Rowena nodded. “I—it surprised me. I mean, you did say I would be able to choose, Ranulf. And I suppose I’d had too much wine, but anyway, I fainted. He didn’t actually ask me anything, and I certainly gave him no reply.”
“That’s nae what he went aboot telling everyone.” Bear lifted his head to search the crowd. “The bastard. I’ll—”
“Ye’ll do naught to him,” Ranulf cut in, before Munro could finish describing what sort of violence he would do to Rob. “Ye said ye had no objection to marrying Cranach, aye, Rowena?”
“Aye, but—”
“Arran, go find him. Now. He’ll ask, and ye’ll answer, and it’ll all be settled and everything made clear.”
Arran started to stride away, but Rowena grabbed his arm. “That isn’t very romantic, Ranulf. For heaven’s sake.”
The marquis pinned her with the look that had once caused Samuel Cameron to wet himself. Rowena, though, refused to flinch or to look away, let him make what he would of that. “Give us a moment, lads,” he said evenly, his gaze never leaving her face.
In a second they were alone, just the two of them, in the center of a vast circle of onlookers, not all of them wishing the best for the MacLawry family. Uneasiness settled into her stomach. Her brother or not, there was no more formidable man in the Highlands than Ranulf MacLawry. And she evidently had his complete, unwavering attention. “This can wait until tonight,” she said. “There’s a pending riot, as I recall.”
“Nae,” he said flatly. “It cannae wait. Ye do realize there are thirty or so lads oot there who would chew off their own arms to wed ye, Rowena. Some of them would woo ye, and some of them wouldn’t bother with that.”
“I’ve attended every gathering since I can remember,” she returned, frowning. “What’s the difference?”
“The difference is that ye turned eighteen three months ago. The difference is that ye were nae the only one to think ye’d be wed to Lachlan. The difference is that everyone here knows by now that the two of ye have been bickering and ye’ll nae have him. And that there are other men here seeking to court ye. Ye’ve put yerself on the block, piuthar. Ye’re now seen as a woman grown, and an available one. And every lad who wants ye, every clan who wants an alliance, every climber who wants to join nae just clan MacLawry but the family MacLawry, is looking at ye right now with lustful, calculating eyes.”
He’d never spoken to her so bluntly before. And his words hammered through her like doom. That was why he’d given his permission to Rob Cranach, why he’d asked Lachlan to tell her there would be no match between them, and why he’d likely meant to use the occasion of opening the games to announce her betrothal. To protect the family, and to protect her.
“So. If it’s yer pride that’s making ye hesitate, Arran will fetch Cranach and we’ll see to it that he asks ye nicely. If it’s someaught else, ye need to tell me. Now.” His hard blue gaze flicked beyond her shoulder in Charlotte’s direction. “And dunnae think I’ve somehow lost my will because of my lass. I’ll nae be embarrassed by ye, Rowena. I’ll nae allow the clan to be embarrassed or endangered because now ye dunnae want what ye wanted a day ago.”
She took a deep breath. Oh, dear. This didn’t bode well. “I’ve looked at Rob Cranach, as ye asked me to. He’s very gentlemanly and pleasant. I’ll likely marry him. But now it’s … It’s complicated.”
“Complicated … how?” her brother prompted.
“I may have made a mistake,” she said slowly. “About Lachlan.”
Ranulf turned his head to glance at Lord Gray, standing beside Bear and looking at them, clearly frustrated that he’d been uninvited from this chat. Her brother faced her again. “Nae,” he said.
Rowena blinked. “But—”
“Nae. The last time ye had a sense that he didnae care fer ye as much as ye cared fer him, ye fled—alone—to London.”
“Mitchell was with me.”
“And she’s damned lucky I didnae leave her behind in London.” He took a step closer to her. “Nae, Rowena. Eighteen years is enough. I’ll nae see ye heartbroken again when ye realize he’s nae the man ye imagined. This is a fresh start, and it’s one ye need.”
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t marry Rob,” she tried again, attempting to figure it out in her own head at the same time she was speaking. “I just want a few more days—four more days—to decide. Aside from that, these games, this gathering is for you and Charlotte. I don’t want it to be about me.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Ye’re a clever lass, aren’t ye?”
