Mad, Bad, and Dangerous in Plaid

by Suzanne Enoch

  “Bloody London.”

  It felt good to say that, so he did it again. Twice. And then with a last look at her lit windows he turned around and headed back to Gray House. Dreams and wishes and rainbows had caused all this trouble, as far as he was concerned. And so beginning tomorrow, he’d give her a look at who he truly was. And who she truly was. And Robert Cranach had best stay out of his damned way.

  * * *

  “Ye look like a steamy pile of shite,” Bear said, as he walked into the Gray House breakfast room the next morning.

  Lachlan nodded from his customary chair at the head of the table. His table. That seemed important today, because he wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about any of the MacLawrys. “So do ye. At least I ken what happened to me. What’s yer excuse?”

  “Sarah Parker. That lass is nae as sweet as she looks. My back looks like I rode naked through nettles.” Shaking his shaggy black hair, Munro made his way over to the sideboard and selected a generous helping of breakfast. “Did ye go doon to the Bonny Bruce withoot me?”

  “Aye. It was emptier than a church on Monday, though. Naught to do but drink.”

  Bear took the seat opposite him and gestured at the one footman still remaining in the house for a cup of tea. “What were ye and Winnie fighting aboot?”

  That was Bear, directly to the point. Finesse was for diplomats. Lachlan finished his bite of toast and washed it down with his own tea. “Rainbows.”

  Bear cocked an eyebrow. “Ye nearly came to blows over rainbows,” he said, dumping five lumps of sugar into his teacup. “And ye expect me to believe ye, why?”

  “If ye want more than that, ye’ll have to ask her.” He slid a piece of paper across the table. “Ye left the games to me, but I figured ye should at least know what I’ve decided.”

  Turning the paper to face him, Bear read it as he devoured a soft-boiled egg and an entire baked trout. “Ye left oot bear-baiting,” he said after a moment, looking up again. “Are ye trying to get everyone killed?”

  “Nae. Those are proper contests fer a proper Highlands games.” He indicated the list with a free finger. “And dunnae ye want to have the Sassenach leave here feeling just a wee bit of fear?”

  “So they can bring their army north and try to wipe us oot again? Those that are still standing after the caber toss, stone put, foot race, horse race—men and women—hammer throw, weight throw, sheaf toss, blunted claymores, target shooting, maide leisg, and greased-pig chasing, anyway.”

  “I wrote down the pipes, fiddles, and dancing contests on the other side.” Lachlan gave a mock frown. “Do ye think I should suggest to Ranulf that we have three days fer the games? Two might nae be enough.”

  “Ye’ve gone mad, ye know.”

  “Nae, I havenae.” He sat forward. If he couldn’t convince Bear, he didn’t stand a chance with Glengask. “This isnae just a gathering of clan MacLawry. All our best will be here, aye. But so will Campbells, Stewarts, Buchanans, a share of MacDonalds, MacGregors, Camerons, and Gordons. And that’s nae all of them.”

  “Aye. They started arriving at dawn. I came to fetch ye to help me organize the tents along the loch if ye were civilized again.”

  “And what impression do ye want them all to return home with? That we hold a fine, civilized wedding and a few aristocratic contests that any Sassenach could win? That we’re practically Sassenach ourselves, we’re so gentle and gentlemanly?”

  His friend frowned again. “That’s how Ranulf wants the English to see us. Civilized.”

  “And does he want the other clans to see us as civilized? As polite knee benders who faint at the sight of blood? Because we’ll have a bushel of English here, and a bloody acre of Highlanders.”

  Munro looked at the list again, a slow smile touching his face. “Ye’re nae mad after all, Lach. In fact, I ken ye may be a genius.” He slammed his fist on the table, making tea slosh from his cup. “This is a Highlands games,” he rumbled, lifting the list. “And we’re Highlanders.”

  “Aye. We are. And anyone who expects less of us is in fer a surprise. Now shall we take the list to Glengask?”

  “Oh, aye. Winnie might nae like it, but I ken Ran will. Ye should do the talking.”

