He would have to find a better time to warn the youngest MacLawry male that his sister needed to be reined in. Instead, all he could do at the moment was keep an eye on her. With the extra rooms for chieftains and other, less friendly, guests being readied, all it would take would be Winnie giving someone the wrong quarters because the room color matched their eyes or something, and another war would break out in the Highlands.
Samston and the narrow-chinned fellow, Arnold Peabody, had joined Winnie and Jane. They walked four abreast with the men on the outside, effectively walling her off from him whether that had been their intention or not. Whether he even wanted to approach her or not. Which he didn’t, except that she needed to realize that he wasn’t her pet wolfhound. She had Fergus and Una, presently padding along behind Ranulf, for that.
“Winnie says there are two villages on Glengask land,” another female voice said, and he turned his head to see another of the English lasses, Lady Edith Simms, with her skirts gathered in her hands as she hurried to catch up to him.
Ah, the desperate one. The brown-haired lass couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, wee compared to his two inches past six feet. But she was smiling, and she wasn’t telling him that he was disappointing and only good for caber-tossing. Nor had he been warned away from her, as he had been from Jane Hanover. At the least she wouldn’t be announcing that he was an idiot.
“Aye,” he returned, offering his arm. She wrapped her wee fingers around his sleeve, and he couldn’t help feeling something like a hulking giant beside her. Winnie was at least half a foot taller, and he didn’t feel like he towered over her—especially when she was angry.
“Where is the other village?” Edith asked.
He shook himself. This wasn’t about Winnie. This was about him enjoying himself and these visitors despite the youngest MacLawry’s exasperating behavior. “It’s aboot two miles to the south from here,” he answered. “The stream ye rode along yesterday falls down to run by Mahldoen. And there are other settlements, but they’re smaller and more scattered.”
“It must be so lonely up here,” she said after a moment. “Do you live at Gray House all by yourself?”
“Aye, except fer the servants. I suppose that’s why I spend most of my spare time at Glengask. We were all practically raised together.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding as if he’d answered some question of hers. That was curious.
“Did I solve some riddle fer ye, lass?”
“Winnie told us all about Glengask while we traveled north. She said you were a cousin, but nearer to a brother.”
“A third or fourth cousin, or someaught. My grandmother was a MacLawry, a cousin to the chief.” Every time in the past he’d tried to point out that they were family, Winnie had taken pains to point out how distantly they were related. Now it was him doing so. “And Winnie didnae think us family when she went aboot calling herself Lady Gray.”
Edith giggled. “I can hardly blame her. You are what we would call in London a well-favored man, my lord.”
Lachlan smiled. “Call me Lachlan, lass. I dunnae sit in my castle and watch the world through my windows.”
“Lachlan, then.”
While he and the MacLawrys might prefer to spend their days out-of-doors, that clearly wasn’t true of the London lot. Halfway to the mile-distant An Soadh they were already sweating and blowing like spent horses. The conversation dwindled, and he was fairly certain half of them would have given up and turned back if the way forward hadn’t been shorter than the way back.
This high in the mountains he wasn’t surprised, but how irresistible could Winnie find a blotchy-faced man rolling on the ground and gulping for air? Arran’s arm had just come out of a sling two days ago, and he wasn’t even breathing hard.
“You’re smiling,” Edith pointed out from beside him, her tone somewhat breathless, as well, and her grip on his arm seeming more for support than any reasons of flirtation. “You must tell me what’s so amusing.”
Aye, he could do that, and have Winnie bellowing at him again. Lachlan smoothed his expression. “We’ve had four days of sunlight in a row,” he drawled. “That’s enough to make any Highlander smile.”
That seemed to satisfy her, because she grinned and nodded at him. “Oh, yes. Winnie says we’re seeing the countryside at its best now. She and Samston are going riding in the morning to see a valley where the walls and floor are simply covered in bluebells.” She sighed and leaned still closer against him. “That sounds romantic, doesn’t it?”