“Perhaps, but it’s also the truth. Enjoy your moment, Ran. For once.”
Finally he gave a slight nod, as if to himself. “The rumors have already begun aboot ye and Robert. I’ll let them stand. That’s the four days ye’ll have before I formally announce yer betrothal. To Rob Cranach.”
“But Lachlan and I are—”
“That’s enough, Rowena. The two of ye told me ye were over with, and I made plans accordingly. I’ll nae be swayed again. And I’ll nae have another of my siblings rewriting alliances behind my back. When Robert bends a knee and asks fer yer hand, ye’ll say aye. Is that clear?”
She blinked, unexpected tears blurring her vision. “But—”
“Rowena.” He sighed. “I asked ye to choose, and ye did. Dunnae do this to yerself. Eighteen years of crying after a man who doesnae want ye back is enough.” He took her chin in his hand and tilted up her face to gaze directly into her eyes. “Four days. Ye may nae like it now, but I reckon ye’ll understand once ye see it through. I’ll tell him to ask ye, and I’ll tell him to make it romantic. And that is that.” He searched her gaze. “Say ye understand me, and ye’ll do as I ask.”
Unable to speak, realizing just how deep this hole was now that she’d allowed Lachlan back into her heart again, Rowena settled for nodding. This was what she’d asked for. She just wasn’t certain she wanted it, any longer.
* * *
“What did he say?” Lachlan asked, intercepting Rowena as she walked over to where her Sassenach friends and Lord Robert sat.
“Not now,” she muttered, not looking at him.
Lachlan took her arm, trying to make it look friendly. Brotherly, if that’s what everyone expected. “Aye, now, Rowena. Will he give ye—us—four days?”
Silently she shook her head. “No,” she muttered, her voice tight and quiet.
“What do ye mean, no?” he returned, exaggerating the sound of the word.
“He won’t confirm the rumors for four days, but only because I said I wanted this gathering to be about him and Charlotte. He said you and I swore off each other, and he made his plans accordingly, and I will not embarrass him by rearranging his alliances.”
For a long moment he stared at her as she walked beside him. Yes, he’d made a mistake in not realizing precisely who stood before him. But to not even allow them a chance … “But ye told him that Cranach never proposed to ye. I heard ye say it.”
“Yes, and he’ll encourage Rob to ask me in a proper, romantic manner. Once I’m asked, I’m to say yes. He won’t hear any more excuses, and he thinks I’m still just infatuated with you and won’t let go of the fantasy.”
That might have been flattering, under different circumstances. Now, it sounded like the bell tolling doom. He cursed. “I dunnae accept any of this.”
“You have to, Lachlan. I won’t see you and my brothers fighting each other.” She freed her arm. “And as I said, I never said I would choose you, anyway. It’s just … It’s finished.”
He stopped, watching as she returned to her friends and seated herself next to the damned interloper she meant to marry. The muscles across his shoulders held so tightly he would swear they creaked. It wasn’t meant to happen like this. If he was certain of one damned thing, it was that he and Rowena were meant to be together.
“Are ye ready, Lach?” Bear asked, slapping him on the back.
He jumped. “In a minute.”
Ranulf had neglected one wee corn
er of his grand plan to marry off his sister, anyway. Lachlan stalked the rest of the distance to where Lord Robert Cranach sat with his cousin on one side, and Rowena on the other. Rowena couldn’t marry a dead man.
“Cranach,” he said, stopping in front of the group, “I didnae see yer name or yer colors put up fer any of the games here.”
“I’m happy to watch the expected triumph of clan MacLawry,” the devil returned with a smile.
Rowena kept her gaze on her hands. “No one is being forced to participate, Lachlan. It’s just for fun.”
“Ye’re a bonny, strapping lad, Cranach,” he pressed, ignoring her halfhearted protest. “Do ye mean to sit there, or are ye going to defend the honor of clan Buchanan and toss a caber? Just fer fun, of course.”
The Marquis of Helvy’s brother narrowed his eyes. “Might I have a word with ye, Lord Gray?” he asked, standing.
“Certainly.” Fisticuffs would be better, but he’d settle for a word. For the moment.
Cranach rose and gestured him to walk a few feet away from the rest of Rowena’s guests. “I assume this is about me marrying Winnie,” he commented.