  Lachlan pushed to his feet. “Let’s get on with it, then. We have some tents to pitch and some games to arrange.” And a woman’s heart to win.

  Chapter Eight

  Rowena looked down at the list. “No! No, no, no!”

  “I gave my approval, Rowena,” Ranulf said from the chair behind his large mahogany desk. “I’ll nae have ye contradicting me.”

  “The games were supposed to keep everyone occupied before the wedding. This,” and she shook the page in her fist, “this is … uncivilized!” It was also clearly written in Lachlan’s neat hand. Apparently he’d decided to find another way to torment her.

  “Most of my guests are uncivilized.”

  “But mine aren’t.”

  “Rowena, generally I’d agree with ye. But think aboot this: I have to balance holding my ground in the Highlands with opening new avenues in London, and even abroad. If I can hold fierce games, keep them from falling into chaos, and the next day marry an English lady from a respected family in front of both Scottish and English aristocrats, I’ve proven myself doubly strong, and doubly formidable.”

  In a stupid, manly fist-bashing way, it made sense. “It’s a large risk. We’ve seen chaos erupt out of clan MacLawry games. Here you’ll have, what, a dozen clans participating?”

  “Aye.” He gazed at her levelly, deep blue eyes to her gray. “This is on my head, piuthar. My failure, or my success. And in my opinion, the risk is worth the reward.”

  “But—”

  “Rowena, I’m nae accustomed to explaining myself. And nae more than once. I’ve decided.”

  She knew better than to argue with that. She’d likely have more success yelling at a stone wall. “Very well, then.”

  “Good. Now. Ye and Lachlan. What’s amiss?”

  Oh, so many things. “Nothing. It was just a silly argument.”

  He didn’t look convinced. “Over what?”

  “I truly don’t wish to talk about it, Ran. It’s over with, anyway.” Quite possibly it was entirely over with, since Lachlan hadn’t stopped by to collect his kiss last night. And that was despite the fact that she’d stayed up until nearly dawn—not because of the kiss, of course, but because she wanted to finish the argument. And because she couldn’t seem to become accustomed to the fact that he wasn’t simply teasing.

  “Ye’re nae still pining over him, are ye?”

  “Nae. No. Of course not. It’s … it’s just now that I’m not infatuated over every little thing he does any longer, he’s quite aggravating.”

  “Can ye plan this gathering together, or should I remove him from the thing? Ye can have Bear, instead.”

  That would make things so much easier. At the same time it felt cowardly, though, and of course he would likely tell her that to her face. Nor would it resolve whatever it was between them. “I can work with him. Bear will only want games where he can throw heavy things as far as possible. At least Lachlan included races and dancing and target shooting.”

  After a long moment Ranulf nodded. “See to it, then. I have chieftains arriving. And MacDonalds.”

  Since he meant that to be amusing, she smiled, then stood and left his office. Why she continued to feel the need to protect Lachlan from her brothers she had no idea, but she’d done it yet again. And now they were organizing the gathering together.

  The day had begun overcast, and over the past few minutes light bands of rain had begun skipping across the hills. Most of her London friends had scattered for the morning, retreating to Ranulf’s large library or the morning room or, from the sound of it, the billiards room and the music room. At least she didn’t need to keep them entertained today, because she simply wasn’t in the mood.

  Cooper at the front door held out a light sealskin overcoat for her, and she sl
ipped into it and her bad-weather walking boots—which generally saw more usage than her good-weather walking shoes. She donned one of Arran’s floppy-brimmed hats over her coiled hair and stepped outside into the rain.

  “Rowena.”

  She turned to see Ranulf descending the stairs just inside. “What is it?”

  “As I said, there are Highlanders arriving today. Take Una with ye.” He patted the smaller of the two massive gray deerhounds on the head. “Una. Guard Rowena.”

  “Come along, Una,” she echoed, and with the hound padding beside her she headed down the path toward the loch.

  As she topped the hill, she slowed. Yesterday this had been a rolling, heather-filled meadow. Today two dozen canvas tents were already up, along with several canopies and temporary wooden structures and rolls of cloth and wood for another three dozen or so. It looked very like the beginnings of a MacLawry clan gathering, even though she knew this event had much more significance. The MacLawry was marrying, ensuring the continuation of the MacLawry line, and all the surrounding clans meant to witness it.

