It's Getting Scot in Here

by Suzanne Enoch

  Blowing out her breath, she shifted to see the mantel clock. Nearly five o’clock in the morning, bootless, shirtless, and unobservant enough to miss her sitting there in the predawn gloom, blanket up to her chin. Niall Douglas MacTaggert had been up to something. And given the past few days, she had a very good idea what—who—it was.

  He should have let her make that agreement with the Baxters. They would eventually have bowed to her terms, because she would have thrown money and even threats of censure at them until they did so. As it was now, while she admired Niall’s determination to win Amelia-Rose on his own merits, the young lady was not the one he needed to convince. He’d already convinced her, evidently.

  When Eloise had fallen in love it had felt warm and orderly, and Francesca remained fairly certain that young Matthew had not shared a bed with her. Her wild sons, though—while she’d wanted them about, wanted love and marriages for them, she hadn’t quite reckoned on how very like their father they were. Angus had seen what he wanted, and taken it, in a spectacularly breathtaking manner. If her own father had been more conventional, things might have gotten bloody.

  The Baxters were exceedingly conventional. Amelia-Rose had her moments of rebellion, but then she just as frequently apologized for them. None of it boded well. And if Niall failed—or if she failed him—she might well lose her chance with the other two.

  Standing to drape the blanket over the back of the couch, she headed upstairs to dress. Attempting a few more hours of sleep would be useless now, when she needed solutions. Even if those solutions seemed only to exist in daydreams.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “This is not wise, Amelia-Rose,” Jane whispered, standing close and holding her waxed silk parasol over both their heads. “Your mother will notice you’re not home.”

  “I went to her luncheon, and I’ll be home in time to join my parents for dinner,” Amelia-Rose returned. “I’m only taking the three hours in the middle for myself.”

  “And when she goes looking for you to see what you plan to wear tonight?”

  “She might not,” Amelia-Rose hedged. “If she does, then we’ll say I was restless and you joined me for a walk. And we’ve walked here, so it’s not even a lie.”

  A coach rounded the corner up the street, the largest vehicle by far she’d glimpsed in the ten minutes since they’d sneaked away from Baxter House. The blue-and-yellow Oswell crest was emblazoned on the door, and as she recognized it a smile found her mouth and refused to step aside despite the poor weather and Jane’s glowering.

  As the coach neared them the door swung open. Niall leaned out, grinned, and then hopped gracefully to the street before the vehicle had even stopped. He’d worn his kilt again, and with the rain dripping through his dark, wavy hair he looked like some ancient Celtic warrior come to claim her. To claim her again, rather.

  He flipped down the coach steps and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Ye look very bonny today, Amelia-Rose,” he drawled, the quiet intimacy in his voice making her heart race. “Did ye sleep well?”

  “After Jane finally left my room I did,” she lied. It was better for Jane, and better for her, even if she did feel a bit guilty about it. “I had very sweet dreams.”

  That earned her a grin. “I nearly brought the barouche,” he said, visibly shaking himself to take the parasol from Jane and hand them into the vehicle one after the other. “But I looked outside and noticed everyone bundled up to their ears and scurrying about like wee scared mice, so I borrowed this beast instead.”

  “This weather doesn’t trouble you?” Jane asked, blowing into her cupped gloved hands.

  “It’s nae weather if ye can still make out the horizon,” he returned, sitting next to Amelia-Rose and then reaching up to pound his fist against the ceiling. “Did ye have a pleasant luncheon, adae?” he asked, sitting back in the well-sprung coach.

  “Yes, I did. Thank you for asking, skellum,” she responded, using every ounce of willpower she possessed not to kiss him. “Where are you taking us?”

  “Oswell House.”

  Of all the places she’d imagined he might take her, his family home hadn’t been one of them. “Not some secret garden filled with Scottish herbs or a sheep farm or something?”

  His brows lifted. “That’s what ye reckon I yearn for? Herbs and sheep?”

  “I thought you’d want to take me somewhere Scottish, but I couldn’t think of anywhere nearby you might choose.” At least she’d tried to come up with something. “Nothing nearby enough for a three-hour visit, anyway.”