“Ye’re nae marrying her. Ye have to ask her permission before ye can marry her, and ye’ve nae done a thing but let her fall to the floor in a faint. She’s nae given ye a thing.”
“And you want her for yourself? Are we to settle this over cabers?”
“Or the rope pull or the stone put or claymores or target shooting, or the horse race,” Lachlan returned. A man could break his neck during any of those, if he wasn’t careful. “I’m only speculating that the sight of ye crawling off the field with yer tail betwixt yer legs willnae impress her overmuch.”
“I think I’d be using my time better by sitting beside her while you wallow about in the mud, actually, Gray.”
Lachlan shrugged. “Ye’re a damned coward. And ye’re nae to propose to her until after ye speak with Glengask.” It wasn’t much, but if he wasn’t going to be able to put a sword through the man, he could at least slow him down.
Cranach smiled. “I’ll do that, then. And for your own edification, I’m fairly certain Rowena is a lady who prefers a good poetry reading to seeing a lad end-over-end a tree for no good reason.”
Well, he was wrong about that. Probably. No, she hadn’t asked to be rescued, and she hadn’t even actually said she bore him any affection at all—the exact opposite, in fact—but Lachlan had no intention of surrendering. If he’d learned anything from a lifetime in the Highlands, it was that there were two ways of doing things: the straightforward way, and the crooked way. It seemed he’d just chosen the crooked way.
“Speak as prettily as ye like, Cranach. Ye’ve nae won anything, yet.”
“Considering she’s never even mentioned your name in my presence and that you seem to know all about me, I’m willing to take my chances.” Cranach offered his hand. “Good luck to you, Lord Gray.”
Lachlan clenched his jaw and shook his hand, unsurprised even to hear that Rowena wasn’t the only one pretending an accent. The only difference was that Rob was pretending to sound like a Highlander, while she was pretending she didn’t sound like one. It was all nonsense as far as he was concerned. “May the best man win, then.”
“What the devil was that aboot?” Bear asked, as Lachlan rejoined the men standing by the scattering of logs.
“Didnae I tell ye?” Lachlan said, taking the wide end of a caber and pushing it skyward while Munro braced the narrower end against his feet.
“Tell me what?” With a grunt Bear lifted the upright caber in both palms, bracing it against his chest and one cheek.
“I mean to marry yer sister.”
Lachlan swatted his friend on the back, sending him forward. The caber wobbled, then straightened as Bear took a few running steps forward and then heaved upward, sending the log end over end. It landed at just past two o’clock from the six o’clock marked by his feet.
Bear lifted a fist into the air to acknowledge the loud cheers of the crowd. “Ye’re a right bastard, ye are,” he muttered as he returned to his starting position and shook out his arms.
Lachlan shoved another caber free and braced the narrow end while Bear pushed the larger end up into the air. “Aye. Remember when ye gave me the caber with black beetles crawling on it? Now we’re even.”
Once the log was straight up, he bent, braced his knees, and lifted it up in his clasped hands. The thing was a beast three times his height, nearly twenty feet long. Shoving air into his lungs he trotted forward and heaved, keeping the thing from twisting sideways as it launched into the air and slammed wide end down into the ground and went over again. It thudded down midway between eleven and twelve o’clock.
“Beat that, big man,” he called, throwing both arms into the air as the crowd roared.
“Ye’re leaking red, ye know.” Bear tossed him a cloth as they stood aside to watch the rest of the competitors throw.
He glanced down at the forearm he’d scraped against the rough wood. “Now it’s a games,” he said with a hard grin, wiping the blood away with the cloth.
“That was what Winnie and Ran were gabbing aboot, wasnae?” Bear sent his sister a quizzical glance. “So she’s decided against Cranach, after all? And Ranulf agreed?”
Lachlan shrugged. “Nae precisely,” he said.
Bear moved around to face him. “And what does that mean?”
“It means naught’s done until it’s done. I’ve nae surrendered.” Now that he’d tasted her, he would never give her up—though telling her brother that would not be in his best interest.
