On the stairs earlier, they had met Isobel for a brief moment, as she and Calla were going to put the bairns down for naps while the nursemaids watched over them.
Though Isobel resembled her eldest brother in coloring, her friendly smile was vastly different from his stern facade. "The bairns are sleeping now. Wee Griff is worn out from the journey."
"He's adorable." Lily grinned. "I hope I can hold him later."
"Of course."
"Is your handsome eldest brother as intimidating as he appears?" Rose lifted a mischievous brow.
Lily gasped and Elspeth was astonished Rose would simply blurt out a question like that.
Isobel chuckled. "Not to me, but everyone else seems to think so. Cyrus is a very serious man. Very driven."
"Our young Lily is hoping for a love match, are you not?" Rose inquired.
Lily blushed. "I don't wish to speak of it now."
Ignoring her, Rose went on. "As her cousin, I feel 'tis my duty to help her, especially since her mother isn't here."
"Of course." Isobel smiled. "Women must give each other advice about marriage. And of course, love matches are the absolute best."
Calla nodded. "Indeed."
"I'm glad you think so," Rose said. "What kind of husband do you suppose your brother would be to Lily?"
"Rose, cease your questions," Lily hissed in a scolding tone, her face flushing an even deeper scarlet.
Isobel still appeared amused. Thank goodness. Elspeth certainly didn't wish to see two women fighting this day.
"If you can capture his heart, you will have a happy life. But I must admit... he is rather stingy with his affections." Isobel sobered. "'Tis because a lass he loved betrayed him when he was younger, and he has not given his heart again. He swears he doesn't have one, but I ken he does. He watches over all of us—his siblings, and indeed the entire clan—as if we were his children. He cares deeply, and if any of us are in trouble, he rushes to our rescue. Fire and sword to any who would harm us. He is overprotective, if you wish the truth. When our brother Shamus was held hostage by the MacDonalds, Cyrus laid siege to their castle. He and his men were the victors."
Rose's mouth dropped open. "Good heavens. Did Shamus survive?"
"Aye. In fact, he married the new MacDonald chief's sister, and all is well. They have a wee son. You should see Cyrus when he carries his nephews about. He treats them like his own children. 'Tis clear he will make a good father."
Elspeth found she was holding her breath, hanging on Isobel's every word about her oldest brother. She could not imagine the fearsome man cuddling bairns.
"And I believe he will make a fine husband," Isobel said. "He will provide anything a wife and children could want or need. I simply hope he will find love." Worry weighing Isobel's expression, she looked to Lily. "It depends on whether you are determined to win his heart. My husband required some convincing before we married." Isobel grinned mischievously. "'Twas well worth the extra effort."
"Indeed. The path to true love can be extremely arduous, but in the end, very rewarding." Calla's gray eyes sparkled with joy and intense emotion. "Rebbie's and my path certainly was."
Isobel patted Calla's hand. "Dirk and I are thrilled you and Rebbie found each other again."
Elspeth wasn't certain what she meant. They must have been together previously.
Since Elspeth had arrived earlier in the day, she had noticed that Calla and Rebbie were completely devoted to one another. He would often kiss her forehead or cheek in full view of everyone. Clearly, he adored her.
Such closeness made Elspeth feel exceedingly lonely. Most of the time, she did not give herself time to think about it. She stayed occupied with her businesses. But she had never experienced such love as they were discussing. 'Twas a completely foreign concept, and she felt even more naïve than Lily when it came to deep emotion. She'd felt no romantic interest in her husband nor the earl. She had not even been certain such sentiment existed. But if it did, the love story always ended tragically, as the bards' poems foretold, did it not?
CYRUS AND HIS BROTHERS, along with Rebbie and Dirk, entered the large comfortable library with a low-burning fire in the hearth, brown leather chairs, vivid tapestries on the walls and thick rush mats underfoot. Cyrus was impressed with Rebbie's great wealth, but he also liked the man for his down-to-earth, forthright nature. With his sense of humor and even temperament, he made everyone around him feel welcomed and relaxed.
Rebbie poured drams of whisky for all of them and then offered a toast to their health. Talking, they all took seats upon the cushioned chairs and settles near the hearth.
