The idea of what he might have missed if he’d been as stubborn as Coll shook him. No, he hadn’t set out to find a lass who would twist him up inside and have him near to writing poetry, but then he’d thought to allow this trip to London to upend his life as little as possible. A hollow-headed flower he could show his mother and then leave again, scarcely giving either of them another thought. Now this was between himself and Amelia-Rose. It was a battle he looked forward to, and one he knew he would win. He couldn’t imagine not having her in his life.
“I had a look at the mounts you and Mr. Aden and Lord Glendarril brought down from Scotland,” the driver said conversationally. “They’re fine animals.”
“Aye, they are. Nae accustomed to busy streets, though; my Kelpie nearly tossed me over his head when a rag-and-bone man charged out into the street with his wares. A’ course I nearly lopped the man’s head off, myself, so I suppose Kelpie and I both have someaught more accustomizing to do.”
The driver swallowed, eyeing him sideways. “You nearly lopped his head off?” he squeaked.
“Well, he surprised me. For all I knew, the lobsterbacks were attacking.”
“I … The lobsterbacks?”
“Redcoats, man. Do ye nae speak English?”
“I … I thought I did.”
Facing forward again, Niall grinned. “Dunnae trouble yerself. I’ve been told I have an accent.”
“Oh. I, uh, hadn’t noticed, sir.”
Apparently it wasn’t polite to acknowledge that a man had a brogue, but so many English rules made no sense to him that he just tossed this one in with the rest. Aye, he’d been raised thinking the English, and Englishwomen in particular, were all inferior to Highlanders, and with one exception he’d seen little reason to alter that opinion. Well, two exceptions, perhaps—Eloise had a level head on her shoulders.
The first exception had warned him not to be late, and he pulled out his battered old pocket watch to check the time. Unless someone had overturned a cart ahead they would be early; he’d have to have Robert stop the carriage around the corner. He meant to be exactly on time, because she’d been worn out yesterday, looking for an excuse to surrender to her parents’ demands, and he wasn’t about to give her one.
No overturned carts lay in wait, but a pair of coach drivers were blocking the road to argue over which of them had the right-of-way. Niall watched the nonsense, but as it dragged on he put away his pocket watch. Just as he stood to go see to ending the argument himself, one of the coaches trundled off, and the heavy horse traffic began moving again. Such a crush of people; it was something of a miracle that they weren’t all at one another’s throats all the time.
Robert pulled the bay team to a halt outside Baxter House, and Niall hopped to the ground. “Keep ’em standing,” he ordered, and made his way to the front door.
It pulled open as he reached it. “Mr. MacTaggert,” the Baxters’ butler intoned, moving sideways so Niall could step forward.
“Hughes. I’m here for Amelia-Rose.”
“I shall inquire if she is available.”
The butler vanished toward the back of the house. They’d allowed him inside, at least, and they hadn’t set a guard to watch him, Niall reflected, gazing about the foyer. Some cards on the hall table caught his attention, and with a quick glance around him, he picked them up.
Six of them, all from men, prettily embossed, most with little notes handwritten on the back. One was planning on calling again in the afternoon and hoped to find Amelia-Rose amenable to a conversation. Another inquired as to whether she cared to go riding in Hyde Park in the morning. A third one presented himself as available to help mend a tender heart broken by a heartless rogue.
The rogue would be Coll, he supposed, and these were the vultures swooping in to claim their prize while it was still fresh. Suitors, the bloody mongrels. With another glance over his shoulder, he pocketed the lot of them. If the lads should think her uninterested because she didn’t respond, well, he had no problem in the world with that.
“You’re prompt,” Amelia-Rose said from a doorway halfway down the hall.
“I said I’d be.”
She’d worn a pretty green-and-violet sprigged muslin walking dress, partly covered by a pelisse of darker green. With her hair swept up into a plump, overflowing clip at the back of her head and her blue eyes sparkling, she looked both fresh and supremely desirable.
“Well?” she asked, stopping a few feet from him.