“Well, that explains why ye’ve been more prickly than a patch of briars, anyway.” Green eyes several shades lighter than his own took in the crowd, Ranulf standing on the edge of the clearing with Charlotte on his arm, and then Rowena still seated with Cranach directly beside her. “Ran wants the Buchanan merchants in the Colonies, I reckon,” he said after a moment. “I’d rather have ye sitting at Hogmanay dinner with us than Cranach, though. He’s too smooth fer my taste. Whatever ye need, ye let me know.”
“Ranulf willnae like it. He’s set on Cranach.”
Munro drew in a breath through his nose. “Ran’s getting the lass he wants. Arran got the lass he wanted. Fair is fair.”
Lachlan nodded, more appreciative than he could say. “Thank ye, Bear.”
“Ye’re welcome. And if ye break her heart again, I’ll chop ye into wee pieces and feed ye to the pigs.”
“I dunnae mean to let her go, this time.” If he could catch hold of her.
And he would. He had to. Because the idea of not having her there for him to kiss, to jest with, to argue with, to hold in his arms, was simply unacceptable.
He scarcely noted when he, Bear, and three large lads from other clans advanced to the next round of cabers. With a few minutes to rest—and drink a quantity of whisky—he left the clearing to go check with Debny and make certain the ladies’ horse race route would remain well within sight of both the spectators and the men assigned to keep watch over Rowena.
“Move the hay bales,” he instructed, gesturing. “I dunnae want them on the far side of the rock piles.”
“Aye, m’laird,” the Glengask head groom returned, and went to collect a handful of stableboys to assist him.
“What did you say to Rob?”
A warm shudder ran through his bones as he recognized the voice and turned to face Rowena. “I told him that ye hadn’t been asked anything, and that he wasnae to ask ye until he’d spoken with Glengask. And I may have intimated that his path wasnae as uncluttered as he seemed to be assuming. Why?”
“Because he’s been glaring at you all afternoon, and being very courteous to me.”
Good. An enemy with his attention divided was twice as easy to defeat. “And what aboot ye? Have ye been glaring at me all afternoon?” Because his attention wasn’t divided. It was set on her, and nowhere else.
Her gaze lowered to his bare chest. Her cheeks reddening, s
he met his eyes again. “It doesn’t matter. Ranulf decided.”
“Ye’re nae Ranulf.”
“And you are an aggravating man.”
“Aye,” he agreed. He cocked his head, studying her mobile expression, the pretty gown of red and white with the MacLawry tartan over one shoulder. “Ye know, ye used to agree with everything I said.”
“That was when I was infatuated with you.”
“I’m glad ye’re nae infatuated now. I like sparring with ye, I like seeing yer eyes flash with lightning, and I like yer sharp tongue.” He wanted to taste that sharp tongue of hers, but there were far too many people about for that.
“You’re glad I don’t like you?” she repeated, lifting an elegant eyebrow. “I mean, I suppose that does make everything—”
“But ye do like me,” he interrupted. “And finally, it’s nae because of what ye imagined me to be.” Beyond her he caught sight of one of the Glengask footmen who’d been tasked with keeping the family safe. Good. He didn’t want her walking about on her own, even to come to see him. “It’s who I truly am.”
“You’re trying to change the subject. I came over here to tell you to stop antagonizing Rob. I won’t be the reason for a brawl, especially under these circumstances.”
Lachlan took a step closer to her. “I’ll stop antagonizing Cranach when I’ve heard ye say ye’ll marry me.”
“Lachlan.”
“I’m nae a gentleman, my fierce lass. I’ll nae play according to gentlemanly Sassenach rules of conduct. Ye are the only reason I’m in this, and I’ll settle fer naught else.” He took another step forward, so they were only inches apart, her sweet, stubborn face lifted so she could continue to glare at him. “Ye’re nae married, yet. Ye’ve nae said aye to anyone. Ye keep yer door unlocked tonight, Rowena.”
The quick breath she took, the rise and fall of her bosom, made his cock twitch. “And what if I lock my door?”
“I reckon I’ll break it doon.” Lachlan caught hold of her hand. “Ye blow hot and cold, lass, like the wind when it cannae decide on the season. I find it maddening. So if there’s naught here, if ye’ve fer certain decided to surrender and marry Cranach because we didnae change our minds soon enough, ye need to tell me. Now. No jests, no innuendos, nothing I can interpret to mean someaught else. Tell me.”
Mad, Bad, and Dangerous in Plaid Page 17