Cyrus tried to envision Lady Lily but the female that popped into his mind was the beautiful redhead. The way Rebbie had introduced her had not told Cyrus whether she was married or a widow. And whose daughter was she?
She was perhaps three or four years older than Lily, but not old by any means... certainly several years younger than he was himself. Cyrus couldn't ask anything about her. Hell, he didn't even want to think about her.
He must focus on Lady Lily. She was a pretty lass who would, without doubt, make a fine bride.
He'd felt physical attraction to many ladies over the years and had trysts with some of them, but he had not thought it necessary or advisable to be emotionally drawn to his bride. He wanted a wife incapable of manipulation or hurting him. Physical attraction didn't have anything to do with emotion. Did it? Nay.
"Is Lady Grey married?" Fraser's question snagged Cyrus's attention.
He frowned at his brother, even as he waited in anticipation for the answer.
"She's a widow." Rebbie's dark eyes remained serious. "A very good friend of my cousin Rose."
Fraser almost grinned at this information. Damnation, his roguish younger brother had his sights set on her. And what difference did it make? Cyrus certainly had no interest in her.
"Unfortunately, her husband died a penniless baron," Rebbie went on.
Cyrus scowled. Widows of such men were the worst fortune-hunters.
"She does not appear penniless," Dermott observed.
"Nay, indeed. Rose told me she owns several properties and shops in Aberdeen. She's doing very well for herself, and I'm glad. She's a kind lady and highly intelligent."
Cyrus had never considered that a woman would want to own shops, but he supposed it would be a good option for a widow.
"She is indeed beautiful." Fraser raised a brow, his blue eyes sparkling with devilment.
"Who was her father?" Dermott asked.
"He was a merchant," Rebbie said.
"You jest," Cyrus blurted before he realized he was going to say anything.
Chapter Three
Cyrus could not believe the information Rebbie had just revealed. Lady Grey was a merchant's daughter? How the devil had she duped a baron into marrying her? He'd probably fallen for her great beauty.
Rebbie shook his head. "'Tis no jest. Her father owned the tenements and clothing shops which she now runs."
'Slud. A merchant's daughter who had become a lady when she'd married a baron. She was exactly the type of woman Cyrus had learned to avoid long ago. A moneygrubbing social climber from a poor background.
"I would advise you to stay away from her," Cyrus warned Fraser.
"Why should I? She's unattached... and wealthy, by all appearances."
His mood darkening, Cyrus clenched his jaw.
"Are you looking for a wife?" Rebbie sipped his whisky.
Fraser chuckled. "Nay. I have no need of one."
"You ken how he is, always chasing the lasses." Dermott glared.
"Shamus didn't need a wife either, but he's blissfully happy, aye?"
"Sickeningly so." Fraser grimaced.
Rebbie laughed. "As am I, and I highly recommend it." He turned to Cyrus. "Do you think you can make my sister happy?"
Frowning, Cyrus sat back and contemplated the answer. He'd never thought about whether he would make his future wife happy. But if he revea
led that he found it of little concern, Rebbie might discourage the match.
Cyrus forced his annoyance to the back of his mind. "Of course. Why would she not be?"
"We must talk, my friend. I fear you're in for a rude awakening on the day you wed." Rebbie grinned.
"'Tis not a foreign concept. My parents had a strong marriage." Cyrus sipped the well-aged whisky, enjoying the peaty warmth in the back of his throat.
Rebbie nodded. "As do Dirk and Isobel, but I'm wondering if you have the time and patience for it."
Cyrus shrugged. "I admit I have much to occupy my time, aside from worrying over a woman's happiness. I'm hoping Lady Lily will find joy in raising our bairns and running a castle."
"Well, the lass is a mite spoiled. You ken how my father is. He gives my sisters whatever they want. I fear she will be like me and delay choosing a mate until she's a bit older."
Hell, what if Lily rejected him? Cyrus had not seriously considered it. Unthinkingly, he had assumed she would want to marry him since he'd received his new title. But, of course, her father's title was a step above his own. 'Haps she wished to marry a marquess or a duke.
"I'm guessing Lily is holding out for a love match," Rebbie continued. "She lives in a dream world and is most likely looking for a charming prince."