He finished his perusal and met her eyes again. “Ye’re made for fresh air and a warm breeze,” he said, smiling. “Or should I sweep a bow and just tell ye that ye look lovely?”
Her fair cheeks colored a little. “I still half thought you’d arrive with an excuse for your brother’s behavior on your lips.”
Niall cocked his head. “I’m nae here on anyone else’s behalf. Do ye want to play that game?”
“I just want to be certain of your motives.”
“I told ye my motives, adae. I didnae lie to ye. Nae intentionally, anyway. I reckoned I was doing my duty. I’m glad being a friend to ye on Coll’s behalf isnae my duty any longer, and I can simply declare that I like and admire ye.”
She sighed. “You look rather magnificent,” she commented, coming forward and setting a green straw bonnet over her honey-colored hair.
He glanced down at himself. Scuffed Hessian boots, his work kilt, a plain white shirt, plainer cravat, and a gray waistcoat and jacket. “I’m being myself. In honor of propriety I’m wearing the jacket and waistcoat, but otherwise this is how ye’d find me on any given day.”
“Boots and not ghillie brogues?” she asked, gesturing at his boots.
“Ghillie brogues arenae very practical in the mud. I prefer walking in these.” Stepping backward, he made room for her and the butler to move past him to the door. “Have ye decided where we’re going?”
“Yes.”
He pursed his lips. “I reckon ye can keep it to yerself for a time, but eventually ye’ll have to tell Robert, our driver.”
Hughes handed over an off-white shawl to her, then pulled open the front door. “Will you be home for luncheon, Miss Baxter? I believe you have several…” He trailed off, looking toward the empty hall table, then bending to look beneath the furniture.
“I don’t know,” she returned, and sent a glance over her shoulder at Niall. “Will I be home for luncheon?”
“I’d like to dine with ye,” he said, starting forward and then coming to a stop again as a tall, dark-haired figure pushed past him into the hallway. The companion. Jane something. Bloody hell.
Amelia-Rose caught his annoyed expression before he smoothed it out again, and she stifled a grin. He may have decided to toss propriety out the nearest window, but she hadn’t. Even if for a bare moment the idea of going somewhere alone with him had been frighteningly tantalizing. “Is something amiss?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Nae. I forgot we’re back to being a trio again, is all.”
“We were never not a trio. Your sister simply served as an adequate chaperone previously. Unless you’ve brought Eloise with you?”
“My brothers stole her today.” After a second he lifted his chin again and followed them out the door. “Go whisper where we’re going to Robert, if ye’re nae of a mind to tell me.”
Instead she stepped up into the barouche and settled herself on the rear, forward-facing seat. Jane would have sat beside her, but Amelia-Rose gestured her second cousin to the opposite seat. With an ill-concealed sigh, Jane sat facing the rear of the carriage. “You might as well know,” she said aloud as Niall climbed in and sat beside her without even asking her permission. “I thought we should tour the Tower of London. They have a very interesting display of armor and artillery.”
“Yer aim’s nae to get me thrown into a cell there, is it?” he asked, giving the direction to his driver.
“Oh, only very notorious villains are detained in the Tower,” she returned, giving in to the ur
ge to grin. He made it very difficult to remain annoyed, blast it all. However little time they might have together, she might as well enjoy it. “I’m not at all certain you’re of their caliber.”
Niall snorted. “I once tied a thimble to a rat’s tail and set him loose in the wall of Coll’s bedchamber. The clicking and knocking kept him awake for a week. He had to chop a hole in his wall to get it out.”
“Did he know who did it?”
“Nae. He still doesnae. So now ye know someaught about me that could get me walloped.”
“I shall use the information judiciously,” she returned, her smile deepening. Good heavens, he was charming, but she already knew that. He knew it as well, no doubt. If not for all the things wrong between them, all of them attached to him like a thimble to a rat’s tail, having this man pay her attention, having him declare that he wanted her, would have already turned her head. That might well be the case, anyway.
“I reckon ye will.” Niall grinned, shifting a little so that the edge of his slightly faded red, black, and green plaid brushed against her green muslin.