  “Fair enough,” he conceded. “If ye’ve nae objection, though, I want my brothers—my family—to know ye.”

  She hid a shudder as she recalled the largest member of his family. “I’m well acquainted with Eloise and Lady Aldriss, you know. And I have … met both your brothers.”

  “Aye. This time ye be yerself, and they’ll behave.” He cupped her cheek, his green eyes shadowed and serious in the gloom of the coach, and only lowered his hand when Jane slapped at him. “Ye’re safe with me. I swear on my own blood. But if ye dunnae wish to go, ye tell me. I’ll find a sheep farm we can tour straightaway. Because ye know a Highlander can spot a sheep from five miles away.”

  There he went, putting her at ease again. Was he even conscious of how … not comfortable, but safe, he made her feel? And how that made her realize it had been a very long time since she’d felt precious to anyone? Being in his company was heady, and could easily be addictive. Was already addictive. “Oswell House is fine,” she said aloud, ignoring Jane’s sniff. “I have been wanting a chance to have a word with Lady Aldriss.”

  “That doesnae sound promising, but do as ye will,” he said in a dubious voice. “Keep in mind that she barely knows me. Ye cannae take what she says too seriously.”

  That hadn’t been her goal, but seeing his discomfiture did make her grin. “Do you think she’ll warn me to flee?”

  “I did start a bit of a brawl in her breakfast room just the other day. For a good reason, of course.”

  That must have been when he fought Coll. “I’m going to assume you were defending my honor in some way, and I can hardly fault you for that.”

  “That’s what it was, then. Aye.”

  If Jane had been elsewhere, Amelia-Rose would have been willing to call this short coach ride very nearly perfect. She would have been content to chat with Niall and just look at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking and feeling. She’d liked him almost immediately. When had that, though, deepened into this warm, comforting, arousing desire to be with him? As she considered it, she had to wonder if it had begun with that first morning of coffee. If she’d begun to fall for him days and days ago, had that been part of why she’d spoken so harshly to Coll? Not just because she didn’t want that life, but because she had a slightly different one in mind?

  It would never happen, of course, and she wanted it anyway. She’d wanted it so much that she’d allowed him into her bed. And if the opportunity arose she meant to do it again. Repeatedly. “You’re a good man, Niall MacTaggert.”

  “I dunnae know about that.” His pale gaze took her in from head to foot in a way that heated her up from the inside. “Some of the things I’m thinking right now arenae nice. I’d describe them to ye in great detail, but I’m scared yer companion might be armed.” He sent Jane a sideways glance.

  “Then you just keep worrying that I am, Mr. MacTaggert.”

  The coach stopped. A second later the door opened, and the Oswell House butler unfolded the steps and reached in to offer her a hand. “Good afternoon, Miss Baxter.”

  “Smythe. Thank you.”

  The butler ushered them inside the house to shed their wraps. Niall stopped in the kitchen to towel off his damp mane, then offered her an arm. “I told ’em nae to be formal,” he said, heading for the front of the large house, “but that leaves a wide space for nonsense.”

  “I’m nervous,” she blurted, then put her free hand over her mouth. �
��I shouldn’t be; I do know them. Oh, I’m just being silly.”

  He stopped, faced her, and bent to give her a deep, slow kiss. Oh, he could kiss. And do several other things exceptionally well. That thought made heat swirl up from between her legs, up her spine, and settled into a delicious shiver.

  “Stop tha—”

  Jane leaped forward, but out of the corner of her eye Amelia-Rose saw the stiff arm and upright palm of Niall catch the companion by the shoulder and hold her quite easily at bay. “It’s rude to interrupt,” he muttered, and kissed Amelia-Rose once more.

  “I will scream,” Jane hissed, flailing at his hand.

  With a sigh and a last nibble at her lower lip, Niall straightened away from Amelia-Rose. “Nervous now?”

  She blinked. More than anything else she felt dazed and warm and quite ridiculously optimistic. “No. But you should let Jane go. She has a surprisingly high-pitched yowl.”