“Aye,” he rumbled, pinning the back of the earl’s head with another glare.
“Do you know where this valley is, Lachlan? Perhaps you could take me riding there.”
“I dunnae recall it,” he lied, unwilling to be dragged into a romance simply because his attention was elsewhere.
Someone needed to warn Ranulf that his sister was making a fool of herself with a Sassenach lordling fortune hunter. The marquis would put a stop to that quicker than a gunshot. Or with a gunshot, if Samston didn’t watch himself.
What the devil was Winnie up to, anyway? She’d managed to have the London Season she’d wanted, but that was no reason for her to be telling old friends she was done with them or to parade herself in front of these English fools like some lass playing dress-up. That tactic hadn’t worked on him, but the Sassenach men didn’t view her the way he did.
When they reached An Soadh he kept an eye on her, as her brothers were all obviously preoccupied with females. Someone had to try to keep her from looking—or being—foolish. As the cotters realized Lord Glengask and his betrothed were on foot in the village they began to appear from everywhere, and the London crowd broke into smaller groups to tour the rather picturesque village.
The London ladies would no doubt laugh at the dress shop’s limited selections, but he’d never found a fault with anything from Mrs. Todd the baker. And of course Ranulf was already discussing the wool manufacturer where they wove MacLawry plaid as well as a handful of others to be shipped to America and the northeast, and the pottery mill that he’d arranged to build because of the surprising market they’d found for items bearing images of thistles and heather.
Glengask had begun several businesses whose main purpose was to sell goods to uprooted Highlanders forced to move to the cities or even abroad. Most of the facilities were located in Edinburgh, though a few had sprung up around the river Dee and boasted their own villages to house the employees.
He’d heard all this before, and had helped with both the logistics and with convincing suspicious and hostile Highlanders that changing their present didn’t require them to erase their past. It was the most difficult part of being a clan chieftain, finding ways to preserve Scottish traditions while laying pathways for a more comfortable future. And when successful, it was also the most rewarding thing about being Lord Gray.
“I’m near to breaking into song every time I hear this tale,” Bear said, shedding females as he approached. “Do ye think the Sassenach give a damn aboot any of it?”
“Nae. There’s nae a man among ’em who’s seen a family burned oot of a cottage to make way fer sheep. I’d nae be surprised to find that they’ve ordered it, though, from their cozy houses in the south.” His gaze went to Samston—except the earl was nowhere to be seen. And neither was Winnie.
“Ye’re a cynical lad, Lach.”
He shook himself, looking back at Bear. “Aye, I suppose I am. I’d rather be cynical than disappointed.”
Bear’s eyebrows dove together, but before he could comment, Lachlan left the crowd. It would serve Winnie right if he told everyone that she’d gone off somewhere with Samston, and he couldn’t even explain to himself why he was instead walking in the other direction. Stupid thin-blooded men who looked down their noses at everyone and thought it made them clever—how could anyone find one of them attractive? How could Winnie do so, when she had her own brothers, and him, as examples?
He spied her and Samston leaning on
the fence that corralled Mr. Addie’s pair of Highlands cows. No doubt the earl saw fit to comment on their long-haired shagginess, and to compare them to the sleek black and white Herefords of his fair country. And Winnie would giggle and bat her eyes and not care what he was saying, as long as he paid attention to her.
Samston faced her, touching her elbow with one hand and then drawing his palm down her arm to grip her fingers. And Winnie—Winnie—reached up to cup his face in her palm. The gesture was sensual, and intimate, and not at all the sort of flirting in which a high-spirited girl would engage.
But then Winnie—Rowena—wasn’t a wee bairn any longer.
