under his breath, he strode back inside, up the hallway, and to the closed door of his mother’s office. Without bothering to knock, he shoved it open.
“Stop what ye’re about,” he ordered.
Mrs. Baxter had her forefinger jammed at a piece of paper on the desk, with his mother making a conciliatory gesture and Mr. Baxter red-faced. “Niall, I’m in the middle of something,” Francesca said tightly.
“No,” Mrs. Baxter countered, turning in her seat to face him. “You are a disgrace. I will not sign my daughter over to you simply because you saved her from embarrassment last night. That is not—”
“I dunnae want ye to sign anything. There’s nae agreement.”
Lady Aldriss blinked. “You’ve changed your mind?”
“Nae. I havenae. But Amelia-Rose has already been forced once into a match she didnae want. I’ll nae see her forced into this one just because it saves me the trouble of winning her.” He pinned her mother with a glare. “I will win her, Mrs. Baxter. Nae agreement, nae piece of paper but a marriage certificate, signed by her and by me and by whichever priest marries us.”
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