  For the first time she was glad all of this wasn’t aimed at her. And she hoped Ranulf would have a tight hold on Charlotte when his betrothed saw the horde of Highlanders who would be filling these tents over the next few days. They all lived in such small groups these days, so isolated from each other, that now, more than ever, no one wanted to miss a gathering.

  “Bear, tie it off before I get flung into the loch, will ye?”

  “I am! Give me a damned minute.”

  She looked over at the tent currently being erected. A man, shirtless in the rain, in fact wearing nothing but a MacLawry kilt and muddy work boots, hauled backward on a long stretch of canvas to keep it tight while a handful of other lads tied the crossbeams and pounded anchors into the ground. When the piece was secured he released it, swiping rain and longish brown hair from his face as he turned around.

  “Lachlan,” she said aloud, taking in his well-muscled shoulders and abdomen, the light trail of hair that traveled from his chest downward to disappear beneath the band of his kilt. Her breath caught a little.

  He inclined his head. His bare skin must have been warm, because she could swear steam lifted from him as he approached. “Rowena.”

  “Ye— Aren’t you cold?” she asked, when she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Nae. And I’d be wet throughout, regardless.” He tilted his head back, closing his eyes and opening his mouth to the rain. “Fer Highlands weather, this is refreshing.”

  “If it doesn’t knock you down, it’s not weather,” she returned, paraphrasing one of Arran’s favorite sayings.

  “True enough.” He held his hand down, and Una trotted forward for a scratch. “I’m glad ye’ve got one of the dogs with ye. This place’ll be crawling with rival clans by sunset. The Camerons’ve already claimed the two tents doon to the left.”

  “And you’re concerned over my safety?”

  His brow furrowed. “Of course I am. I want nae harm to come to ye, lass. Ye’re precious to me.”

  Now he was just trying to be charming again. And he undoubtedly knew precisely how magnificent he looked standing there bare-chested and muddy. “Then we aren’t arguing any longer over who sees whom more clearly?”

  “I reckon proof will do us better than words,” he returned, gesturing her toward one of the completed tents down the path they’d left open to the right.

  Curious, she ducked inside, out of the rain. Una shook droplets everywhere, then padded to one side of the opening and lay down. No one else would join them without the hound’s approval. “How do I prove that I see you clearly, then?” she pursued.

  Lachlan tugged on one of the ropes, then faced her again. “First, ye owe me someaught.”

  Her pulse skittered. “I do not. You didn’t appear at the agreed-upon time or in the agreed-upon place.”

  “Ye bellowed so loud I got tossed oot of yer party on my arse. And then I got drunk. I couldnae collect a kiss when I was three sheets to the wind.”

  “I didn’t make you go drinking.”

  He grinned jauntily. “Aye, ye did, but I’ll concede the point before it begins another argument.”

  Had fighting with her truly upset him that much? She hadn’t slept well at all, herself, but then she’d been waiting for him to make an appearance. “Regardless,” she made herself say, “the agreement was for the end of the evening, in my bedchamber. This is neither.” And she had no intention of being charmed by him. Not again.

  “Hang the agreement.” Striding forward, he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

  Electricity shot down her spine, sharp and breathtaking. Lachlan didn’t settle for a chaste, close-lipped kiss like the one Samston had given her. Instead, he molded his mouth against hers, pulling and seeking until she had to respond in kind or simply expire. She clasped her hands around his wrists, keeping him close against her.

  Rainbows, reality, childish daydreams—it all melted beneath the heat of his embrace. Rowena rose up on her tiptoes to meet his mouth more squarely. She wanted to run her fingers across his bare chest, and gripped his arms harder to keep her hands still. Because once she began touching him, she didn’t think she would be able to make herself stop.

  “Lachlan! Where’d ye get to?”

  At the sound of Bear’s voice just on the other side of the heavy cloth, Rowena jerked backward. Oh, goodness. Munro could not be allowed to find them mauling each other. His gaze on her lips, Lachlan wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

  “Sweet Bridget,” he murmured, then took two steps backward. “I’m in the tent,” he called, “discussing the games with yer sister.”