"Can you play the role of charming prince?" Fraser teased Cyrus.
Frustration twisted in his chest. "Nay, but I believe I can be a good husband. I'll provide whatever a wife might need or want—jewels, silken gowns, lavish furnishings, servants." He shrugged. "I'm having a new castle built."
"For some women, worldly goods account for little." Dirk sent him a pointed glance.
"You're speaking of my sister." Cyrus wondered if all women were as persnickety and fussy as Isobel.
"Aye."
"Do you truly want a cold and loveless marriage?" Rebbie turned serious, all teasing aside.
Cyrus had not expected the man to speak so frankly. "Sentiment complicates things and is unnecessary. There are a great many marriages among the nobility that have naught to do with feelings."
"'Tis true. Most are that way, but I thank God I don't have such a marriage." Rebbie shook his head. "'Twould be misery."
"Indeed," Dirk muttered.
Cyrus raised a brow, eyeing Rebbie. "You changed your opinion since the last time I saw you."
"Two years ago, I was a confirmed bachelor, mainly because my da tried to force me to marry any one of a hundred aristocratic young ladies. And I did not want to be like him—marrying four times—but when I got to know Calla, I realized she was the only woman I couldn't live without. 'Tis what you need, my friend... to find the one woman you cannot live without. Then life will make sense and you will feel true happiness for the first time."
Such things had never been of importance to him. Not that he was unhappy. But responsibility and growing his clan's fortunes were far more vital. He couldn't tell Rebbie or Dirk he thought their sentimental marriages silly. They already looked at him as if he were mad... or daft. He wasn't sure which.
Well... good for them. He was glad they'd found what or whom they wanted.
Cyrus had been smitten with lasses when he was too young to know any different, but each of them had caused him pain and aggravation. After the last one, the worst, he wondered what the hell he was doing. Why put himself through the torture of being besotted with a beautiful lady, and then unmanned when the fickle creatures decided some other man was preferable?
Sentiment clouded a man's judgment and blinded him to a woman's conniving ways. He would have no more of it. If Lily wished a love match and she was coddled enough to be allowed to hold out for one, then clearly, he was not the right husband for her. He would keep that to himself for now, for he had hardly spoken to the lass.
He simply needed to get to know her better. Once she saw he was a rational, level-headed man, she would be more drawn to him. Of course, there was an age gap, but hopefully, that wouldn't matter. A woman his age—mid-thirties—would not do at all, for he wanted his wife to bear many sons.
The door burst open and a regally dressed, middle-aged man stepped into the room. "Robert, introduce me to your guests."
Assuming he was the marquess, Cyrus rose to his feet, as did the other men.
"I will, Da, since you've decided to grace us with your presence."
Amused by Rebbie's dry, flippant tone, Cyrus held back a grin.
The marquess ignored his son's impertinence. In many ways, he appeared an older version of Rebbie, with many silver strands running through his long, midnight hair. His dark eyes were intelligent but somewhat hard and assessing as he glanced over the men.
"This is Cyrus MacKenzie, the Earl of Stornmor." Rebbie motioned. "My father, William MacInnis, the Marquess of Kilverntay."
"A pleasure to finally meet you, sire." Cyrus shook his hand firmly.
"And you as well. You have a strong grip. I like that."
Rebbie continued with the introductions. Kilverntay shook all their hands. "Dirk, good to see you again, lad."
"Likewise, sire."
"I understand you married Stornmor's sister?"
"Indeed. She's an incredible lady."
"I'm happy for you both." Kilverntay turned to his son. "Do you have any whisky?"
Rebbie snorted. "How can you ask such a question?" He went to pour drinks.
Kilverntay stood beside Cyrus. "From what I've heard about you, Stornmor, I'm much impressed. You're ambitious. You don't rest on your laurels; you're always in pursuit of the next accomplishment."
Cyrus nodded. "I believe 'tis what every man should do." Those who were not ambitious were wasting their time. A man should know what he wanted and chase after it relentlessly.
"You've done much work for the king, what with bringing the rebels on Lewis under control."
"Indeed. They'd become outlaws, paying His Majesty no heed."