Lachlan took her in all over again. Her lush black hair coiled into a pair of braids that her maid Mitchell had looped partway down her back, strands escaping to caress her oval face in the cool breeze coming off the mountains. A jaunty, useless straw hat half shadowed her eyes, deepening their color to the soft gray of a Scottish wildcat’s pelt. He well knew she had a temper to match. The green and white walking dress was undoubtedly the latest London fashion, and the way it pressed against her curves and slender form with the pulsing of the breeze …
He swallowed. Good God. When had this happened? He was fairly certain that she’d been but a child three months ago. When she’d returned and he’d told her once and for certain that he would never offer for her, and she’d practically laughed as she’d agreed with him—she’d been a child then, hadn’t she? A petulant girl biting back at him because she’d been denied her favorite obsession?
The Highlands, the world, flipped over on its ear. The portrait of her that he’d held in his mind of the little girl with a rip in her too-frilly skirt and burrs in her hair no longer existed. Rowena MacLawry was a stunningly attractive young woman, and he hadn’t even seen it until another man put his hands on her.
Lust, jealousy, anger pushed at him, warmer than the late summer sun, and he backed away before either of them could notice him and see it on his face. Clearly he’d made a mistake in turning her away. And now he needed to set things right before shiny Samston put a ring on her finger.
It shouldn’t take much. After all, she’d been in love with him for nearly all of her eighteen years. And once he reminded her of that, and informed her that he saw her now as the lovely lass she was … Well, things were about to change.
Chapter Four
“However splendid your Highlands, Rowena,” Adam James murmured, gazing at her with his pretty brown eyes, “they cannot possibly compare to you.”
“The—”
“Hush,” he interrupted. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
It seemed an unnecessary announcement, given the way he’d led her off behind Mr. Addie’s house. She wasn’t certain she knew or trusted him well enough for them to be kissing, but someone needed to be her first kiss. Before he became too attached to her, Rowena also needed to inform him that Ranulf had selected three other men she’d agreed to meet. But a first kiss was a first kiss, and she felt disinclined to discourage him. If nothing else, it would be one more item she could tick off her list of things Lachlan hadn’t done for her.
His mouth lowered over hers, warm and soft and not at all wet (as Jane had warned her about). She pressed her lips back against his and remembered to bend one knee and lift her foot a few inches off the ground as she and Jane had practiced in the mirror at Hanover House all Season. All in all, it was very well done if she said so herself.
He started to back away, then with a swift glance beyond her shoulder, closed on her again, clutching her even closer. Her lips felt squished, and her nose dug into the side of his cheek. Rowena lifted a hand to push him away. This wasn’t at all romantic, for Saint Bridget’s sake.
“There you are,” Jane’s voice came, followed by a feminine squeak. “Goodness!”
Adam stepped back from her, a slight grimace crossing his features. “I apologize, Lady Rowena,” he said. “I have overstepped the bounds of propriety. And Lady Jane, I must beg your discretion.”
It all seemed so overblown—and so … rehearsed. Rowena frowned at him. “Did you mean to have someone see us kissing?” Clearly her propriety was not overstepped, because she hadn’t even forgotten the proper accent she’d adopted.
“I … I would never do something so underhanded,” he protested, flushing.
He hadn’t flushed when he’d kissed her. That was what his grimace had been about—he’d wanted someone other than Jane to discover them. “Well, you needn’t worry, then,” she returned, disappointed to her bones. How simple and naïve did he think she was? Especially after his repeated “polite inquiries” about what Ranulf would grant her upon her marriage. “Jane will keep our secret.” She walked away from him without a backward glance and took her friend’s arm.
“I mean to do right by you, my lady. We erred, drawn together by our mutual pass—”
“Do stop talking,” she shot back. “I’m not fooled.”
Jane sniffed at him. “And if I might make an observation, Lord Samston, you have no idea how lucky you are it was I who saw you. Telling any of her brothers that you kissed Winnie, particularly when no one else will corroborate that statement, will be much more likely to result in them killing you than in them offering you Winnie’s hand and her dowry.”
“I have no idea why you feel the need to attack me,” the earl said stiffly. “All I did was ask for your discretion.”
“That, and kiss me a second time when you realized someone was coming. That isn’t mutual passion, my lord. That is your greed. Come with me, Jane. I want to show you the bakery.”