  Instead, still holding Jane Bansil away from him with that one muscular arm, he faced the companion. “Nae harm done, lass,” he said. “My brother is the one who did wrong, and I’ll nae have my adae worried over how they see her. And aside from that, I reckon I mean to kiss her every time I can manage it.”

  Jane stopped swatting at his hand, the only part of him she could reach. “You ‘reckon’ as you will, Mr. MacTaggert. I ‘reckon’ I will try to stop you every time I can manage that.”

  He grinned, releasing her. “Fair enough. Ye’re a tiger, ye are. Fierce as fire.”

  For the first time that Amelia-Rose could ever recall, Jane blushed at a comment from a man. “I … Let’s get on with it, shall we?” she mumbled, straightening her plain blue gown.

  “Aye, let’s.” Taking Amelia-Rose’s hand in his, he rapped on the closed morning room door and then pushed it open.

  They all sat in the large, open room. All the MacTaggerts, save their absent patriarch. Eloise and Lady Aldriss were seated together on the long couch and examining a half-finished embroidery. The middle brother, Aden, lounged in one of the overstuffed chairs and seemed to be reading Francis Grose’s Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, of all things, while Lord Glendarril perched in one of the deep windowsills and peeled an orange.

  “Ye’re reading a dictionary?” Niall said, lifting an eyebrow as his brothers both came to their feet.

  “A bonny, buxom lass told me last night that she wanted a smack,” Aden replied with a slow grin. “I reckoned I’d best see what she meant, as I’d nae hit a woman.” He hefted the dictionary. “Turns out she meant she wanted a kiss, which means I guessed right.”

  “Aden,” Eloise chastised, setting aside the embroidery and walking forward to give Amelia-Rose a sound hug. “I couldn’t say, because you and Coll were supposedly courting, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought you and Niall look very fetching together.”

  Lady Aldriss took Amelia-Rose’s right hand in hers. “You are most welcome here, my dear. Always.”

  That word seemed to have additional meaning, but Amelia-Rose attempted to put it aside for now. If the countess had doubts that this pursuit by Niall would be successful, she wasn’t the only one. She’d already gone through one MacTaggert brother, after all.

  Then Aden strolled up to her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she lifted an eyebrow at him as both her hands were occupied. “Did you step on my toe so you wouldn’t have to tell me what adae actually means?”

  “Aye, I did,” he returned, his gray-green eyes amused. “And I apologize for panicking. Ye’re a…” He looked down to consult his dictionary of vulgarities. “… a prime lass.”

  As far as she knew that was still a compliment. “Thank you, then.”

  The window at the front of the room lightened as the viscount left it. Steady, she told herself. She’d stood up to him twice already, and that had been without anyone else to assist her. Amelia-Rose curtsied as he rounded the couch. “My lord.”

  “Ye’re English,” Coll stated, stopping at Aden’s shoulder. “And Lady Aldriss ordered me to wed ye. I wouldnae have done it if ye’d been a princess. Even so, that was my doing. Ye had naught to answer for. I was…”

  “You were mean,” Eloise said under her breath as he paused.

  “I was mean,” he recited.

  “And thoughtless,” Aden added.

  “And thoughtless,” Coll repeated.

  “And a buffoon, just as she described,” Niall put in.

  Lord Glendarril narrowed his eyes. “And a buffoon,” he said anyway, “just as ye described.” He took a breath, meeting her gaze. “I figured to push ye into breaking off with me, so I’d nae have to pay the price. Ye pushed back. Ye were inconvenient, but ye’ve spleen, lass.”

  “And so?” Eloise prompted again.

  “Fer God’s sake,” Coll muttered, then squared his shoulders. “And so, I apologize to ye, Amelia-Rose Baxter. Will ye forgive me?”

  He had a fresh bruise on his cheek, while the black eye had begun to fade. Niall had described his oldest brother as a fighter, a brawler, someone who sought out trouble. She wondered how many times he’d previously had to apologize, or if he’d just accepted the consequences. In her opinion, it would have been the latter.

  “I will,” she said, holding his gaze. “I didn’t want this, either. You might have even found me an ally, if you’d asked.”

  “Aye. I reckon that’s so.” He furrowed his brow. “Ye’ve a sharp tongue. If I had been looking for a woman, and if ye’d been Scottish, mayhap—”

  “No,” she interrupted, at the same time as Niall beside her.