Rebbie handed his father a dram of amber liquid, then provided another round for the rest of the men.
They all raised their glasses and said, "Slàinte," then drank.
Kilverntay took a seat in one of the brown leather chairs and Cyrus sat near him.
"I understand you're interested in the hand of my eldest daughter."
Astounded that the man would bring up the subject so quickly, Cyrus nodded. "Indeed, if you and she are agreeable to the match."
"Well, I will say I like a man who is decisive and knows what he wants. Have you met her yet?"
"Aye, briefly."
"What do you think?" Kilverntay questioned.
"She's beautiful and graceful."
"True, but her mother has cosseted her the whole of her life, so she is rather opinionated."
Och, so the man was now blaming his wife for Lily's spoilt nature?
"Thus far, I've lost count of how many suitors she has rejected in the past two years." Kilverntay turned his head to glance at his son. "How many, Robert?"
"Ha. No one could keep up with such things."
"Well, I don't claim to be perfect, but I can offer her a good life," Cyrus said.
"I'm certain you can." The marquess nodded. "'Haps I'll put my foot down and have the contract drawn up."
Rebbie grimaced. "I don't see that going over well, Da."
"What of it?" Kilverntay grumbled. "The lass has had ample time and leeway to settle on a husband. She could not find a better man than Cyrus."
"I agree," Rebbie said firmly. "Cyrus is one of the best men I know. But... I'm thinking Lily wishes a love match, as Calla and I have."
"Ba! You've been a bad influence on your sisters," Kilverntay muttered." With my luck, she'll fall in love with a stable lad."
Rebbie and the other men chuckled at that. Cyrus saw naught amusing. He well knew if Lily wished a love match, he was out of the running. He could not imagine going calf-eyed over the girl, or anyone for that matter. These days, he was far too level-headed and realistic to allow his emotions to gallop away with his rational
mind.
Since the last humiliating experience of losing his head over a lass, he'd sworn to never allow a female to have that kind of power over him again. He could not even imagine himself fully trusting a woman.
Cyrus was all for tradition—marrying for alliances and wealth. This new wave of love matches of his friends and family was disturbing.
After Rebbie poured another round of whisky, Kilverntay glanced at Cyrus. "There's no need to decide today. You and Lily can get to know each other during the next few days." He raised his glass. "Wishing you the best of luck."
He would need it. Cyrus raised his glass, then downed the shot of whisky.
AFTER A GRAND SUPPER, most of the tables were shoved aside to open up the dance floor. The music started and Cyrus watched several people weave this way and that during the lively reel. Lady Lily was partnered with Dermott, while Fraser danced with Lady Grey.
Saints, he still could not believe she was the daughter of a merchant. Someone had trained her well, for her bearing was fully aristocratic, and her clothing looked like the latest fashion from Paris. How wealthy was she? And how had she gained that wealth if her late husband had been penniless?
"Cyrus, it wouldn't kill you to smile once in a while," Isobel whispered, sitting beside him at the high table. "You're scaring Lady Lily."
"Humph. Surely the lass cannot be so timid." Cyrus hoped she wasn't a fainthearted girl. He had no patience for that sort of thing.
During supper, he had been seated between Kilverntay and Lily. Dermott had been on Lily's other side. His blasted brother had talked to the girl nonstop, while Kilverntay had inquired about every detail of what had happened with the Lewis conflict. The only thing he'd learned about Lily was that she had perfect manners and ate like a wee bird.
Isobel leaned toward him. "You have no inkling how ill-tempered you look right now."
'Slud! He felt ill-tempered, so it fit. Every time he caught a glimpse of Elspeth and her fiery, perfectly styled hair, he felt even more annoyed.
He knew he should think of her as Lady Grey, but somehow the name didn't fit her. She was far too vivid to be called Grey. At the moment, he was more concerned for Elspeth than he was Lily. Dermott would never be so dishonorable as to step on Cyrus's toes. But Fraser obviously felt he could seduce Elspeth anytime he wanted. He was making her smile and blush. Damn him. Most vexing of all, her smile ramped up her beauty three-fold, making Cyrus want to stare like a green lad.
Highlander Besieged Page 3