  A moment later Bear ducked inside, water dripping from his long black hair and making his thin shirt cling to his muscular chest. He looked from Rowena to Lachlan and back again. “Nae slapping or kicking?”

  She took a quick breath. “Ranulf agreed to your plan for the games,” she offered. “Is it truly necessary to throw trees, rocks, hammers, and wheat sheaves, though? Might we substitute a rope pull or something else for one of them, at least?”

  “I’d trade ye the hammers fer a good rope pull,” Bear agreed. “Did he give us the third day, or are we still to manage with two?”

  “We’ll begin at noon on Wednesday, and you’ll have until sunset on Friday,” she decided, since Ranulf hadn’t specified.

  “Having the evening before the wedding to sober up does make some sense,” Lachlan put in, “though we cannae guarantee that’s how anyone’ll make use of the time.”

  “Aye. I’m nae leaving my good word to keep the peace in the hands of the Campbells or the Camerons.” Bear grimaced.

  “Of course not.” Rowena patted him on one large, wet shoulder. “But we can guarantee that the MacLawrys will be sober and ready to stop any trouble before it begins.”

  He nodded. “I ken we can do that. And I’m glad to see the two of ye talking and nae yelling. We’re all friends here. We’re family.”

  Lachlan had said he didn’t want her friendship, and that kiss hadn’t given her the impression they were family. That kiss had made her feel positively naked—or at the least, made her want to be touching him skin to skin. She needed to return to the house before she said or did something that would set her back three months and into her old, silly, girlish infatuation.

  “We are all friends,” she agreed. “And I need to get back to the house for the meeting with Father Dyce.”

  “I’ll walk ye,” Lachlan said, before she could escape.

  “Just ye dunnae leave me to do all this myself, or I’ll blame all the drownings on ye.” With that Bear gestured them to precede him back into the rain.

  From his expression Lachlan would rather have remained with her in the tent. Because that same thought occurred to her, Rowena snapped her fingers at Una and practically ran out into the drizzle. A dozen heartbeats later, though, a tall, solid warmth moved up beside her.

&nb
sp; “You don’t need to come with me,” she said, keeping her gaze on the path before her. “I have Una.”

  “I said I’d escort ye.”

  “But you’re what I’m attempting to escape.”

  Lachlan chuckled. “I mean to dog ye like ye dog my thoughts during the day, and my dreams at night.”

  She risked a glance at him. “I’m not the first woman you’ve kissed, though.”

  His expression sobered. “Nae, ye are nae.”

  “And you didn’t begin kissing other women in just the past three months.”

  “Ye still want me to be honest, lass?”

  “I require it from you, Lachlan.” She’d spent far too much time in fantasies where he was concerned. Whether that was his fault or not, she wouldn’t tolerate more lies or fabrications. She couldn’t. Especially now, when … when he said he wanted her.

  “Then over the years I’ve kissed my share of lasses. I am eight years older than ye, Rowena.”

  “And you’ve done more than kiss them,” she insisted.

  He blew out his breath. “A time or two, aye.”

  She abruptly wanted to cry. Even the part of her that yelled it should have been her in his arms knew better, but it still hurt. “Who?”

  “That, I’ll nae tell ye. It doesnae just concern me.”

  “How is it that I never knew?” she persisted. “I knew when Bear and Arran were … misbehaving. And I practically lived on your heels.”

  “I didnae want to hurt yer feelings,” Lachlan said, looking off toward the castle. “I knew ye thought ye … loved me, even when ye were twelve and I was twenty. So I was discreet, I suppose ye’d call it.”

  “Did ye love any of them?”

  “Nae. I wanted to, but I didnae. In fact, I was aboot to go spend some time in Edinburgh to find a likely lass to wed when ye ran off to London.”

  She would have lost him anyway, even if she hadn’t cured herself of her obsession with him. The notion sent brief panic through her, even though logically she knew it no longer mattered. “Will you leave after the wedding, then?”