That was who they were: one of them rough about the edges and definitely, undeniably, and proudly not English, and the other carefully and expensively proper—and very English. He wasn’t even trying to fit in.
“Have you heard from your father?” she asked. “You said he was in poor health.”
“I havenae. Between ye and me, I think he didnae want to face my mother again.”
This could be interesting. “They’ve been estranged for a long while, I understand.”
“Seventeen years. She didnae like the Highlands, and he wouldnae leave them.”
It abruptly occurred to Amelia-Rose that she needed to have a conversation with Lady Aldriss. If anyone could understand why she felt drawn to Niall but not to his life, it would be the countess. Of course the one obvious solution would be to wish Niall MacTaggert a good day and refuse to see him again, but that idea … The idea of not seeing him, of not conversing with him or wondering if he might brush his fingers against hers or kiss her again, tore at her inside.
“That’s sad, don’t you think?” she said aloud when he continued looking at her.
“Aye.” He narrowed one eye. “Are we finished with ye nae trusting what I say to ye, then?”
“I’m still curious what might have happened if I had accepted Coll’s horrible proposal. Up until two days ago I genuinely thought you were serving as his surrogate.”
“I dunnae ken when I stopped, exactly. He was a convenient excuse for me going to see ye. If ye’d agreed to marry him…” He took a breath, looking away from her. “I adore my brother. I’d lay down my life for him. But if I’d seen ye in his arms … I’ve a cousin who lives north of us, up in Skelpick. I reckon I’d have moved up there.”
Her heart stuttered a little. “We’ve known each other for a very short time, Niall.”
He sat sideways, compelling her to meet his gaze. “Is it just me, then? I dunnae think it is, but ye tell me, Amelia-Rose. When I first set eyes on ye I couldnae breathe for a good five minutes. And when I sat beside ye, when I jested with ye, ye gave right back to me. I reckon ye’re smarter than the lot of us lads put together, and that sometimes ye get tired of hearing all the nonsense we spew. Ye bite yer tongue, but then ye cannae any longer, and ye let fly. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Goodness. He’d seen all that? Mostly she just felt like she was staving off chaos, but she did try, for heaven’s sake. All the time. “I don’t know if I’m smarter than you are, but you’re not wrong about the rest of it. Thank you for pointing out my shortcomings.”
“They arenae … Bloody Saint Andrew,” he muttered. “What am I to ye, then?” Niall pursued. “Just a loud Scotsman keeping ye in the good graces of a louder Scotsman and now ye dunnae require my services any longer? I’ll nae deny that I had an idea like Coll’s, to find some lass just to satisfy that damned agreement between my parents and go home to nae think of her again. But I didnae expect to meet ye.”
“Of course you’re not some Scotsman. I do like you.” “Like” didn’t seem a strong-enough word, but it was the only one she was willing to give him at the moment. “I’m simply certain we’re incompatible.”
“Ye like me,” he repeated. “The way ye like a dog?”
Amelia-Rose flipped a hand, hitting him in the chest. Goodness. That might well have bruised her. “Stop it. I’m being cautious. My parents would be livid. I told them I’m simply being polite to you to avoid further antagonizing Lady Aldriss.”
From his expression he didn’t like that, but at least he nodded. “That makes sense. I’m feeling lucky that ye and Coll dunnae suit, and ye’re wondering why one brother is after ye when the other one isnae.” He sank back against the seat again, the fingers of his left hand brushing across hers. “I’ll convince ye.”
A slow thrill went up her spine. “I shan’t make it easy on you. I have some serious concerns about your … heritage.”
“My kilt-wearing, bagpipe-loving heritage?” he queried, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yes. Precisely that.”
“Well, Amelia-Rose,” he said, deepening his brogue as he caressed her name, “I dunnae mind convincing ye.”
“You shouldn’t be sitting so close together,” Jane pointed out from the opposite seat.
They were sitting rather close, his shoulder touching hers as they bumped over the road. Amelia-Rose glanced up at his profile as he eyed her companion. Part of her wanted to be convinced, very badly. Part of her wanted him in her life for the rest of her life. It was the logical half that kept crying foul, but even that half wanted kisses—and more.