  To her surprise, Coll grinned. “Nae. I reckon not.” With that he went back to his windowsill and his orange.

  For the next two hours Amelia-Rose discovered what it would have been like to have a large family. Even Coll joined them eventually, and while she could from time to time sense that all was not entirely well between Lady Aldriss and her sons, they were there. They were together, and they all seemed determined to welcome her as a part of the family.

  It was remarkable, really. Warm, and supportive, and genuine, and very humorous. When Jane, seated by the fire, surreptitiously reached over to claim Aden’s abandoned book of vulgarities, she nearly burst out laughing. If they could sway Jane toward anything bawdy, miracles could indeed happen.

  “I have a question,” she said, taking a sip of tea. “Have any of you ever heard of milking cats?”

  Aden snorted. “Aye. Sean Ross, one of our cotters. He makes cheeses out of the milk, or so he claims.”

  “I’ve seen him do it,” Coll added. “It’s a tad disturbing, even for me.”

  Niall twined his fingers with hers. “Ye didnae believe me.”

  “You were talking about milking cats,” she retorted, chuckling. “I wanted some verification.”

  “Well, now I want to hear about them,” Eloise piped in. “Because it sounds completely mad.”

  Lady Aldriss patted her daughter on the knee. “Have your brothers tell you, then. I would like a word with Amelia-Rose.” She stood, gesturing toward the door.

  For a second Amelia-Rose wondered if Niall would object, but with a gentle squeeze he released her hand. “Ye said ye wanted a chat,” he murmured, below everyone else’s hearing.

  “I do. Please keep an eye on Jane.”

  He grinned. “I reckon she’s fairly absorbed right now.”

  So he’d seen what her companion was reading, then. Of course he had; he seemed to notice everything. Standing, she followed the countess into the hallway and then down another two doors to a small, neat office. “Yes, my lady?”

  “I recall when I first met with your parents about a marriage agreement,” Lady Aldriss said, taking one of the two seats before the desk and urging Amelia-Rose to the other one, “that while you didn’t say much, you did seem to have a very low regard for Scotland. And Highlanders.”

  “I apologize, my lady. I meant in general terms, and wasn’t trying to disparage your sons in particular.” She’d been t
oo blunt again. Would Lady Aldriss rescind her welcome now that they were in private?

  “When I met Angus MacTaggert,” the countess said instead, “he was magnificent. So handsome and strong, and so very single-minded in what he wanted. Which happened to be me. And I fell for him, very deeply.” She glanced down at her hands for a moment, a rare showing of uncertainty. “Scotland is cold in the winter. Rainy in the summer. Filled with sheep and not very many people. It can be exceedingly lonely and isolated—especially when your husband considers himself too busy to socialize with his peers.”

  “Are you warning me away from Niall?” Amelia-Rose asked. “Because he suggested that we spend the Season here in London.”

  The countess blinked. “He did?”

  “Yes. Either here, or in a small house nearby.” It felt odd to speak about such a future, but here, in this home, she could almost touch it.

  “Well.” Lady Aldriss brushed at her eyes. “That is unexpected.”

  “I mean, he hasn’t offered for me or anything. We were just chatting. And I know my parents—my mother, especially—won’t be easily convinced.”

  “No, I daresay she won’t be.” The countess favored her with a rather unsettling look. “Will you be honest about something, my dear?”

  That didn’t bode well. Perhaps she was as unacceptable to Niall’s family as he presently was to hers. Or Lady Aldriss had guessed that her virtue was no longer intact. “Of course I will.”

  “You are not entirely … content beneath your parents’ roof. I won’t ask you to confirm that, but I do have eyes and ears. My point, I suppose, is that if Coll had been more pleasant, you might have agreed to marry him, however imperfectly you viewed him.” She smoothed the front of her burgundy skirt with one hand. “To that, you may respond.”

  Amelia-Rose grimaced. “I wish I had a braver answer, but yes, I might have.”

  “And now in place of Coll you have Niall, who is more pleasant, and more concerned with the happiness of others.”