With a flounce of her skirts, she towed Jane around the corner of the cotter’s shack. “Did you know he meant to kiss you?” her friend whispered.
“I thought he might. I’m not sure he even liked me, now, though.” And she’d had quite enough of that.
“I think he liked you. If he hadn’t been so desperate for your money, he might have won you both.” Jane wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps it is a good thing that he behaved this way.”
“I won’t argue with that.” Rowena tried to muster a laugh, but as it occurred to her that she’d now had her first kiss and that it had been not out of passion but because Adam wanted money or power or something, she didn’t feel terribly amused.
As they returned to the village center and the rest of their group, she sent a cautious look at Ranulf. Her oldest brother wore an easy, amused expression, his gaze on Charlotte, and she relaxed a little. Arran seemed likewise occupied with Mary, and Bear was caught up again with the Parker sisters. They hadn’t noticed her departure from the party, then—something both highly unusual and, under the circumstances, very welcome.
“May I ask you a question?” Jane released her arm, but stayed close by. “But you mustn’t get angry. It’s only a question.”
“You can ask me anything, Janie,” she returned, immediately curious. “Of course I won’t be angry.”
“Lachlan. Lord Gray.”
Oh, dear. Blast it all, she’d ordered Lachlan to stay well away from Jane. And yet, every time she turned around the two of them were chatting. Given the new tension between herself and Lachlan, she had to blame the viscount for intentionally flouting her request. “That’s not a question,” she said carefully.
“It was an implied question, I suppose,” Jane said, her cheeks turning pink. “I mean, now that Samston’s out of the running, so to speak, you’re not … you won’t change your mind about Lord Gray, will you?”
Almost against her will Rowena turned her head to glance at Lachlan—to find him gazing directly back at her. However she didn’t feel about him, she could objectively say that Lord Gray was a damned handsome man. Out-of-doors like this, with his broad shoulders and wind-tossed brown hair, and in a kilt or in buckskin trousers and boots as he was today, he was the image every young, romantic girl took to bed with her when she dreamed of wild, untamed Highlanders.
She’d grown up with those dreams. Perhaps it made sense that she
had tamer, more manageable, less unpredictable expectations now. Ones where the man both appreciated her interest and returned it. Rowena sighed, looking back at Jane. “I have no attachment to Lachlan. I’m not even certain we’re friends, any longer. If you like him, I will only warn you that you will be wasting your efforts and your heart on someone who doesn’t possess one, himself.”
“He’s been very nice to me.”
“He is nice. He’s even charming. But he’s like that with everyone. Don’t fool yourself into thinking his smiles are meant just for you.”
Her friend nodded. “My eyes are open. I’ve seen how frustrated you were. I made a mistake in falling for Arran, thinking he had a tendre for me when he was just being polite, but I do understand that now.”
Rowena had her doubts that Jane’s eyes were open as much as her friend thought, but as she’d only recently realized her own mistake where Lachlan was concerned, she could hardly refuse to give Jane credit for her own epiphany. “Then do as you will, my dear. Just please, please don’t let him break your heart.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Winnie, is this the bakery you’ve been telling us about for a fortnight?” Edith asked, breaking into the conversation. “It looks very … plain.”
“That’s because the biscuits speak for themselves,” Rowena returned with a smile, shaking herself. “I suggest we go in and see if Mrs. Todd has baked any honey biscuits today.”
As she led the way across the dirt street, she caught sight of Lord Samston rejoining the group headed for the pottery manufacturer—and saw the look Lachlan abruptly sent the earl. The venom in his expression startled and unsettled her in equal measure, both because Lachlan was so rarely out of countenance, and because there was no reason she knew of for him to feel such vitriol.
“Excuse me a moment,” she said, quickly giving Mrs. Todd a smile and a request for two dozen honey biscuits before she slipped back out of the shop.
Mad, Bad, and Dangerous in Plaid Page 6