“We’ve arrived, Mr. MacTaggert,” the driver said, sending them beneath the old portcullis and onto the grounds of the Tower.
Half a dozen other carriages were there already, but hopefully those guests would be viewing the jewels or the menagerie. She wanted this to be just them—and Jane, of course. Yes, Jane must always be present to keep her from scandal.
“Do you have three shillings?” she asked belatedly as he stood and stepped down from the barouche. She’d brought several coins just in case, but it would be much more proper if he paid their way.
Niall held out his hand, and she took it, feeling the calluses on his palm and his fingertips as she descended to the cobblestones. He hadn’t been joking when he said he helped shear sheep and all those other things.
“Aye.” He curled his fingers around hers. “Ye’ve brought me to the center of Sassenach power, lass. What do ye wish to show me?”
“Just some history. I’m not trying to convince you that we English never harmed you Scots. I thought you’d enjoy seeing armor and weapons, you being a warrior of clan Ross and all.”
To her relief, he grinned as he released her fingers, instead offering his forearm. “That I am. Ye should see my massive claymore.”
“Oh, good heavens,” Jane muttered from behind them.
“What now?” he asked. “A claymore’s a fine weapon, long and heavy, and a wonder when ye ken how to use it correctly.”
Abruptly Amelia-Rose didn’t think they were talking about swords. “And you know how to use yours correctly?”
“Aye. I’m something of an artist, ye might say. I’d like to show it to ye, lass.”
She felt her cheeks heat, and behind them Jane sounded like she might be suffering a seizure. “Stop it,” she murmured.
“Aye. I dunnae wish to embarrass ye. But I am thinking about ye in a rather carnal way.”
No one—no one—had ever said that to her before. In a way, it made her feel … powerful. And rather decadent. Because she wanted him, as well. Wanted to feel his rough hands on her skin, his breath warm against her, his—
“Three of you?” the yeoman in the doorway stated. “That’ll be three shillings. No touching the armor or the carvings or especially the weapons, as we’ve just gotten them polished up again. No pretending to battle to scare the ladies, and do not attempt
to mount the horses. They are wood, you will get splinters, and I will not help you remove them.”
Wordlessly Niall retrieved three shillings from his coat pocket and handed them into the yeoman’s palm. The man stood aside, and they entered the stone tower. Immediately the temperature lowered, and with her free hand Amelia-Rose pulled her shawl more closely around her shoulders.
Their footsteps echoed against the stone floor, hers and Jane’s a soft tap, and Niall’s a harder and heavier drumbeat. In the center of the room, large stands held spears and pikes and halberds, jutting up toward the ceiling, a sea of deadly sharp points. On the right wall, more halberds, together with maces and one- and two-handed swords, axes, and glinting knives, were arranged in circles with the pointy ends facing the center.
“Which one most resembles your claymore?” she asked, daring him to begin speaking in double entendres again.
He stepped closer, moving from the huge, double-bladed weapons of the era of William the Conqueror, toward the narrower, longer swords of Henry VIII. “This one, I reckon,” he said, indicating a long, two-edged blade with a cross-shaped hilt, the arms angled slightly forward and a single red gem in the pommel. “Though the gem is an emerald.”
“You use that?” Jane asked, sounding both skeptical and slightly impressed.
“In the Highland games, aye. I’ve nae slain a man with it, if that’s yer meaning. Mine came from my great-great-granddad, and last tasted English blood during the Battle of Killiecrankie. Though Aden did nick my arm with it back when we were bairns.” Shoving up a sleeve of his coat and the shirt beneath, he revealed a long, straight scar going from his wrist up halfway to his elbow.
Amelia-Rose put her finger on it, feeling the slight rise of white scar tissue. “That must have been a deep cut,” she mused, running down the length of it, feeling the play of long, sinewy muscles beneath.
“It did bleed a bit,” he admitted, his voice low and rumbling. “The village seamstress sewed it up for me, after Aden and Coll gave me two fingers of whisky.”
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